Today, Wednesday, was Arthur's day off. He allowed himself a moderate lie-in, fed Alice (who had still not forgiven him for the escapades of the previous two days), and settled down on the sofa for a cup of tea. It seemed to be the only thing he could prepare without destroying everything in a 10-metre radius.
All was fairly tranquil, in fact. It was one of those lazy, sluggish evenings that seemed to pull at his eyelids, coaxing him to sleep despite his best intentions. He was thankful for his caffeine-fuelled insomnia.
Indeed, the area truly was at one of its rare moments of peace, an odd phenomenon, especially since his new flat was situated in New York. Too rare to miss, clearly; well, he'd have had to depart as it is. He still needed to take his uniform to the laundromat.
The sun began its steady descent in the sky, a few streetlamps flickering on and off, as though indecisive. It wasn't so much the scenery that beckoned him to Central Park, nor the stunning desertion of the place. There just seemed to be something…captivating about it. Well, save for the obnoxious accordion music that seemed to stalk him everywhere he went around the blasted city. He was pretty sure whoever was responsible wasn't even a busker, within the first half-hour of it, more that they just wanted to aggravate him even further.
Well, the lanky blond thought, they'll have to do better than that. Suffice to say, avoiding wankers is my area of expertise. But then he recalled Alfred, and instantly stilled his train of thought. Well, maybe there were one or two exceptions.
"Bonjour!"
Oh no. No. He did not just hear French. His mind was playing tricks on him. That was all. No more, no less. Besides, the place was bloody gigantic, there had to be more than one foreign twat around, right?
Even so, who would they be talking to? If it wasn't him, nobody would have any reason to interact. A mistake, surely. Perhaps there were others in the area he wasn't aware of, as daunting as the notion of being surrounded by the French may have seemed at the time.
He almost hadn't recognised the individual beside him, waving frantically so as to grasp his attention. In such ridiculous getup, who would?
"Tell me, cher, do you not believe in love at first sight? Or do I have to walk by again?"
No mistaking it. There, in a suit louder than Alfred in McDonald's, sat the very same Frenchman from the previous day. But what on earth was he doing here? There was no way someone who had the money to dress like that would be near his neck of the woods. Maybe he had been stalking him from the get-go… What a terrifying thought.
"What is it that you're so desperate to converse with me about, frog-eater? Or are you just here to feast upon the snails lingering in the grass?"
"Non… Actually, I was merely going for a magnifique stroll, but then I saw you, sad and alone in the world. Well, that's certainly rather fitting, considering your style…"
"You came over here just to poke fun at me? As if I should have thought anything else from a frog."
"You know, you really do use that an awful lot… If you say that around guys like I, we could get the wrong idea, non?"
"Do I even need to begin to delve into just what was wrong about that statement?" Shaking his head, Arthur thought it best to push up off the bench and head home. What he did not count on, however, was a certain Frenchman linking arms with him rather abruptly.
"Going so soon? The night is young, mon ami! Let us explore the heart of the city, the beauty of even the most treacherous of slums, and perhaps a little bit of each other's bod— Mon dieu!" He exclaimed, cutting off to throw his arms in the air.
What on earth had the monstrous power to cause a Frenchman to remove his grip? Oh. That's right. The utterly tarnished uniform. "Man up, would you? It's a simple stain; hardly anything to get so worked up over."
"Oh but it is, cher! Come, we must get it fixed right away!" Using a surprising amount of welly, he practically dragged the Englishman along with him, gait resembling that of a disappointed mother's.
"I— Bloody hell, you're going the wrong way! The laundromat, or whatever they call it, is over to the south!"
"I do not make silly mistakes without reason; just as the ways of love, my actions are solidified from the heart."
Hold on, what was he talking about? How on earth did this relate to the stupidity of his blunder? "Alright then, what say I humour you? Then?"
"Ah! I have something at my place that is perfect at—"
With that, Arthur wrenched away from the newly-re-established grip to his sleeve. Again, why had he expected anything less? "Don't be ridiculous. Did you really assume that I would fall for such a terrible ploy?"
"Honestly? …Non. It was worth a try though, oui?" A gaze: lingering, hopeful.
"Absolutely not. If you really want a new shagging victim, then sod off and chase after some filly."
"You English really are distrusting… Come on, at least let me take you out for a meal! It is not as though my beauty is off-putting!" If his words were supposed to be persuasive, he had failed. Luckily, whining almost 100 percent of the time irritated Arthur into submission.
"You're joking. As if anyone of your playboy calibre has intentions bordering innocence." Almost 100 percent. The exception only seemed to apply if the person was French.
"What must you think of me…? I'm too gorgeous to be spiteful!"
"It's more the prospect of your safety, personally."
Accepting defeat (for the time being, anyway) Francis hung his head. It wasn't as though his efforts had been entirely useless, however; he wasn't quite sure when or how his accomplice had allowed it, but they were now walking together. The only thing that could improve the situation would be if he would actually meet his eye.
"So," there was a surprise: Arthur had stooped to break the monotonous quiet, "what exactly do you have in mind? Not that I conform to this, of course."
"Oui, I thought you would say something like that… There is a charming spot not too far from here; even the English should be able to revel in its splendour."
"Flattering." He scoffed, looking to the side. Why exactly was he going through with this? It wasn't as though they were even friends, let alone what the Frenchman imagined they were. "Anyway, I don't believe I caught your name. Shouldn't I at least know that much if you intend to drag me around this blasted place?"
"I suppose you have a right to know my alias, especially since I am to be the future captor of your very heart." A pause. "Francis Bonnefoy, cher. Although, you may call me whatever you wish."
"Alright then: Arsehole."
"Mon dieu… You really are hopeless, aren't you?"
"What's so funny?" His lips tugged downward from their level fixture to a poisonous scowl. There was something about the way Francis raised a hand to stifle his chuckles that set Arthur on edge.
"Nothing you are not already aware of. And you?"
Him? What about him? Oh, right. His name. "Kirkland; Arthur Kirkland. Unlike your offer, you may call me sir."
By this point, their background had altered monumentally, exchanging freshly-cut grass and swallows for the dismal, gloomy air of the industrial estates a few minutes away.
Francis turned the name over on his tongue for good measure. That didn't sound anything like Iggz. Did he have the wrong person after all? Oh, forget it. This one was cute enough. "Sir? And I thought I was to be the dominant one."
"I—It's not at all like that!" The punch to the other man's shoulder was outstanding. "I'm merely implying that you oughtn't to get too cushy. That's all."
"You had no idea how worried I was, cher! There is no way someone with such a cute butt could be on top!" Was he…relieved?
"Hold on, what even gave you that idea in the first place?!" Physical violence, the final nail in the coffin that sparked a fight. Well, if you could even call it that. It was more like Arthur windmilling his arms frantically whilst Francis tried to block, and open the door to a small, almost cramped eatery.
"Ahem."
They both turned around. They had arrived at some sort of French café, much to Arthur's bitter regret. He'd just about had it with the blasted country, what with the individual beside him and the overall setting of his workplace.
"Excusez-moi, sirs, are you going to take a seat?"
They exchanged an awkward glance. Arthur signalled Francis to be the one to retort with a blatant stare, an it's your fault we're here in the first place; you do it stare.
"But of course!"
"Well, I suppose that was the initial objective."
"Hm." The waiter examined his watch (or checking if he had enough time for this bullshit, as Alfred would put it. Then again, he seemed to be able to make a meme out of anything, so if one was to compare everything to Alfred's own perception, it would take days, fit with cheesy internet slang). "This way." He plucked a pair of menus from the side, beckoning them to approach the depths of the significantly pretentious place. Reluctantly, they did exactly that (more so on Arthur's part than Francis', who seemed positively overjoyed).
"Here. Another will be with you shortly." He gave a curt nod, a wrinkle of his nose, and disappeared into the kitchen. Arthur refused to rekindle the conversation.
"What's up, guys? I'll be taking your order and junk, so just shoot what kinda stuff y'want, alright? Alright!" They looked up to see a young girl, positively bursting with energy. Christ.
"Huh? Artie, izzat you?"
Hold on, how did she think she knew him? Perhaps if he covered his face with the menu she wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, Francis had made it his personal goal to yank it away, subsequently irritating his victim to a terrible extent.
"So it is! How're you doin', man? I didn't know you swung that way!"
"That…?" So she thought he and Francis were… No. That would never happen. He'd be damned if he was to be courted by a frog.
"Yeah! Isn't this guy your boyfriend or somethin'…?"
"He most certainly is not! His only relation to me is that we work in the same restaurant. I wish I could say our acquaintance was merely professional, but he seems to be incapable of enforcing such an impression." Arthur cleared his throat and averted his gaze. As if the situation wasn't terrible by itself, he was certain Francis was laughing at him behind his menu.
"If you're sure… Anyway, guys, waddaya want? I mean, c'mon, we shut up shop in a couple minutes!"
"Ah, of course. I do believe I will be having… Do you serve tea, by chance?"
"Nah… There's an espresso machine at the back, if it's all the same to ya."
Stepping in before all hell broke loose regarding Arthur's 'precious ambrosia' being compared to something extraordinarily poxy by comparison, Francis raised a hand. "He would probably favour something salty, chérie." Just like his personality. That part, thankfully, was left out.
"Are you trying to imply something about my disposition? Be thankful I haven't ripped out your hair as of yet, idiot."
"You brute!" This, unlike most of Arthur's other threats, actually seemed to get through to the Frenchman, who was positively stroking his locks. His small sob-fest was only broken apart by a disdainful stare.
From the experience he had learnt one thing: that he never would understand the English.
Around 10:30pm, Arthur tumbled back into his apartment. He hadn't the foggiest why he had even exited the place in the first place, well, save for a trip to clean up his uniform. Even that had gone tits-up (eventually he had caved and allowed Francis to deal with it, dreading what kind of 'something' he would owe him later).
In total, there were two things that were remarkable about the remainder of his evening. The first: Alice was not there to greet him with a condescending stare, and was instead atop his bed. The second was that there was no ridiculously late call from Alfred.
User THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و has added user HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower to his chatgroup.
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Dude! ヾ(๑╹ヮ╹๑)ﾉ" Hey, dude! U up?
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: What is it?
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: How'd it go? 【°∀°】
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Oh, not as bad as I thought.
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: That guy's kinda a jerk, am I right? (。┰ω┰。)
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Well, he /is/ English, cher.
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: I'll say, man… So, what did u think?
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: He would be so much cuter if he were quiet…
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐ Lame!
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Oui… He's not always like this, is he…?
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Pretty much, man. Props to ya for dealin', though! Oh, and another thing! I'm gonna organise a meet up pretty soon! R u in?
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: A meet up…?
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Yeah, dude! We're gonna have pizza, ice cream and kickass action movies! (ര̀ᴗര́)و ̑̑
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Is anyone else going to be there? Arthur, perhaps?
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Hah? I dunno, if u want, I guess! But isn't he gonna poop the party…? Oh, and also Keeks, from the apartment across from mine! He doesn't really answer the door anymore, but as soon as he does I'll pop an invite!
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Magnifique! I must say, I didn't expect you to be able to pull something like this off!
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Uh, thx, I guess! That was a compliment, right?
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: But of course! Also, cher… I know you made this address for me, but how do I change it back…?
THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و: Ahh… Whoops, gotta go! Ttyl!
User THE HERO! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و has left the chatroom.
HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower: Mon dieu…
User HonHonHonBaguetteEiffelTower has left the chatroom.
MapleEh: Sorry, guys! I kind of fell asleep…
MapleEh: …Guys?
User MapleEh has left the chatroom.
And thus the the first 3-chapter segment is concluded! \(*^*)/ There'll be more to come (WAY more), so sit tight and I'll get it uploaded asap! Also, reviews would be greatly appreciated! I'm trying to alter my writing style a lot, so it'd be amazing to receive some feedback!
Thanks for making it to the first milestone, and I hope you're enjoying it so far!
- acidicturtledove