Daaaang. It's been a year since the last update O-O I'm sorry too. I wrote this last year but couldn't seem to finish it. I decided it was best to split the chapter. Because it was incredibly long and I was partial to editing a huge part of this one out. Mostly just thoughts that roam through Lucille and Francoeur's minds. This had been edited waaaay too many times.
Enjoy! I hope you do!
"Okay…Now, flip."
The white greasy stuff made a louder crackle as Francoeur turned it over on the hot frying pan. He marvelled at how the egg sizzled each time he flipped it but despite all curiosities, he was much more eager to get it on his plate. Holding the pan in one hand, he prepared to transfer his sunny-side up onto the nearby porcelain when Lucille lightly shoved his arm back in place.
"Ep! It's not finished cooking," she reproved, amused by his eagerness. For the first time, she saw a very human pout on his lips and his eyes, half lidded, gave away a vague look that could only be distinguished as mild frustration. She smirked lightly which surprisingly elicited a small grumble from her big friend. But in spite of that, Lucille would not have cooking egg any other way.
On the days that followed after the small incident in the L'Oiseau Rare, Lucille took it upon herself to teach Francoeur basic household chores. She knew he wasn't incapable-that, she saw in the great progress he was making. He was a fast learner. At this point, some basic home economics became necessary. She felt responsible for his well being and that meant she had to teach him. Lucille also thought this would be the opportunity to have an extra hand around the apartment.
So, they started off by cooking.
Egg was by far the simplest of foods to cook and one of the few Francoeur could tolerate. Recently, Lucille had been more careful on the kind of meals he's been eating after so long had it struck her that he was indeed, a blood sucking parasite. Not so much now, but nonetheless, the effects of the potions had only increased his size and had given him musical abilities. That meant little change in his sort of diet.
Yet drinking blood was out of the question. It was unnatural and inhuman; often associated with dark mythic creatures from stories that people created themselves. To Francoeur, it was a necessity but to them- it was abominable. And people often made little room for the strange. Francoeur would have to leave it behind if he were to live and be accepted in this society. Lucille wanted him to fit in the best way he could. Fortunately, there were always other ways.
For breakfast, they cooked eggs and ham; the ham- so tantalizing to the flea, that it made his mouth water. Just like every morning they spent together, Lucille and Francoeur sat across each other at the square dining table. As always, breakfast was silent, but never unpleasant.
Lucille sat poised as she ate her meal, refinement shown through her perfect posture and table etiquette. In her younger years, proper manners had always been integrated in her learning and in time it had grown to be essential in the singer's Parisian lifestyle. There was no call for formality at an early time like breakfast in her home, but she supposed it would help Francoeur understand the concept.
Cutting up a piece of the ham on her plate, she looked over to her oblivious partner.
He was certainly doing better now than he did before, though he still needed to work on the way he held his fork and knife, she mused. However, she noticed that he did not slouch as much as before, only doing so when he brought the fork to his mouth.
She didn't see him as less of a person, but when she would stop to think, like she did now, she found his being to be strangely fascinating. It was not so much the actuality that he wasn't human, but simply because he was different. It was surreal, when she looked past Francoeur's alien exterior; movements that contradicted to the misconception that was purely based on his appearance, soft gestures and a meticulous nature that was often overlooked.
More and more, she'd find herself immersed in these thoughts.
Lucille had not even realized she had stopped eating moments ago until a soft chirp drew her out of her reflection. Looking up, she saw Francoeur smile at her innocently, tilting his head in question. She shook her head in reply and the two continued eating.
…
He was growing used (or so he made himself think) to the small jolt he felt in his chest each time she neared him. It was undeniably pleasant- the singer's touch and proximity, nothing short of welcoming. The exposure to the human world had made it all too easy to realize sooner than later what he was delving into. Personally, it was unknown territory. He had only been truly alive for barely two months, how limited was the scope of his knowledge. He was afraid yet he wanted to know what was.
But he did not want to ask her either.
Many thoughts ran through his head. They swarmed him at night. He didn't want to tell her, ever. If it meant that things would not change between him and Lucille, he would rather keep his thoughts to himself under a promise he made that as time passes, they will too.
As he ate, he could sense that she was looking at him but his peripheral vision afforded him an unclear view of her face. He was becoming adept at hiding expressions (which had not been too difficult as people rarely noticed), continuing on with what he was doing despite the self-consciousness that quietly returned. When he stole a glance, he saw the thoughtful look on her face. Her soft smile, one she had often worn these days and one that she was not even aware of was incredibly compelling
He sometimes found himself wishing to know what was on his singer's mind. But, he would hesitate each time, when the question did not pertain to normal objects in everyday life. Intangible objects like thoughts were the most difficult to decipher.
Finding the little courage he needed, he looked up to face her and chirped, the best way he could ask an audible question. Lucille took notice right away. And in that moment, he was once again distracted by her wide moss green eyes; the soft morning glow reflecting on the glassy color of her irises was quite a sight. He blinked a few times before regaining control over his mind. The lapse was not obvious and his lovely singer merely returned his look with a nonchalant smile. He had forgotten his question. The issue was put aside and they went back to their meals.
After breakfast, they went over to the sink to wash the dishes. It wasn't his first time and this was the easiest chore he had to learn- the quickest too. Had Lucille given it much thought, she would be quite thankful he had four arms.
When they reached the last plate, there was a knock on the door.
"Francoeur, can you finish the last one?" He nodded as Lucille wiped her hands dry with a towel then made her way to the entry. Right on schedule, she knew exactly who was behind her door.
"Raoul!" Lucille beamed. The particular name caused Francoeur to glance over his shoulder. The two welcomed each other in their arms."You ready?" The man replied with a grin on his face.
"Yep. Just a moment." Lucille said as she immediately closed the door. She turned back to Francoeur who had arranged the dishes neatly on a rack.
"Francoeur?" He turned to her in question, finishing off the work with wiping his four hands with a towel. "I'll be going now. Raoul's here." She said as she smiled up at him. "Don't do anything silly while I'm gone, alright? I'll be back later." He nodded sincerely before smiling contentedly at her last statement.
Casually, Lucille reached up and placed her hands on both sides of his face, bringing him down to her level. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, a sense of familiarity in her affectionate gesture.
"Good bye, Francoeur," she said, turning to look at him one last time, before leaving the room.
She failed to see his expression thereafter.
…
"So now can you tell me where we're heading?" Lucille said as she came out of her apartment. Raoul had been rubbing the tip of nose for no apparent reason, though she cared not to ask. Despite the feeling of discomfort from a door closing on his face, he brushed it off and smiled. "I told you it's a surprise."
Lucille let out a bark of laughter. "Is it a geeky science convention?" Raoul smirked and she took his arm as he held it out. "Nope." He replied smugly.
"But speaking of which, there is one coming up next month…" He said as he raised one brow with a knowing smile. Lucille laughed as they walked down the hallway. "I don't think so." She replied.
"Woman, open your eyes. We are in the twentieth century! The possibilities are endless. Aircrafts, the latest car models...Oh! Wireless communication! "
"Okay. I'm just going to block you out, right now." She chuckled.
…
Had his skin been a lighter shade of blue, the tint on his cheeks might have been more obvious.
Francoeur's eyes were wide as he stood where he was. Stunned, he brought his right hand to his cheek and touched the spot, as he collected himself and tried to comprehend his own reaction.
The singer slowly made his way to the couch to seriously think it over.
As he sat down, Francoeur recalled the first time she had shown him that sort of affection. It was the second time they sang together on stage. Just a little kiss. He was beginning to doubt the very words that he wrote for that song. The irony.
That time she kissed him on the cheek, on stage. It felt like nothing at all; a split-second routine that he did not mind and did not try to comprehend. But this one was entirely different. When she kissed him on the side of his face, it had taken Francoeur a while to realize what had happened.
Her soft lips left his cheek as soon as she had planted it. Such a small motion, so simple had rendered him speechless in more ways than one. No reply came from him when she said her good bye and left without a second glance.
It somehow frightened him that he could no longer look at her the way he did before. The warm, comfortable emotions he felt for her, the ones he could only identify as feelings of friendship (as Lucille had once taught him) had changed in some way that he could only describe it as intense. He nearly shivered.
Francoeur looked towards the French window, wanting nothing more than to clear his head by leaping out and into the fresh air. But that would mean disobeying her rule. Then again, he had never felt any anger from Lucille. He would just have to come back early before she returned home.
He walked over to the iron framed glass, opening it slightly. The clothes on him suddenly became a restriction. If he wanted to go his way, he would have to take them off. Francoeur reached up to pull off his tie, a little nervous to go off on his own. Once more.
He stopped as he was just about to go for the second button. Looking back at the pale cityscape, he remembered what it felt to be out there on his own- leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Francoeur's brows furrowed.
It would not be wise at all to go out that way.
His heart grew heavy. Reluctantly, he shut the glass windows. But that didn't mean he was going to spend his time in the apartment. A whole day alone often felt like an eternity, which he could bare under normal circumstances. Just not today.
Making his final decision, Francoeur fixed back his tie and walked over to the bathroom. He grabbed a brown coat and a matching hat as he made his way to the entrance door.
Still anxious to go against her, he turned the brass knob. Francoeur took comfort in knowing that she had not been so specific with her words today. She told him not to do anything silly. So he wasn't going to.
I hope this chapter is okay... I loved writing it in the beginning.. But now, I don't actually know how to feel about it... I'm just glad that I haven't given Lucille enough inside voice to make this repetitive.
