Arthur Kirkland wept quietly, an antitwilight creeping in through his window. The Englishman huddled into the darkest corner of his room so he could keep himself hidden from the innocent eyes of his husband and children. Francis, Arthur's husband, lingered from outside of the room. His expression was distraught by the recent events that caused the other to be in such a state. Sighing, he enters the platitude.
"Don't look at, go away..." Arthur instantly spat out from the opposite side of the bed. "Don't you fucking look at me..."
"Mon amour, if you would just listen, we could work this out." The fearless Frenchman replied, hopping onto the bed and peering to the scrunched up sihlotte of Arthur. "Alfred and Matthew were just a little startled, that's all!"
The shadow sneers, raising his head to reflect ugly yellow teeth and decaying flesh in the scarce light that came. "'A little scared?' You call that 'a little scared,' you damn git! They thought I was a bloody monster! You heard them shirek! No parent in the world should hear their children scream at them like that... never..." And with a lip quivering, Arthur tries to make himself hide more in the shadows.
The handsome Frenchman understood why his husband was upset. The accident left him disfigured, rotting and hideous. The accident made everything so difficult now, and their children wouldn't dare to go near poor Arthur now. Moving in his own hesitance, Francis slumps onto the floor next to his sobbing signifigant other and bravely wraps his arms around him.
Leanning his head on Arthur's shoulder, Francis said, "Let us take it one day at a time."