"You're not Antonio..." Arthur hummed as he looked up from his book at the guy sitting across the hall from him.
"No I most certainly am not..." The guy sighed while he scribbled something in an old tattered sketchbook. This man was definitely not Antonio. This man had shoulder length hair currently tied back in a messy bun, strands of blond of falling into his eyes and face everywhere as he kept his head down, focused on whatever it was he was drawing. His eyes were a bright blue as opposed to Antonio's piercing green. He wore a loose France World Cup tank top with light grey sweatpants, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He looked tired. Arthur had never seen him before and he wondered why he was sitting in Antonio's usual spot right outside the dorm room across the hall from his own.
"...Right. Are you a friend of his?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Antonio? He's my roommate." The blond man sighed, "I just want to go to bed..."
"Wait. You're his roommate?" Arthur's eyes widened. So this was the hell-raising manwhore of a roommate who he had heard so much about. Was this really him? In the flesh?
"Yes...?" The blond guy was the one raising an eyebrow now. "And you are?"
"Your across the hall neighbour." Arthur pointed up at the little whiteboard above his head with the words 'ALFRED & ARTHUR'S DORM. WELCOME HOT BABES. (And Arthur's friends)' "I'm the one that's not Alfred."
"...Ah. Sorry I...I guess I've never seen you before. I'm Francis...Bonnefoy." As Francis spoke, Arthur tried not to scrunch up his face in distaste upon the realization his hall neighbour was French. Great. "...Why are you reading in the hallway, Not Alfred?"
Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes slightly as he looked up from his book once more, "Why are you out here? Normally it's Antonio out here while you're in there having sex."
"True. So that's why you're here too? Your roommate...Alfred? He's making love?" Francis smiled, slightly more interested now.
"I wouldn't call it that. He picked her up at the bloody campus corner store..." Arthur shuddered in disgust. As to how his roommate could sleep with anyone so easily he would never know. Arthur was sure he would only sleep with someone he was in love with. Or...just really really drunk near.
"Impressive..." Francis nodded. Arthur twitched an eye in disgust. Impressive?
"So is...Antonio...in there?" Arthur asked slowly, the curiosity had gotten to him.
"I wouldn't be out here if he wasn't." The Frenchman chuckled, "He's in love..." He sighed happily.
"Oh?"
"With an Italian boy...Lovie...Lovini...Lovino...Lovio...Something like that..." Francis hummed at his bad memory for names.
"Good for him I suppose..." Arthur mumbled.
"What are you studying?"
"Pardon?"
"Here. In university. What are you majoring in?" Francis asked, "I've never seen you around before so you must be in a different department."
"Oh. Uhm. Literature and History. Yourself?" Arthur returned the question even though he really did not at all care to know what the Frenchman was studying other than the population of the student body naked.
"Fine Arts and Textiles." He smiled, not looking up from his sketchbook. Ah. Arthur probably should have guessed that one.
"You expect to make a living in the arts?" Arthur scoffed, he liked this man less and less with each second that passed.
"No. I expect to make a living in Culinary." He murmured, still not looking up. Arthur couldn't tell whether his pompously French accent was masking the sarcasm or whether he was completely serious. "You expect to make one in Literature and History?" He chuckled.
"I...I suppose...well...What do you mean culinary?" Arthur changed the subject to focus back on the infuriating man before him.
"I'm 25. I've already finished culinary school. I'm just taking fine arts now for fun." He smiled, finally looking up at Arthur for a few seconds.
"...You're 25 and still whoring around...?" Arthur said dryly. Francis simply chuckled at the blatant remark.
"What can I say, I love love..." He sighed happily.
"I doubt you've ever been in love..." Arthur scoffed, he watched as Francis froze slightly. "Or...maybe you have. Did some girl break your heart so now all you can handle is hookups and one night stands?" He raised an eyebrow. Francis stayed silent. "Or did you love her but not love you back? Then you slept with her only to find out she was using you?" Arthur had no idea why he was being so mean to this man whom he barely knew. But he just couldn't help it. He hated this kind of person. The kind of person who was so perfectly in control of all of the wrong areas of their life. He absolutely hated him for kicking Antonio out of the dorm every night for weeks while he slept with every bimbo in the school. He hated how Alfred did the same thing to him. God he just found Francis unnecessarily awful.
Francis forced a smile and went back to sketching. "I thought you were studying literature...not psychology."
"I'm right aren't I?" He smiled down at his book. "I wonder if she knows how badly she fucked you up from ever loving again..."
Suddenly a shadow was cast over Arthur from the usual yellow glow that came from the buzzing hallway light. Arthur looked up to see Francis standing in front of him, breathing slightly heavier.
"She died." He said bluntly. Glaring at Arthur. "Her name was Jeanne and she died in a protest in Paris 6 years ago." Francis breathed before storming off.
Great. Now Arthur was the asshole.
/\/\/\/\
Another day, another sock on Arthur's door handle and and another tie on Francis'. Perfect. Arthur Set down the stack of books he had just checked out of the library and sat next to them. He had barely even started to read one when a groan was heard. He looked up to see the Frenchman. He looked different today though. His hair was down in loose waves and curls and he had on a blue cardigan, white dress shirt with a red scarf and skinny jeans. He looked...actually really good and really put together. But like Arthur was going to tell him something like that.
"Antonio is with Lovino again..." Arthur murmured, "I saw them together in the library...they must have come back here at some point."
Francis just sighed and sat across the hall from Arthur as he had 2 nights ago. This was the first interaction the two of them had had since they had met. Needless to say it was awkward. They sat in silence for a while before Arthur finally decided it would be a good idea to say something along the lines of:
"...I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. About your love life...or whatever. It was rude of me. I was just in a...bad mood I suppose."
"...Alright." Francis replied, sketching away as usual. There was another long silence before Arthur spoke again.
"You know there are art rooms you could draw in..."
"...And yet here you sit here with your books when there is a library to read in..." Francis murmured nonchalantly. Arthur blushed.
"Touché I suppose..." Arthur sighed, going back to his book. Francis smiled softly.
"French doesn't suit you...which is saying something. French suits everyone." He laughed.
"I happen to speak perfect French thank you very much, frog." Arthur scowled, "Not that you will every hear me speak it."
"Oh? Shame... What are you reading?" Francis was now trying to make conversation for some reason unknown to Arthur.
"...The Catcher in the Rye" Arthur held up the book slightly, "What are you drawing?"
"Sketching."
"Whatever."
"Just a little something for an assignment..." Francis smiled down at his book and began to smudge lines Arthur couldn't see with his already blackened finger. Arthur found himself beginning to wonder wether or not Francis was a good artist or wether he was someone who just did shitty doodles or abstract lines and dots and called it art.
"Right. That tells me a lot..." Arthur rolled his eyes. It was a good thing this guy wasn't Arthur's actual roommate. He might of just had to shoot himself. Then again. He would be spending an equal amount of time in the hallway so it's not like it would even really matter now would it?
He watched as Francis put in headphones and started to nod his head to a rhythm. Arthur couldn't help but watch him start to swing his shoulders slightly, probably in time with the music. That got Arthur thinking...what kind of music did Francis listen to? Was it in english or french? Did it have any words at all? Was it classical? Dubstep? Pop? Rock?
"...What? Want to listen?" Francis blinked a few times in surprise at the fact Arthur was staring curiously at him.
"Oh." Arthur blushed a deep red colour and looked back down at his book. "...I was just...uhm...bringing headphones was a good idea. I never think to..."
"Do you like M?" Francis asked, taking out a headphone.
"What?"
"M. Mathieu Chedid. They're a band. French. They're good." Francis shrugged.
"Oh. Never heard of them. I mostly listen to British rock. Stuff like The Who, Sex Pistols, The Police, The Beatles, Queen, Rolling Stones...y'know. Them Lot." Arthur pursed his lips, now wishing he had headphones with him to listen to the music he loved.
"Oh. I like the Beatles. But I like M, N's Up, MIKA, Stromae, Daft Punk, Pheonix...I like old music too. Like Vera Lynn and Arthur Askey." Francis smiled.
"Most of those I have never heard of. Vera Lynn is incredible though." Arthur smiled back. Well. At least the frenchman had some taste in music.
"Well I'll show you M. Might as well do something while we're stuck in the hall." Francis chuckled, moving a few feet so he was now sitting next to Arthur, close. He popped a headphone into the brit's ear and began scrolling through his iTunes playlist, looking for a song. "Oh! Here's a good one... Mojo by M. It's their most famous song. You said you speak French right? Great you'll understand the lyrics!" Francis chimed, starting up the song.
Arthur had to admit...for a French song he had no intention of liking...he was really liking it.
/\/\/\/\
"Tell Arthur to wear a hat!" Francis chimed from his spot on the floor as he watched Alfred and his new girlfriend go into the dorm hand in hand.
"A hat? Ok dude..." Alfred snorted. Moments later, Arthur was in the hallway with his book. Sighing as he sat down.
"You're not wearing a hat...did Alfred not tell you dear?" Francis pouted.
"He did. But he was making no bloody sense so I didn't. I don't even think I own a hat...wait. Why a hat?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"I need to practice drawing people wearing hats." He shrugged, continuing to sketch away in that tattered book of his.
"Like hell you're drawing me..." Arthur scoffed. "You're probably not even that good. Why would I let you butcher my face?"
"What? Like someone butchered your eyebrows?" Francis sneered.
"The same person most likely did your hair, frog."
"You wound me." Francis said, looking down at his sketchbook.
"You're the worst person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!" Arthur snarled.
"That's because you haven't had the pleasure of making love to me yet~!" Francis sang.
"The only pleasure that would come out of that if the pleasure I would get from throwing up all over your face, wanker."
"Well I suppose some people are into that..." Francis hummed, seemingly unaffected by the banter. He still just sketched and sketched like there was no tomorrow.
"Whore."
"At least I'm not a virgin."
"I am not a virgin!" Arthur blushed heavily.
"You're blush tells me otherwise..." Francis whispered, standing and kissing Arthur's cheek before leaving with all of his things. Arthur sat in utter shock for a few moments before a voice chimed in above him.
"Hola Arthur! Is Francis in the dorm?" Antonio smiled happily.
Arthur remained silent.
If Antonio was never in his dorm with Lovi...then why was Francis sitting outside...where he knew Arthur would be?
/\/\/\/\
It had been 2 weeks since Arthur had spoken to Francis. He had now taken to reading in the library or the quad or even the cafeteria. Anywhere but that hallway where Francis occasionally sat. Alfred was still taking home a new girl every few days and Antonio seemed to be very fond of his boyfriend and Francis was fond of his...company. But mostly Arthur would catch himself peeking up from his book every now and then purely just to look at Francis, across the quad under a shady tree sketching a flower or the sky or other people laying in the grass. He would watch as people came up to Francis and appear to flirt with him. He would watch Francis turn them down. He would watch Francis do absolutely nothing but stare at the clouds go by and every now and again he would notice the Frenchman smiling up at the sky...seeing something the clouds managed to form that no one else saw but him. Arthur would then attempt to figure out which clouds Francis was looking up at and what shapes his mind managed to make out of them.
He could never seem to do it.
Most of all Arthur found his mind frequently drawing to the same question; Did Francis notice him under the other shady tree on the quad? Did Francis notice him peeking up from his book? Staring at the sky in frustration? Staring into blank space during a day dream? Did he notice when Arthur finished The Catcher in the Rye and moved on to Out of Africa? Then Shantaram? Did he notice all the times Arthur remembered to bring headphones? Did he notice the times he didn't?
He did.
But did Arthur notice, everything he was noticing about Francis?
He didn't.
/\/\/\/\
He couldn't believe he was actually going into Francis' dorm room. He couldn't believe how sweaty his hands were making the tattered old sketchbook pressed between his chest and his folded arms. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He saw the worn out old book laying on the grass in the quad and he honestly couldn't believe Francis had left his most prized possession behind so carelessly. So he decided to return it to him. It would have been so easy to look through all of the sketches and leave the damned thing where it was left to soak in the rain that loomed in the darkening clouds overhead. But somehow Arthur just couldn't bring himself to do that. He convinced himself it was just not in his nature to let any form of book get destroyed.
He did peek into it though. He opened it to a random page to see an absolutely breathtaking sketch of a woman with short hair in a long dress, she was smiling...laughing almost. But the drawing had dried stains on it...teardrops. In the corner of the page in neat cursive was written,
Jusqu'à ce que nous rencontrons à nouveau mon amour, Jeanne.
Of course, Arthur wasn't lying when he said he spoke perfect French. So he easily translated the sentence to:
Until we meet again my love, Jeanne.
Arthur couldn't bring himself to look at any more than that. This whole sketchbook was probably filled with more heart wrenching drawings of the love of his life. The girl who made Francis stop whoring around and be the happiest man on earth. And as much as he hated the Frenchman...he couldn't bear to think of that.
Upon knocking on the door there was a groan from inside that resembled a 'come in'. So Arthur slowly pushed the door open to reveal a room where the only source of light were the crooked scraps of dull sunlight outside that managed to push through the clouds and scrape through the worn out blinds of the room. Arthur could very vaguely make out the layout of the room. It wasn't too hard, it was the same as his room but flipped. He noticed a pile of sheets on the bottom bunk that appeared to be breathing. There was Francis.
"Francis you useless lard...I have your bloody sketchbook...now take it before I throw it to melt out in the rain..." Arthur grumbled. Francis dashed out of bed to grab the book.
"Y-You didn't look at it... did you?" Francis squeaked. Arthur couldn't see him very well but he was almost certain Francis was shirtless, his hair up in that messy bun again.
"I-...I saw one picture...of Jea-" Arthur murmured until he was cut off by Francis.
"Get out."
"Francis it was really g-"
"GET OUT!" Arthur had never seen Francis angry. He was always so calm and laughed everything off like it was nothing. Even the really mean things Arthur said to him, he just didn't really seem to mind all that much. But now he was livid. Arthur wasn't too sure as to why...he just looked at one drawing. Why would he study arts if he didn't want to share his art...? Arthur had no idea.
All he knew was it hurt a lot more to be kicked out of Francis' dorm than he expected it to.
/\/\/\/\
It was a cold day in December when Francis kissed Arthur for the first time. 3 months after being kicked out of Francis' dorm and 2 days before Christmas. Everyone in their dorm block had gone home to their families for the holidays but Arthur and Francis. Their families were in Europe. Arthur intended to spend his time holed away in his heated dorm, reading. Francis intended to drink away the memories of Jeanne making eggnog and curling up in front of the fireplace wrapped in her quilt her mother made her. He planned to drink everything away. However all Francis succeeded in doing was drinking away his feelings for Jeanne and letting a few feelings for Arthur slip past, moving so quickly that the next thing he knew he was pounding on Arthur's door and the very second it opened he was kissing him senseless, pressing him up against the wall to disable him from protesting in any way.
"Francis! Francis get off! Bloody hell!" Arthur shouted, Francis reeked of alcohol. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Francis was drunk and it was the holidays and he missed his family. He missed Jeanne. So Arthur tried a better approach. "Hey...Hey hey...Francis look...it's alright..." Arthur hugged him tight until the man broke out into gut wrenching sobs. All Arthur could do was lead him over to the bed and lay him down carefully. And then Arthur did the only thing he really knew how. He read to him. He read from Peter Pan. He just read of Neverland and hook and Wendy and her brothers until Francis' sobs were replaced with soft snores and he was out like a light.
The rest of the night Arthur found his fingers tracing over his lips...unable to rid his lips of the feeling they had just been kissed.
There was no denying it...Francis had kissed him.
/\/\/\/\
"I didn't think you still sat out here." Arthur murmured as he left his dorm room to go to the library. There was Francis, sitting on the floor.
"I'd run into you in the library, it's too cold to be on the quad, the art rooms are always loud, the cafeteria is messy and the study hall is depressing..." Francis mumbled. "So out here it is."
"You know, I actually think you're kicked out of your room more often than Antonio now." Arthur laughed.
"Shut up...I'm focusing on my art for a while..." Francis grumbled. His hair was tied up again. Arthur decided that he liked Francis' hair tied up a lot better than when it was down. It made him look a lot less...like a pompous French asshole.
"What's the point of drawing so much if you don't show anyone?"
"I show people. Lots of people." Francis shrugged.
"You've never shown me..." Arthur mumbled.
"You hate me."
"Not true! I just...don't exactly like you... Besides, you're the one that kissed me!" Arthur yelled.
"I was drunk!"
"You liked it didn't you! You...you piss crusted baguette!" Arthur frowned. Francis dropped his sketchbook and jumped up.
"As if I would ever enjoy kissing you, your eyebrows are probably bigger than your cock!"
"Bastard! I despise you!"
"I resent you! With your stupid eyebrows and your idiotic taste in literature and your fashion sense with those dorky sweaters you wear that swallow up your hands and make it impossible to see your body and that stupid fucking way you smile at book pages! Goddamnit! I-I hate you!" Francis yelled. Just before Arthur could open his mouth to say something he noticed Francis' sketchbook, open on the floor. On it was an absolutely astonishing sketch of Arthur sitting on the floor and reading. It was utter perfection. Down to every stray hair, the soft smile on his lips and the tired look in his eyes.
"Wh-...When did you draw that...?" Arthur said under his breath, gesturing to the drawing.
"Wh-?" Francis looked back at the sketchbook and quickly grabbed it. "Nothing. It's nothing."
"It was me..."
"No! Don't be ridiculous!" Francis' cheeks went bright red. "It was just some guy!"
"Some guy that was me. Francis why were you drawing me...?" Arthur grabbed the sketchbook out of Francis' hands. He began to flip through it to realize all of the drawings were of him. There was him sitting across the hall, him sitting in the library, him laying in the grass with headphones on, him laughing. They were all...Arthur.
"...When you kissed me...it wasn't just because you were drunk...was it...?" Arthur mumbled.
"I-..."
"And you haven't been sleeping around lately because...because you...you uhm...well...have feelings...for...for me?"
"No! No! No No No I...I...merde." Francis sighed. "I only...I...I only drew you when I...I thought...I...I thought you looked...s-slightly less like shit." Francis stuttered nervously.
Then it hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. They had been watching one another for months. They had been so incredibly desperate to hate one another...but with hatred as strong as theirs...it was easier to put that energy into love.
"Valentines Day is this Saturday...take me out on a date. If I have a good time I'll consider doing it again." Arthur said bluntly.
"R-Really!? Arthur did you just ask me out!?" Francis beamed.
"No. Idiot. I asked myself out for you because you were too bloody scared to." Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I was not scared!" Francis pouted. "I don't even like you..."
"Valentine's Day it is then. Pick me up across the hall at say...6?" Arthur turned to leave.
"Wait! What do you want to do!" Francis called after him.
"Surprise me!"
/\/\/\/\
"...I didn't think you would take 'surprise me so seriously..." Arthur said with wide eyes as he was led into the art studio to see a dozen jugs of paint and two canvases set up.
"Everyone loves to paint...even if they aren't very good..." Francis blushed.
"Francis 'not very good' is an understatement." Arthur watched as Francis made his way over to the canvas. He was mesmerized by him. His hair was tied back loosely with a thin purple ribbon, he was wearing dark grey jeans, a white shirt with some sort of logo printed on the front and a black cardigan. It was casual...but he looked cute. Really really cute.
"Come on! At least try! You'll have fun I swear!" Francis grinned. It was weird seeing Francis so happy. Arthur wasn't too sure why... Francis was always happy. So why was now any different. It could have been the fact they were on a date. It could have been how the light was hitting him...or it could have been the fact that Arthur was hopelessly in love with the Frenchman before his eyes.
Arthur started to paint. He didn't know what. He just painted whatever he felt like. Experimenting with different brushes and sponges, oranges, yellows and reds...until he got something rather abstract. It resembled a sunset. But it could have been anything really.
"It's pretty. I like it!" Francis grinned. Want to see mine?" He took Arthur's hand and took him around to his canvas where there was an absolutely breathtaking painting of a rose covered in little water droplets.
"Holy fuck...you...you painted that...? Just now?" Arthur gasped, absolutely awestruck.
"It was to make up for the fact I didn't get you any flowers for valentines day..." Francis blushed.
"You bloody frog..." Arthur groaned, taking Francis' cheeks into his hands and kissing him absolutely breathless. Francis was shocked for a moment before he allowed his eyes to slip closed and his tongue to enter Arthur's mouth. Arthur didn't pull away and to Francis that was a perfect moment to push Arthur against the countertop on the edge of the art room. Arthur's arms moved tighter around the Frenchman's neck as Francis lifted Arthur to sit on the countertop and wrap his legs around the other's waist.
"F-Francis..." He moaned out as Francis kissed down his neck.
"No one will be in this art room until 10am tomorrow..." Francis breathed against the smooth skin of Arthur's neck. Arthur froze. Was Francis seriously suggesting that they...? No. No way. They couldn't possibly!
"Shut up and bloody do it already..." Arthur grumbled despite his better judgement. He didn't know what he was thinking. He hated this man! Absolutely hated him! Well, at least that's what he kept telling himself. Turns out, Arthur didn't hate him at all. He didn't hate him as clothes came off, as moans were heard, didn't hate him as hips thrusted and ground against one another, as cries and whimpers could most likely be heard from down the hall.
Arthur would be lying if he said Francis wasn't impressively big..*ahem* down there. And he would also be lying if he said it didn't hurt at all when Francis held his slender hips and pushed into him slowly after he had been stretched open slowly and carefully. Most of all he would be lying if he said he wasn't in total bliss for every second of what they did 4 times that night. Everything about that night was absolutely perfect.
This was the first Valentine's Day Arthur wasn't alone. And this was the first Valentines Day in almost 5 years that Francis didn't spend drunk, trying to forget Jeanne. Neither of them would be alone on Valentine's Day ever again.
Next week, Antonio opened his door to see something he wouldn't have ever actually expected. Alfred was sitting in the hallway with boredom in his eyes. And the dorm next door? A certain Russian named Ivan was doing the same thing.
Hiding out in the hallway as his roommate was having sex.
"You're not Arthur..." He said to Alfred, confused.
And so it went on.
My note to you!
Hello Everyone! Been awhile I suppose... Sorry to any of you who are still waiting for a Your Star update. I'm working on it I promise! I'm going through a small patch of writer's block. *cries forever* But anyways Happy Valentine's day to all of you guys. If you're feeling unloved today then hey, remember I love you. Why? Because you're all so supportive of every word I write! Thank you thank you so much to all followers, favouriters and reviewers. I even thank those of you who just stopped by for a little FrUK!
Also, did you like what I did with the ending? I found it rather cute. *Shameless self promotion*
Thanks everyone, Godspeed!
See you next time!