"In a dark room in cold sheets
I can't feel a damn thing
I lost myself
Between your legs
Your medicine is in my head
You know I'd rather be alone
But then you call me on the phone"
Arthur ran until he found a bar; which honestly wasn't very far. He and Francis didn't live too far away from the main part of town. He hesitated briefly outside the building to survey it and catch his breath. It wasn't a high scale looking establishment, not too crowded, a bit run down. Perfect for drinking ones self stupid. Arthur entered, suddenly conscious of his tear-stained cheeks; he lowered his eyes as he asked the barkeep for a double of whiskey. The man obliged and got a glass.
"Bad day?" He asked sympathetically. Arthur just glared at him until he surrendered the liquor; he didn't want to talk about what was wrong, a fact that would surely change as the night went on, but Arthur was beyond caring at this point. He downed the glass I one swig and asked for two more. If he was lucky, he'd die of alcohol poisoning.
The barkeep, whom Arthur now noticed was tall and blonde, was keeping a wary eye on the distressed Englishman from behind the counter, obliging Arthur's requests for more. After a bit the man came over with a glass of clear liquid.
"The bloody hell is this?" Arthur asked.
"Water. You're either going to die or have the worst hangover on the face of the earth if you don't have some dude."
"Fuck off… dude" Arthur said, mocking the man's accent.
"Wow. Rude." The barkeeper said although he was stifling a laugh. "Seriously though, you need water. I don't want anybody dying in my bar, okay? And I can tell that you're probably gonna be here for a while."
He went over to pour a drink for another customer. Arthur just stared after him.
"Just you d'you think you are?" Arthur said, turning to face the man
"Alfred Jones, professional bartender, burger flipper and student." He said not pausing in his rhythm as he poured out three shots of different liquor. It was really quite impressive, but Arthur was too disgruntled to focus on the man's abilities.
"Oh really? What a depressing profession." He said, smirking.
"Well yeah, I have to listen to drunk bastards like you tell me about all their woes. And then I think the other two speak for themselves." Alfred said with a chuckle.
"I'll have you know my parents were happily married before I was born so by all rules and definitions I am not a bastard." Arthur declared, "And I'll have another please."
"You make a valid point my drunken friend. Water first. Finish that and I'll bring you another, dude."
"M'name's Arthur, not dude." Arthur mumbled, polishing off the water and watching Alfred get him another drink. And another, and another. Eventually Alfred just decided to leave the bottle.
Arthur sat, content to drink himself into oblivion as the nights long hours ticked on, mumbling to himself about all that he did wrong and sometimes striking up drunken conversation with other customers. Occasionally Alfred would check in on him.
He thought and he drank, and he disliked the thoughts so he drank some more and thought more, continuing until every thought blurred into the next one in a wonderful soupy mess. His head shot up from where it had been laying on the counter, looking for someone to talk to and finding the bar area completely empty save for a few guys who were unconscious.
"Why does everybody leave me" He said, lowering his head onto the counter and letting himself sink into a habitual loneliness before a voice interrupted his melancholy.
"I don't know man, I've been wondering the same thing." The barkeep went over to Arthur from where he had been talking to a few customers in a booth.
"What in hell d'you want now?" Arthur slurred angrily. He wasn't actually that upset to have someone to talk to, but the man was annoying and had been taking to him all evening.
"Just to talk. You seem to be kind of upset." Alfred stated nonchalantly.
"Thas an understatement, that is." Arthur grumbled, tracing the rim of his now empty glass
"If I may, what's got you trying to drink yourself to death?"
"S'none of yer business." Arthur stated, resolute.
"Well al-"
"Well seeing as you insist on knowing the whole story I guess I've got to eh?" Arthur slammed his palm on the table, resolute again.
"So 'bout a year ago I met a stupid man who was beautiful and horrible and I love 'im and we were together but then our relationship went sour and he's flirting with other people and I'm fairly certain he hates me now and I'm not, I don't… Bullocks Alfred why's my face wet?" He said, feeling his cheeks and looking at Alfred as if he could explain these strange happenings. Alfred shook himself out of his surprise, staring at the man few a second than grabbing a tissue.
"It's probably because you're crying man." He said, handing Arthur the tissue. "What makes you think he hates you?"
"We fight all the time an iss horrid. And he flirts witthat Joan woman and he's jus really annoying. An he's really…. He's really pretty though. An romantic an good at cooking…" Arthur lost himself in thoughts of the good times he had shared with Francis.
"Do you really love him, or are you just attracted to him?" Alfred questioned absentmindedly.
"Well of course I'm attracted to him! But I… Whaddo you mean?"
"Well you can't really love someone without loving all of them, can you? I mean, if you can only love certain things about a person, but not the rest of them than what's the point? Sure parts of a person can be wonderful, amazing, beautiful, Everything you ever dreamed of; but you don't love someone unless you embrace their not-so-wonderful bits." He looked around nervously, and laughed uncomfortably, "That's what I think anyway."
Arthur stared at the bizarre man leaning on the counter next to him. How did he just spout off all of that and dismiss it so casually? He sat back in his seat, trying to wrap his head around both his own love life and this strange barkeep who seemed to know so much about human relations.
He loved Francis, right? Or was he really just infatuated? Arthur groaned and lowered his head onto the bar again. This wasn't a topic to tackle whilst drunk, but he was going to anyway. He thought back to when he had first met Francis.
It was a brilliant day to visit Paris. And he had three whole days to tour around and gather information for his final project. What a grand deal! World renowned food, thriving nightlife, and beautiful scenery Arthur stopped to admire the beauty all around him he couldn't help but think that people were right when they said that Paris was magical. Arthur leaned his head backwards, trying to soak in the pleasantness of the sun. It really was a beautiful day.
"Excusez-moi monsieur, avez-vous un stylo je pourrais emprunter?" A voice suddenly spoke to him. It was very distinctively musical in a way, as if it were implemented with honey. Arthur turned to the man who had spoken. However he had sounded, it was obvious that he wanted something.
"A…pen?" Arthur cursed his shoddy French. Here he was talking to; Oh God he was handsome. Arthur stared at him for a moment, wondering how a human could possibly be so attractive before he cleared his throat and lowered his eyes, "I um… I apologize, my French is not the best. I have a pen here." And now he was standing there like a fool, arm held out to the Frenchman. He avoided eye contact with the man at all costs, not quite sure what was causing him to act like this. After a bit he dared a glance and, by God the man was staring at him!
"W-what are you looking at? Are you going to take the damned pen or not? I don't have all day!" Arthur said with a huff, turning his head so that the man couldn't see the blush creeping up onto his face. The man continued staring for a moment before smiling and taking the pen from Arthur, switching to English when he next spoke.
"I was looking at you. You seem very…. Intriguing. What's your name? How long will you be in town for?"
"Well it hardly concerns you…" He said, turning to glare at the man and instead got caught up in his gaze and found himself answering the mans question, "I'll be in town for three more days. And my name is Arthur. Not that I should be telling you seeing as I don't even know your name and you are quite-"
"Francis." the man interrupted excitedly.
"Excuse me?" Arthur said, staring at the man.
"My name is Francis. Can I see you again later? I could show you around~ Here," Francis said, digging out a piece of paper and madly scribbling down a number, "This is my number. I have to go but perhaps you could give me a call, Arthur. Au revoir~" He called back over his shoulder, flinging his coat over his shoulder.
Arthur could only stare at the crumpled piece of paper and turn beet red as the most beautiful, confusing person he had ever met walked away.
Excusez-moi monsieur, avez-vous un stylo je pourrais emprunter: Excuse me sir, do you have a pen I could borrow?
Listen to the song here: watch?v=XafcPTz0454