{A Spellbound Soul}
Arthur watched as Francis let out a loud sigh. Francis sat in a chair all by his lonesome, clutching a picture of the two of them from college. Arthur reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but instantly retracted it, remembering it would be of no use. It only gave Francis cold chills, and magnified his sadness. Arthur noticed Francis pour more whiskey into his cup, the liquid forcing the ice to clank against the glass. Arthur wanted to scream. Tell him that he was sorry for causing him so much pain. Arthur knew though, that this would be futile. He had tried before, but his words never reached him. This all was caused by his magic, something only him and his friend from middle school Lukas knew, as Lukas had some too. A spell had gone wonky and now... he might as well have been a ghost.
It was strange to see Francis so upset. Arthur was still adjusting to the fact that he saw so much more of Francis now that Francis couldn't see him.
"Oh, Arthur. Where did you go? Alfred and Matthieu think you are dead, or maybe you ran away. Lukas won't say much, but he says he's sure you won't be back for a little while. I'm so worried, and I'm angry and sad and... I miss you." He watched as Francis buried his face into one hand and took shaky breaths. "I never got the chance..." He murmured. Arthur and Francis had been friends since high school; not to mention, Arthur may have had a major attraction to his flirty french friend, but he would never have those feelings returned.
Arthur had never meant for this to happen. Him and Lukas should've learned more before messing around with their magics and the old spellbook that his mother had left for him. He hadn't even researched if the spell he cast was reversible. Arthur couldn't even get to his spellbook, as it was locked in his basement and he couldn't go through shut doors. Plus, no one could open it because Arthur had somehow managed to get it protected with some sort of magic charm. Now it was working against him.
Arthur stepped away from Francis, unable to watch him nearly sobbing and upset, guilt threatening to consume him. Arthur touched the door to the basement and pulled his hand back, beginning to blow on his hand. Not even he could touch it, leaving him utterly clueless. He had to try something. Maybe Francis could try? Ah, who knows. Although Lukas had promised to stay behind in town a bit longer to help fix the situation, Arthur remained anything but calm. He moseyed on over to a bookshelf and thought a moment. He couldn't have his spoken words reach Francis, but perhaps he could show him some sort of sign. He hadn't experimented much with this ethereal form, considering all he had learned was he could only travel through open doors.
Arthur glanced through the bookshelf, foraging for a specific book. His eyes settled upon a leather bound journal, and sighed. Perhaps this was the best way, even though it was a tad embarassing. He reached out at the shelf and his hand solidly touched the journal. He began to pull it out and the journal came out with his hand, almost as if he had a solid form again. He held the journal out in front of him and stood before Francis. He didn't look disturbed. Arthur could only guess the book didn't appear to be floating, so he must have it cloaked as he holds it. Arthur opened to a page that held a journal entry relevant to Francis, probably around the time they got this apartment together, and glanced over it.
Arthur's attention was taken from Francis by the mew of his cat familiar. Cleo strutted into the room and stretched before leaving a note and a dead mouse by the basement door. Arthur sighed. The cat was sweet and him leaving the dead animal was a sign of affection In itself, but it was bloody disgusting. He scanned over the note to find its purpose:
Arthur,
I believe I've found the cause of your problem. Find a way to meet me at Vlad's house at 4:00. We need to meet.
~Lukas
Arthur glanced over to Francis and gripped the journal tighter.
'I guess I should write a note to him. Get him to open the door and tell him some things. Well, it can't hurt to try.' Arthur thought. He grabbed a pen and wrote a tiny note, expressing how sorry he was that Francis was worrying, and that he was alright. That he could be angry if he wanted but he didn't mean to leave. He told him to open the door a moment and he'd show him a sign. Then he dropped the journal with the note onto the floor and backed away. Francis let out a shriek.
Francis stood from the chair and found the book lying at his feet. His eyebrows raised in piqued curiousity, as he leaned down to pick it up. He held it and his eyes skimmed over the page, reading intently, his expression hard to read. When he finally looked up from the paper Francis wandered over to the door and opened it, leaving it open a moment. Arthur knew if he left he might not come back for a while, but he'd never fully come back if he didn't go. He stepped out the door brushing Francis' shoulder, causing him to shudder, and dropped a picture he had of Francis and him on the floor. Francis smiled, and Arthur was ready to set off. But he still didn't understand why Lukas could possibly want to meet at Vlad's house. Did he know something? Would he be the key to getting out of this whole mess? Arthur hoped that surely Vlad hadn't been holding out on him.