Arthur Kirkland did not like Francis Bonnefoy. No, not one bit. Even if his little brother Alfred refused to believe the plain and simple truth. His heart did not beat just a little bit faster when he passed him in the hallway, his head did not become light when he caught a whiff of his cologne, and he definitely did not love when he let his French accent slip.
… Okay, so maybe Arthur had a slight crush on Francis Bonnefoy. But, even if he had wanted to act on his feelings, as tiny and insignificant as they were, he wouldn't have. Francis was, for lack of better words, oblivious and straight.
Meticulously placing his textbooks inside his startlingly clean locker, Arthur half-listened to Roderich Edelstein as he prattled on about pianos and his tutoring. Roderich was a close friend with a love of music, pianos, and his boyfriend, Gilbert.
He curled his fingers around the spine of his calculus textbook and slammed his locker shut, turning to face Roderich. Roderich finished his sentence with a complaint and they headed to their calculus class side by side silently.
Arthur was having a perfectly shitty day. When he had reluctantly agreed to sign up for child development in the summer before his junior year of high school, he had had no idea that he was going to have to take care of a child that could cry, go to the bathroom, and be fed. The teacher said that he had already put groups together and one or two 'couples' would have to be paired with the same gender. Personally, Arthur was okay with this but he did not want to depend on someone to make sure he got a good grade.
And then, he had seen Francis talking to a random woman and that put him a rut, then he had caught Gilbert trying to molest Roderich so he had sprinted away as fast as possible, and to top it all off, Alfred was being a prat.
Arthur dragged a hand through his dirty blonde hair and settled into a daily routine he had memorized like the back of his hand, even though it was only the fourth day of junior year.
Arthur was pissed off of at the world. His shitty day just got worse. He sat on the floor, his school bag and books scattered around him, and… his ass hurt. Feeling his anger reach a level that threatened to explode and kill everyone within a mile radius, he scrambled around until he rested on his knees and glared up at the person who had run into him. And, for the moment, the shaggy, honey looking blonde hair didn't register in his mind.
"You bloody fool, watch where you're going!" He let out a huff of air and set about gathering his things. He roughly shoved books into his bag and just as he was about to pick up the book he was currently reading, his fingers brushed against another hand. His eyes shot upward and he scowled, yanking the book away from the person.
He hugged the book to his chest and swiftly stood up.
"Idiot, next time watch where you're going," He snarled, spinning around. Just as he was about to stomp away, a hand caught his shoulder, and the thick, amused French accent chilled Arthur. It couldn't be… It had better not be…
"You forgot, something," Francis said amusedly, holding out a leather bound book. Arthur eyed the volume with distrust, even recognizing the binding as his personal belonging. Warily, he reached out and took the book from Francis' grip.
"Bloody git," he muttered, too proud to say 'thank you' or show any sort of admiration, or adoration. He shuffled his feet and eyed Francis warily. His blue eyes shone with amusement, his honey colored hair was crudely pulled back, and just as he was about to study Francis' lips, he tore his gaze away. He started to walk away when he realized that he was being followed. He looked up and blinked.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm escorting you out of the school, Cher," Francis replied smirking.
Arthur had quit taking French once he realized that he was absolutely horrible at that language, but he knew enough to know what 'Cher' meant. He sent Francis a quick glare when the full force of the situation hit him. He was walking next to the man he was… fond… of after yelling at him and being sent to the floor on his ass.
A soft blush spread across his cheeks and he fought to keep it down. He refused to blush in front of Francis. He took a deep, steadying breath and veered off to the right. He kept his eyes straight forward ignoring the man keeping perfect stride next to him until he called out.
"Good-bye, Mon Cher! I'll see you tomorrow in class~!"
Arthur froze and watched Francis walk casually away for a moment before hurrying away, suddenly very anxious to be home.
Arthur was regretting his existence. Why had he agreed to take child development? He took notes, waiting anxiously for the moment when his name and the name of his… partner was going to be read. Around thirty minutes later, Arthur was… conflicted. He didn't know whether to be ecstatic or horrified at the thought of raising a child with Francis Bonnefoy. His head hit the desk, deciding to be horrified.
This was going to be a long, long year… Especially if he had to raise the damned doll all year long. He didn't know whether Francis could actually be a good… father. And, oh my God, did he really just say that? He dropped his head onto his hands and held back a whimper. This was… going to be interesting to say the least.
"Mon Cher, we meet again! It is going to be a pleasure raising a beautiful child with you!"
Francis' accent, normally sweet and intoxicating to Arthur, was grating on his ears. Arthur turned to glare at him and reached up with one hand. He grasped Francis' shirt collar in his fist and pulled him down to eye level.
"You better not ruin this, you bloody frog. Because if you do, I will rip your head off."
Their eyes locked and instead of butterflies, which Arthur expected, competiveness tightened his stomach into a tight knot.
Francis' blue eyes sparkled with amusement and the thrill of a challenge.
"Well, Mon Cher, is seems as if we are going to be the best parents this plastic child shall ever have~!"