By Eliza Monty (KirosPhan4Life/ TellingStoriez)
I own nothing.
Francis Bonnefoy, smoothing his long, blonde hair into a ponytail, stole a swift glance at the other boys in the locker room. This was the only time he could see his friends unclothed, but he had to be sneaky about it. If he got caught, it wouldn't be the first time.
Francis let his eyes wander over his friends' bodies as he tied up his sneakers. There were only a few people left-Alfred, Arthur, and that Asian kid whose name was unpronounceable. He rested his gaze on Arthur. The two were acquaintances, to say the least, but their relationship was more hatred than love. Francis hated that more than Arthur, really. If there was anything that he believed in, it was that people should love each other, but with Arthur it was different. It seemed like they'd always been fighting, since they met as little kids.
He slid his eyes slowly up Arthur's body, from his neatly tied shoes to his noticeably large brows. He stared into Arthur's eyes, and even from across the room, he could see the deep green. Francis grinned. He had to admit, the British boy had a great body.
Arthur blushed at his smile and ran out of the bathroom. Francis laughed. It was so easy to embarrass people.
During gym, Francis was chatting with his friend, Matt, when Arthur approached him, followed by a stricken Alfred.
"Hey Frog!" Arthur scoffed, bouncing a dodgeball menacingly. Alfred whispered something to him, probably a warning, but Arthur ignored it and pushed him away. Francis put on his best, most charming face, and said:
"Yes, anglè-cher?" Arthur grinded his teeth in aggravation.
"Don't call me that!" he shouted, and whipped the ball suddenly at Francis' head. Francis, being French, and a quick think caught it with no hesitation. It stopped right before it hit his face, which only made the other boy angrier.
"Then what shall I call you? Fairy boy?" Francis asked sweetly, rousing a snicker from the gathering onlookers. It was known quietly among friends that Arthur saw things that weren't there, namely fairies. He blushed angrily and ran at Francis, his hands fists.
Both boys tumbled to the ground on impact, punching and scratching at the other.
"Oh, anglè-cher, if you wanted to be on top of me, you could've just asked!" jeered Francis.
"Who on earth would want to be on top of you, wanker?" Arthur fired back. Alfred and Matt tried in vain to pull them off each other, both knowing that the quickly approaching authorities were the only ones that could. Before the two knew it, they were dragged off to the office-again.
Sitting next to each other on the bench outside the office was hard enough, and spending 'quality time' together, apparently, was their punishment. Francis was beginning to think that the administration had run out of punishments for them, and was making them up as they went along.
"…a black eye." Arthur said quietly, a small smile on his face.
" Wait, what?" Francis asked, "I wasn't listening." Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I said it was a good fight. You gave me a black eye." He repeated. He pointed to his right eye, and sure enough, it was battered and scratched, and would probably be bruised tomorrow.
"Sorry." Francis mumbled, focusing on his knees. Arthur looked up at him surprised.
"Uh, I-it's ok." He stammered, "We fight all the time, right?" Francis nodded, agreeing sadly.
"Yeah, we do. Hey, anglè-cher?" He asked suddenly. "Do you really see fairies?" Arthur smiled, then frowned, and then smiled again. The question should've made him explode with anger. If it were any other time, he would have told the Frenchman to buzz off. He would've hated everything about the question, from Francis' annoying nickname for him to the personal inquiries, but now, at this moment, Francis looked so serious about it that he had to tell him.
"Just one. Her name is Tinkerbell." Arthur muttered. He hated how stupid he sounded. Francis nodded again, his face showing no signs of humor.
"Can I meet her?" he asked softly. Arthur, not noticing how much he-for once- was opening up, simply stated:
"She's harder to see in light like this. We'd need to be somewhere darker." Francis pointed at the janitor's closet across the hall, a smile playing at his lips. Arthur glanced at him warily.
"Won't we get in trouble?" he whispered. Francis grinned.
"Probably." He said slyly. Arthur got up, and, as quietly as he could, tried the door. It opened easily with one swift pull. He looked around, his eyes catching small things, like a broom or a jar of paint. It was, however, quite dark, and would only get darker when the door closed.
" Well." He said to Francis, "Come on then." He led the way into the dark.
"She should appear in a few minutes" Arthur started.
"Oh! There she is!" he exclaimed. And there she was. She was just a small glow of light at first, but, as she floated closer, Francis began to make out a few details such as her short, white hair and her green satin dress. She wore feather earrings and green, elfish shoes. Her wings were light, like a butterfly's. Francis held out his index finger, and she landed on it, greeting Arthur in a language that the Frenchman could not understand.
"She says she likes you." The other explained. Francis smiled.
"She has good taste." He said.
"Yes, it's odd, she's usually such a good judge of character." Said Arthur with a smile. Both boys laughed, together, for the first time. It was easy to laugh, with the green glow of Tinkerbell lighting up the small room.
Francis was happy. He never thought that he would be giggling and chatting with his rival, let alone over fairies. He began to notice how green Arthur's eyes were.
Arthur was happy. He never thought that he would be giggling and chatting with this frog, let alone over what everyone else thought were figments of his imagination. He began to observe how Francis' hair fell in his blue eyes.
The fairy paused a minute from her dancing, sensing what the two boys could not, and disappeared. The boys jumped at the sudden darkness, but stayed where they were seated.
"She can tell what we're thinking, can't she?" asked Francis. Arthur just shrugged unseen.
Francis felt around for Arthur's hands, and when he found them, he laced their fingers together. Arthur didn't move.
"I hate you, frog." Arthur whispered, as Francis drew him close. Francis chuckled.
"I know," he said, slowly kissing up the other boy's neck.
His lips tasted like honey.
When the bell sounded for the ending of the period, Matt and Alfred looked around for Francis and Arthur.
"I wonder where they are, dude." Alfred said.
"Knowing Francis, it probably involves a janitors' closet." Laughed Matt.
"Knowing Arthur, it probably involves, like, fairies." Joked Alfred.
They were both right.