disclaimer: don't own.
dedication: errr…not paying attention in class because of so many ideas. 8D
notes1: there was a reason for the wait…i got over bronchitis after about a month! and then i got sick again OTL
notes2: i've also been listening to nico chorus sing the classical version of "servant of evil"…FOREVER SOBBING.
notes3: and, lastly, enjoy the happy while it lasts. next chapter won't be.
summary: "And me, I put my head in my hands and cried." It was a difficult relationship. Really.
pairing: franceengland.


Chapter 9:
(he blew rings with the smoke)


"Mon amour," he was whispering in my ear, kissing along my neck, rubbing along my stomach. He was so warm, with soft skin pressed up against my bare back, and the feeling of his lingering fingers was giving me this tingly feeling. "Time to get up."

"If you keep doing that, I'll never get up," I mumbled in a daze, trying to nuzzle my way closer to him. He chuckled and kissed me, and it felt like everything it the world was right.

And then he pulled away.

I pout up at him, and finally opening my eyes, even though I had to squint in the brightness.

"You must get ready, cher," he says, getting out of bed. I sigh and follow him to the washroom, extremely discouraged by the cold air of the barely-heated flat. We took turns washing our face, and decided that showers could be had later, as we would most likely (most definitely) get distracted.

I frown as I put on my uniform. It's wrinkled, again. He begins talking as I attempt to straighten out my tie.

"Would you like to spend lunch with Antonio, Gilbert and I?" he asks.

"There's going to be a lot of jokes on behalf of me, aren't there?"

"Most likely."

I bite the inside of my cheek as I turn around and hug him, my arms encircling his waist. It's really not fair that he's so tall and lean, really. "Yeah, sure, why not."

He turns around and smiles at me, and I'm so overjoyed that for once I can make him happy. He kisses me again, and I love these kinds of kisses — where there's no underlying hint of later sex, where I can feel all his emotions, — happiness, love, content — where everything is just simply and utterly perfect.

Neither of us want to leave this moment, but the duty of schooling calls, and we put on our jackets to go wait at the bus stop. It arrives at the same it does everyday, and the driver greets us with a gruff nod.

We don't sit in silence today, as we hold hands and murmurs of plans that fade into nothingness through the steady roar the bus gives. This time, when we stand up to get off, he doesn't shake my hand of, and I allow myself to form a small smile.

I'm nervous as all hell — I've never done something this drastic before, this big before. But, despite all of this, I'm happy. I'm finally embracing who I am, who I love, and I'm not hiding anything anymore.

Yet again, Antonio and Gilbert are already waiting for him (us) with cocky grins.

"I knew there was something up!" Gilbert says, elbowing Francis in the stomach. "How long have and Prude Boy been dating? A week? Please tell me a week, I bet thirteen pounds on it. I also bet that he's a bad kisser, and that he's kind of an arse in bed — "

"I'm right here," you know," I say, looking at Gilbert with an eyebrow raised.

All he does is grin like a little shit. "That's five pounds, Antonio! Bad kisser!"

Antonio just scoffs and shakes his head. "Proves nada."

Francis just chuckles, and he is obviously much more amused by his friends' antics than I am. He leans in with a scandalous look and says, "He's quite a good kisser, en réalité. You wouldn't think it, non?"

Antonio grins and opens his hand out to Gilbert. "Five pounds, amigo."

All the albino does is pout. "Even better at kissing than the awesome me?"

"Je suis désolée, mais c'est vrai." I gaped at him with a disgusted look, and all he did was raise an eyebrow and say, "Quoi?"

"You've kissed albino over here with the mouth I've been kissing? Fuck, I'm going to get herpes now."

"Hey!—"

"Oh, mon amour, don't worry! This happened long before he could've gotten herpes."

"Excuse me?"

Antonio shakes his head. "That happened near the beginning of Secondary School, he could've already gotten infected by then."

"What?"

"Mm, you're probably right."

"Um Gottes willen, I do not have herpes!" Gilbert yells, and he realizes his mistakes as a couple of nearby girls giggle as they pass. His face breaks out into a bright blush that encompasses his entire face.

"I hate you guys," he mumbles, trying to hide his dace in his hands, but we're all laughing like mad. I can't breathe, and I've let go of Francis' hand to clutch at my stomach.

Despite how embarrassed he is, and how much we were laughing, he's over it later, when the bell rings. He's joking along with us, now, as we make our way to our First Period classroom. Well, my First Period classroom. Gilbert and Antonio stand awkwardly next to us, not looking at us, but no necessarily looking away, either. (Personally, I think they're too curious for their own good.)

I blush and he wraps his arms around my waist. He chuckles, and murmurs into my ear, "Embarrassed?"

"Perhaps, just a tad," I reply, because while I could care less, the looks we're getting from most of the student body are not very subtle, and Idiot One and Two over there are staring like creepers.

He chuckles again and kisses me, and it's not possessive at all, like I thought it might be in front of his friends — it's like it always it, gentle and conveying.

"I'll meet you pour le déjeuner, ne c'est pas?"

"Up on the roof, right?"

He nods, and smiles at Gilbert's playful complaints ("Aw, we have to see Prude Boy during our other break, too?")

He nods a 'Yes' and kisses me once more before leaving. I'm still blushing as I sit down in my seat, and I'm not sure if it's just paranoia or real, but I feel like everyone's staring at me funny.

I don't pay attention to the lesson today, which usually isn't a normal behavior for me in English. But I can't stop thinking about him, despite the rousing discussion on Shakespearian theories.

The rest of my classes go by quickly, with me not paying attention to any of them. I grab a quick lunch before anyone gets in the line, and head up to the rooftop. The Idiot Trio is already there, laughing at a joke I was too late to hear. He smiles at me as I sit down next to him, leans in, and kisses my neck. I blush furiously, and Antonio and Gilbert lean in for a simultaneous "Aww."

Lunch was spent with a lot of smiles and laughter, and I discovered that Gilbert and Antonio actually weren't so bad. They were funny in a crude sort of way that I didn't exactly mind.

When lunch ended, Gilbert and Antonio took off, saying their next class was "really far," but I suspect that they were just giving us some privacy. But, whether they were lying or not, I'm happy as he traps me between him and the wall of the stairwell and kisses me.

This kiss is hard and passionate, and it makes me feel entirely too hot in some places. All of a sudden, my close feel too restricting; I want to grab at him everywhere, but I settle for threading his hair through my hands and pulling his closer to me.

He breaks away first, breathing heavily. He places his forehead on my neck, sneaking his hands up my shirt to feel at the small of my back.

"You know," he breathes, placing small kisses at my neck, "I've always had a fantasy of snogging you here."

"Well, I think I do now, too," I responded, still quite out of breath, my voice seeming to crack. And despite how comfortable I am, I continue on and say, "We really should get to class."

He sighs and nods, kissing me once more before letting me go. We spend the rest of our time walking down the stairs straightening our clothes and our hair — or, at least, I do, because he seems to not give a damn. We part ways outside the staircase door, and I give him a sheepish grin and continue on.

I meet him back outside school after class is over, and told the Student Council I couldn't attend today's meeting due to "family circumstances".

I could tell he was planning something when he stopped me from pulling the line at our normal spot. When I asked him why, he just shook his head and said, "You'll see."

We stop off at a park — a popular one, really, off on Piccadilly, and it's really kind of cute. It's one of the places with green that I think really fit in London. We find a spot away from most of the other people enjoying the park — kids playing soccer, families enjoying having picnics, and other school kids, like us, enjoying the oddly nice day. We keep out jackets on, because it's still quite chilly, and we use our book bags as pillows as we lay down beside each other.

We point out shapes in the clouds, complain about school, people-watch, and intertwine our fingers as we amuse each other with small talk. I love times like this, when kissing isn't necessary, when I can feel like we're a real couple.

I've always felt like a real relationship was more than kissing and touching (although that's certainly a key component), that it involved understanding one another, of being able to enjoy one another's company without having to be intimate, or even having to talk. And while we certainly had that one down, we could work on understanding each other better.

I, if not both of us, had a bit of a habit of being just a tad intolerant of his feelings. He could real me like an open book, but I seemed to need some prescription glasses.

But despite that we fought constantly, over both little things and big things alike, I wouldn't trade moments like this for anything in the world.