Francis' eyes snapped wide open, barely registering the lips on his before they were pulled away. Francis looked over to Arthur, seeing his cheeks to be burning a deep scarlet colour. God. Arthur was so cute. Getting off topic.
Arthur couldn't meet Francis' gaze. Not after what he so foolishly did. He didn't care what Francis thought at this point, though at least he didn't look so depressed.
And it was true. Francis practically forgot all his troubles, focused only on what had happened mere seconds before. Francis leaned against Arthur's chest, seeing as he was still on his lap. He moved over so he was sitting on the couch, tough he kept his head where it was. He closed his eyes, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over him. Arthur stroked Francis' hair again, noting the change in his demeanor. He could tell Francis was tired. You could see it in his eyes and in his body language. Arthur sighed, wondering when he got so good at reading Francis. The Frenchmen was like a book to him, all the words sitting there, ready to be deciphered. Arthur leaned his head onto Francis', breathing in the smell that could only be described as 'Francis.'
Francis smiled gently at Arthur, though he knew he couldn't see it. His smiled evolved into more of a smirk, as he moved his head up so he could look into the Brit's eyes.
Arthur gave Francis a confused look. "What?"
Francis shook his head. "N-nothing..." He muttered, looking back down and returning to his original position.
Arthur grabbed Francis' chin, tilting it up so he was looking at him again. "Please?" He asked, his tone of voice softer than usual. He even wore a small smile for extra points.
Francis sighed. "Arthur... Je taime..." He muttered. It was true. He really did.
"W-what?" Arthur gasped.
"Mais Oui. You are the reason I wake up in the morning, and the reason I live all the way until I go to sleep. I thought about you before attempting to... You know... And that's why I didn't go through with it. Arthur Kirkland, you are my life and my soul."
Arthur gazed at Francis, unsure what to say. Francis just gave an entire speech about how much he loved him and he had no idea how to reply. "Francis I-" He stopped, unable to talk anymore. What the bloody- Oh. That's why. Francis had kissed him.
Francis had, indeed. He kissed him passionately, as if all the unspoken emotions could get transmitted through the kiss. He smiled into the kiss, feeling Arthur's nervousness. Arthur blushed again, moving his hands to Francis' chest and pushing violently.
"G-get the bloody hell off of me, Frog..." The Brit growled. Francis fell backwards, panting lightly from the shock and lack of oxygen. He noted how furious Arthur looked and it broke his heart. He reached out to stroke Arthur's cheek apologetically bit Arthur slapped it away when it got anywhere near him.
"Arthur, Cher-" Francis started before Arthur placed his hand over the Frenchman's mouth.
"Just shut the fuck up for once..." He spat, taking his hand back and crossing his arms. He looked the other direction, fixing his eyes on a small clock across the room. He was avoiding Francis' gaze. Francis sulked. Why did I just HAVE to mess everything up? He felt the exhaustion catch back up to him and he lay down on the couch, deciding to use Arthur's lap as a pillow. Hopefully he wasn't TOO mad...
Arthur blushed deeply. Francis' head was so close to... Oh god. He moved back as much as he could, squeezing himself into the back of the couch. Hopefully Francis would get the message... Even if he was a bloody idiot. Francis noticed and moved closer towards Arthur's knees, though a smirk was on his face. He loved seeing Arthur flustered like that.
But then it hit him.
Like a metaphorical truck hitting a metaphorical old lady.
Arthur didn't return his feelings. He had only kissed him to make him feel better, not because he loved him. When he had cut Arthur off those few moments ago, he had most likely been trying to say 'Francis I... Don't like you that way.' or something of the sort. He felt ashamed, embarrassed and hopeless all at the same time. A single tear leaked out of his eyes and it he was relieved he wasn't facing Arthur.
Arthur placed a hand in Francis' hair, running it through a couple of times before giving up. There were an unnatural amount of knots there. Arthur decided that stroking it was good enough. He could tell that something had happened and it was only natural to comfort his... Friend. If he could call him that. He smiled gingerly. Friends really sounded... Pretty good, actually.
Francis sighed, standing up from the couch. "I'll be in the guest room if you need me. I'm going to sleep..." Francis mumbled, no life in his voice.
Arthur's faint smile grew fainter, as in, it disappeared completely. The normal frown grew in it's place as he got up to go follow Francis. He wasn't acting normally at all. Had... He done something?
Francis made his way effortlessly to the guest room, having been to Arthur's house enough times to know the place perfectly. He collapsed onto the bed, hearing Arthur enter behind him. He tried to pay him no heed, though it was kind of hard when it was Arthur.
"Francis I-" He cut himself off. No. Talking would just embarrass himself more.\
"Arthur, please. Just... Go..." Francis replied rather indignantly. He didn't mean it it just... Came out that way.
Arthur scoffed. "You will not talk to me that way in my own house, Frog."
"Just go. S'il voul plaît," He pleaded, his voice shaky. Francis didn't want things to get any worse than they already were.
Arthur nodded, walking out of the room and into his own without muttering a single word. Francis needed his space, and Arthur respected that. The British man sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if it had the answers to his problems. He shook his head.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid!
Francis was suffering already, why did you have to go and make it a thousand times worse. Francis said it himself. I was the one keeping him alive, and now that I rejected him, he has nothing.
Please, be strong Francis. Don't die. Be strong.
And with that, Arthur fell asleep.
...
The next morning, Francis woke up to the sound of shouting and swearing coming from downstairs. Francis frowned. What could be making Arthur so angry? Despite his tiredness, he dragged himself out of bed. He drowsily staggered downstairs, finding Arthur sitting on the couch with his knees to his chest and his head buried. The Frenchman heard broken sobs coming from the sullen figure before him and he took a seat beside him. "What is it, Cher?" Francis asked sympathetically.
"I'm not your 'Cher' Francis. Shut the bloody fuck UP!" Arthur snapped, tears still freely flowing down his cheeks.
Francis sighed. "Please, Arthur. Pourquoi pleure-tu?" He softly inquired. He was worried for Arthur, Not much could make him this way.
"A- Alfred..."
"What about him, Cher?" Francis placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"H-he asked me... To the m-movies..." Arthur whispered.
"Q-qoi?" It's not what I think it is, is it?
Arthur nodded as if having read Francis' mind. "As his date."
AN.
OHEMGEE ERMAHGERD seriously, how about chapter 2! This is my first multi chapter fic so it's kind of different for me. It's sometimes hard to figure out if you should keep going or if you should end a chapter there. As you can see, I'm the kind who leaves off on a... shall I say, Cliffhanger. 'TS THE WAY I ROLL BIATCH! DEAL WIF IT! I kidd. But seriously.
Translations. Feel free to correct me If any are wrong, seeing as there are from MEMORY.
Cher: Dear (Male)
Mais oui: Of course
Je taime: I love you
S'il voul plaît: Please
Pourquoi pleure-tu?: Why are you crying?
Qoi: What?
By the way: I am not updating until I get at least 3 reviews. OHEMMGEE that's gonna be so hard for you guys xD So, if you want it updated REVIEW! Oh, and I fixed the formatting errors! WE HAS PARAGRAPHES AGAIN! That is all. Good day. PDP-APH-Fan~
