Arthur concluded that his day was over. At this point it would be permissible to continue with this project. How ridiculous was it that he had to make a coat, and for
Francis in particular. He felt outraged at the mere thought, but Francis had other plans with this too. Just like him, Arthur couldn't pass up the chance for publicity, nor
could he give up the pay (which was handsomely to make this coat might I add). So, in many ways, Arthur was stuck with this and he sooner than later realized it was
futile to get angry or to quit now.
The doorbell had rung as I was seam ripping. Not a moments rest and yet someone had to come bother me...bugger... I said to myself softly. "Yes, yes one moment" I
spoke loudly. "Jeeze, I thought you would never open ze door". My face dropped, it was Francis. He had on a burette, a mix-matched shirt consisting of grey, white, and
black. Marking his head were Chanel glasses. Every encounter I've had with him he seems to never take them off; Always masking his eyes behind a materialistic piece
of man-made tomfoolery. I sighed with a finger to my forehead.
"Come in, I suppose you want some - dare I say it - coffee?" I squirmed. I cringed at that word. There was never room in my life for the abomination known as coffee. It
doesn't seem like a polite drink for a gentleman such as myself, which is why I only keep it around sparingly when house guests, like the OH SO magnificent Francis
when he arrives out of nowhere. SURE, because this is a free for all kind of household. He'll have something to drink...bollux. Damn French swine. I bit my bottom lip
and dealt with the matter quickly. A small cup of espresso was placed with a matching dish under it, complimented by a Vanilla scone. "Mon-ami, eh, pardon my
rudeness but...WHAT ZÉ HELL IS THIS?! This is an UNFORGIVABLE piece of food on my plate!" He raised his fist up at me as if I did him disservice. "What?! Do I
honestly look like a damn butler to you!?" I yelled back "Excuse me! But this is my house and you have better see to it that if you don't like what I serve you, then get
the (expletive) out of my house!" I huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf from children's folklore. This wolf wasn't taking any of little red riding hoods bull crap. Francis
changed his facial expression to a new level of annoyed.
He got up and looked at Arthur square in the face. "Maybe we should go out to eat then" he demanded. Arthur begrudgingly stared back and exclaimed "fine, then
maybe we should!" "FINE!" -" Fine!"... They both yelled. They both grabbed their coats and were off, but not before Arthur slammed the door, and then proceeded to
lock it. The day was cold, and the air stilled. Arthur and Francis had walked down the road before a word entered either or their mouths. Francis broke the silence. "You
know, I have no idea why we didn't zh'ust do this in zé first place" he said calmly. He had some time to think about his behavior, knowing it was wrong, yet he'll never
say that to Arthur; He'll never admit to being wrong. Dozing off in thought however, his eyes looked over to Arthur unknowingly. Arthur had looked forward until he
noticed it. He took a light jab to Francis' arm, "Are you all right?" Francis blinked a few times before even realizing he had been staring blankly at Arthur. He became a bit
flustered and looked straight. "Oui, I am fine" moments passed by before he eventually said, "thank you". Something sparked in Arthur. There was a long pause, then a
thump... It began; his heart began to thump rapidly. Was he getting sick? His face felt hot at the notion of this. Static of some sort filled the air. Was romance finally
ignited within him? And worst of all, was it with HIM?... Arthur sighed groggily. It was as if the end of the world was happening all in one day. First, he takes on a job
from the psychotic freak...and now he's falling in love with him?! Oi! "There's no way this can get any worse than this" he thought to himself. Of course, Francis was
oblivious to Arthur. He stared off into the sky as he walked and hummed a song. Something Arthur hadn't heard in a long time. The two devils had reached their
destination, despite Arthur's escapade. They both walked in, waited all but a few minutes to be seated, and off they were. The booth was comfortable for standard
seating. "What were you thinking of getting?" Asked Francis. Arthur looked at Francis somewhat surprised. What was with the talking and questions? For that matter,
how did they end up going out for lunch somewhere? Normally Francis would place his order with Arthur to make him some high fashioned- whatever he wanted, and
the two wouldn't talk until Arthur finished with his order. It was all rather odd and strange to him. On top of the scenario, it still bothered him that Francis had said
'thank you'. It was very odd, and out of the ordinary for him. Nonetheless Arthur answered "I'll get an Earl Grey tea for the time being" he scoffed. Trying to hide his
emotional motives from escaping to the surface and coming out of his mouth, he composed himself whilst getting up from his side of the booth and went straight for the
bathroom. "Remain calm, everything is going to be okay" He told himself. But that was just it, he was fighting something he had no control over. And as the thought of
this grew deeper and deeper, became more and more afraid to admit it. The wheels in his head were overwhelmed by the emotions of his heart. He opened the door to
the bathroom and then locked it behind him. Staring at the mirror, he looked directly into a staring pair of eyes. His green eyes pursed with passion and determination
looked like light had shown down from the sky. Arthur washed his hands, closed his eyes and breathed, then got a paper towel from the dispenser and was off back to
the table.
I was baffled. Baffled because no matter what I tried to do, I couldn't let go of these emotions of mine. I saw that Francis had gotten the onion soup with a small
baguette and some Shiraz. He was odd, mainly because I knew he liked his wine with ice, which was unusual for a French man to do. Living in the United States all
these years, seeing others do it, would do that to you I suppose. But I always felt it was just something he liked doing. Especially here in New England. It's a
demographic thing for him. I saw that my tea had come. As i sat down to enjoy my hot cup, I saw something else that was peculiar on Francis. His eyes... His hair... If
my curiosity is correct, it might have something to do with the light from the window. I saw his deep pools of blue in his eyes and his soft glow of his blonde hair struck
me as beautiful. I started my eyes elsewhere. It was too embarrassing to look directly at him. Francis was drinking his wine, and to no surprise, had started chatting up
with the waitress. She seemed delighted to speak to him, and to no surprise at that. I could tell she was attracted to the wavy locks, those sea blue eyes, and his pink
lips...those pink lips- oh, how I want them. I wanted to bask in the radiance of his aura. My face felt like a magnet, slowly drawing into him. I searched his eyes, seeing a
spark of desire. Alas, the daydream had ended after Francis had called my name a few times. "Are you okay Arthur? You looked like you were in a daze", was what he
followed up with afterwards. It was indeed true. I was in a daze, in a daze with his face, with his charm, his looks...
never mind that now, I said to myself.
After we gullied up some grub, Francis and I had walked back to my apartment. It had gotten colder than when we arrived at the café. That was to be expected however,
seeing how it had passed the peaking hours of the day, and nightfall was soon upon us. The sun had begun to set and I had always been amazed by the transcendent
sunset. Ever since I was a small child; though those days were very lonely up until the point when I became a big brother. Those days made me feel great because I was
no longer an only child, no longer lonely. My baby brother Was Alfred. He had kept me happy while we were growing up. We shared different fathers unfortunately, so he
inherited the last name Jones by some new Yorker our mother had eyes on. She didn't know she had been pregnant until sometime afterward and wouldn't you know,
he came into the world. It pains me to see that he'll never be a Kirkland. We had an argument one day. I wanted him to change his last name to Kirkland. I felt that we
would be closer than before if we had the same last name, but he wanted his own independence with that. He got angry with me, saying that he liked his last name
because it was what made him unique, and with that, I felt alone again as before, only this time I was shut out by the only sibling I had. We grew distant, not talking for
a while. I recall it being five years or so now. Every so often I'll think about it and get sad. . .
Whilst thinking about Alfred I noticed the sky again, and then a nudge to my arm. It seemed Artsy fartsy wanted my attention.
"Did you want to go over zé rest of my plans for zé coat before I leave?" He asked. I contemplated for a moment. Not sure as to whether I wanted this to go about a
certain way. I could always invite him back in, but where would it lead? Would we spark in a moment's notice, where he would try to seduce me and make my- ugh, the
thought is simply too much to bare! I decided on my answer.
"No, no! That's quite alright chap. No need to go about doing that when the time flew by so quickly during our lunch! Why don't you scurry along and I'll look at the
design specifications a bit more thoroughly?" I was heated up now. My face felt hot like chili peppers. Oh, the indecency! I'm a professional fashion designer for crying
out loud! We don't show our feelings outwardly in this industry! No- as a man I cannot express my feelings to another man! It's just unheard of, right? I don't want to
feel as if I'm being stereotyped or being made fun of by being called a flamer, or a- how do you say it? ...Homosexual, if word got out I was interested in a man. That
word wrung up in my head repeatedly. The more I thought about it, the more my head hurt. But in conjunction to my head hurting, my heart was pounding rapidly. I
immediately went inside my apartment and took off my jacket, without a bother to say cheers to HIM. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseous. I went over to the
cupboard, grabbed a glass and poured some rum on the rocks. I sat down for a moment and contemplated the kind of day I had. Up until Francis said thank you to me, I
had felt nothing but queasy and uneasiness. What was going on with my mind and my heart? It felt like civil war.