"Why the fuck does snow even exist. Who ever decided, 'Yeah, let's make freezing cold bullshit fall from the sky for a few months of the year!'?"
Arthur was walking headfirst against the swirling blizzard that separated him from the Sociology building, muttering under his breath all along the way. His next class would begin in approximately 10 minutes and so far he'd covered a third of his 2-block hike in half an hour. It seemed as though every time he tried to take a step, the blasted wind would force him back three more; and so, he'd been caught in the battle of the century between the forces of nature and his willpower to attend class.
He growled as a particularly strong gust of wind smacked him in the face. He freed his numb hands from his multiple layers of mittens and took off his hopelessly frosted-over glasses. How was he supposed to get to class if he couldn't bloody see?! Arthur forcefully rubbed the lenses against his jacket and inspected them as well as his pitifully farsighted eyes could manage.
Suddenly, all Arthur could register was a slight dip in the sidewalk and a breath of frozen air rushing into his lungs before he smashed face-first onto the icy pavement. A sickening crunch alerted him to the fact that he'd just crushed his glasses beneath him.
Goddammit.
He remained laying on the pavement for a few seconds before he found the energy to stand up, brush himself off, and think of what he was going to do. Class obviously wasn't an option, as even if he could locate the building now that his glasses were gone he wouldn't be able to follow the lecture without them. Going back to the dorm was a smart idea, but he also wouldn't be able to locate his way back without his glasses. Staying out in the blizzard until lye froze to death seemed like a good option then, too, but his arse was getting soaked and he figured that he wouldn't fancy having to wait that long.
Arthur attempted to squint through the flurries of snow all around him. He'd all but given up hope when he spotted a glimmer of light in the distance and eagerly began trudging towards it.
Upon closer inspection, the light grew brighter and shaped itself into the form of a building. Arthur rushed faster towards the front of it, yanked open the door and flung himself inside.
Warm, coffee-scented air engulfed him like a thick blanket. Light classical music played from somewhere in front of him and the hum of machinery mingled with the warmth and soft lighting to create a homey, welcoming atmosphere.
He sighed deeply and fell back against the rough rock wall, letting his eyelids flutter shut.
"Umm…"
Arthur broke out of his trance and looked for the source of the sound. His eyes rested on a tanned, green-eyed, worried looking man in a colorful apron. He realized that he must have been in the student union building and that the man was a barista. Arthur pitched forward a little shakily.
"Francis? Francis, I think I might need some help out here," the barista called, watching Arthur's stride with an increasingly worried gaze.
Arthur finally made it to the counter and fished out his wallet. "I'll take an extra large cup of Earl Grey, please," he said.
The barista shrunk back. "Sir, there's blood all over your fa-"
"Who the hell walks into a coffee shop and orders tea? Toni, what sort of lunatic did you find on the street today?" Another voice called. A second barista, tall with shoulder-length blonde hair this time, came walking from the back carrying a stack of coffee filters.
"A person with a sense of taste, that's who, ya cunt!" Arthur yelled back. The first barista hopped the counter as Arthur began staggering towards the tea-disrespecting heathen, and the last thing he noticed before falling was the amused look on the blonde's face.
—
He was laying on the scratchy, carpeted student union floor when he came to. He squirmed as he realized that someone was dabbing his cheek with a foul-smelling substance and tried to stand up, only to flop back down.
"You know, it's not very polite to burst into the student union whilst covered in blood, order tea, insult the staff, and proceed to pass out while trying to fight the said staff member," a French accent drawled from above him.
Arthur didn't particularly give a shit. He moaned a noncommittal noise in response and rolled over onto his side, pulling his coat tighter around himself.
The person above him clicked his tongue and gently rolled Arthur back over. "Antonio left to find your dorm advisor and inform him that you're here. After he left it started to hail, so I called him to let him know that he shouldn't even attempt to get back here to finish his shift, so it's just you and me now."
Bloody brilliant.
Arthur rolled back onto his side again. The other man pinched the bridge of his nose and swore in what was probably French. "Arthur, I need you to work with me here," he chided.
This caught his attention. Arthur sat up, resting a hand on his throbbing head. "How do you know my name?" He asked warily.
The other man smiled. "Remember when you ordered the tea? You tried to pay for it with your drivers license," he replied, flashing the card between two fingers. "You were pretty out of it. By the way, my name's Francis."
Arthur snatched his license away and stuck it in his pocket as 'Francis' produced a small blue plastic case. "From your photo on there, it looks like you wear glasses, too. Are you nearsighted or farsighted?" He asked, popping it open.
"I don't need glasses, I can see just fine! And I certainly don't need a pretentious git like you babying me," Arthur retorted, crossing his arms.
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we're stuck here together and I'm just trying to help you. If you want to go back out there and get yourself killed in that storm, then be my guest," Francis replied, standing and beginning to walk away.
Arthur panicked. "Wait!" He called.
Francis turned and cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?" He smirked.
Arthur ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Farsighted."
"See, that wasn't so hard. These will probably be a little less strong of a prescription than you need, but it will do for now," he said, handing Arthur a pair of disposable contacts. Arthur took them gratefully, blinking away his disorientation as he put them on.
With his vision at least partially restored, Arthur took a better look at the other man. He was tall, lithe, and the maroon sweater he wore hinted that he had some reasonably impressive muscles beneath it. His face was thin yet soft-looking, featuring blue eyes and plump pink lips, all framed by strawberry blonde hair and a peppering of facial hair.
With a shock, Arthur realized that this man was actually, well, pretty. Though his voice and body were unmistakably masculine, he carried with him a certain air of femininity that added a breathtaking, graceful quality to him.
He suddenly realized how long he had been staring at Francis and quickly turned away, a blush spreading through his cheeks. "Th-thanks," he stuttered, finally standing up.
Francis laughed. "Not so brash now that you can actually see me, now are we?" He teased, also standing. He stretched his arms behind his head and returned to the register. "I think that we might actually have some tea in the back, though I still have no idea why you'd ever choose that over coffee," Francis said, hopping the counter.
Arthur cracked a smile. "Well, I don't understand why you'd ever choose bitter bean juice over something as wonderful as tea."
Francis snorted. "Whatever you say, Angleterre."
"Frog!" Arthur yelled, settling himself into a plush chair beside the window.
—
The sun had dipped far beneath the horizon by the time they'd finished their drinks. Francis, it turned out, was a second year student from Paris who was double majoring in English Literature and Art History. He was twenty years old, spoke fluent French, English, and Spanish, had a little sister named Michelle back in France, and was more clever and well-versed than Arthur could have ever expected. They'd talked animatedly for hours and by the time the clock on the wall struck 10 PM, Arthur had developed something of a crush on the fascinating French man.
Francis yawned and glanced out the window. "Hey, the blizzard's stopped," he announced, grabbing both of their empty cups and heading back to the kitchen.
Arthur couldn't help the feeling of disappointment spreading through him. He was having one of the best nights of his life and a return to the dorm meant a return to the stressful hustle and bustle of college life; he just wanted to stay and drink old, over-steeped tea and talk with Francis forever.
He slipped off of the chair and started putting his coat on as the sink in the kitchen ran. When Francis reappeared, he didn't meet Arthur's eyes, instead choosing to wring his hands on an old dishrag.
"Oh Art, I forgot to ask, do you have girlfriend?" Francis asked nonchalantly.
Arthur jumped a little in surprise, heart fluttering in his chest. "Well, no," he coughed, "I don't really, uh, swing that way," he mumbled, wrapping his scarf around his neck.
"Ah. No boyfriend either, then?" Francis continued, walking back over to Arthur while still refusing to meet his eyes.
"I - uh, no, I don't," he responded, twiddling the scarf in his hands.
"Well, in that case…" Francis replied, pulling a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to Arthur, "I had a good time tonight, even if we got off to a bad start," he chuckled nervously. "My shift usually ends at 5 PM and I have weekends off, if you want to meet up again some time."
Butterflies filled Arthur's stomach as he unfolded to paper to find a neatly-written phone number inked on it. He grinned and stuck the paper into his right coat pocket. "Thanks. I think that I'd like that very much," he breathed.
A bright grin lit up Francis's face. He stepped closer and leaned down quickly, pecking Arthur's cheek. "See you soon, Arthur," he murmured.
Arthur blushed all the way to his ears and bit back a smile. In a burst of courage, he stood on his toes to kiss Francis back on the mouth, then quickly turned away and rushed out into the cold night air, the taste of coffee lingering on his lips.