Francis Bonnefoy was waiting, although he wasn't sure what he was waiting for. He had been sitting in this coffee shop every afternoon before his shift, sketchbook in hand, waiting for someone to walk in that interested him. He looked down frustratedly at the mug of coffee in his hand and the pencil that was precariously placed on the edge of the table.
"If only beauty could draw itself," Francis sighed, resting his elbow on the counter and watching the door open and close, open and close; the same people coming; the same people going. It was always the same. Suddenly, a man walked in whom Francis had never seen before, though he looked oddly familiar. Although he looked a bit timid and awkward standing at the counter ordering his coffee, something about him intrigued Francis.
"Look at those lips," Francis mused as the new man turned around towards him. "I want to draw them."
Francis' old fling, Arthur Kirkland, plopped down unannounced in the chair beside him.
"Why are you staring at that blonde bloke like that?" Arthur asked, startling Francis almost out of his chair.
"Because, mon ami, he is a beautiful human being," Francis said quietly, watching the man sit down with coffee in hand.
Arthur scoffed. "You can do better than that, certainly."
Francis looked offended. "I'm sure he's better than your rowdy American, Arthur. Where is he, anyway? Why are you interrupting my search for love?"
"Oh, you mean Alfred? He's running some errands for me. For the big party, remember? Don't tell me you forgot again?" Arthur said exasperatedly.
"Oh merde, Arthur, I'm sorry, I completely forgot..." Francis trailed off. Arthur shot him a death glare. "Oh please, I was only kidding! Of course I remembered your party. How could I ever forget your birthday?"
Arthur sighed. "You bloody wanker. Did you know you're supposed to look at someone when you talk to them and not at some man you don't even know the name of? Francis? Are you listening?"
"I'm going to go talk to him," Francis said decisively. "I've been waiting for someone interesting to walk in here for ages and he definitely fits the bill." Francis got up, his chair scraping along the wood of the floor, and walked over to the man's table.
"Pardon, monsieur, but have I seen you before?" Francis asked, causing the man with drawable lips to look up quickly from his book.
"Uhm... non, I don't think so. Who are you?" he asked.
"Oh, parlez-vous français? Je m'appelle Francis, et vous?" Francis asked gracefully, sitting down in the chair next to him and setting down his things.
"Bonjour, Francis. Je m'appelle Matthew. Oui, je peux parle en français. Je suis un Canadienne."
"A Canadian, hmm? Well, I just wanted you to know, Matthieu, that si la beauté était les temps, vous seriez une éternité," Francis said softly, winking as Matthew blushed slightly.
"Do you, I mean, are... you...?" Matthew whispered, looking at the smiling French man.
"Matthieu, I am what they call pansexual, I can be attracted to any and all genders," he smiled weakly, hoping he hadn't ruined his chances right off the bat.
Matthew grinned and reached out his hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you Francis. I liked that pick up line," Matthew smiled even wider. "Are you an astronaut?"
"Non, pourquoi?" Francis asked, resting his head on his arm and leaning in towards Matthew, hoping he would pick up on the body language.
"Because your ass is out of this world," Matthew finished, laughing when Francis couldn't contain his huge, goofy grin.
"Do you like raisins?" Francis interrogated.
"Uhm, yes?" Matthew replied, slightly confused.
"How about a date?" Francis smirked, waiting for Matthew's reaction.
"Oh..." Matthew trailed off, looking down shyly and taking a sip of his coffee.
"That was a serious question, by the way," Francis said, "my friend in high school made me swear that I would only ask people out by using that pick up line, I am so sorry."
"It's fine!" Matthew said hurriedly, "I just wasn't sure if you were being serious or not. I would love to go out with you, Francis. What time does your shift end?"
"Wait, how did you know I worked here?" Francis questioned, narrowing his eyebrows.
"Lucky guess, actually. You seem to feel really comfortable here, so I figured you are probably really familiar with this shop," Matthew explained.
"Wow, that was a pretty good observation," the Frenchman noted. It was actually almost time for him to start his shift. "Listen, my shift starts in five minutes, but it ends at around ten thirty. Will you come back for me and we can have a late night adventure?" Francis said quickly, scribbling his number onto a page of his sketchbook and tearing it out.
"Of course I will, Francis. You're the first person who has really talked to me around here. See you then, I guess?"
"Absolutely," Francis breathed, running off to throw on the ugly dark blue apron he had to wear as a barista. He shoved his book bag under the counter, along with his sketchbook. He sighed as he watched Matthew finish off his coffee and walk out the door, the bell tinkling. Just seven more hours until he could see that beautiful face again. Until then, he had his work cut out for him.
Mon ami = my friend
Merde = shit
Je m'appelle = my name is
Je peux parle = I can speak/talk
Je suis un Canadienne = I am a Canadian
Si la beauté était les temps, vous seriez une éternité = If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity
Pourquoi = Why
