So, yeah, there are a few changes to the story, for any of those who have already read this. Chapters should be updates at the most, every two weeks. Hope you all enjoy this book! Chapter has not been edited.

The countries France and England have always had a past of hatred. They fought many wars against each other and it took a while for them both to be natural allies on the same side. Most of it came with some form of betrayal or a form of miscommunication, leading them to be once again, enemies. Times that they were close allies, were in both World Wars. That was mostly because England was a major power and France needed to get bailed out because, as history will repeat itself, Germans can get into France.

Arthur Kirkland was a seventeen year old British student on an exchange program for half of a school semester. A couple of weeks to learn the culture and to make some French friends, before being shipped back off to the rainy and cold Britain. His mother had pushed him going more than his father ever did. Of course his father would never push him to do anything extraordinary. He had older brothers that he would always be able to stand behind. It meant that anything that he did do that was amazing was hidden behind a shadow, but it also meant that getting into trouble was harder. Arthur was only semi-grateful for this, seeing as how he had things to hide from his father, after all.

The sun rose from over the clouds, and the sky changed from the dark color of black and midnight blue, to colors of fire. Orange, pink, and yellow, fierce colors at their core. Waking up farmers and business people in tiny shops with mere rays going through cracks in the shutters. The fierce colors soon made way to lighter ones. The harsh orange changed to blue, and the yellow faded away to make room for the sun. It seemed as though all that was left was the beautiful colors of pink that shredded the sky, and the pale blue color of a Thursday morning.

Arthur was the first to wake. His older brother, who was only older by a year or so, still laid sleeping. He was snoring and his mouth was opened, a small trail of drool on his pillow. They still had time before they had to be awake and venture out into the city. Dylan, his brother, was rarely actually awake before he. Early bird always caught the worm, his mother told him countless times. He would try to help his mother with breakfast or simply go outside for a break of fresh air before the rest of the world woke.

He went out to the window, smiling at the sight. It wasn't anything like the London Eye or Big Ben, but Paris was a decent city to say the least. Something pretty to look at but not good enough to stay forever. Just like the people of France themselves. They were pretty, of course, but they were not the type to honestly settle down quickly and make promises about love, which they deemed they knew so much about.

Thirty minutes later and the teacher went around knocking on the doors, telling everyone it was time to wake up and start the new day. Dylan snorted and shifted, his brows going together as his eyes opened. His hair was the most related to Arthur, only having a small tint of red unlike his other brothers. They had full heads of red hair that seemed a bit chaotic these days. Although they all shared the emerald tint to their irises.

"Come on Dylan. Time to wake up now," Arthur said. He walked over to his own drawer, pulling out a white button down shirt and a decent pair of black slacks. "Time to start the day."

Dylan whined like a child and rolled over. Arthur had to smile at that. "See, this is what you get when you stay up all night. Ms Church told us to go to sleep early. But what do you do? The exact opposite of what she said. What time did you go to bed?"

"Late," was all that Dylan said. It took him five minutes just to sit up, and another five minutes before he actually physically stood and proceeded to get ready for the day. Arthur clicked his tongue again and ran his fingers through his messy bush he called hair.

Another twenty five minutes later, both boys were with their groups and were downstairs, eating breakfast. You were always given two options. Have a traditional English breakfast, or have something more French-like. Arthur always chose to have his tea and toast, a bit of a mixture almost.

"Where are we going today?" Dylan asked.

"I believe that today is more of a roaming day," Arthur replied. "Just stay with your groups and explore the city and try not to get lost. Or something of that nature. I know Ms Church told us that we should bring our money, maps, and sunscreen for today. So I expect that we are walking around by ourselves."

Dylan snorted. "She has a lot of faith in us if she thinks we won't get lost."

"I am sure she has faith in a few of us. Others, like you for example, I highly doubt that she has much faith in you." Arthur smirked and took a sip of his tea.

Dylan scoffed and rolled his eyes, not impressed with his younger brothers comeback. He didn't really mind though. He was much too tired to deal with his little brother.

Breakfast was soon finished and the teacher gathered up the class again. Arthur was ready to go out and explore by himself. However, he would be forced to be in a group with his brother and another young man who looked almost bored on this trip. Probably another one who was forced to go by his parents or a lover's wishes.

Paris was lovely, but busy, on this day. It seemed like everyone had been picked to go outside today and walk. On more than one occasion one of the boys got lost for a split second. Not knowing where the other two were until they caught sight of them again. Paris was large and it was a fear of theirs to get lost and never see Britain again.

Around lunch time, the boys were trying to find a place to eat. One place that could speak English hopefully so they wouldn't look like total gits in front of a French person. Even if they couldn't find a place that had English words, they could always see if a server spoke English and take their chances on whatever item they pointed to. So far in their travels, they had good luck with not getting anything too bad, and were able to point out some key words to make sure one did not get a bad meal.

"Excuse me," Arthur said to a blond male server. "Do you happen to speak English? We are here on a school trip and we don't know much French."

The blond smiled. "Oui, I do." His accent was very thick, but it was understandable. Arthur let out a small sigh of relief that they finally found someone at least somewhat fluent. If he would ever return, if, he would have to learn more French. "Welcome, to House of Roses. Would you like a table inside, or out?"

"Outside, please." Dylan butted in. Arthur was just about to request one inside because of the awful heat, but Dylan beat him to the answer of course. Arthur huffed and nodded.

The blond nodded and showed them to an outside table. It had a nice umbrella to keep the sun off, so Arthur supposed it wasn't such a bad spot. Not to mention a gentle breeze was blowing. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to sit outside in the fresh air.

"What can I get you to drink?" He asked. Arthur glanced up to answer, and saw the French waiter staring at him with a smile. Arthur blushed a bit and muttered the answer, not very fond of people staring at him like that. He looked up one more time to see if he was still doing it, and the bloody was! Arthur almost has the right mind to tell him right there and there to stop staring, but he stopped himself. He couldn't do that. If he caught him again, he would ask privately for him to stop. "Alright. I shall get you that in just a moment." The Frenchman walked off to get the drinks.

"Arthur," Dylan said in a sing-song voice. "Seems like a certain Frenchman was trying to catch your eye."

Arthur rolled his eyes. He was hoping that he wasn't blushing anymore. It wouldn't end well if he was. "Please. He was not staring at me."
"The blush on your cheeks would tell me otherwise."

Arthur blushed again. "Fuck off, will you Dylan? It was nothing. It was just a bloody Frenchman staring at me." He sighed. "I do have types, you know? Just because I like bloody men doesn't mean I want to fuck every single man I see."

Dylan held up his hands in a surrender motion and stayed silent until the drinks came back. Arthur was glad that he finally got his brother to shut up for once in his life. Arthur was the last one to order his food and pointed to the picture that seemed most delicious and least likely to make him sick and regret ever coming to this damned country. As he spoke, he noticed the server staring at him again! He would have to confront him this time. This just had to end with the constant staring with this googly eyes

Five minutes after he left, he stood and found the very man taking a smoking break. Arthur almost turned around when his stomach flipped and his mind screamed to leave the subject matter alone. He couldn't though. It was the principal that he felt uncomfortable when this man was staring at him as so. Not like the normal way a server was supposed to look with a smile on his face. It was uncomfortable and it needed to be stopped before it continued anymore.

"Excuse me," Arthur said. "I apologize for this, however, it seems as though you are staring at me whenever you come up to my table. I would like to ask you to please refrain from doing that. It makes me uncomfortable and I rather not have you do that again. Thank you very much and I hope you have a nice day."

The Frenchman took a drag of his cigarette, and was polite enough to blow it away from Arthur's face. "Aren't you supposed to stare at something beautiful?"

Arthur blushed again and managed to roll his eyes to hide it. "Please. That is the most cliche thing I have ever heard. Besides, I am not gay."

The Frenchman laughed at this and took another drag. "Please. I know gay when I see one. Besides, I overheard you speaking to your brother when I was bringing back your drinks. Am I not your type?"

Arthur's face flushed with embarrassment. 'Dammit, he heard!' His mind screamed. Arthur quickly cleared his throat and shook his head. "I apologize for that. My brother, Dylan, is hell when it comes to that. I had to say something or he would never get off my arse about it."

"So you do like me? Or at least, find me attractive?"

Arthur mentally groaned. What was it with these French people. Right when they learned they could date them, they rushed into it. That would never happen in London. Unless a person was drunk and had an available bathroom stall.

"I am from London. I don't even live in this country. I'll be gone in a couple of days anyways," Arthur quickly said, trying to get out of this conversation and back to the safety of his table.

"Then why not let you have the total French experience?" He questioned. "Come. Sneak away from whatever tour group you are in and join me for a real French meal."

Arthur quickly shook his head. "I would rather not," he said quickly. "Not to offend you or anything, however, I make it a point not to go on dates with total strangers from another country. So, I would have to decline your offer on a meal. Thank you though."

The Frenchman didn't seem very happy about that answer, but he nodded anyways. He took a quick drag and sighed. "Very well. I apologize for staring at you."

"It's fine. Really, it's fine." Arthur gave a faint, last attempt at a smile and went to turn around, when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked back, a bit confused.

"How about, instead, you give me your phone number?" He questioned with an almost shy smile. "Since you won't go out on a date with me, how about I just get your phone number? We could call each other and get to know one another. And if we still care for another and you're ever in Paris, or I am ever in whatever place you call home, we will meet up and enjoy a date then. What do you think?"

Arthur thought about it with a smile. It was just a phone number. No harm could come from giving another person his phone number. "Alright then. Do you have a piece of paper I could use?"

The server got out his notebook where he wrote down the orders and handed him the pen. He took another quick drag, before smashing the top of the cigarette and throwing it away. Arthur smiled as he write down the phone number and handed it back to him. It would now be up to the Frenchman to call him.

"I will be in France for another week, so don't call before. I don't want to get home and explain why a Frenchman is calling the house and asking for me, please." He said with a smile.

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of it." He smiled back at him, just as sweet and just as kind. "Mon cher, what is your name? You never told me?"

Arthur blushed a bit. With his small knowledge of French, he knew just what that meant. He cleared his throat and looked up to meet his eyes. "My name is Arthur Kirtland. And yours?"

The server smiled and took his hand, kissing it every so sweetly. "Francis Bonnefoy, at your service."