New fic! *looks at unfinished fics... hangs head*
This comes from an RP with my dear friend Oobeley, and I'm not sure if she wants me to continue this, so it might be one of those, "This is all you get, make up your own story," fics. Hopefully I'll write a little more, for an explanation.
Antonio called ahead.
He tried to breath slowly and easily when Ludwig answered the phone- in through his nose... and out through his mouth.
He tried to keep his tone steady while he talked to him (in the nose, out the mouth...), and he tried not to waver when he asked if he could talk to Francis- breathing steadily, in, out, in... and out.
Because nothing was the matter, he promised Ludwig. Nothing at all. He just wanted to talk to Francis. Soon, preferably. Quickly, if it wasn't too difficult. But nothing was wrong. Nothing.
In, out... in... and out.
Francis was smoking. He had the collar of his coat turned up to protect his ears from the cold, and he was standing under a somnolent street light, his iced breath mingling with the smoke from the cigarette held between his numbed fingers. He took a final, elongated drag in, and blew it back out into the sky, flicking the butt frustratedly at his feet and eliminating its glow with a swift twist of the ball of his shoe.
In, and out. In... and out.
Clearing his throat, Antonio alerted the man of his arrival, and dug his hands further into the pockets of his coat, watching his toes shift uncomfortably in his boots.
He heard Francis pause in waiting.
The words were in Antonio's throat, just a breath away from emerging.
In...
... in...
... in...
"Antoine." The Frenchman placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Antoine, look at me."
He did as he was told and raised his eyes to the stubbled face, to the cerulean eyes, purple shadows clinging to the skin beneath them.
"Breathe."
Antonio nodded shakily.
In...
... and out.
"Bien," congratulated Francis, assuming he could straighten up again. "Now, why was I to meet yo-"
"He got caught."
The snow fell, frosty and ashen, on the glowing pavement, glistening under rain and waterlogged light. A small swirl of an unsure breath escaped Francis' mouth and hung in the brittle air. He met his friend's eyes slowly, opening his mouth awkwardly and waiting for words to find themselves.
"... you're sure?"
"Si."
Francis released another trapped sigh, looked down the street to the house with pallid squares of light on the windows, reached into his pockets and lit another cigarette.
I'd love to hear what you think! :)