Your Name
~O~
Chapter 2
Since then a couple of months had past. And yet, with each long day, Arthur's resentment towards his new master only grew. Was it the haughty aura the Frenchman surrounded himself in that put him off, or was it his dramatics that made the Brit uncomfortable? Whatever it was, it did not arouse any fond feelings within him. And apparently, the sentiment was mutual.
Waiting outside the kitchen door, the 'personal assistant' scowled. He had been ordered to serve the family tea a couple of evenings ago, and though he had brewed a perfectly nice pot of it, it did not seem to suit their pallet. Ever since he had been forbidden to enter the kitchen unauthorized, forced to wait for the cook (a professional from Paris with the same obnoxious accent as Francis had, yet a nice personality. In spite of her being French, that is) to whip up whatever Arthur was sent for and then serve it after it was handed to him.
After a few minutes or so, a dirty-blond head peeked out of the double doors, grinning as its owner spotted the Englishman. Cecile- the young chef- walked out, a silver tray with steaming bowls of soup on it. With a smile- and was that a blush?- she handed Arthur the platter. "Be careful- it iz hot." She warned, still supporting the dish. It touched him that although English was not her mother tongue, she attempted at it for him.
Being the gentleman that he was, the Englishman grinned and brushed off the warning, accepting the load. With a brief 'thank you' he was off, carrying it to the elaborate dining room.
He stepped inside, once again taking in the elegant surroundings he was not used to. The carved wooden table, the glittering chandelier… As much as he hated the owners, he couldn't deny the fact that they had quite a sense of fashion. A bit on the showy side, perhaps, but elegant nevertheless. The pair that was seated in the middle of the room was just as pretty as their surroundings. But appearances are deceiving, as the Englishman quickly learned. Master and son shared the disturbing combination that of an inflated ego and materialism. Two things that Arthur detested the most.
Francis and his father, General Bonnefoy, were always together. The moment the General returned home from work or a mission, he would spend his time off with his son, reveling in the other's achievements and accomplishments. Be it long and detailed reports or delicious dishes, it seemed that the young Frenchman succeeded in all that he did. It was as if he had a golden touch, a gift of unconditioned skill.
And boy, did he know it.
But Arthur found himself secretly admiring his young master's ability to acknowledge his own capability. It took a lot for the Brit to compliment himself on something, shame and modesty overshadowing satisfaction. But Francis, it seemed, had no trouble at all with it. A thing that the other had, and he lacked. Just like most everything else. Except for one thing.
Francis did not have a mother.
At first, the young Englishman assumed that the lady of the house was always out, never having either time or will to meet with the new servant. To his amazement, he was shushed when he asked after her name. The mere mentioning of her was taboo. It was only until recently that he had found out that the reason no one talked about her was not since she was dead, as he had thought. No, it was worse than that- she had ran away.
No one knew with whom, no one knew where. Some guessed she missed her natal family so much that she returned to France one night without telling a soul, less they stand in her way. Others said that she was quite taken with the milkman and left her home and family in favor of him. Arthur had a hard time believing that, though, as it was too cliché. He wouldn't be surprised if someone suggested that Francis was the son of that nameless man.
Perhaps his mother's absence made Francis the way he was. Overconfident and arrogant. Extremely close with his father. Feminine.
Scratch that, Arthur blushed at the thought, studying the small family from the doorway secretly; there is nothing gentle and kind about him to make that brat 'feminine'. Weak and harmless as a frog, more like it. Never known a hard day's work.
Yes, he hated Francis with a passion. But he admired him as well, only adding to his dislike.
"Uy, sentimos…"
A flash of heat splashed across Arthur's chest as a sudden pressure was applied to him from behind, sending the unaware Englishman flying forward. Steaming soup burned his skin and shards of broken china cut his hands as well as littering the floor. The idle buzz of chatter inside the room stopped, Frenchmen and servants alike turning around to see the fallen Brit, sprawled across the floor.
Cheeks reddening in embarrassments, the young Briton stumbled onto his knees, collecting bits and pieces of the broken dishes, bowing his head repeatedly and asking forgiveness. He had to bite his tongue to swallow his cries, his chest badly burnt. All he could feel were the eyes gazing at him, staring and taking in every move of his.
The silence was broken a few moments later when he heard someone stifle a chuckle from behind him. Loud footsteps came to a halt in front of him after a short walk around Arthur's crouched figure.
Lifting his head, the Englishman came across bright green eyes- not too different from his own, perhaps a shade lighter- staring down at him. Dark brown locks framed his tanned face, his complexion that of a Mediterranean color. The Hispanic origin was all but apparent. Antonio.
Antonio, a fellow servant in the Bonnefoy household from Spain, never did like Arthur. It was the moment they set eyes on each other that he decided to dislike the Anglo, it seemed. And Arthur, to be completely honest, didn't mind it much. The bastard was high ranking in the master's affections, therefore no reason to care for him over the necessary. It was simply his bad luck that the other had a more passionate hatred for him, still unexplained by the man himself. But whatever it was, he made the Englishman suffer for it.
The young Spaniard was smirking down at him, green eyes twinkling in amusement. "Das war ein Rückgang gibt, amigo. Brauchen Sie eine Hand?" Antonio mocked loudly in heavily accented German, extending his arm towards the Englishman. Arthur simply glared at him and held back a few of his favorite curses, fully aware of the audience he had. Picking up the remaining shards, he stood up, wincing slightly as his upper half was forced to move. He really should check out his burns later on.
Arthur shot one last glare at Antonio, internally swearing to get his revenge- it was obviously the other who had pushed him- and knowing fully well he would not get such as thing as the other was too high for him to reach up to and pull down. The shards of glass and china on the tray, he turned around and all but ran out of the room.
The silence continued, but a few moments later as everyone came back to their senses and went back to their forgotten conversations, some of which the subject shifted to the new and awkward British servant. The father resumed his speech about the various uses of war ships and called for a cup of tea, his son remaining silent. Francis's gaze remained stationary on the doorway where Arthur had made his quick exit moments ago, a strange expression on his face.
Were those tears?
Hanna Chan's Blah-Blah Corner;
Yes, I am well aware of the fact that this is helplessly late ;A; I never counted on school being so hard *rants to wall endlessly* But I do try my best, mind you. I have everything planned out, and I- and I-... And I hope I'm not going to be too lazy to continue this ^^' Every review, even negative, serves as motivation to continue, so if you want to see another chapter (which I hope you do), please just take a moment and leave a comment. Any comment :D
Now, about this chapter. This is a filler chapter that serves to explain deeper the dynamics of this twisted, twisted household. So excuse me if it's boring =3= Action will come soon, do not fret! 3 Antonio is evil since I decided he would be. And you can't do anything about it ;P Besides, Spain wasn't exactly on the Allies' side during the war, so... yeah.
I hope you guys like this! Now, a special shutout to special people~
Darandomninja- Thank you, cher =W= It's nice to know that I am helping to spread the love of FrUk XDD
englandlove94- *nods* Francis and his family are in Germany, hence the initial reaction of using German when he first sees Arthur. And I hope you like this chapter as much as the last ':D
Dancing Flurry- You did? Well then, I hope to not disappoint you with my changing styles, depending on my mood ^^' I hope you keep on reading- you may find some very interesting things in the future ;3
icy-piyo21- *hugs* No problem, cheri. You always inspire me to write, so why not try to return the favor? XD I hope to talk to you again soon!
murasakiirothoughts- *salutes* Will do, ma'am! :DD
Twizardck- XDD Here you go, then. I hope this will turn out to your liking.
Agerevaluation- *bows* And continue I did. And I hope I will... OTL Thank you, at any rate =W=
Translations
"Uy, sentimos"= Spanish. Antonio is saying 'Oops, sorry.'
"Das war ein Rückgang gibt, amigo. Brauchen Sie eine Hand"= German, with a bit of Spanish. He is saying 'that was quite a fall you had, friend. Need a hand?'