Reading Over My Shoulder
Erin McLain
Arthur Kirkland was pissed off, yet again, because this story has Francis Bonnefoy in it, so that is to be expected. Arthur couldn't do anything within 50 feet of Bonnefoy, not even write in his private journal.
Arthur was sitting at his desk, leaning over his journal. And so was Francis, leaning over him to just watch him write. Mind you, Francis was standing directly over Arthur, like Arthur was a shadow of the Frenchman. Arthur, being Arthur, couldn't stand being in the proximity of the male, let alone being shadowed.
The Brit was trembling, not with fear but with anger. He slowly placed his pencil on his desk and turned his head towards his classmate. "What do you want, Frog." He said slowly, so the dimwitted (or so Arthur believed) Frenchman would understand him and he wouldn't have to repeat himself.
Francis turned and gave the Brit a look of total and pure confusion. "I don't know what you mean, mon ami." And the boy stared into Arthur's deep green eyes with interest in what was possibly annoying the boy.
Arthur heaved a sigh and continued to write in his journal that was decorated with the English flag (and a French flag Francis had superglued to it when Arthur wasn't looking). Why did the frog have to always be in his personal space, although Arthur didn't really mind, he could still complain about it.
This continued for another 5 minutes. Arthur was writing a battle scene, and Francis breathing on the back of his neck wasn't helping him think. His story was of a brave knight who had lost his friend in battle, or so he thought. His friend had actually been taken by the enemies King as the new Queen. Everyone told him she was dead because they knew he loved her, even if he didn't know it yet.
Finally Arthur had enough of Francis's mumbling and heavy breathing. He slammed his pencil down on this desk and yelled directly in his "friends'" ear, "If you want to ready, then bloody read it!" Arthur then thanked the heavens that the teacher was at a conference and the rest of the room was being loud as well.
But, Francis didn't seem to notice Arthur's gruff attitude and merrily said, "Really? Thanks!" With that he walked no skipped, back to his desk on the other side of the room with Gilbert and Antonio.
Arthur shook his head and seated himself in his own chair. Francis was so weird, Arthur concluded, but in a good way. The Brit stole glances at Francis to try to see if he was enjoying the story, but the Frenchman's expressions were blank.
Arthur had spent a great amount of time working on that story, but had not allowed anyone to read it. Whenever anyone even glanced at him when he was writing, he would shut his journal. He never shut out Francis, he was too quiet and sneaky, half the time he didn't even notice him with his mind stuck in the story.
Five minutes later Francis gingerly placed the battered book on Arthur's desk. Before Arthur could even mutter, Francis burst out with, "That was amazing! You have to finish it soon, and tell me! He has to save her from the evil King! What are you going to do, wait, I don't want to know, just finish it soon, and tell me!" Arthur was in so much shock he didn't even notice that Francis was hugging him until the boy had let go. When Francis finally went back to his desk with a grin, Arthur stuck his face into his journal, for as Antonio would say, it was as red as a tomato.