Note: So here starts the series of drabbles related to the Thicker Than Water series. Each drabble will start with the information given by the prompter. Time period the prompt is set in WILL BE BOLDED for story context. I am ONLY taking the requests through Tumblr, though results go up on FFnet, Tumblr, and Wattpad. Anon asks, "I'd like to know a little more about what happened a little before Best Served cold. Specifically, when Arthur was locking himself away from Everything and how Mystery and Vivi might have tried to get him outside and to eat something. Break my heart. BREAK IT." Well Anon, you asked for it…

…..

For the first time in awhile, Arthur wasn't sure of very much. He knew his name. He knew the name of the dog that was circling around his feet, barking up at him. He knew he'd just dropped Vivi off at her house, probably through sheer auto-pilot, and returned home. This place was his home.

Right?

His watch beeped. Midnight.

But then up till a few hours ago, he'd known for a fact that Lewis was dead. Completely dead, buried six feet under dead, probably nothing but bones and a fancy suit dead. But then those bones and that fancy suit had just been hurling flames at his head and trying to throttle him. So was Lewis really dead? Was he really in his own house? Heck, was his name really Arthur?

Yes, it was Arthur. Arthur M. Rebbs, and Lewis was dead.

And Lewis was angry.

Why is Lewis angry, Arthur?

He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly deathly cold. He knew why. He'd known why from the second that flaming pompadour lit up the skull. But he couldn't face him. He couldn't face his best friend, and he'd run. He didn't know how long he'd been running, or how many doors and halls in that cursed mansion he'd torn through, but in that dead end… he'd been sure it was over.

Then Vivi…

His watch beeped. 2 AM.

His legs moved, wooden, dragging him over to the chair in his living room. He fell into it, staring at nothing.

Lewis is dead, but not dead, but dead.

Lewis is angry. Why is Lewis angry, Arthur?

He shuddered at the twisting thoughts in his head. Why would he even ask himself what he already knew? What he'd known for a whole year, ever since…

Why is Lewis angry, Arthur?

He couldn't speak. He couldn't bring the words to life. He'd never said the words out loud, not that night, not in the nights since, and he wouldn't.

His watch beeped. 4 AM.

He's coming for you. You know Lewis when he gets angry.

Arthur gave a strangled cry, burying his face in his hands, his whole body trembling as images flashed through his mind. Bloodied faces and broken bones, uncontrollable rages that left Arthur speechless. A rage that extended to any attacker, but never Lewis' friends.

But you're not his friend anymore. You attacked him. And now, he's even more powerful.

His watch beeped. 8 AM.

Arthur rocked slowly in his seat. He could feel Mystery's paw on his knee, but didn't respond. He was doing his best to block out the images crowding the edges of his mind about exactly what Lewis would do once he tracked Arthur down. Which wouldn't be hard, of course, it's not like he'd moved or made any changes. If Lewis was aware enough to lure them into an elaborately constructed spirit mansion, Lewis was aware enough to remember where he lived.

So it really was a matter of time.

His watch beeped. 12 PM.

Time. What time was it? His stomach rumbled, but he didn't move. His hands were latched to the ends of the armrests. There were cold hot dogs laid across his knees, and Mystery was staring up at him pleadingly. The smell of food was making him sick, and he swept them off his knees onto the floor.

His watch beeped. 6 PM.

Lewis would come for him. That much he was certain of. It was only a matter of when it would happen, how long he would drag it out, and how badly it would hurt. He glanced at his phone. Two missed messages. Six texts.

His watch beeped. 10 PM.

Fifteen texts. Five missed messages. His lockscreen kept lighting up with Vivi's face, and he knew she was probably furious, worried, or both. It didn't matter. Lewis was coming, any minute now. No sense dragging Vivi into it. The hot dogs had been eaten off the floor. Now there was a frozen pizza on his lap. He hurled it across the room as Mystery whined.

His watch beeped. 4 AM.

He must have passed out briefly. One minute he was staring at the wall, the next his lap had half the contents of the fridge in it. He grabbed fistfuls of salami and hunks of bread, throwing them at the wall. Soda cans and mayo jars followed hand over hand as he emptied his lap.

The flurry of activity drained him and he melted back into the chair, eye twitching. Where was Lewis? Was he nearby, just watching? Waiting for the perfect moment? It wasn't like Arthur was going anywhere.

His watch beeped. 1 PM.

His door had been assaulted at least once that he could be sure of, he was drifting in and out of consciousness at that point. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to pass out in his seat for awhile. Lewis would wake him when he came anyway, he'd want to see the look on Arthur's face. He wouldn't kill Arthur in his sleep.

His watch beeped. 1 PM.

Mystery was staring at him, a cereal box dangling from his mouth. Arthur just turned his head away. Why was Mystery trying to feed him? Was he trying to keep him alive?

What for? No matter what, you're a dead man walking.

His phone flashed insistently, and someone was beating on his door, shouting. Mystery scratched the floorboards in front of Arthur's feet, whining.

"No buddy." His voice was scratchy from thirst and disuse. "There's no point. I'll just wait here, yeah? Wait for… you know."

Wait for justice to be served. It's the only thing left for a murderer to do.