Chapter 6: Getting it straight

Arthur's POV

Keep calm, Arthur. It was just a kiss. Nothing more. Nothing to be weird about. Except that, maybe, it was with a guy. A blind guy, nonetheless. So really, why should I be freaking out? I am not freaking out. I am calm. Never been more relaxed.

My shoulders were tense and my hands clammy. My mind was on an entirely different planet, causing me to almost get hit by a car while I crossed the road. I cussed at the driver and gave him a nasty look over my shoulder, even though I knew it was my fault and not his. Who was I even kidding? Why was I still trying to convince myself that the way everything was going was normal? A cheating wife made me end up here, and now I found myself falling for a blind Frenchman who I met by pure coincidence on my way to my new apartment.

I absentmindedly arrived at the office and made my way to the third floor, entering my department and sitting down at my desk like always. I was pretty sure my boss scolded me for being late, but I didn't listen nor check the time to see how late exactly I had come in. I started writing up reports and sending emails, doing whatever needed to be done without thinking about it. I was too caught up in my own thoughts to properly focus on my job. At the end of the day I had only finished half the amount of work I usually would have. Nevertheless I left work at 5 pm precisely, not bothering to finish up. I wanted to get home as soon as possible and wash away my thoughts with a hot shower and a cup of tea.

I made a list of pros and cons in my, hoping it would sort out at least a small part of my feelings.

Reasons why it is okay to date Francis:
Love is love no matter who it concerns.

Reasons why it is not okay to date Francis:
He is a guy.
Dating a blind person may become difficult.
I should focus on my job instead of on dating.
There is only one reason why it is okay.

Okay, so those lists definitely did not help. My mind was obviously telling me "no", while my heart kept telling me "yes", and it all made me feel like one of the main characters in a romantic sitcom, which made me want to strangle myself. Come on Arthur, I thought, stop being such a cliché. Nobody likes clichés.

Once I arrived at my apartment I dropped my bag somewhere in the hallway and went to the small kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I still did not understand how my crappy apartment could be so expensive, but I guess that was just one of the cons to living in the heart of Paris. My apartment was small and simple. It only had the necessary furniture and no decorations really. The kitchen existed out of a small fridge, a microwave-oven, a cheap stove and a counter which had seen its better days already. I didn't really have a dining room, so my dining table had taken up the extra space of the kitchen. My living room was made up of a second-hand leather couch and a coffee table on a rug, since I hadn't even gotten around to buying a TV yet. The walls had been painted nicely though, thanks to the previous owners. My bedroom consisted of a nice bed, one which I had actually spent quite some money on, since I needed my rest, and a second-hand but still good-looking nightstand. I bought a soft rug for besides the bed, which made the room look that much less empty.

I sat down in the living room with my tea and tapped my fingers against the porcelain of the cup. I needed to get things straight. Or well, as straight as it could get with another man.

The next day was Wednesday. It was 5:30 PM and I found myself standing in front of Francis' front door, unable to knock. I went over all the scenarios of what could happen in my head, and I had not even gotten to the worst when the door opened and Francis was revealed. "H-Hello." I greeted. I mentally face-palmed; did I stutter? "Arthur!" He broke out into a bright smile and ushered me inside. God, his smile was beautiful. The door clicked shut behind us and I could smell something amazing coming from the kitchen. "Francis, are you… cooking dinner?" He nodded enthusiastically before he seemed to remember the food and rushed back to his kitchen. I followed suit. Francis reached over the stove, reaching for the pan with some sort of meat and onion in it. He couldn't find the handle, though, and almost burnt himself on the hot metal of the pan. "Watch it!" I yelled. I moved over to him, taking his hand and placing it on the handle. "Merci, Arthur." He said gratefully.

I was astonished by what I saw. He was actually cooking, and it smelled really great. "What are you making?" I asked. I stood behind him worriedly, making sure he didn't burn himself. "A French meat pie," He told me, "I was going to freeze in the left overs for later, but we could share it instead." I felt kind of guilty for coming in at such an inconvenient time, but I did really want to join him for dinner. "You don't mind?" He shook his head, smiling in my direction. "I didn't come here for dinner, actually, but I wouldn't mind joining." Francis closed the lid on the pan for a moment as he opened a random cabinet and took out some things. "Is this pepper and allspice?" He questioned just to be sure. "Yes, it is." I confirmed. He added the needed flavour to the dish and closed the lid again. "This needs to cook for a while, want to sit down?" I hummed in response and we sat down at the kitchen table.

"So, if you didn't come over for dinner, then what brought you here, mon cher?" I had no idea what a mon cher was, but I decided to just ignore it and get to the point. "I eh, I wanted to talk. About yesterday." I clarified. Francis' smile slightly faltered as if he already knew what I was going to say. "What about it?" He played dumb, wanting me to voice my thoughts first. "I am confused." I told him honestly. "About us, about myself. And I know I will not get any sleep until I have got this sorted out." Francis was silent for a moment, biting his lip thoughtfully. "I like you." Francis stated simply. My face went bright red and I was so thankful Francis was blind right now, because it would have been too embarrassing for me if he had seen me right then. "Arthur?" I cleared my throat, thinking of a response. Francis beat me to it, though. "I understand if you don't feel the same. I get it, really. I'm blind, it's weird for you."

"That is not it! Francis, you being blind blind does not bother me." He pulled a face of disbelief. "Okay, maybe I am not completely used to the idea yet, but believe me, that's not what keeps me awake at night." His face changed from disbelief to confusion. "Then what does? Because last night, I'm pretty sure you kissed me back. So what made you change your mind?" He asked me. "I did not change my mind." I said.

Now he was the one who was confused about us. "Arthur, will you please just tell me what you want. I like you, do you like me in that way?" He was being so blunt about it, I did not know what to say. "I-I… I think I do." Now he was smiling again, in the sweetest way ever, mind you. "Then why are we still talking about this?" He raised his hand, searching for my face. I took his hand and placed it on my cheek, to which he started stroking his thumb over my skin. "I have never been with a guy before." I admitted silently. His hand slid down to my chin as he made me look at him. I did not really get why, since he could not see me anyway. "Why does that bother you?" His tone was sincere. "Because…" I was trying to come up with reasons why it actually bothered me. I mean I never put much thought into why. "Eh… I guess I am worried about what others would think of me. At work and my family. You know?"

Francis dropped his hand and instead placed both his hands on my lap. "Arthur, why do you care what other people think of you? I've known you for a while now and even I can tell that you're this amazing and caring person. And who you're dating doesn't change anything. I'm sure your family will see that."

I wanted to reply something, but I could faintly see smoke coming from the kitchen and instead I jumped out of my chair and rushed towards the smoke. "Francis something is burning in the oven!" Francis got up and quickly switched the oven off. I took the oven mittens off the counter and quickly got out whatever was in the oven. "They still look okay." I told Francis. It was the pie part of his meat pie. Francis laughed at the whole situation. When he found my face he placed a kiss on my cheek. "Merci beaucoup." I blushed, wondering whether we were an item now.

"Francis," I started, while helping him finish the meat pie. "What are we now?" He pursed his lips in thought and let his eyes roam through the darkness he saw. "What do you want us to be?" I put some thought into that. How much did we really know about each other? Not much. Then again, getting to know each other is the fun part, right? "together?" It came out more as a question than an answer, but it seemed to satisfy Francis as he finished off the meat pie and then turned to me to find my lips with his own. "Then together it is." And again he pressed our lips together, wrapping his arms around my waist. My hands found his long hair and my stomach was doing flips by now. His tongue slid over my bottom lip and I opened my mouth. Our tongues collided in a passionate kiss, our meal temporarily forgotten.

French kissing a Frenchman.

Yes, I could get used to this.