Warning: This chapter is very dramatic, and there are also a couple swears so if you're sensitive to that, please beware.

A Note From The Author: I just want to thank all of you for all of your support and blah, blah, blah... All of that crap. You're probably not reading this anyway. And again, if you notice any mistakes in Arthur's vocabulary or Francis's French please let me know. Anyway, on with the drama! -Deanandsam67


"You're sorry? What do you mean you're sorry," Lucille shouted, and the secretary shrank back.

"He's in room 13. They're allowing visitors, but only immediate family. Again, I'm so sorry."

"Stop saying that. Please," Lucille said, this time much calmer. She slowly walked away from the secretary's desk and over to Arthur. "They're only allowing family members to visit. Can you wait here?"

"Yeah, of course. Is he alright?"

Lucille did not respond, she just walked away and down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Arthur had been waiting in the same uncomfortable chair for over an hour. He wondered what was taking so long for Lucille to come back. I hope he's okay. That frog better not die on me. He heard footsteps, and he turned in the chair. Lucille was walking toward him, her mascara running down her cheeks, her eyes red. Oh no. Arthur prepared for the worst as Lucille approached him, but all she did was look at the ground and say quietly, "Do you need a ride?"

"Yeah, that would be great," he replied. He opened his mouth to ask what happened to Francis, but he instantly closed it when he noticed that she was still crying. "Let's go." He grabbed her arm and led her to the door and out to the parking lot. They walked over to her motorcycle and got on. She started it and drove away. Arthur wrapped his arms around her again, still awkwardly. When they were a few blocks away from the hospital, Arthur realized that he had never told Lucille where he lived. He tapped her shoulder. "I live in a flat somewhere around here!"

"What!"

"I said my flat is around the next corner!"

"I can't hear you!" She kept driving and missed the turn.

"Nevermind! Where are we going," he shouted again, not expecting her to hear him.

"My place!"

"What! Why!"

"Because I need to tell you something!"

"Alright then!" Arthur was somewhat disappointed; he was looking forward to going home and having a nice cup of hot tea. He felt sort of weird going to this girl's house. She was a stranger after all, but she was Francis's sister, and he felt that he could trust her. They turned another corner, nearly falling over, and Arthur let out a high-pitched screech, causing Lucille to laugh, despite the tears still running down her cheeks.


When they finally got to Lucille's house, Arthur could not be more relieved. He felt like his face was going to fall off from the wind and snow that had been blasting him in the face on the ride over. He looked up at the girl's house. It was as extravagant as Francis's, but Arthur didn't expect any less from the Bonnefoy family. He followed Lucille up the path and through front door. They walked to the living room and sat down, Arthur on the couch and Lucille on a chair across from him. "So," Arthur said, finally breaking the awkward silence, "what happened? Please tell me he's okay." I couldn't deal with the guilt if he isn't. This is all my fault.

"He may or may not be okay," she said, choking back a sob, "he's in a coma. The doctors cannot determine whether he will wake up or not."

"Oh my god," Arthur whispered, almost inaudible. "This is my fault. If I hadn't been so curious about…" he paused. Hadn't been curious about what?

"No. It is not your fault. I hate it when people do that. They always find excuses to blame themselves, and it's not right. It is no one's fault. Francis will be fine. I know it."

"God, I hope you're right." Arthur had finally decided that no, he did not love Francis, but having him die would probably be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Arthur had finally made a friend, and now he might never see him alive again. "So is there anything that the doctors can do?"

"No. I am afraid not. We just have to wait for him to wake up. He will wake up." Lucille stood up from her chair and sat next to Arthur on the couch, a bit too close. Just like Francis, Arthur noticed that Lucille had no concept of personal space. He realized, however, that this lack of space between them was intentional. He jumped when Lucille laid her hand on his. She leant closer to him "You know, I'm starting to understand what Francis saw in you," she whispered in his ear. She quickly pulled him closer by the waist and pressed her lips to his. Jesus Christ. What is it with the Bonnefoys? To Arthur's surprise, he kissed her back, and before he knew it, she was on top of him. He had no idea what he was doing here, with Francis's sister, doing whatever it was that they were doing. He didn't care though, he didn't care about anything anymore. Not right now.

Arthur let Lucille unbutton his shirt, and then it hit him. He really did have no idea what he was doing. He had never been close like this to anyone before. He was glad when she finally stopped and sat up, but his heart jumped to his throat when she pulled him off of his seat and started dragging him down the hall. She threw open a door and pushed Arthur inside. The lights in the room were off, but Arthur could still make out the shape of a bed and dresser in the corner. Not until they were pressed up against the wall together did he realize what was really happening. Suddenly, he got the feeling that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had no idea how to stop. He had to stop though. This wasn't right. He finally pushed Lucille away and said, "Stop. We shouldn't be doing this. I can't… I can't do this. I'm sorry. Just take me home."

Lucille looked up at him, bouncing back into reality. "No, this is my fault. I should be the one to apologize. I'm sorry. I've never been able to deal with my feelings and emotions very well, and I guess this is how I cope."

"Well, you should find a better way handle it. Would you like to come over to my place? I can make you some tea, and we can talk about Francis's situation a bit more."

"Yes, thank you. That would be great." Lucille smiled and took Arthur's hand, this time leading him out of the bedroom. She led him down the hall and out the front door.

This time, Arthur had told Lucille where he lived before they left, and she was there in less than five minutes because of how close they lived. During this five minute ride, Arthur replayed the previous events in his minds and thinking about how badly that could have ended. He did not regret stopping himself one bit. He'd hate to have to explain what had happened to Francis. Hey mate, remember when you were in a coma? While you were out cold, I fucked your sister. Good times.

Lucille parked in front of Arthur's flat and got off the motorcycle, Arthur following. He led her up the stairs and into the living room. "Wait here. I'll go make us some tea."

"Alright. Thanks."

Arthur walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboard that he usually kept his tea in, but it was empty. He rummaged through several other cupboards, finding nothing. Oh yeah. I ran out of tea yesterday and forgot to buy more. He walked back out to the living room where he found that Lucille had picked up the copy of Sherlock Holmes off the coffee table. She seemed to be awfully engrossed in the story she was reading. "That's one of my favorites," he said, causing her to look up from her book. "Oh, and I'm out of tea. Sorry."

"It is fine," Lucille replied, closing the book and setting it back on the table. "I never really fancied tea much anyway." She patted the couch beside her. "Sit down so we can talk about Francis." She looked at the ground and whispered, "Just talk."

Arthur walked from the kitchen doorway to the couch and sat down, as close as he could get without it being awkward, which wasn't very close. "So what else did they say?"

"Not much." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening. One moment I'm on my way to the library, and the next I get a call saying my brother's in the hospital. I regret not speaking to him until it was too late." Her eyes filled with tears, which spilled over, and before Arthur knew it, she was hugging him, and crying into his shoulder. He awkwardly patted her back.

"There, there," Arthur said, trying to comfort here, which was something he had never been good at. "You're the one who said that he was going to be okay, and I believe you. Francis will wake up."

"But what if he doesn't?" Lucille had let go of Arthur. "What if he never wakes up?"

"He will." Arthur picked up the box of tissues from the coffee table and offered them to Lucille. She took one and blew her nose into it. Her sobbing had finally stopped, but tears were still falling down her cheeks. She wiped her face with another tissue and stood up to throw them in the rubbish bin.

"The doctors did say he had a better chance of surviving that not," Lucille said in a reassuring voice. "I wish they were allowing visitors beside family. I feel like you would really help him."

"I doubt it," Arthur replied.

"Why is that?"

"Because he barely knew– I mean knows me. We're barely even friends."

"I've been lying to you about something," Lucille blurted out.

"What?"

"I have been lying to you."

"I heard you. What have you been lying about?"

"About not speaking to Francis. I actually did talk to him before this, but it was only last night. Before that, he didn't even bother to try and stay in contact with me."

"So you talked to him. Why does that matter?"

"Because of what he said," Lucille replied. "Mr. Kirkland, our meeting was not coincidental. I knew who you were because Francis told me about you."

"Why? What did he say about me?"

"He told me," Lucille paused, swallowing hard, "he told me he loved you."

"What? That bloody frog! How can he possibly love me? The wanker's only known me for a day! That's impossible. He must be confused or something."

"Francis always believed in love at first sight," Lucille said. "I mean he believes in love at first sight," she corrected, "not believed."

"Even if it is true, why would he tell you? He hadn't spoken to you in how many years?"

"It has been nearly eight years since dad died, and I stopped talking to Francis. He was eighteen and I was fourteen," her eyes shone with tears again, "After my father left us," she paused and closed her eyes. "I had nowhere to go. Francis had abandoned me for college, and I was left alone. That was when I decided I would never speak to him again, even though it was not his fault. The only way I survived was because half of my father's fortune was left to me. I also inherited the casino that he owned. I could obviously never go to into it, but I made a lot of money and was able to pay the bills, so I lived alone, in that huge house. Keep in mind I was only fourteen at the time. Except for school, I scarcely left my house. When Francis came back home after two years, I only allowed him back in the house to pack his belongings and leave. I never saw him again after that. I have no idea why he decided to tell me that he loved you considering we weren't on the best of terms. I didn't know that he trusted me. Maybe he had no one else to turn to."

"Oh my God. That's terrible," Arthur responded, completely ignoring the last part. "No child should live alone. Did anyone ever wonder why you lived alone?"

"No. I told no one that I did not live with my parents or any family at all, so no one knew. I was fine with it though. It was actually quite peaceful."

"I still don't understand how Francis could love someone he met only the day before," Arthur said, changing the subject. He felt sort of awkward discussing something so personal with a stranger.

"I have never understood why Francis does the things he does or why he is the way he is, just that he falls in love very easily. His feelings pass very quickly, though, and he soon gets over it. I remember one time when he was sixteen, he brought home one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen, saying that he was in love and that they were going to get married someday. He failed to mention that he had met her only a few hours before. They broke up two days later." Lucille laughed. "My brother is an idiot."

"It's better to be an idiot who loves too easily than an idiot who hates too easily," Arthur said, thinking of himself when he said it. "But if that's the case with me, then I don't ever want to see him again. He needs to learn that a temporary crush isn't love."

"I don't think this is a temporary crush. What he said over the phone last night was very deep, especially for Francis. Usually he just says he's in love with girls to get them into bed, but those clearly weren't his only intentions with you. He has never admitted to falling in love with another man before. I truly believe this is different."

For the first time in a while, Arthur was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to respond to that, but who would? When someone finds out that someone they met a day ago is in love with them, who would know how to react? At last he spoke, "I'm going to break his heart, aren't I?" No matter what Arthur did, he could not return the same feelings toward Francis. He liked him as a friend but only as a friend. "I will probably never be able to feel the same way about him."

"I don't think he expects you to. Sometimes when we fall in love we must not expect anything in return." There was an awkward silence before Lucille stood up and announced, "I should take my leave soon. My boyfriend is probably wondering where I am."

"You have a boyfriend? But...," Arthur thought back to earlier, when they were kissing and about to do a whole lot more, "But we…"

"I was just joking, Arthur. Don't get so freaked out," Lucille laughed, and as she left she yelled, "Au revoir, Mr. Kirkland!" She closed the door, and a few seconds later Arthur heard the motorcycle start, and the sound of the engine slowly faded away. Lucille was one of the most confusing human beings Arthur had ever met; one moment she was crying and saying some of the most profound shit Arthur had ever heard, and the next she was joking and riding off into the night on a motorcycle. He wondered what the real reason for here sudden departure was, but he soon realized that it didn't matter. He would probably never see her again anyway.


Note: That was quite the chapter. (PS- If you haven't caught on yet, Lucille is Monaco.)