Count those sheep and bugger off [Arthur]

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

It was during one of his science lectures that he had started feeling funny, the boy bent diligently over his notes and powering on through. He had been the victim of quite a few colds as of late, and he wasn't one to slip up regarding schoolwork because of a little bug that had been spreading about. So even when he started feeling faint and there were odd ache in his joints he disregarded it as nothing, hardly slowing.



Yet it all came to a stop when he suddenly slumped forward, breathing heavily and clawing at his chest weakly with his fingers. Everything felt heavy, and his lungs felt like they were filled to the brim with rocks by the odd way they seemed to contract in his chest. He couldn't write anymore, his hand falling still and one of his deskly neighbors taking notice of the usually alert boy's odd state. Apparently he was as white as a ghost and covered in a cold sweat.



With a flurry of action he was rushed off to the infirmary and tucked into a bed, a cup of juice with a straw given to him to drink whilst the nurse tried to contact the appropriate guardian to pick him up. At this point he was far too woozy to even notice that this would mean his father, dozing on and off with a sip of juice every now and then.



The nurse though was busily dialing the numbers on the Kiwi's contact card, his father not answering the phone either time he was called. The next one was another Kirkland, the woman tapping her desk impatiently as she sat on the line until it was picked up. "Hello Mr. Kirkland? This is Westminster School, we have a Mr. Kirkland here who does not seem to be in the best of health. It would be appreciated if you could pick him up as soon as possible, I would recommend taking him to a physician as well. His medical history has not been updated in quite the while and with his condition I will ask that you consider it." The woman didn't even leave any room for the other to speak, rambling off the necessary information to him before bidding him goodbye and hanging up. 

[Deleted]

He’d been in the middle of a meeting. The meeting itself wasn’t of the utmost importance—just something he and a couple of coworkers had arranged in order to discuss some of the more pressing issues at hand so they could propose well-thought solutions at a bigger meeting with more stubborn people.

Arthur’s personal cell phone went off while he’d been mid-sentence, buzzing away in his pocket. With a sigh, he’d excused himself to check the number and found he didn’t recognize it.

That was odd. Only people that knew the number of his personal cell could reach it. Everyone else called his work phone. He’d spent the next few buzzes debating with himself about whether or not to answer, then decided that whoever had gotten ahold of his number had gotten it for good reason.

He just didn’t expect it would lead him to leaving the meeting prematurely to catch the first cab he could and head to a school whose name he had forgotten as soon as he’d given the cabbie the address. Arthur rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers and stared out the car window at the buildings that drifted by. He supposed that, during times like these, it would’ve been more convenient to have a car of his own (well, he did, up north where his horses were; he just hated driving in London). As it happened, though, he did not own a car in London, having not seen the point. He hoped Westley wouldn’t be feeling so nauseous that he threw up in a taxi.

Upon reaching the destination, he asked the driver to wait for him and rushed to the infirmary, hopping out of the cab before it’d even come to a full stop by the curb.

He approached a nurse at the front desk. “I’m here to pick up Westley Walters-Kirkland. I’m Arthur, his—cousin,” he said, the last word feeling awkward as it stumbled over his tongue. He barely interacted with Westley, knew him because he was family and because he’d heard his parents discussing him on his last few visits home. It felt strange to call him blood related or family in any sense when they’d barely spoken, hardly seen each other outside of family dinners and parties, and hadn’t visited each other of their own volition.

More importantly, Arthur wanted to know why he was on the list of guardians and who put down his phone number. Westley was not his responsibility, never had been, and Arthur was certain he’d never given his personal number to Westley’s parents—in fact, he’d talked to his parents a grand total of three times. Arthur had no intention of taking care of the child of someone he barely knew, regardless of whether or not they were related. Arthur had his hands full with Peter as it was. He made a note in the back of his mind to have a few… stern words with Westley’s father when he dropped the boy off at home.

But that would be it. Arthur had to leave a meeting in order to do this, one that would be rescheduled with much difficulty, and he felt irked. It wasn’t his concern. He was only doing this because… because…

He didn’t know. He just knew he got there as fast as he could.

After having signed a slip of paper and listening to a nurse explain what she presumed was the problem (which Arthur could say nothing to since he knew nothing of Westley’s medical history), Arthur went in to sit next to Westley’s cot. He placed a hand gently on his cousin’s shoulder. “Wes? It’s Arthur, your cousin; remember me? We met—er, at some family dinners. I’m here to pick you up, alright? Your father… couldn’t make it, so I’ve come to take you home instead. Will you be able to handle a car ride?”