A/N: Based on a prompt from tumblr user catholicorprotestant:
"An AU where Francis is the one who is deathly insecure and Arthur is usual Francis level confident."

I found this very intriguing and gave it a go, in a human university AU.
I think that their personalities stay IC, just with this rather dramatical twist.
Francis is a drama queen either way, Arthur is... British, either way.
(Can't say how many chapters, my guess would be 3-5.)
_

Prologue:

Melancholy : The art of seeing the world as romantic and yet staying pessimistic and keeping a lead role in quiet tragedy, which you call your life.

Things that went through Francis's mind: Flashy smiles, red roses, whispered French words and fancy clothes, hand-holding and a lot more to kissing and beyond.
He wanted to look in the eyes of beautiful people, talk of love and live in Paris, prance by the streets, give kisses on the cheeks of people he barely knew, live life like it was drinking a glass of red wine.
He would become a waiter and a photographer and oh, he would seek beauty and capture it exactly as it presented itself in the moment.

But the thing was that Francis lived in London, and couldn't get himself to leave for various reasons.
Besides, London was a good city for you if you wanted to be invisible and quiet. The rain kept you inside and the fog obscured your features and people were too busy to judge and kept their distance and it was okay to be quiet when you had a French accent.
And no matter how much Francis was a romantic and thought about all those beautiful things, there was a… block. He felt so apart of everything he loved. Apart from everything beautiful and every human.
He was too shy to lift a camera and take a picture of a moment, sure that he wouldn't be able to catch it, that he would shake or wait too long. So he carried beautiful moments with him in his mind until he returned home and could close a few doors and curtains and windows and paint silently and take as much time as he wanted, never having to show his work to anyone.
He really didn't think it was any good but he didn't want to burn memories, so he kept his paintings in a storage room he only entered when adding a painting.
When it came to waiting, he had tried. Because he really liked coffee shops and waiter costumes and the way people got together and stopped everything just to have a cup of coffee… or tea, since we were in England. He had tried and then he quit because several customers had either smiled at him weirdly or giggled together when he turned around and he simply couldn't take it. So he now worked in the kitchen, and only in the kitchen, whereas he would have preferred to do both. But he couldn't stand the scrutiny of people watching him and judging him. He simply couldn't.

See, Francis thought that if he started talking, he'd talk too much, or worse, laugh, because oh lord did he hate his laugh. He didn't dare think about looking other people in the eyes because he certainly didn't know how and he might end up smiling and yes, he hated his smile as much as, if not more than his laugh.

He was persuaded that if he had his long, blond hair without a ponytail, he'd look ridiculous, if he wore colour, he'd look fat, and… Oh, how he hated being caught up in all of this, since he knew they were shallow things. But it wasn't like he could help it. He loved beautiful things and beautiful people. Oh, how troublesome it was, not being part of them.

He studied in random classes in a university – mostly about history, literature and arts – then worked in the evening, three days a week, and the rest of his time he seemed to spend painting the beautiful things he saw. And dreaming about love. Which he most probably would never find.

_

Told you that Francis was a drama queen... Also, I find it quite sad to write insecure Francis, since he literally has no reason for being insecure ;_;.