001. Introduction
Francis doesn't exactly remember how they ended up like this, sitting in front of the principal's office with bruised knees, swollen cheeks, blackened eyes, and tattered clothes.
All he really knows is that one second he was speaking with some scrawny boy he hardly knew on the soccer field, and the next they were rolling on the turf, throwing punches, kicking shins, and pulling each other's hair, until a teacher tore the two boys apart and furiously sent them to the principal's office.
All in all, everything is a blur in Francis's head. He's astounded at himself for even engaging in a fistfight, of everything. Usually, he's very well composed and well mannered, and normally he would rather not dirty or bruise himself by getting into something so rowdy like a fistfight, especially with someone he hardly even knows, so something in him must have snapped.
Francis's eyes flicker to the battered boy sitting to the left of him. He doesn't know him very well, but he's seen him around occasionally in the halls. The boy has a scrawny, puny frame, but he still looks to be about his age, thirteen. He has unruly blonde hair and the most unfortunate, thickest eyebrows Francis has ever seen. They almost look like caterpillars, and if he recalls correctly, he's almost certain he even said it to his face earlier while they were fighting about God knows what.
Sensing that Francis is staring at him, the boy stiffens and quickly jerks his head toward him while shooting him a dark glare. It's then Francis realises that under those pitifully enormous eyebrows, lay the most beautiful evergreen eyes he's ever seen.
Well, Francis thinks, at least his eyes compensate for those unfortunate eyebrows of his.
"What?" the boy finally hisses, snapping Francis away from his thoughts.
He smiles and tactfully responds, "I was just thinking how we got into such a big fight, and yet we don't even know each other's names."
The boy snorts. "So?"
"I think we're at that stage where we should introduce ourselves, at least."
"I think we're at that stage where we never talk to each other again and pretend this never happened," he snaps before looking away quickly.
Someone's touchy, Francis thinks with a quirk of a brow. An amused smile laces his lips nonetheless, and he soon finds himself outstretching a scratched, bruised arm to the boy.
"I'm Francis. Francis Bonnefoy," he says warmly.
The boy freezes once more as his evergreen eyes drop down to the outstretched hand in front of him like it's some deadly animal, and he's not quite sure how to handle it.
After a couple of awkward seconds tick by however, he finally reluctantly gives Francis's hand a quick shake before hastily pulling away. "Arthur Kirkland," is all he mumbles before averting his gaze.
Francis grins and turns away as well. Arthur, he repeats in his head. It suits him, he thinks.
For a moment, silence envelopes the two boys once more, and it's pleasant, until Arthur mutters under his breath, "Frog."
Francis murmurs in response, "Caterpillar Brows."
And neither of the two battered, worn boys looks at the other as they hide their small, secret smiles.
A/N: Summer just began, and so I'm going to try and take advantage of it by writing lots! To be frank, I'm simply horrible when it comes to updating fics, but I'll do my best with this one. Hopefully, this 100 themes challenge will help me slowly crawl out of my writer's block.
Also, the title of this fic came from the song, "A Kiss with a Fist" by Florence + the Machine. You should check it out if you don't know it already, it reminds me a lot of FrUK!
Anyways, feedback is always welcome! Thank you.