[PART III]
Drinking was never Arthur's forte. The loud yelling, screeching girls, tough-guy boys—he rubbed his eyes as he woke up in a state. Groaning, Arthur tries to remember what had happened last night, and he stretches on the foreign bed he's on, grazing over the body next to his. He stiffens. Glancing over, his brows raise at the sight of Oscar, one of the men he met last night. It seemed that the two of them were naked. Reaching to pull the duvet higher to check, he closes his eyes and swears under his breath. So, there was that.
He kept doing this to himself. This was the second time this month that he hooked up with someone he was never going to meet again in his life. Not to mention both times had been with men. Arthur always knew there was something different about him after none of his relationships seemed to work, and how his eyes would follow his girlfriends' brother instead of them. So what if he was gay? So what if he enjoyed sex? Not like anyone would care anymore. Public schooling in England was more open-minded than private, and Arthur already had a few rumours about his sexuality, but he never mentioned them. There was no shame in being slightly afraid of coming out to his family and friends.
Oscar was still asleep.
Sliding out of the bed slowly, Arthur picks up his clothes from the floor and quickly tiptoes to the bathroom where he dresses himself and contemplates on what he was going to do about the situation. Oscar seemed like a nice guy, and a pretty good fuck. Shaking his head, Arthur washes his face and lifts his arm to give himself a whiff before sighing in relief. At least he didn't smell like B.O. Or sex. Deciding to leave without a word, Arthur grabs his bag and leaves the house at eleven. He'd get some lunch later.
Phone buzzing loudly, he hisses at the sound, his headache ringing along with the noise, "For fucks sake— What?" Arthur snaps, answering the call.
"Who took a shit in your cereal this morning, Jesus."
"I haven't even had cereal yet, that's probably why, Al," Arthur grumbles into the phone, stopping in his steps and running a hand through his hair, "What is it?"
Alfred always seemed to have issues that either Arthur or Matthew had to solve. The three of them were good friends, but Alfred confided in Arthur more due to their relationship as cousins. Twice removed. Arthur was never too thankful about it, or at least he never truly showed it, especially at times like these. When Alfred was nothing more than a pain in the arse.
"Well. You see. Remember when I said I was going to go over to Matts to get my jeans?"
"You left them there?"
"Yea, we went swimming, but that's not the point. I can't go there anymore…?"
Arthur swears vulgarly, causing an old lady who passes by to gasp in horror, and he quickly apologizes to the woman, "—Alfred, you cannot expect me to go there!"
"But—but I'm busy!" The whining never seemed to end.
"I'm going to hang up."
A gasp, "Arthur, don't you even dare—I'm with Maddie," Alfred whispers into the phone, "The Maddie."
Now that was a surprise. Arthur checks the time and frowns. It seemed too early to be stalking someone, but hey, he wasn't one to judge. Not yet. Alfred's small crush on the petite Canadian girl had grown in the span of two months, where he constantly whined about her and her cute butt. His words.
"… Oh."
"Yea, so now you know why I can't leave," Arthur can practically hear how smug he was.
Arthur sighs in defeat and nods, "Fine. I'll get your fucking jeans."
"I love you, man, I'll grab them in school tomorrow!"
After the other hung up, Arthur stares at the phone for a few prolonged seconds. Alfred was, assumingly, about to get himself a girlfriend, whilst Arthur was still lonely. He didn't understand why it was so infuriating and difficult to get himself someone he actually enjoyed being with for more than two hours maximum and that he liked to look at. Either Arthur just had terribly high standards, or—well. He just couldn't choose from all the men. The handful of men that were attracted to him and wanted to date him. And by handful, Arthur meant zero.
The statistics were against him, so he decided to think about how he was going to get to Matthews instead of bringing himself down with the prospect of being single forever. Thankfully, there was a bus nearby that would take him to the Sainsbury a few blocks down Matthews's house. It took at least half an hour and three quid, but he was finally at the front door, still in the clothes he was in the last night. He probably looked like a hot mess.
Francis confirms it once he opens the door for the other.
"Arthur!" Francis proclaimed, scanning him head to toe, "… Arthur."
"I'm sorry to intrude, but I'm here for Alfred's jeans, he forgo—… Is something the matter?" Arthur feels slightly self-conscious as Francis seems to be trying hard not to laugh.
"It's nothing. Just that I hope you used protection last night," Francis grins, letting Arthur inside before telling him.
Face flaming in embarrassment, he turns, feeling like he almost breaks his neck at the impact, and sputters, "—Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't be so flustered, teenagers will be teenagers, you look thoroughly 'shagged', as the English would say."
Arthur was rendered speechless. Did the man have no shame? Standing there with his jaw dropped slightly, Arthur stares at Francis like he had just—implied he had a good night. "… I," Arthur covers his cheeks, "… Do I really?"
"Marvelously so," Francis replies happily, giving a nostalgic sigh, "Ah, what I'd give to be young again. Why don't you freshen yourself up here and take a nice shower—we have extra towels in the bathroom. Matthew's in his room, probably still sleeping, so I'll wake him up later when you've finished, okay?"
"I… Okay...?" Arthur answers, still out of the zone as Francis pushes him upstairs to get him to realize he needs to reach the bathroom in order for him to actually have a shower.
Not that it wasn't already terribly embarrassing and awkward to have your best friend's father practically praise you for the sex you had last night. The shower was long, and needed, as Arthur used most of his time just standing in the middle of the shower, contemplating on how he would murder Alfred in due time.
Stepping out of the shower afterwards, he ruffles his hair, speckles of water gracing the mirror in front of him as Arthur stares at his reflection. Despite the fogginess of the mirror, it was still clear as day that Oscar had been using his time well last night, and so had Arthur. The scratch marks on his back and the multiple love bites around his neck and collarbone were definitely quite the sight. He quickly dries himself off, his back to the mirror.
Arthur quickly steps down the stairs after he dresses himself and, thankfully, finds some cologne in his bag, and sprays himself top to bottom. It was a little too much, but he didn't care. It was important. Once he was downstairs, he found his friend, who was sitting on the couch handling his phone.
"Alfred couldn't make it," Arthur says, plopping himself down next to the other with a sigh.
"Yea, I heard. He texted me earlier about the whole Maddie thing. Who would've guessed, right?" He replies, chuckling at the thought.
"I know, it's a little surprising, to be honest."
"Well, I mean, it's a little surprising you had a one night stand."
Arthur's jaw drops and he felt his face flame again, the familiar sensation running through his body rapidly as he looks over his shoulder to see—"That bastard," Francis had escaped the scene.
Covering his snicker with his hand, Matthew grins, "Yea, he gave me a hint or two and I managed to find out why Arthur Kirkland was taking a shower in my house at such an early hour."
"It was twelve."
"It's a fucking Sunday, we all need to sleep."
Guess he was right.
"… I can't believe he told you," Arthur mutters, rubbing his face in the process of covering it in embarrassment.
Matthew shrugs, continuing to check his Instagram feed on his phone, "I mean, it's pretty obvious with all those hickeys on you. There are like… Three I can see on your neck."
His hands now cover his neck.
"C'mon, everyone has sex," Matthew flicks his wrist like it was absolutely nothing.
"Not when it's—" Arthur snaps, but stops himself before it was too late.
His tone practically woke Matthew up, as Matthew puts his phone down, and says, "… Now I'm curious."
Arthur turns silent. He looks down at his hands that are now on his lap, and he breathes in deeply. It was certain that Matthew would never judge him; whether it be his sexuality or the amount of hickeys he had from a one night stand. It was just so difficult to word it when his mouth wouldn't even dream of opening, and his lips would be pursed tight.
"I—Fuck. Matthew, promise you won't tell anyone," He isn't looking Matthew in the eyes.
"Shit dude, alright, alright," Matthew reassures, wondering if he should put an arm around Arthur, since he looked like he was about to confess to having sex with his own mother.
He takes a deep breath.
"I'm gay."
"And?"
"… Wait, what? Matthew, that's it. I'm just… Gay as fuck, really," Arthur is slightly jumbled at the others reaction, to say the least.
"No, it's just that… I kind of knew? Is that bad?" Matthew's tone is sheepish as he shrugs.
Arthur didn't know what to say. His brows are furrowed in confusion, and his lips are parted as he tries to find the words, "It's not bad—I'm just—What, you knew?"
"I mean, Dad's gay too, so I guess I can like… Sense a vibe? I'm not sure, maybe it's like the rare Straight-Person-Gaydar, you know? Arthur? Are you alright?"
His world feels like it stopped for at least a full minute. Boxes in his brain were trying to connect the words from Matthew's lips to his mind as his lips part in disbelief, "Francis is gay?"
Matthew nods nonchalantly, "I thought it was obvious. With his Dolce & Gabbana shoes and all that—"
"Dolce & Gabbana shoes don't make you gay," Arthur argues, "It just makes you rich!"
Laughing, Matthew shrugs again and raises his brows at the other, "It was a shitty example, I'll give you that. But hey, least you know you're not alone in this. I'm pretty sure you can talk to him about it…?"
"Not like that's awkward at all. Talking to your best friend's dad about how you prefer cock."
"Hey, it was just a suggestion!"
Arthur snorts and gives Matthew a look before the two of them burst into laughter, Arthur clutching his stomach as Matthew's eyes are closed tightly as he loses his breath. Their laughter cease as the two of them catch back their breath, and Matthew wipes at his eyes gingerly, "Amazing. Absolutely amazing."
Sighing lightly, Arthur presses his palms onto his thighs and he smiles to himself. Matthew accepted him, and the weight on his shoulders finally left—he could practically see it fly away on glowing wings. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Not freaking out."
"What's worth freaking out about?" rings the familiar voice from behind them, and the two turn to see Francis with a curious raise of his brow and a pair of folded jeans in his hands.
Matthew rolled his eyes; he was always so nosy, "Nothing, Dad."
Still shocked by the facts Matthew told him earlier, Arthur stares at Francis for a few long seconds before their eyes met, and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. Nothing worse than being caught watching.
He hands the jeans to Arthur nonchalantly, still with his suave flick of the wrist, and Arthur pulls the garment close to his chest, "Alfred's jeans—washed and dried by yours truly."
"… Thanks," he manages to say, and left his seat, "I—I 'll be taking my leave then. Thank you for the shower, Mr. Bonnefoy."
"Please, call me Francis."
Never in a million years after today.
Ignoring the older man, Arthur says goodbye to his friend and quickly paces himself out of the room, and out of the house. He can still feel the warm sensation in his freckled cheeks, and he uses his free hand to give one a small pat, trying to calm it down. Calm himself down.
It's not the best moment when your best friend's very attractive, late-thirties father turns out to be a raging homosexual.
next chapter will be late due to A2 exams soon x wish me luck x - greyfortress
