"Yeah, sure," Ben agreed to Art's question. That was good, having someplace he needed to be and someone he needed to talk to, later. It was the same sort of grounding Art had done when he'd grabbed his wrists, just without any physical presence. Art was a good friend. Ben didn't know how he would've gotten through this afternoon without him; he'd been half-delirious with worry when he'd shown up at his house.
He started to go, stopped. Ben raised an eyebrow and Art nodded at him, giving him a look that implied he ought to know what came next, then headed for the front door. For a moment Ben was puzzled. Art didn't have any business in Irvingly, nor was he particularly close to anyone in Irvingly that Ben was aware of. If he wasn't going to use their floo, he'd have to go home through —
His stomach dropped as he realized. He had an impulse to go after him, to stop him — Art was a good friend and he would have done the same for him. He already had done the same for him, more times than he could count. And the nod — Art wanted someone to stop him, wanted that someone to be Ben.
By the time he'd figured it out, though, Melody had started talking, and there was no possible way he could walk out the front door when she was trying to open up about this — not if he expected her to be there when he came back. He wavered, torn. Art was a good friend; he deserved Ben's help. On the other hand, he wasn't sure what Melody deserved, after everything they'd been through. He'd been ready to walk away from her that morning, but that was before he'd found out she was carrying his child. And now that he knew she hadn't been out looking for potions that afternoon, he was much more inclined to listen to her side of the story.
He wavered. His eyes lingered on the front door. It was long enough that Melody couldn't fail to notice, but he didn't say anything; just let his conscious wage war within him.
Finally, he moved to a chair and sat. "Your mother told me," he admitted. "I went looking for you when your room was cleared out this morning."
Maybe Art would be fine. Probably not; but maybe Art could forgive him.
MJ made this <3
He started to go, stopped. Ben raised an eyebrow and Art nodded at him, giving him a look that implied he ought to know what came next, then headed for the front door. For a moment Ben was puzzled. Art didn't have any business in Irvingly, nor was he particularly close to anyone in Irvingly that Ben was aware of. If he wasn't going to use their floo, he'd have to go home through —
His stomach dropped as he realized. He had an impulse to go after him, to stop him — Art was a good friend and he would have done the same for him. He already had done the same for him, more times than he could count. And the nod — Art wanted someone to stop him, wanted that someone to be Ben.
By the time he'd figured it out, though, Melody had started talking, and there was no possible way he could walk out the front door when she was trying to open up about this — not if he expected her to be there when he came back. He wavered, torn. Art was a good friend; he deserved Ben's help. On the other hand, he wasn't sure what Melody deserved, after everything they'd been through. He'd been ready to walk away from her that morning, but that was before he'd found out she was carrying his child. And now that he knew she hadn't been out looking for potions that afternoon, he was much more inclined to listen to her side of the story.
He wavered. His eyes lingered on the front door. It was long enough that Melody couldn't fail to notice, but he didn't say anything; just let his conscious wage war within him.
Finally, he moved to a chair and sat. "Your mother told me," he admitted. "I went looking for you when your room was cleared out this morning."
Maybe Art would be fine. Probably not; but maybe Art could forgive him.
MJ made this <3