The school bell rings, signaling lunch has officially started. Arthur sets his bag down at the table farthest from the librarian. He has nothing against her; he would just prefer to be away from people for a while. So much is going on, he needs the silence.
"Arthur, what's wrong? Your face is uglier than normal." Francis says without a second thought, bursting through the door.
"Bloody frog, nothing is wrong." Arthur fires back, attempting to bury his head back into this book. So much for peace and quiet.
Francis continues to walk closer. "I can tell something is wrong, mon ami. We are friends, right? You can tell me."
Arthur's eyes shoot to the floor. Feeling slightly guilty. "We are friends, but if I say it then it'll be real." He doesn't want to admit his feelings. If he did, if he voiced it, there would be no taking it back.
"Say what?" the Frenchman asks with a sly grin.
"Nothing. What are you even doing here? Don't you have some chicks to hit on or something?" Arthur asks.
Francis almost looks hurt, but his smile creeps back in, "Oui, but I can do that anytime. Checking up on a friend. That cannot wait. Everyone has noticed you've been down lately. They sent me to check on you."
"Why did they send you?" Arthur asks, watching him take the seat next to him.
"I am the most outgoing."
"Only when it comes to relationships or women." Arthur scoffs looking back at the pages of his book.
Arthur's book falls to the ground when Francis takes hold of his hands. "Then because we have history."
"Let go. I'm not going to tell you because nothing is wrong."
"Mon ami, if nothing were wrong, you would be back in the cafeteria with the group. Instead you are here like a loner. Something is defiantly wrong."
"I won't say it. If I say it then it'll be real." Arthur says again. His face grows red, not because of the contact, but because the thoughts he is having. If he tells Francis, who else will find out?
"If you're worried about rumors, my lips are sealed."
Shaking off his grip, Arthur says, "I doubt that, frog." He still can't say it. The second the words leave his imagination they will breathe life, and create a beast unlike any other.
"If you're scared they will hear, you can write it down. I have paper right here." Francis takes out a piece of paper from his backpack.
"Why do you have paper now?"
"I only use it for emergencies such as this."
Yesterday, Francis asked everyone in class for paper for the test they were taking. A test. Arthur looks at him with such confusion. Does Francis really care about him? Can he be trusted with this kind of information? Why is he trying so hard?
Francis waves the paper around, "You haven't said no, so you will write it?"
"I need a pen."
A smile crept onto Francis' face as he hugged the Englishman. "You feel better already, no?"
"Yeah, feeling a lot better." In all truth, the guilt in his stomach only grew.
Francis hands a pen his way and a shaky hand takes it. He covers up the paper with his hand like a little kid. Pen in hand, Arthur writes down his reality: I think I might like Alfred. Before uncovering what he wrote, Arthur made Francis promise to keep his mouth shut. "If it is important to you, I promise."
After releasing a deep breath, Arthur moves his hand from the paper. Francis sits in awe for a second. When he finally recovers he asks, "Really?"
"I wouldn't be this worked up if it wasn't true, right? When he hugs me it's like everything else fades away. Every time he smiles it warms my heart, and when he gets scared I want to hold him and tell him it will be okay."
Arthur looks at his friend who is simply sitting next to him with a smile on his face. "Are you going to say anything, frog?"
"Go after him."
"What are you talking about? I can't do that. What if I scare him off, and ruin our friendship again. I can't relive middle school again. I missed him so much. I don't want to lose him again." Arthur looked at his hands. He didn't know why he is spilling his guts to Francis of all people. It just felt great to be telling someone.
"You should be telling him, not me."
"But how? I feel so conflicted. What if he hates me for it?"
Francis wraps an arm around Arthur's shoulder and pulls him closer, "Just go for it. He could have the same feelings for you. You won't know until you ask."
"Fine," Arthur pushes the Frenchman aside, "But I'm the one who tells him. No one else."
The bell rings again. Francis jumps up to the door, "See you seventh period. Tell me how it goes."
Arthur gathers his things and wonders how in the world he is going to tell Alfred.