England X Reader – Make it Right
When a sudden crash! sounded on the lower floor of your apartment at some ungodly hour of the morning you awoke with a rapidly beating heart and wide, fearful eyes. Within the dark confines of your bedroom on the second floor you felt fear spreading through you as your mind went into overdrive: Is there someone in the house? Am I being robbed? Should I call the police, or lock myself in the bathroom??
After an intense moment of silence, you decided to fetch your baseball bat. Making your way to the closet by the bedroom door on unsteady feet, you paused every second-step to listen with strained ears for any more sounds from downstairs. However, it was only once you had the solid wooden bat clasped firmly in your hands as you stood anxiously at the head of the stairs that you heard anything of interest.
This time, it was the familiar grumbling of a man that came from the direction of the downstairs bathroom.
You could have melted on the spot, such was your relief; your shoulders relaxed, as did your grip on the bat, and you managed to breathe normally again.
It was only Arthur.
“Stupid bloody Francis and his stupid bloody face…” muttered Arthur to himself as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a comb in one hand and some scissors in the other.
It had been a long night for the British gent, one that had been regrettably spent in the company of his co-workers Francis Bonnefoy and Alfred F. Jones. Though he’d wisely avoided any alcoholic consumption while down at the pub with them, he’d still managed to return home in a sour mood – all because of a certain Frog’s careless remarks. The Frenchman had been going on about his stylish haircut yet again and how ‘in fashion’ it was to have long, wavy blonde locks right now. At the same time, he’d successfully managed to compare his chic style to Arthur’s très ennuyeux haircut. Of course, Alfred had joined in and asked the question that was really bothering the Brit: how could (Name) be attracted to someone with such an ordinary appearance as Arthur?
Truth be told, the two of you hadn’t been seeing a lot of one another lately; for some reason, whether it be work related or due to needy friends, you had been drifting apart unintentionally. It had been weighing heavily on Arthur’s mind of late and his co-worker’s words only served to fuel his worry.
What if you were getting bored with him? What if the Frog was right – what if he really was boring to look at and to be around?
As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror frowning at his reflection, his resolve to make a change in your relationship grew and he raised the scissors slowly upwards…
…only to be interrupted by your shout of alarm from the doorway behind him.
Dropping the scissors and comb in surprise and embarrassment, Arthur swung around and was confronted by your concerned face staring up at him with wide eyes, your hair still in disarray from when you woke up and your pyjamas rumpled around your body. He glanced down at the baseball bat that was hanging limply at your side and felt immediately uneasy.
“(N-name)? What’s wrong?!”
You cast a hesitant look down at the scissors which now lay in the sink behind your boyfriend, an expression of confusion clouding your eyes as you replied, “I thought…well, you had the scissors to your throat and…”
“No, no, no! I wasn’t going to top myself…! Jesus, (Name),” Arthur let out a sigh of relief as he began to comprehend your concern and scratched the back of his head bashfully as he muttered, “I was, uh…going to attempt to give myself a haircut.”
You closed your eyes and relaxed your shoulders for the second time that night, deflating before Arthur’s eyes with relief.
“Phew. Okay, that makes more sense.”
For a moment the two of you laughed lightly to fill in the silence and began to stare at one another, an awkwardness falling between you as reality hit and caused you to recall the fact that you weren’t as close to one another as you used to be.
“So, what’s with the…?” Arthur motioned to the baseball bat that you still held, raising a curious eyebrow at you.
“Oh! Well, I may have thought that you were a burglar,” you replying sheepishly, glaring accusingly down at the bat in your hands, “There was a loud noise that woke me up. Did you hear it?”
Arthur grimaced. “Yes, that was me. I was looking for the scissors and managed to somehow pull the kitchen drawer out too far and it fell on the floor. Sorry about that, love.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you smiled and leaned the bat against the wall as you spoke, “But what possessed you to try and cut your own hair at two in the morning?”
With a sudden blush, Arthur couldn’t meet your eyes, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably in order to give himself time to think of a good excuse. Unfortunately, with you standing before him looking so adorable he couldn’t seem to conjure one up.
So, swallowing his pride, he summed up his case as best he could.
“Well, you see, uh…ahem, well it’s quite simply really, I suppose. It’s just that Alfred and that Frog from work were discussing haircuts and…well, they seemed to think that mine was-uh-wasn’t really up to scratch. Alfred may have suggested, unintentionally, that that was why you and I were, um, maybe growing apart. That perhaps maybe you didn’t fancy me anymore because I’m not particularly stylish, or-or handsome. So…I thought I’d try and spice things up a bit. Y’know. Make a change, so to speak.”
You stared at your boyfriend long and hard, your heart wrenching at his words. After a moment of awkward silence in which Arthur prayed that the floor would open up and swallow him whole, he was taken by surprise for the second time that night as you rushed forwards and flung your arms around his neck.
Hesitantly, Arthur wrapped his own arms around your lower back, pressing you closer to him as he blinked in confusion. He soon felt a giddy smile tug at his lips, however, as you began to bury your face in his neck affectionately.
Leaning back, you cupped his face in your hands and made him look at you as you said reverently, “I love you just the way you are, Arthur Kirkland. We may not spend as much time together as we used to, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you,” you tenderly ran your fingers through his hair and smiled wistfully as you continued in an intimate whisper, “I love the way you look. You are far more handsome than those jerks from the office. Please don’t feel that you ever need to change for me.”
Arthur felt, to his astonishment, that tears were forming in his eyes as he gazed down at you. You looked anxious to know that he was reassured by your heartfelt words, which made him smile in a way that caused your heart to flutter.
In the dim light of the cool bathroom, the Englishman leaned down and kissed you long and slow, comforted by your warm body against his and your ability to make everything right again in his world.