Chapter 6

Francis' day is not going very well. Not at all.

He curses his life, annoyed at having to deal with numerous mood-ruining and stress-inducing problems. He had overslept in the morning somehow, most likely because he'd had to stay up stupidly late the previous night trying to get an assignment finished,
and wound up missing breakfast and his morning coffee which really made him grumpy. It didn't help that Arthur was awake while Francis was rushing around the apartment, snickering at the lack of his usual composure before realising with annoyance
that he wouldn't be getting any of Francis' breakfast that morning. Francis had been kept behind lectures by his professor and ended up late for work, earning him a warning from his boss that made another addition to the crappiness of his day.

Francis leaves work and walks home in rain, the weather suitably fitting his mood, and finally makes it back to his warm apartment. He shuts the front door behind him and shudders at the chilliness of his damp clothes. Arthur is lying on the sofa on his
laptop and looks up lazily as Francis comes in.

"You look pissy."

Francis glares at him. "Wow, what a lovely way to welcome someone home. Thanks for stating the obvious, Mister Sarcastic." he says bitterly. By this point, he can't find the effort within himself to keep up his charming personality or flirt
with the irksome Brit.

"Hah, I hardly think I'm the sarcastic one at the moment."

Francis scowls, dumping his bag and art folder in his room and he slumps down on his bed with a heavy sigh. After several hours of working in the afternoon, it is already rather late and Francis realises with a groan that he'll have to make dinner. Despite
being tired and in need of a rest, he doesn't feel like ordering in some expensive takeaway and definitely doesn't want to have to go back outside, so he hauls himself back off the bed and makes his way into the kitchen.

Francis prepares a pasta bake quickly, just hoping to eat something warm and then relax. He places the meal in the oven and leaves it to cook while he reads the newspaper.

A while later after Francis gets himself absorbed in the tragedy that is British politics and various strange news articles, Arthur walks into the room.

"Hey frog, isn't that burning?"

Francis immediately snaps his head, instantly noticing the strong odour of burning after it is pointed out to him.

"Shit!"

He runs to the smoky kitchen, reaching to pull the charred pasta bake out of the oven and remembering oven gloves just too late. He hisses with pain at the searing pan, whipping his hand back and grabbing the oven gloves to retrieve the ruined dish. All
of the pasta and cheese on the top is thoroughly burnt; inedible.

"Merde, I forgot to set the timer!" Francis wails, exasperated at everything. "Why does life hate me, it's like I'm destined for misfortune."

"My god, there's no need to be so melodramatic."

Francis narrows his eyes at Arthur while sucking on his burnt finger.

"Anyway, what the hell are we supposed to do now you've messed up our dinner? I thought you were actually supposed to be a good cook or something."

"For god's sake, do you really feel the need to turn everything against me instead of actually helping? You're so overly critical and condescending, it would be nice if for once you were actually kind and sympathetic like normal people try to be!
And you're being so utterly hypocritical; it's not like anything you attempt to cook comes out any different!"

Francis finds himself getting more and more angry with everything. He knows it isn't like him to act so cruel but he can't stop himself when so much stress has built up over both the day and the year. Francis isn't a hot-headed person (he usually leaves
that to Arthur), but occasionally he can get so frustrated that he just can't keep things in. At this point he can feel himself becoming almost blind to his actions. A small part of his mind is telling him to stop but his thoughts are too clouded.

Arthur expression is one of slight shock from Francis' hurtful outburst. But, just like usual, Arthur keeps a brave face and refuses to let Francis get the better of him.

"What the fuck was that for, huh? I'm not acting any different to usual, you usually have no problem. This is just who I am, you know I can't just change that. So that was so uncalled for!"

"If that's just 'who you are', maybe you should try to change. You only make things unpleasant for other people!"

They are practically yelling at each other by now, any previous piece of the flat forgotten. The conflict had gone from zero to one hundred so quickly and Francis realises that the fault is entirely down to him and his bad mood.

Arthur is seething. "I thought we were something like friends! But I'm pretty sure straight up insulting me is a clear sign that I'm not liked despite what you've said in the past, which makes you a liar. You're a real wanker!"

"You're the real wanker; I doubt anyone else would ever do it for you since you're so insufferable!"

Arthur's face contorts into one of disgust.

Francis is regretting every uttered word but finds himself too late to stop.

"I'm not surprised your family just dumped you here, I don't know how they survived almost twenty years having to cope with your shit!"

Francis can see Arthur getting angrier and angrier, his face a glowing red and his bushy eyebrows scrunched together while he fumes. He reaches his limit in temper, stepping towards Francis, grabbing his collar in his white-knuckled fist and shaking him
slightly

"At least I'm not a part of a family of filthy whores who enjoys nothing but casual fucks!"

Francis registers what Arthur had just said slowly, and doesn't quite believe it. Francis had never really cared much about insults directly about him, but Arthur had gone way too personal and Francis cannot control his actions in his new red-clouded
rage.

Francis pushes Arthur against the wall, pinning down his arms and body with his own. Arthur grunts from the impact, his head having hit the wall and he looks up to Francis' face. Francis feels disgusted with himself at how his expression makes Arthur's
eyes widen almost in fear and his brain properly process what he had just said.

"Oh. God. Francis, I'm so sorry I didn't mean it." His voice is wavering and laden with remorse.

Francis changes suddenly, then. The deep regret in Arthur's now apologetic eyes and the position Francis realises he had put him in dispels his anger. He can see how much of a mistake they had both made in their actions, and how Arthur is becoming consumed
with guilt and shame because of what he had done to Francis. These genuine emotions displayed by him are so powerful to Francis, are such proof that he really does care for him, that Francis can't stop himself from leaning forward to push his mouth
onto Arthur's.

Arthur squeaks and tenses up with wide eyes, completely bewildered at Francis' unpredictable behaviour. The kiss is clumsy and ungainly to begin with; Arthur is squashed up between the wall and Francis, and it is so completely unexpected for the both
of them. Francis vaguely wonders what has become of him, why he is acting in such a way, but his strengthened feelings block these thoughts off.

Arthur is starting to squirm as he realises what is happening, but Francis can feel his resistance is fruitless due to the strong weight of his body pinning him down. Arthur eventually stops attempting to escape, freezing for a while before - to Francis'
surprise - he actually begins to melt into the kiss, closing his eyes and softening the gesture.

Their lips are connected for a good couple of seconds, until Francis finally finds some sense. He pulls away quickly, widening his eyes and gaping slightly. What had he done?

He had just forcefully kissed Arthur. Without consent. He had practically just proved Arthur's comment correct; he is no more than a filthy excuse for a human being. Love is one of the few beautiful, pure things in the world, and so to force it upon someone
else is inexcusable, it goes against everything Francis had claimed to believe.

He staggers backwards with Arthur looking up at him, puzzled.

"H-hey Francis, I'm so sorry… are you okay?"

Francis is bewildered at the Brit. Why is he not furious? Why is he not repulsed?

"What do you mean? How can you say that when I should be the one apologising, don't you realise what I've just done? I'm disgusting, you were right."

"Wait no Francis, it's fine, please don't worry about it! I, uh… I didn't mind it. And I wasn't right in any way, it was a stupid and ignorant thing to say."

Francis doesn't want to hear it. It doesn't matter what he thinks, he still did what he did. He flees to his bedroom; he doesn't want Arthur to have to look at him.

Arthur.

Why Arthur? Why had Francis just kissed Arthur? Francis decides to try and tell the truth to himself, he knows there is no use in lying.

He loves Arthur?

That's something new, and it's rather confusing. Francis had just pointed out everything he hates about Arthur, but he knows he can't deny his inexplicable feelings.

Francis lies face down on his bed, and lets out a few sobs of frustration. If Arthur didn't hate him before, he sure as hell does now. It seems Life is out to get him at the moment.

He lies collapsed on his bed for about an hour, just thinking. There is a quiet knock on his door, and a hand holding a dish slips through and places it on the floor before disappearing behind the closing door.

Francis hauls himself up and goes to examine the mysterious delivery. Squatting down to the floor, he discovers his favourite dish from their local Chinese takeaway, and smiles.

Maybe things could be worse.

Whoo, I'm on schedule. I hope you enjoyed everyone being pissed off, although sorry this is rather angsty whoops. I hope this fic isn't descending too deep into shit, but hopefully it'll fulfill your FrUK fangirl/boy/other needs. Or maybe you don't like
FrUK, and then I don't know why you're here (other than Haz or Mez or perhaps Famz) ;)