Scent. Sometimes it becomes so familiar that you can't help but associate it with something.

The scent of roses always made me think of the garden. The scent of wine usually made me think of Victor. But this scent? This scent filled me with dread.

I hadn't even opened my eyes yet, and already, the bitter, acrid fumes filled my mind with unpleasant memories. Considering the limited number of residents in the house, there weren't too many options for whose footsteps were walking across the floor right now. But he didn't need to say a word for me to know exactly who I was dealing with today.

"Good morning, my little Muse," Arthur chirped pleasantly.

I had to resist the urge to sigh into my pillow. "You tried cooking again, didn't you?"

"How could you tell?"

I snickered a bit as I lifted my head. He stared down at me, confused. As if he really had no clue what gave him away this time.

"I'd recognize the smell of burnt toast a mile away," I teased.

He scowled down at the platter he was holding. "It's that damned toaster. It-"

"Hey, don't blame the poor toaster. Philip used it yesterday and his toast turned out just fine."

This fact only seemed to deepen his frown. Originally, when Jack told me Arthur couldn't even make toast, I thought he was exaggerating. However, that statement had more than been confirmed by now.

I couldn't even count how many pieces of bread shaped charcoal I'd forced down by this point. That being said, I was always happy to eat them.

It was awful stuff. Blackened and bitter. Once, I had to eat half a jar of jam just to force down two slices. But I ate every bite. Because Arthur made it for me. He made it just for me. And that fact mattered more to me than how it tasted.

He looked surprised as I reached out and took a piece from the tray he was holding.

"Anna, you don't have to-"

"It's fine," I insisted, taking a bite. Despite the bitter taste, I smiled as I looked down at the toast. "Not bad. Honestly, I think this is the best one you've made so far."

He probably thought I was just saying that to make him feel better, but I wasn't. It really was his best attempt so far. The bread was just a very dark shade of brown instead of black this time. A small improvement, but an improvement nonetheless.

He glanced down at the tray again with a faint smile on his lips. "I promise, one day I'll make you a half-decent meal."

"I keep telling you you don't have to. We hire Philip for a reason."

"Do they cook for you?" He asked pointedly.

I sighed. This again. "Only Henry. But I keep telling you, he and I aren't even-"

"Irrelevant!" He interrupted, setting the tray on the bedside table. "If he can do it, then I can do it."

I let out another heavy sigh and buried my face in the pillow. It'd been several months since Arthur had learned the truth about his condition. It wasn't easy, but slowly, he'd been coming to terms with it. Fairly well too, all things considered. I was grateful for that, if nothing else.

However, what I wasn't grateful for was having yet another boyfriend who insisted on outdoing himself. Literally.

This whole competition that Jack, Arthur, and Victor had was exhausting to deal with. I suppose I should've just been happy that Arthur's version of "competing" wasn't sexual like the others. Honestly, I wasn't really sure how much more my poor body could handle.

Although, as I looked up at the very toasted piece of bread in my hand, I wasn't sure how much more of this my body could handle either.

Arthur sighed suddenly. I glanced up to see him scowling at the tray again.

"You know, if you'd just let me talk to Henry..."

"Arthur..." I warned.

He looked at the ground and shrugged. "I won't. I just saying it would be easier if I could."

After his little note passing session with Jack, I made Arthur promise that he would limit his "contact" with the other personas. Specifically, that he wouldn't try to contact any of them who weren't already self-aware.

He agreed, begrudgingly, but he agreed.

In all honesty, I hated that agreement just as much as he did though. I hated the idea of trying to put restrictions on him. Of limiting what he could and couldn't do with... well, himself. After all, it was his life and his body. Shouldn't he have the right to do what he wanted?

That being said, it seemed a necessary evil at this point. While I was determined that, eventually, I would tell all of Mr. Weston's personas the truth about their condition. I knew that telling them all at once was probably a bad idea. Not just for me, but for them too.

Arthur was still coming to grips with everything. And, honestly, I don't think Victor ever really moved past it. Telling all of them at once? There was no telling what could happen if I dumped all that trauma on him at one time, and I wasn't willing to risk his health just for the sake of convenience.

He wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't going anywhere. There was plenty of time for us to ease into all of this. That is, if I could get Arthur to be patient about it.

"Why don't you talk to Philip?" I suggested. "You've eaten his toast for how many years now? I'm sure he could teach you how to make it."

"It's not the same," he grumbled stubbornly.  "He's not me."

"Well, what about Jack or Victor? Maybe one of them knows how. They're not exactly chefs, but I'm sure they could help you with toast."

"Tried it," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Jack doesn't know how to work the toaster and Victor told me to stop wasting his time with questions like that.

Well, that's the gist of what he said anyway. Not sure I could actually get through telling you the uncensored version. Remind me again, what exactly do you see in him?"

I couldn't help smiling at that. Yup, that was Victor alright. The slight blush on Arthur's cheeks made me want to ask exactly what he'd said, but I knew better than to try to get details by this point.

As a compromise for not letting him contact all the personalities, Arthur and I reached the agreement that he could at least contact the ones who were already self-aware. Considering the fact that their options for communication were pretty limited, they did this mostly through a shared journal.

Each one would take turns writing to the others. Questions, comments, concerns, whatever they wanted. Honestly, when Arthur first suggested it, I thought he'd have a hell of a time convincing the others to play along, but I was surprised by how quickly they all warmed up to the idea.

Jack liked having a more "first-hand" account of the things that happened while he was gone. Arthur finally got the answers and support that he needed to help him cope with his situation. Hell, even Victor seemed to enjoy their little exchanges. Though I'm sure he probably had his own questionable motives for this.

Not that I'd know. After the whole "letter" incident, Arthur made me promise that I wouldn't read anything that he, or the others, wrote in the journal. Even if they offered to show me.

Was I happy with that restriction? No. Of course not. But this journal wasn't about me. It was about them.

It was a safe place they could communicate with each other. A place to speak their minds and voice their concerns. A place they could actually have some modicum of control over this situation that they felt powerless in. How could I possibly say "no" to all that?

Again, it wasn't ideal, but they deserved to have that privacy. Plus, it was kind of nice that they didn't have to hound me for those day-to-day details anymore.

I smiled at that thought as I forced down the last bite of bitter toast. I dusted my hands off and jumped out of bed.

"Okay, I know you've been holding back. So tell me, what's the project today?" I asked, leaning against the bedpost.

His eyes seemed to flash a bit as I asked this. "Same as last time. Only this time, could you give me a few more details? I feel like you're not being completely open with me, and it's reflecting in the pictures."

Some days, I felt like I sighed more with Arthur than with any other persona.

That whole "them not asking me for details anymore" thing might have been a bit of an overstatement. Jack and Victor had stopped asking me for details. Although, I'm sure that's because they were perfectly happy to brag to each other about what they'd done. Arthur, however, was just as inquisitive as ever.

"I still don't see why you need to ask me about those things," I grumbled. "I mean, I'm sure Jack and Victor have-"

"As I've explained before," he interrupted, "this project is intended to capture your emotions. I can hardly do that by reading their entries, now can I?"

"I know, but-"

"Besides," he said, hopping up, "it's not like I'm asking you anything too... graphic. I'm only asking about your emotional intimacy with them."

I couldn't help but smile as he cringed a bit at the word "graphic." Sweet, simple Arthur. Even thinking about those things made him uncomfortable.

"You know, some people would argue that's even worse," I teased.

"Agree to disagree then," he chuckled, grabbing my hand. "Come now, my little Muse. We have work to do. Inspiration waits for no man."

"What about woman?"

"Her either."

I smiled and rolled my eyes as he dragged me out of the room. As much as I complained about Arthur's "go, go, go" attitude, I was actually very happy that he still acted that way.

Finding out the truth about his illness? That everything he thought he knew about the world was a lie? It was a lot to take in all at once. No one would have blamed him if he'd  changed afterwards.

Which is why I was so glad that he hadn't. That he was just as sweet, and oblivious, and excitable as he had been before he learned the truth. That he was still the same-old Arthur. Although, it was easier to get him to eat meals now.

In fact, him actually stopping to have meals was about the only thing that had changed in our relationship. Breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, work, and then working until he passed out in the studio at night. Aside from a few kisses on our "breaks" and some light flirting here or there, it was business as usual between us.

Normally, being that platonic in a relationship might worry me. Especially after all this time. But with Arthur? It didn't bother me a bit.

I mean, separate personalities or not, they all shared the same body. Jack and Victor's little "competition" had to be just as exhausting for him as it was for me. Besides, it's not like sex was the only factor in our relationship either.

We still had dates, we flirted, we kissed, and most importantly, we loved each other. We were happy together. Why ruin all that by trying to force something that neither one of us really cared about?

Although, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it every now and again. Sex with Arthur. What would that be like? I couldn't even imagine it.

"Anna," Arthur cried suddenly.

"Huh?"

I glanced up. He looked mildly annoyed. Based on his tone, that probably wasn't the first time he called my name. I glanced around. Somehow, we were already in the studio.

"Ah, sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?"

He let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "I swear. What even goes on in that little head of yours?"

I knew that question didn't really mean anything. That it was rhetorical at best. That he was simply muttering annoyances to himself as Arthur often did. Still, I felt the seeds of mischief start to plant themselves in my mind as he asked me that.

It was almost funny. The more time I spent with Arthur, the more I felt like I understood Victor. Why it could be so fun to tease your lover. To play with them during those times when they're just a little too serious. To make them blush, and stutter, and turn them into a fumbling mess. To bask in the thrill of knowing that you're the only one who would ever truly see that side of them.

And seeing Arthur right now, with his sulky face and brows furrowed with annoyance? The temptation was just too much to resist.

I stepped closer and placed my hand on his chest. I don't know if it was the boldness of the gesture or if I just caught him off guard, but either way, he flinched back instinctively. I couldn't help but smile at it.

"Do you really want to know what I was thinking about?" I purred.

It wasn't exactly difficult to get Arthur flustered. A sultry voice and some fluttered eyelashes were all it took really. In an instant, the familiar blush filled his cheeks and his entire body stiffened with fear. He was completely defenseless, helpless even, and it only made him all the more fun to tease.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his neck. I could feel his pulse racing beneath his skin. Like his heart might explode at any second.

"I was just wondering what it might be like if you and I-"

"Work!" He blurted out suddenly, yanking himself away.

He moved so fast I had to catch myself on one of the bookshelves to avoid falling. Honestly, I think we were both a little caught of guard by his reaction. I don't know how he did it, but somehow he seemed even more shocked than I was. His blush deepened as he looked at me.

He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes to the floor. "Sorry, umm... what I- what I mean is... you, umm, y-you're wondering about us getting to work. Right? What it might be like if we do this project. Right? Right. Of course. So, umm, l-lets get to work then."

He muttered this more to the floor than he did to me. I felt a soft smile on my lips as I looked at him. As fun as teasing Arthur was, I also knew when he was at his limit. Enough was enough. At least, for now.

I walked over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. I meant to cheer him up, but for some reason it only seemed to deepen his frown. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Well, then let's get to work," I said cheerfully, tugging him towards the camera. "I'd love to get started, but unfortunately, you never gave me any specifics about what I was talking about today."

"Wait, I didn't?"

That seemed to snap him out of his funk. I shook my head.

"You mentioned it was the same project as before, but never gave me a specific topic to talk about," I explained.

"Ah, right. I didn't, did I?" He mumbled, as if just remembering himself. "Well, anyway, why don't we start with the basics? Who was here this week and what's the general summary of what you did together?"

I smiled as I sat in my usual chair against the backdrop. Here it was. Routine. The word echoed happily inside my head.

To most people, I'm sure that word probably meant "boring" or "standard." But to me? It meant something completely different.

To me, it meant comfort. A predictability of sorts. And as someone whose daily agenda was more of an ad-lib than a guide book, I took comfort in those small moments of predictability. The times when I actually knew what to expect from him. And this was one of those times.

"Well, you were gone for three days this time," I started. "It was a standard lineup. Jack, Victor, and Henry."

"You had Jack and Victor back to back?"

"Yes, but luckily I didn't have to, umm... overwork myself this time."

He just hummed in response, but I noticed the faint blush on his cheeks as I hinted my meaning. The way his eyes suddenly shifted away from me and towards the camera despite the fact that he hadn't taken a single picture yet. He cleared his throat.

"So, umm, any... particular reason for that?" He half-mumbled.

"Nothing dramatic, if that's what you're hoping for," I chuckled. "It was warm the other day, so Jack didn't want to waste it staying inside. We had a picnic and walked through the garden all day. By the time we came back for dinner, we were both too tired to do anything else."

"Oh, I see."

He tried to hide it, but I could hear the hint of relief in his voice as he said this. This wasn't the first time that he'd accidentally reacted to something that I'd said, but whenever I asked him about it, he always denied that it meant anything. He'd just say that it was an" impartial, off-hand comment" and that I was "imagining things." I'd given up trying to get an actual response out of him by this point.

"So, umm, what about Victor then?" He asked, looking up again. "What did you two do together?"

I sighed at the question. Part of me wished he'd stop asking about Victor. He was never happy with the answer I gave, and I was pretty sure this time would be no exception.

"We had breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

He frowned a bit. "That's all?"

I shrugged. "We had a couple glasses of wine too."

He made a disgusted noise and shook his head. "Let me guess, you two were too busy... God! Is that all he thinks about? Can't he do anything besides-besides-"

"Have sex with me?"

His jaw clenched at this. He glared down at the camera again. I could practically see the anger starting to bubble just beneath the surface.

"It's... It's not that I mind him wanting to. I mean, I know that Jack does too. It's not that. It's just..." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "With Jack it's... different. You can still tell me about Jack. You have dates with Jack, you talk with Jack, and it sounds like the two of you have a very loving relationship.

But Victor!" He made another disgusted noise. "Sex, sex, sex! That's all he seems to do! And-and I don't care that he does. It doesn't bother me that he does, but... it just doesn't seem right that that's all he does with you. There's more to you than just sex!"

"Arthur-"

"Anna, you're this incredible woman. Gentle, loving, intelligent, funny, hard-working. The list goes on and on. And yet it seems like all he appreciates about you is your body. How could I not be upset by that? How could I not get upset knowing that the woman I love is with a man who doesn't truly appreciate her?"

My heart hurt hearing him say that. This was another thing I'd noticed since telling Arthur the truth about the others. He really wasn't a fan of Victor's.

I mean, I suppose I should've been used to that kind of thing by now. Even I wasn't denying that Victor's personality was a bit of an acquired taste. Still, it hurt to hear Arthur talk about him that way.

I loved Victor. I loved him just as much as I loved Arthur. It just seemed like Arthur didn't understand that.

Arthur shook his head again. "Honestly, I don't know what-"

"Arthur. Stop."

I didn't yell or raise my voice, but I didn't need to either. My tone alone was enough for him to freeze dead in his tracks. He looked at me, his face filled with shock. After a second, he lowered his eyes. He reached out and touched his camera. I heard the familiar click as he took a picture.

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet nervously. "I... Sorry, I went too far, didn't I?"

I sighed and leaned my head against my hand. "Yes, but... I guess I'm not too upset with you either. I know you're only saying all that because you love me and want the best for me."

"Y-yes! Exactly!" He sighed with relief. "Thank god. I'm so glad you-"

"But," I warned him, "that doesn't mean I'm just going to let you trash talk Victor either. Even ignoring the fact that you two are technically the same person, he isn't just some random guy to me. He's someone I love, okay?

I get that you might not like him, but you have to realize that I do. I love him. He's important to me. So, no matter what your personal feelings about him are, do you think you could at least be civil about him? For my sake, if nothing else?"

As always, Arthur was an open book with his emotions. The guilt and regret were obvious on his face. He nodded slowly.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." He sighed. "I just said myself that I couldn't stand the idea of you being mistreated by anybody, so how is it fair for me to stand here and do the exact same thing to somebody that you love? Of course you'd be upset by that. And you have every right to be."

"Thank you," I sighed, relieved.

"But can I please at least ask what it is you do see in him?" He almost begged. "I get that you love him. I do. And I promise to respect that, but... why? What could he possibly be doing to make you love him so much?"

I smiled weakly. "It's hard to explain. I know, from your perspective, he probably sounds like a bad guy. And I'll admit it, on paper he does, but... There's more to Victor than what you all hear.

Yes, he's crude, and perverted, and moody, and we'll spend about eighty percent of our time together having sex, but that's... just how Victor is."

"That... explains nothing really."

I sighed. "I know. Umm, let me try to give you an example instead. Would you ever consider grabbing my breasts as a casual, flirtatious gesture?"

He looked mortified. "What? God, no!"

"What about invite me to join you in the bath?"

His face turned bright red again. "I- well, I, uh-"

"I'll just take that as a soft no," I chuckled. "But here's the the thing, Victor would, and, big surprise, Jack would too."

His eyes went wide at this. "Wait, Jack does things like that with you?"

"Yes, and a few other things I'm sure you also don't want to hear about, but that's what I'm trying to tell you: different people express their love in different ways," I explained. "To you, love is spending quality time together and communicating about various things. To Victor, it's having sex and sharing sarcastic banter. To Jack, it's a little of both. You all have your own way.

You have to remember, just because you're the same person doesn't mean that you're the same person. No two people are exactly the same. Do you think if you met another woman, that she would love you the exact same way that I do?"

"Of course not!" He burst out immediately.

"Then why do you think the three of you would all love me in the same way? Look, I know it might not make much sense to you, but the way Victor is? That's his way of loving me. So can you please just... accept that? For me?"

He stayed silent for what seemed like forever. I was about to plead with him again when an exasperated sigh finally broke through the silence. He nodded slowly.

"Alright, alright. I suppose that's fair. You're right, it doesn't make much sense to me, but... I'm sure my way probably doesn't make much sense to him either. If you say he loves you in his own way, then I'm sure he must. After all, he'd have to be a fool not to."

He gave me a teasing smile. It made a small giggle slip through my lips. He seemed to relax a bit at the sound. He let out another frustrated sigh.

"I do wish he'd try to express his affection for you in other ways though," he grumbled. "His way is really causing problems for my project."

I couldn't help but smile at this. Right back to work. That was Arthur alright.

"Ms. Walton?" The intercom called.

"Huh? Already?" I mumbled, mostly to myself.

"You got up late today," Arthur explained.

"Oh, why didn't you wake me?"

"I was going to after I made you breakfast. But, you see, well, umm, the bread..."

He trailed off sheepishly, looking down at his camera. It was obvious he was still brooding about this morning's "toast" incident. I was about to say something to him when the intercom interrupted us again.

"Ms. Walton? Are you there?"

I hopped up and went to the intercom. "Philip, can you please bring lunch up to Mr. Weston's studio? He'll be eating here."

"Yes, Ms. Walton."

Arthur looked at me in shock. "Wait, here?"

It was easy to tell why he was surprised. I usually didn't let him eat in the studio because of how easily he got "distracted" by work. I smiled and nodded, leaning against the wall.

"Well, like you said, we got a late start today. It's only fair I let you work a bit longer to make up for it." I paused. "As long as you're eating."

"Of course!" He agreed, practically beaming. "Well, in that case, I need to make some adjustments to the lighting! I really wasn't expecting you to be so reasonable today."

The rest of his words quickly devolved into inaudible mutters and mumbles. He zipped around the studio, doing whatever it was that needed to be done. Barely acknowledging that I was still in the room with him.

Comfortable, familiar. Yes, this was it. Our little routine. And I prayed it would never change.