Love
With a small sigh Arthur sat down in the train that would bring him home. His classes hadn't ended yet and wouldn't for another two hours. But he really just wanted to go home, he was tired and drained. It had been a long week, so when Francis had announced he was going home. Arthur hadn't been able to resist to join the Frenchman.
While Francis had actually finished the assignment, Arthur was far from done. He had felt rather guilty for skipping class. But the racing of his heart and the thrill of joining Francis had been for more overwhelming than the guilt. They had gotten on the bus to the station and Francis had sat down next to him.
There had been a lot of space in the bus. Yet the Frenchman had sat down next to Arthur. Their shoulders had touched and there had been comfortable small talk between them. Francis didn't know Arthur liked him the way he did. After all, how could he. The moment Arthur had realised he was in love with the Frenchman, he had started hiding his feelings from everyone.
Arthur smiled to himself as he got comfortable in his train seat. While he was sure Francis didn't love him back, he managed to enjoy the small moments they shared between them. When they had gotten off the bus at the train station, Francis had wished him a good weekend. Arthur's heart had skipped at least three beats and he had been at a loss for words.
Unable to speak. He had smiled brightly at the Frenchman in a response. And as a result there had been a slight tuck at the corner of the man's mouth before he waved goodbye and got on a different train.
Arthur covered his mouth to prevent himself from squealing out loud. He was such a sap when it came to the Frenchman. And there was nothing he could about it. Butterflies sped through his stomach as he recalled Francis smiling back at him.
Beautiful, unadulterated love.