Giving a sigh, Francis started on his homework since he had extra time in class. Especially since he was new to this school and surrounded by English pricks. Well, the one sitting behind him was fairly cute, but it wasn't like they had spoken at all. Most of the people in this class probably thought he couldn't speak English.

Arthur frowned as he looked around his class. His pencil lead had run out and there was no one in the class that would bother to help him out. "Hey, frog." He hissed, jabbing said 'frog' in the shoulder with his useless pencil. "Lend me a pencil."

Turning around, Francis looked at the boy behind him. What was his name again? It started with an A... Aaron? But he picked up a pencil and handed it to him. "You can keep it, I have more." He said, his accent still thick after hardly any time in England.

His eyebrows furrowed as he lightly took the pencil. "Thank you, I suppose. Though your accent is atrocious." Pausing for a second, he continued after seeing the deep hurt under the boy's eyes. "What is your name?" Arthur might have been desperate, but after not having friends from his 'despicable' attitude, he was finally presented with a chance to have a comrade.

"Francis. Et toi?" The teacher was out, so he figured it would be fine to speak with him as long as he was willing to. And he was just so cute, if only he would pluck his eyebrows a little. But those green eyes were so stunning.

Wincing at the French, Arthur swallowed down his English pride and nodded. "Arthur Kirkland." Mentioning his last name was usually what deterred other students, so he figured he would get it over with now. Not because his family was rich, but because he was more often then not called simply 'Kirkland'. "What brings a frog like you to England? Parent's got divorced and forced you to live here while things tided over in your sodding country?"

Glancing at the clock, Francis sighed. Still another hour left. "My father got a job as head chef at a restaurant here, actually. So of course he brought me and my mother here, if we wanted to go or not." But that was his father. He even hated the fact that he got his cooking skills from him.

"Well then. I guess you can't be too much of a disaster." He concluded, letting his face relax into a neutral expression. Francis turned around and the Brit continued with his work. After a few minutes of the pencil scratching against the page, he leaned forward again. "Say... How long have you been in England?"

Thinking, the Parisian shrugged. "I suppose about a month already. A whole month without seeing the beautiful country side of France." He gave a sigh, thinking about his old home. Stupid father, his old job was just as good.

With a snort, Arthur looked down to his page and continued to work. If the bloody git wasn't going to talk with him about anything important, then why would he waste his time with him? After all, all the girls were already swooning over the foreign teen. Once he opened up, he would be accepted into the highest ranks of their school. Arthur was more than happy to spend his lunch away from the crowds on the emergency exit.

Turning back to his work, Francis looked at all the math. Sure, he was good at it, but that didn't mean he liked it. He turned back around, putting an arm on Arthur's desk and smiling. "So, have you met any Frenchmen before? I hear they are all giant perverts." He joked. It was obviously not true, especially where his stuck up father was concerned.

Before he could stop it, a small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Incredibly so. Apparently they go after anything with a pulse." Still, if the bloke was willing to make fun of himself in front of Arthur, then he couldn't be too terrible. Even if he was French.

"I heard this one Frenchman had sex with-" It was then that the teacher walked in, so he figured it would be better to not get in trouble his first week in school. But, it looked like he had just made a friend, and by chance it was with the cutest guy in the class.

.oOo.

Leaning against the wall with his book bag beside him, Arthur watched as Francis walked out the main doors. Not quite sure what he was doing, he picked up his stuff and sprinted over to the Frenchman. "Hey Frenchie, do you have anywhere important you need to be?"

"Um, well actually my father is fairly strict about when I need to be home..." Not that he never snuck out before, but that was easier to hide than being late.

"Jolly good." Arthur said sharply, reaching out for the other's sleeve. With a good grip, he then started walking off the high school campus. "I suppose you aren't too bad for a Parisian, so I want you to see something." If he wasn't going to take advantage of their budding 'friendship', then Arthur knew he would continue through school with good grades and a horrible attitude. Not that he was to blame when everyone would attack him about one thing or another.

Giving a sigh, Francis followed. "Oui I was just about to say that I don't care if I get grounded, as long as I can spend time with you." He said sarcastically. But, it still would be much better than being at home. The longer away from that place, the better.

Grimacing, Arthur commented. "Don't speak French unless you want others to bash your skull in. Plus that makes you sound like a bloody poofter." He explained, still pulling Francis off into the woods that surrounded his neighborhood. Even with his words, he couldn't help but simultaneously blush and frown. If he wasn't so open when he was younger about his fairy friends, maybe his father wouldn't have insisted on him playing in the mud and rough housing with his 'friends' so he wouldn't become a 'poofter'.

"What's a poofter? You Brits have weird sayings." And just where were they going, anyways? He had never really been to the woods before, so wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe like in books, it would be really dark and have strange animals everywhere.

"And you French usually don't know English so it is expected you don't understand." Considering he was still confused about his orientation, Arthur couldn't very well tell him it meant gay. "We're here." He said quietly, looking over the small brook with two weeping willows traipsing through the crystal water.

Eyes going wide, Francis looked at the tranquil scene. "This is... amazing..." After the awe passed, he turned to Arthur, grinning. "So, just like a boy, you have a secret hiding place? Do you imagine it having magical creatures too?" He gave a laugh, watching the slight blush on his new friend's face.

Hitting the other's shoulder hard, he growled. "I didn't have to show you here, wanker. And plus, the faeries won't come out if your French filth is here, defiling the place." How could he not be defensive? No one else had seen his personal get away.

Laughing, Francis pushed him back. "I was joking, of course, mon ami." It was nice to say he had a friend in England now, even if when he pouted like that, it made him want to kiss him. Damn his stupid sexuality, it always got in the way!

Sniffing dejectedly, Arthur nimbly climbed up one of the trees. "Are you daft? What are you waiting for? Unless you have to run home to your father." He smirked behind him at the Frenchman. "I'm still not sure if you should even be here. None of the spirits seem to like you yet. Except the water nymphs, but they like everyone." Though, it was distracting how much they were giggling up at the blond man.

"What are you talking about? Have you suddenly gone crazy?" Faeries? Water nymphs? "What, do they play with the Easter Bunny?"

"It's not my fault you're blind to the world around you. I thought I could show you this place, but I was sorely mistaken. Go away, bloody frog." He hissed, covering up his embarrassment with anger. He had done it for so long that it became second nature.

Giving a chuckle, Francis went to the tree and started climbing up. "Alright, alright, so there are faeries. Do they live with boys with no parents that fight pirates? Or do they live up North and make wooden shoes?" He didn't want to poke fun if Arthur actually believed in them, but it was so easy.

Glaring at the other teen, Arthur scoffed. "And why should I tell you? I barely know you. I don't even know why I brought you here in the first place." He ended up muttering, looking down to the water below them. "It's not like you can appreciate it as I can."

"I can appreciate it perfectly fine!" Francis defended. "I appreciate the creek and the trees and the view, not being with my father, being with my only friend in England, and if you tell me about these faeries I am sure I will appreciate them, too."

Shaking his head, the Englishman continued to look over the brook. "I can't believe that you would voluntarily say you are my friend. Obviously you don't know me."

Sitting down beside him on a thick branch, Francis shrugged. "Well, let us get to know each other, then." Because really, they had only been speaking for a day. Although he did have an eye on Arthur since his first day to class. All the other men in the class were completely plain.

"You think you're so special just because you're from France, don't you? You're the foreigner in a small English town. All the girls are supposed to swoon and all the guys are supposed to be your friend." He snapped, throwing up his internal barriers. "Well I'm not like the rest of those buggers."

If only it was the other way around, with the men swooning and the girls becoming his friends. "Well, that plan backfired, didn't it? After all, you are the only one so far who has spoken to me. So, no, you are not like the rest."

Snorting again, the Briton leaned against the trunk of the tree. "I suppose. Though if you were American you wouldn't be able to get out of school alive." Though at the moment it had seemed a good idea to try and make friends with the pensive teen, now he was second guessing himself. Arthur wasn't used to talking civilly with another person except when the occasional family friend came over from Germany.

"Well, I think being French would be much better than being America-ah!" He said, almost falling backwards off the branch. In France, he had lived in Paris, so wasn't used to all this stuff. "Merde!" He grabbed onto the bark of the tree, and Arthur's arm to keep himself upright.

Arthur struggled to keep them both upright. "Bloody hell! Are you insane?" He yelled, tempted to just push Francis off no matter how immature that would be. "You could have hurt both of us." He explained, brushing off the sleeves of his uniform. Seeing the blood ooze up from where the Frenchman's arm rubbed the bark, he just sighed. "Get out from the tree and I'll help you with that."

Staying as still as he could, Francis looked at him with wide eyes. "Help me with what?" Help him get down from there? Well he could at least do that... probably.

"Your cut, git. What did you think I meant?" He just sighed again. "Now get out of the tree before I push you out. You need to wash it off and I know a few plants that will help with healing."

Slowly turning his head, Francis saw the blood trickling down his arm. "Oh... merde now I feel it." He grunted, just now feeling the pain from it. He started moving so that he could get down from the tree, taking the same route as he did going up.

The Englishman swiftly followed after Francis and directed him to the water. "Wash it off first and I'll get some leaves. You're going to have to deal with not having a bandage for the time being unless you're going to run home to mummy and daddy."

Pouting slightly, Francis went down to the water. "It's not like I've never been cut before. I just hope it doesn't stain my clothes." He actually did like the uniforms at this school. They looked very nice, especially on Arthur, somehow. He winced at the cold water, not having been expecting it.

"You'll be fine. It was your own brilliant balance that caused it in the first place." Arthur chided him as he found a couple leaves from a plant. "Here, if you rub these on it, the slight burning should go away." He explained, handing over the foliage.

Glaring, Francis looked to the leaves. "How do I know that isn't poison ivy? Should I trust you? Maybe you should just kiss it better instead." He joked, giving up his arm.

Hitting him upside the head, Arthur bristled. "I'm holding it, aren't I? Would I really risk myself becoming itchy if I was trying to play a joke on you?" Still, he frowned as he gripped the offered arm and started to press the leaves against the tender skin. "I've done things like this numerous times." It was mostly carpet or road rash, but it was the same principle.

Watching the leaves go on, Francis was amazed as the pain actually became less. It was like magic! "How did you do that?" He asked, in awe. It still hurt a little, but really it wasn't that deep, so it wasn't a big deal.

With a shrug, Arthur sat down on the rocky shore beside Francis. "As I said: I've done this before. It also works on stinging nettle wounds." Despite himself, Arthur could feel himself warming up to the Frenchman. He knew it wouldn't be any different after a week or so, but at least now he could enjoy having an actual friend and not just someone to use him for his brains or for a punching bag.

"Amazing. I usually just either leave it or take a pain pill if it's really bad." Did he have to keep the leaves on until it was healed? Or could he take them off now that they were working? "Well, unless you can eat these leaves, I'm going home." Right on time, his stomach gave a loud growl.

Fighting back the blush of embarrassment at the praise, he grunted. "There are some you can eat, but knowing your French palate you'll find them repulsive." Leaning back on the rocks, Arthur made sure to take off his shoes and socks before hissing at the coolness of the water. "I suppose I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"I hope so." Francis said, smiling as he left. Great, back to a father wondering where he had been. Maybe he can make up an excuse like the teachers needed to have a meeting with him because he was new.

Waiting until Francis was gone from sight, Arthur sighed again before laying down on the rocks. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it would work. After all, the water nymphs had been getting jealous since he had been spending most of his time in the willows. By the time the sun had set on his haven, the Englishman had started towards home.


Alright, so yeah this story is a prequel to The Heart Never Forgets. You don't have to read it if you don't want to, since this all happened before that one. It will be updated every Monday, unless it isn't, in that case it will be updated on Tuesday. Of course, that is Monday our time, and our time zone is the last one, so for a lot of you it will be on your Tuesday I guess. So just some warning, they are teenagers in this story, so there will be teenage angst. Because there is always some teenage angst lol. And it will be changed to M for one scene in later chapters.