Just let me adore you (Arthur)
Summary: You loved Mozart, and Mozart loved you. Arthur would just have to deal with it and not bother you again. But it’s easier said than done when you’re left alone on your own birthday.
Words: 1372
Tags: angst; unrequited love; hurt; no comfort; Arthur centric; Mozart is a bit of an asshole (sorry); no pronouns specified for reader.
Notes: I was re-reading some random parts from Living no Matsunaga-san and decided to write something for Ikevamp based on a scene there. I just realized Ryou and Levi kinda look alike. He is so precious; I loved him way more than Matsunaga.
I also listened to “Adore You” by Harry Styles, and now I see the lyrics from a whole different perspective. And the title for the fic comes from the song.
It wasn’t fair.
You deserved so much better. You deserved to be treated like royalty, to be loved, to be taken care of. He had to ensure you were always smiling, always happy, never crying.
However, that’s not what happened.
Arthur could barely restrain himself seeing the tears streaming down your face. How many times has it been now? How many more are you gonna endure? He only made you cry. Mozart only made you cry.
The writer can’t remember when or why he fell for you; he only recalls losing his chance. He remembers talking to Theo, who encouraged him to take action quickly. With half of the mansion having developed feelings for you, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else confessed.
He was gonna buy you flowers and a nice gift, confess, ask you out properly, and kiss you by the end of the date if he was lucky enough. But before he could finish his lunch to go to town, you and Mozart entered the dining room.
The scene still haunts him.
Your emotionally overwhelmed face, the bright smile, the flushed cheeks… your hand holding his arm, and he smiling at you. Cutlery fell from hands, drinks were spilled, and he’s pretty sure he heard Isaac gasp and stop breathing by his side. You happily announced you were together, and the romantic music everybody was listening to that morning suddenly made sense. You were so happy. He just congratulated you, along with everyone else, and tried to move on.
Way easier said than done.
He ended up confessing to you the first time he saw you in tears, going against all his principles of never hitting on a compromised person — much less one in such a vulnerable state! Yet, he did it. He poured his heart out, saying he loved and cherished you, that he would never make you cry. He would never choose his work over you, even if his work was so important to him.
Arthur apologized some time later; he didn’t want to give the impression he was trying to take advantage of your fragile moments. So, he waited for things to calm down and confessed again.
You kindly turned him down both times, and he accepted it with a sad smile and a broken heart. Your heart didn’t belong to him; it belonged to the musician. You loved Mozart, and Mozart loved you — despite not being good at showing it, apparently. He’d just have to deal with it and not bother you with this again.
However, there was so much he could take.
He is leaving the mansion when he sees you standing just outside the door, with a lost gaze, tears streaming down your face. He holds you by the shoulders before he thinks better of his actions, but you don’t seem to mind it. You look at him with the saddest expression he’s ever seen on your face, and he knows.
He doesn’t ask what happened; he doesn’t have to. He simply turns you around and guides you by the shoulders back inside the mansion. He takes you to your room and sits you on your bed, observing how you quietly comply.
“I’ll be right back, okay, luv?” he speaks softly, and you just nod once, your gaze lingering on the floor.
He goes to the kitchen, prepares your favorite tea, and brews some coffee for himself. He considers getting something for you to eat too, but you probably don't want to. He arranges two mugs on the tray and returns to your room. You're in the exact same spot and in the exact same state as he left you, and it hurts him to see you so... numb.
He places the tray on your nightstand and goes to your en suite to grab a towel. Sitting down beside you, he reaches for your face, placing his finger under your chin and lifting it slightly to get a better look at you. Silently, he gently passes the towel over your wet cheeks.
"Try to warm up a little now, won’t you?” He offers you the tea, closing your hands around the mug and holding them in place with his own for a moment longer. “It’s your favorite.”
You just nod again, not really in the mood for talking — and you’re not even sure you’ll be able to say something without crying again. He grabs his mug, and you two drink silently, appreciating your own beverages.
"You… won’t ask?" you inquire after some time. Your voice is so low that he thinks he wouldn’t hear you if he weren’t a vampire with great hearing. It cracks another part of his heart open.
Arthur shakes his head and takes your empty mug back, putting it on the tray with his. “I don’t have to,” he says softly.
He wants to, though. A dark part of him would like to hear you dissing Mozart; perhaps you’d realize that he could be better than the musician — he would certainly try to.
Mozart went out early and hasn’t come back yet, probably too busy with the new concert he is working on. Usually, Arthur would find his hard work relatable; he got too invested in his writing too, losing night after night of sleep sometimes. However, it was your birthday today. Your lover set a birthday date with you and left you standing outside the mansion because of work.
“I wouldn’t do it,” he blurts out in a whisper, completing his thoughts aloud. “If you chose me, I’d never make you cry.”
“Arthur…”
“I want to make you happy. I need you to be.” He reaches for you, cradling your face with a gentle touch. He smiles, but it’s sad and broken, and it doesn’t reach his sorrowful gaze. “You don’t have to love me back… But I love you so much, I can’t take it anymore.”
You’re taken aback. Your breath catches in your throat, your tears drying almost instantly, and a cold shock passes through your whole body. After two confessions, you thought you’d be used to him professing his love. But this… This is so much more. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. You can practically see him offering his heart on his hands for you.
“What…” you attempt to speak, but your words falter, lost in the whirlwind of emotions.
Only then does Arthur realize what he just said, widening his eyes. He lets his hands fall limp into his lap, sighing and averting his gaze while mentally cursing himself. He was supposed to be smart, so why does he often act like a fool in front of you? Love really messes with one’s mind.
He closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair, obviously nervous. He grasps his bangs, tightening his grip in an attempt to stop himself from being an idiot and start acting like a proper man.
“Sorry. This burden is the last thing you need right now,” he mutters, his voice the weakest you’ve ever heard from him. Arthur takes a deep breath and stands up. “But if you… If you need something, you can always call me.” He takes the empty tray and heads to the door, but then he seems to remember something and turns back to you again, forcing a better smile. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
His expression falters the moment he closes the door behind him. Arthur heads straight to his own bedroom, not even bothering to bring the tray to the kitchen; he can do it later. Right now, he just needs to lie down and hope the earth swallows him whole before he embarrasses himself again.
He needs to stop it, he knows that. How is he supposed to control his heart, though? He tried to drown this feeling with different people in town, but he always ended up not wanting to spend the night with them. They weren’t you.
He places the tray on his coffee table and flops down on his bed, covering his eyes with his arm. He feels his blazer getting wet just a few seconds later and lets out a shaky sigh.
It’s going to be another long, lonely evening.
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