Author's Note:

Well, I never thought I'd be writing more Hey Arnold fanfic. Then again, I never thought that the Jungle Movie would ever get made, either, but, well... here we are lol

I wrote two Hey Arnold fanfics about nine years ago, "Five Kisses" and "Salted Nut Rolls". They're two of my most popular fanfics, although since I never really got into the Hey Arnold fandom I have no clue if they were little more than a blip on the radar here in comparison to the fandom as a whole. If anyone does remember them, though, I'm sure it's pretty obvious by now that since the Jungle Movie is a thing, "Salted Nut Rolls" is no longer canon-compliant. And, well, despite the fact that I've written AU's before, I still really prefer sticking to canon. So... that's basically why this fic exists. I'm invested enough in these two as a couple that I want to write down just how I believe they work things out between them, and keep it canon. It's actually pretty clear that I still see them much the same way as I did nine years ago, because some of the lines are pretty similar to ones in SNR. Oh, and Helga's still a bit of a potty-mouth. Not as bad as she was in SNR, though. ;)

(cough and I am a little bummed that my idea of Arnold's last name being Short didn't turn out to be true. I like the way that fits as a last name better than Shortman, but eh, what can you do?)

Again, I realize I'm like three months late with this, and I'm sure others have written something like this before me in those three months (and probably better than me, too). This is simply the result of me having to have my say with these two fascinating kids and their amazing little relationship. If anyone else out there happens to like it, that's just the icing on the cake. ;)

...

It had been two weeks since returning home from the jungle, and Helga still felt like a total wreck.

In all the worst ways.

First checkmark on the "awful" list: her parents had, not surprisingly, completely failed to give a crap about anything that she had been through, choosing instead to focus all of their concerns on Olga's (lack of) problems. So a guy she'd known for only a day turned out to be a scumbag—so what?! Definitely didn't warrant any sort of special treatment, but clearly Helga was the only one who thought so.

Second checkmark: returning "home" still constituted returning to an inflatable mattress uncomfortably lodged in the tiny former employee break room of her dad's rapidly becoming irrelevant beeper store.

Third checkmark: Arnold hadn't contacted her since their return. Not even once. Helga hadn't even seen him for two full weeks.

And, of course, the longer the time passed from their amazing moment shared in the jungle, the more she was convinced that she'd just imagined the whole stupid trip. It hadn't happened all at. Sure, arriving at that conclusion had been a slow process: first she'd figured Arnold was just too busy with the whole "getting to know my parents after not seeing them for nearly a decade" thing… then after a few days she thought maybe he regretted what had happened between them and was avoiding her… until finally, things had progressed to the point that she was fairly certain she had just dreamed the whole thing up.

Which was, of course, utterly destroying her.

In the wake of trying to process the absolute cruelest joke life had ever played on her, Helga had holed herself up in her "room" and limited her interactions with the rest of the world as much as she possibly could. Which wasn't difficult at all. Her parents were much too focused on Olga's woes to even notice anything was wrong with her. She had pointedly ignored Phoebe's calls. And, well, Phoebe was the only one who was even trying to engage with her. So… that was that.

Helga sighed to herself, a resigned, lonely, broken-hearted sigh. She had been spending the last few days alternating between sad moods and angry moods, and right now she was headlong into a sad one, which she indulged by listening to sad music on her headphones and writing—or attempting to write—sad poetry. Except I'm too miserable to even write anything worth writing, she thought to herself, looking with distaste over the scant words she had scribbled down. This wasn't helping to expunge her sadness. Her anger she wasn't worried about; anger was like an old friend to her, it was a face she usually wore in public anyway. But if she showed up to school on their first day of sixth grade in a gloomy mood, just two days away, there would be questions. And rumors. And probably harsh laughter behind her back.

"Get a grip," Helga whispered harshly to herself, an ire at her unhappiness manifesting the longer she ruminated in it—not the best source of rage, but it was something, and she embraced it. "It's stupid to feel sad over something that… that never happened…"

Her voice caught in her throat. Again.

"Dammit!" she hissed, sniffling back another onslaught of tears. Who would have thought that what had seemed to be the absolute BEST day of her life could twist itself into so brutal a reality? Pining over Arnold had been tough enough before, but at least it hadn't been accompanied with such vivid memories of him gazing at her wondrously, telling her all those amazing things, holding her hand tenderly, kissing her…

Can I just forget it already? she silently begged whatever force might be listening to her. The tears weren't going to be kept at bay much longer; perhaps if she let them loose she'd finally—

The door to her makeshift room was suddenly and thoughtlessly flung open by her father. "Hey, one of your little friends is at the door," he barked roughly, not seeming to pay any heed to Helga's emotional state.

"You could have knocked!" Helga spat out, swallowing her tears. Well, that was one way to completely get thrown back into anger.

"You need to stop wallowing around in your room!" Bob retorted, turning and walking away.

"This BROOM CLOSET isn't my room! My room's back at the HOUSE!" Helga screeched back at him. She got no answer, of course; Bob had already moved on to whatever else he was focusing on. Scowling, Helga took off her headphones, closed her poetry notebook, and pushed both under her mattress. She was still not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but she had been avoiding Phoebe long enough. Maybe seeing the foul mood she was in would be enough to scare her away until school started.

She walked down the aisles of half-empty shelving and turned the corner to the front entrance, her mouth already open to bark out an apology to Phoebe, but nothing came out but a splutter. She spluttered, she froze dead in her tracks, she screamed a thousand inward curses at fate for doing this to her again, she about damn near swooned on the spot. Because it wasn't Phoebe. Of course, of course, because her life seemed determined to play out like some goddamn soap opera tragedy, it was Arnold.

"Uh, hi, Helga," he said, a bit abashedly, a noticeable twinge of color rising to his cheeks.

He's BLUSHING! Oh my god he's BLUSHING!

"W-what do you want, football head?!" she spat out defensively.

"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Every truth that she had convinced herself of the last few days was being swept away by Arnold's mere presence in the dilapidated store, and yet no new answers were taking their place. No longer could she bring herself to believe that she had dreamt up the whole summer, but at the same time, she couldn't be sure that she hadn't, either.

There was absolutely no footing. No clear context she could cling to. And thus, no way of knowing how she was supposed to address the boy who, no matter what the truth actually was, would always drive her absolutely crazy.

In desperation, she laughed harshly. "If you actually want to step inside this dump, then be my guest."

Arnold stepped in, and Helga, despite still screaming inside at how the universe was toying with her, felt a bit more satisfied and confident with her tone. Sarcastic and wily was a safe bet for now—not out of her usual character, and yet not off-putting enough that would drive him away before revealing his reason for being there.

He looked around the store, his soft eyes carefully processing the pathetic scene, and Helga had to gulp hard to again keep herself from swooning. Oh Arnold, my golden-haired Adonis, what is it that brings you to this horrid squalor? To ME?!

"Wait…" she said aloud, in realization. "Why did you come looking for me here?"

Correctly sensing the reason behind her sudden defensive shift, Arnold's eyes darted back to Helga's, a blush still evident on his cheeks oh GOD my heart cannot TAKE this! "I—I'm sorry, I knew you were here, we… we all kind of know your parents have fallen on hard times, that you had to sell your house—"

"Save your pity," Helga interrupted harshly. "We didn't sell the house! We're just renting it out."

"Oh. That's good, then… hopefully you'll be able to move back in soon."

"It won't be soon enough. I'm stuck here in the old employee break room with a mini-fridge as a nightstand while some three-year-old gets to trash my bedroom back at home. If I ever get back in there, it's going to be a mess of Play-Dough and Tinker Toys."

Arnold slowly raised an eyebrow, although the color still hadn't left his cheeks, and Helga was even more overcome with the overwhelming notion that everything else in the world was falling away, leaving only him and his magnificent, glorious smile. "Are you seriously complaining about having a fridge in your room?" he asked playfully.

"I—uh—listen, football head, have you ever actually seen an employee break room?" The only surety Helga had at her disposal was annoyance at Arnold, and she was going to cling to it with a mental death grip until her heart and mind were granted more framework. "Just—just come over here and see exactly what it is you're defending!" She grabbed his wrist without giving him any time to object, although to be fair she didn't really have to drag him along back down the aisle and into her sorry excuse for a bedroom; his willing gait betrayed his curiosity.

She let go of his wrist and kicked the door open, and only then did she realize what she'd done.

I led him to my room?! I LED HIM TO MY ROOM?! What is WRONG with me?! I can't even figure out if this is better or worse than if we'd have been at the house and I led him to my ACTUAL room!

Arnold looked at the crammed room quietly, his eyes not showing any sort of pity or disgust, and in between letting her heart get carried away by his eyes again Helga took the time to thank her five-minutes-ago-self for shoving all of her things—flowery poetry volumes included—under the mattress and out of sight.

"It's not so bad," Arnold said, sincerely. "It's kind of like camping, actually."

"Camping. Right." Helga rolled her eyes, quickly sitting down on the edge of her mattress as she felt her knees begin to buckle underneath her. "So. How have you been?"

Arnold smiled, although Helga noted that it was a reticent smile. "Good. Really good. You know… trying to make up for lost time with my parents… I'm really sorry I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you before now, but there's just so much to catch up on."

"I bet," Helga said as smoothly as she could, frantically drumming her fingers on her knees. Arnold's parents. He'd just confirmed that they were alive, and here with him. And that confirmed that Helga hadn't dreamt this whole thing up… well, at least the part about finding his parents.

"But…" Arnold hesitated before sitting down on the mattress next to Helga, leaving just enough space to keep her from swooning and squealing with bliss. "It's… it's weird." He looked down at his fingers, his hands clasped in his lap. Helga couldn't take her eyes off him, hanging on his every word. "I know I should be happy, and enjoying this time spent with them, and a lot of times I am, don't get me wrong… but part of me is also… scared. I've spent my whole life dreaming about this, and now that it's finally happened… my brain hasn't fully grasped that it's real yet."

Helga could hardly breathe. How staggering to hear her own thoughts spoken aloud in his perfect voice. Thoughts on a different subject, true, but that didn't mean Helga didn't know exactly how he was feeling.

"And the worst part is…" Arnold paused, still looking at his fingers, seemingly trying to find how to best voice his demons. "The worst part is that every morning, literally every morning since coming home from the jungle, I wake up and I'm convinced that I've just dreamt the whole thing. The trip, finding my parents… everything." He finally looked back at Helga with that last word, the twinge of a blush back on his cheeks as he looked at her pointedly.

His eyes sucker-punched her.

Oh dear God. Oh dear God. It's us. It's us and we really happened and he's scared that he dreamt us up just like I am and I'm going to DIE.

"It… it sounds like we're having the same dream," she managed to squeak out.

There was silence in the room for a few long moments as their gaze on each other locked, their eyes wide and their faces flush as they processed this.

And Helga knew that, if everything that wasn't Arnold hadn't fallen away before, now it had.

NOW I'm going to die. I'm dying. Or I'm dreaming. Except I'm not.

…oh God, what if I AM? What if the dream he's talking about is different than the one I had? What if he just dreamt that we became friends or something and THAT'S what he's talking about—criminy, why can I STILL not figure this out?!

But not knowing for sure, especially with him in the room and all but confirming it himself, was going to destroy what little sanity she had left, this she knew. And so, in a sudden moment of clarity, she smirked at him and took the final step towards complete validation the only way she could.

"You're a pretty good kisser."

There. If he wasn't on the same page as her, his horrified reaction would mark that, and she could laugh it off as "yeah, what a dumb dream, right?" And if he was…

Arnold smiled back, his blush growing deeper. "Thanks. So are you."

Helga was barely able to maintain her cool, quickly grabbing onto the edge of her stupid mini-fridge nightstand to steady herself, now completely unable to look away from him. Words, words which usually swirled around her brain like a tornado, especially in regards to Arnold, were unobtainable, had lost all meaning. All her mental energies were focused on keeping herself from falling into a giddy, lovestruck heap on the floor.

It happened.

It really happened.

It… really… HAPPENED!

He really told me I have a caring heart and that he was ready for me and we really KISSED and he's really HERE and wanting to be here with me and OH MY GAAWWWWD!

"Sssssooooo…" Helga forced the word out of her mouth, shivering like mad despite the fact it was the end of August, quickly realizing she could either control her actions or control the words coming out of her mouth but not both, "this… is… happening."

Criminy what a stupid observation, why don't you keep your damn mouth shut for once?

"Yeah, I… I guess so." Arnold nervously looked back down at is hands. "O-only if you want it to, that is."

What?

Oh.

Of course.

Harsh reality came crashing back down around her.

"Oh, so you want me to take it back again?" she lashed out at him. Criminy, how many times could this boy break her heart?

Arnold quickly looked up again, shaking his head. "No, of course n—"

"Oh, I get it, you came here to take back what you said!"

"No, I didn't!"

The pleading in his voice and eyes doused Helga's rage—not completely, but enough to slow herself down. "Do… do you want to take it back?" she said guardedly, preparing herself for an answer she wouldn't like.

Arnold hesitated for an agonizing second or two. Finally he said, very gently, "No, I don't want to take it back, but I will if you want me to."

The guard around Helga's heart fell down again.

Don't swoon don't swoon DON'T SWOON!

"I know this is a lot to take in," Arnold was continuing, "and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with anything, so if this is too much or going too fast for you, then we can back off. I don't want to make you feel like you have to—"

"Arnold. Shut up."

Surprised, Arnold did so.

Helga spoke quickly before she lost the words in the storm of love and elation and slight terror raging through her body. "For once in your life, stop thinking about other people and putting yourself last. Forget about what I want right now. Assume, for the time being, that I'm game for anything. And tell me honestly: what do you want?"

Criminy, I'm really pushing the whole "set myself up for disappointment" shtick today, aren't I? Because even if he is on the same page as me, he's only like the opening paragraph whereas I'm deep in the middle of all of the footnotes. I really AM game for anything, whereas he's only barely put on the training pads!

Arnold was quiet yet again, deep in thought as he examined his fingers, and just as Helga felt another uncontrollable compulsion to swoon ripple through her body, he looked back up at her, his eyes still gentle but his voice held with conviction.

"I want to understand you, Helga. We've known each other practically our whole lives and I feel like I've never really understood you until now. And even then, I can tell that I've just barely scratched the surface, and it's like the more of you I get to see, the more I realize that there's so much about you that I don't understand, and I just want to be able to know who you really are."

Don't swoon don't swoon DON'T SWOON!

"You already understand me better than anyone else," Helga admitted, unable to put up even a touch of her usual bravado. "And that's the terrifying thing…"

"I guess I do," Arnold conceded, "and you don't need to be scared of that at all, but… I don't know. It's hard to explain… it's like I know that I know these things about you, but I don't realize that I've always known them until they're staring me right in the face." Unclasping his hands and dropping them back to his sides, he quickly added, "I don't want or expect you to just completely, one hundred percent open up to me right off the bat, or even at all if you're not comfortable with that—"

"Criminy, football head, I told you to just tell me what you wanted without worrying about how it made me feel!"

"I know. Sorry." Arnold blushed, awkwardly rubbing a hand by his ear. "It's kind of hard to get me out of that habit."

Oh criminy, you stupid football head, I love you so much, why do you have to do this to me?!

"Well," she said quickly, forcing herself to speak in yet another frantic attempt to keep herself from swooning, "I'm definitely no open book, but I suppose I can accommodate that wish of yours to an extent. I mean, come on, already today you've understood that I really hate having a mini-fridge as a nightstand, so there's a new fact about me that you know right there." She tried to laugh, and Arnold chuckled genuinely, and Helga had to desperately remind herself, yet again, to not swoon. "So, anything else you'd like to know?"

She said it in that same joking manner, but Arnold was quiet in thought and deep in her eyes again, and Helga felt herself beginning to panic as she realized just what she'd opened herself up to. Was she really prepared to be completely honest with him?

…yes. She owed him that. As terrifying as the idea of opening herself up to him was, if that was what he wanted most, she would metaphorically lay herself bare for him.

"R-really," she said softly, folding her own hands in her lap to keep herself from reaching out and touching his. "You can ask me anything."

Arnold took a deep breath, his query clearly having already been formed and just waiting for permission to voice it. "Why do you… love me?"

Of COURSE. Just dive right in, why don't you?

Helga opened her mouth to answer, but all the words completely dried up. All she could mentally scream at him was isn't it OBVIOUS?! But no, it clearly wasn't obvious, and despite the fact that she was well into volume number twenty-six of poetry that definitely answered that question, she still felt her tongue absolutely refuse to move.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Answer him already! He explicitly asked you and part of you has been wanting to tell him your whole damn LIFE! ANSWER HIM, DAMMIT!

SHIT.

"B-because… because you had to ask that, didn't you?" she finally blurted out.

Arnold looked confused, but didn't open his mouth to object or clarify, and inwardly screaming with frustration over how completely perfect he was, Helga continued. "Because of course you don't even realize how amazing you are! And it's because you've been sitting here this whole time only concerned with how I feel and never doing anything to protect yourself from—from me! And because you've always been this way, dammit! No matter how much the world could—and does—hurt you, you just keep putting yourself out there to make someone's life better! Even a turtle, for god's sake! And—and because of the way you do all that without even asking for recognition or reward, and how you make life better just by existing, and the way you chew the eraser on your pencil when you're stumped on your math quiz, and the way the sunlight hits your eyes just perfectly, and—and EVERYTHING, alright?! Everything!"

There was another long silence as the two preteens held their gaze with each other, Arnold still looking a bit surprised but not to the degree that Helga felt that he should, because truth be told she was convinced that any second now he would run screaming for the door, completely terrified by her. As he should be.

"Okay, you know what?" she snapped, bolting off of the mattress and pawing underneath it. "Seeing as I've already completely humiliated myself…" She pulled out pink notebook number twenty-five, the glitter on the cover still as fresh as the day she bought it despite all of the pages being filled, and flung it in Arnold's lap before she could stop herself. "There! Read that, since I'm obviously having way too much trouble getting the right words out of my mouth today! You want to understand me—well, there, that'll get you closer. You can read the other twenty-some volumes later." If I haven't completely died of embarrassment by then.

Arnold fumbled with the book in his hands, stammering a bit before getting his words out. "I, uh… I think I might have already read one of the volumes?"

"What?"

"I, uh, I found this pink notebook about two years ago full of love poems—"

"Aw, SHIT! CRIMINY! I completely forgot about that!' Helga smacked herself in the face. "Yes, fine, okay, you've read one of the volumes, so you've had a good crash course. This one's more current, though. But don't read it here, dammit!" she shrieked at him as he began to crack open the cover. "I'm already a complete basket case just giving it to you, please just look at it while I'm not around so that I won't die of embarrassment! A-and I'm about to just die of embarrassment right now," she finished helplessly.

"I'm sorry," Arnold instantly apologized. "Please, Helga, you really don't need to be embarrassed. I know this is all really crazy and a big leap for you—it is for me too—but I'm not going to laugh at you, I promise—"

"You—you—you stupid football head! CRIMINY!" Helga shrieked at him, her tenuous grasp on her self-control nearly gone. "Would you stop being so PERFECT for once?! God dammit! You—you'd better not think that me hating you is all just an act to hide my true feelings, because—okay, it's sort of true—but on the other hand, I really, really HATE that you're this way and have this effect on me! You have driven me absolutely bonkers since the day we met! And don't you dare apologize, even though I know you will, because you wouldn't be you if you didn't, and you know what, maybe if you didn't I would have gotten over you years ago! But you have to be you and just be the most amazingly perfect human being in the whole goddamn universe and—and you're always going to torment me just by being you! Do you get that?" She sat back down on the mattress as far away from him as she could, wanting to spare him the brunt of her outburst but still needing to get it out, for his sake. "For as long as I can remember I've been absolutely tortured by fantasies of this moment, when I finally tell you exactly how I feel about you. And they've always ended either one of two ways. Either you tell me in grand, sweeping terms that you feel the exact same way and you sweep me off my feet and whisk me away and we live happily ever after, or, more realistically, you freak out and get as far away from me as possible. And right now you're not doing either, everything's just so awkward and—and you, and REAL, and—and I just have no clue what to do right now!"

She gasped for breath. Arnold continued to stare, surprised. And as the silent seconds dragged on, Helga was bombarded with the dual desires of crawling under her blankets and dying, and taking the wondrous, frustrating, amazing boy seated next to her into her arms and kissing him 'til kingdom come. Both urges were so strong that not doing either of them was positively gutting her, leaving her to feel like nothing more than an exposed, desperate shell, completely at his mercy.

"I…" Arnold finally started, hesitantly. "I know you said you didn't want me to say this again, but… I'm sorry, really. I don't mean to make you feel this way. I don't want you to feel this way."

"I know, dammit," Helga muttered.

"But the thing is… I don't know how to make it better. I really don't." Arnold sighed, looking straight ahead of him at the wall, a strange frustration gleaming in his eyes. "I can tell you all I want is for you to not be embarrassed or scared of me, but I know that's not enough to change whatever emotions you're dealing with. I just… hope you can trust me?" He looked back at Helga, and her breath caught in her throat, her mental cries of DON'T SWOON DON'T SWOON DON'T SWOON! the only thing loud enough to overpower her frantically thudding heart. "Trust me that, no matter what happens, even if this whole thing just has us crash and burn, I'll still be grateful for… for everything you've done, in the jungle, and especially now, opening yourself up like this. I know how scary that is, and honestly…" He smiled, surprisingly almost with a touch of self-effacing behind it. "You're a far braver person than I am. This conversation means the world to me, and… and I hope I can someday make it up to you."

Helga finally lost the battle with herself.

"Oh, Arnold!" she exhaled blissfully, falling backwards onto her mattress, clutching her heart and feeling as though her smile was about to split her face in two. "You have already made it up to me tenfold, my darling! I shall treasure your kind, probably misplaced, yet still selfless words all of my days with every fiber of my being, but even then it will still pale in comparison to how I treasure you!"

Arnold blushed fiercely at that, but the smile didn't leave his lips, and Helga continued to clasp her hands over her chest and sigh dreamily until she realized just what she'd done.

And she quickly scowled. "You—you'd better not tell anyone that I do this, you hear?"

Surprised, Arnold asked, "Do you… do this kind of thing regularly?"

Helga's face bunched up defensively. "Uh… maybe?" She quickly sat back up, straightening her rumpled clothes as she did so. "Listen, I—uh—I've got a reputation to uphold, you know? The whole swooning and sighing and writing love poems doesn't really mesh with that very well." She tried to scowl at him, but she knew that that dopey, lovesick smile was still firmly cemented on her face. "So yeah, see what you do to me?"

"I, uh, I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of." Part of the reason why Helga was unable to wipe that stupid grin off her face was the fact that Arnold seemed to be sporting a similar one, his blush growing even deeper. "It's actually really… flattering. And I… uh… I…"

"You what?" Helga sighed dreamily.

Arnold laughed nervously. "I, uh… don't really know what to do either? I mean, you said that you were in a situation you hadn't really anticipated and I get the feeling that it's making you nervous and maybe a little scared, but I'm kind of in the same boat. Not in a bad way or anything, it's just that… this is all new to me, too. I mean… I've never gotten this far before." His blush grew even deeper. "I've liked a lot of girls before—"

"Oh don't ruin this moment by reminding me of that," Helga said, still wistfully.

"Sorry," laughed Arnold. "But you know that you're the first to actually like me back, right? I mean—I've never actually been someone's boyfriend before."

"B-b-boyfriend?" Helga awkwardly stammered out. "Are—are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?!"

"I… thought we were?" Arnold quickly backtracked as Helga still spluttered like a broken-down motorboat. "We don't have to if you're not comfortable with that. I know you have your reputation and everything. We could keep it a secret—or not even do it at all if you don't want to, I'm not going to force you into doing anything…"

Helga continued to twitch and bark out random syllables, her knowledge of how stupid she must have looked to Arnold not enough to get her to stop. Boyfriend and girlfriend?! BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND?! Jesus H. Christ why are you flailing around like this? Is this a joke?! Why is he so freaking perfect?! GET A GRIP! This is what you've ALWAYS WANTED! What the hell are you DOING?! WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!

IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?!

"AAUGH!" she finally shrieked out, taking a few deep breaths. Arnold said nothing, still looking positively perplexed at the show she'd just put on. Helga looked at him desperately, trying to find a way to get out of this with even some of her dignity intact—and she was pretty certain that even that would be a total best-case scenario. The chances of them really happening after that performance had surely plummeted. "Look, I love you, okay?" she gasped out quickly.

Arnold opened his mouth to respond, but Helga cut him off. "Yeah, I know you already know, but I've only ever kind of screamed it in your face and just once, I'd like to say it like a normal person would." She gulped, finally allowing herself to reach out one hand to touch his, putting everything she had into getting this one moment right for once. "I love you."

There. I did it. Now, no regrets. If he's going to high-tail it outta here now because he doesn't want to put up with this crap, well, I don't blame him, and at least I was able to tell him the most important thing and… why the hell is he smiling.

Because he was. If anything, his smile was even broader and more genuine than it had been previously. She almost felt too shocked to register his hand fondly grasping hers. "Helga… you don't need to be normal. I don't expect you to be normal. If you want to tell me that, you know I like hearing it… but don't feel like you have to. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"Would…" Helga spoke through gritted teeth to keep herself from yelling at him. "Would you quit saying that already?! I don't want you to do anything you don't want either, even if what you do want is to run screaming out of here after you've seen what a mess I am—"

"What?" Arnold looked practically dumbfounded. "I want to be here, I—I really want to keep getting to know you better."

"Even after—even after this freak show I've been putting on?!"

"I don't think it's a freak show." Arnold smiled again. "If you're afraid of me getting scared off by this, you don't need to be. The way you act at school is way more off-putting, and even that hasn't scared me off. Why would you think this would? I'm really liking what you're letting me see. Thanks for letting me experience this side of you." The soft gleam in his eyes backed up the conviction in his words.

Helga gaped at him for only a second or two before, quickly and abruptly, leaning in and giving him a firm, substantial kiss.

"Don't ever change, football head," she said softly as she broke away. "Don't ever change."

"You don't either," Arnold answered her sincerely.

Helga's face began to tremble with another besotted grin. "Um, yeah, you'd better go now because I'm about to have another episode and one a day's probably enough for you to be witnessing right now."

"Alright," said Arnold amiably. He moved his hand away from hers, his other hand still on the poetry volume she had given him. "Um, is it still alright if I take this with me too?"

"Yes," breathed Helga, her voice still languorous, "I'm sure I'll have lots more for you the next time I see you…"

"Can I… call you later today? Or tomorrow?"

"You can do whatever you want, love…"

"Okay." Arnold's smile was still warm as he stood up, picking up the poetry notebook as he did so. "If, uh, if I don't see you until then, I'll see you the first day of school, then."

"Yeah, and, uh, don't tell anyone else about what a hopeless romantic I am," Helga said, still utterly rooted in said hopeless romantic mode.

Arnold grinned. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me as long as you want to keep it a secret. See you later, Helga. And thanks… thanks for everything." His smile deepened and he blushed for her one more time before leaving the room, walking back down the aisle and disappearing out of sight.

Helga could finally hold it back no longer, and for the second time that day she let out a rapturous sigh of "Oh, Arnold!" falling back onto her mattress. "I have never doubted your faith in others, my darling, and so I shall do everything in my power to make myself worthy of your tender affections! And someday, somehow, I will learn to be open with you, to be able to freely show you my love without any need for these confused, misguided theatrics! Someday, my love, someday my cruelty and hatred towards you shall be nothing but a distant memory!"

Her phone buzzed on top of the mini-fridge, and, still in a dreamlike state, she reached over to grab it, her heart growing wild with the hope that the incoming text was from Arnold. Could he, too, not go even a minute from departing her without wanting to connect again?

But no. This time, it was Phoebe. Hope you're doing okay, the text read. Call me if you can. It was a similar message to the previous texts Helga had been ignoring for the past few days.

Helga's disappointment that it wasn't Arnold lasted for only a second or two before a smile returned to her face, although this time a pleased, satisfied one.

Oh Feebs, I am MORE than okay, she thought, hitting the dial button next to her name.