Once again, Francis had left early in the mid-afternoon to his management class, leaving Arthur in the dorm alone. The room was quiet, still, unbelievably boring.
It had been a few weeks since their almost "perfect life" was invaded, but even so, it got Arthur to thinking; and by "thinking" it meant that Arthur was emotionally distressed.
Francis took Pierre with him to his class today, claiming that the bird needed fresh air, as he had been stuck in his cage for a solid week. Alfred and Matthew had also gone out this day, like they always did.
Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours; painfully boring hours.
Lying down on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, talking to himself; deep in thought.
"…I am so fucking bored." That much was obvious. He couldn't really go out; seriously, where would he go? He wasn't even allowed to visit Francis during his class.
Tossing himself over the bed slightly, he noticed that Fluffy had fallen over the edge, becoming a puffy lump of cotton stuffed polyester on the floor. Arthur reached down, grabbed him, and brought him up patting Fluffy's plush head affectionately.
"…I feel lonely…" He sulked, but suddenly feeling a strange wave of depression wash over him, he added, "…I'm not that great." Arthur never thought much about his low self esteem, usually pushing it away like it really didn't matter in the first place.
"…Why would he even like me?" Sure, he had gone over this multiple times with Pierre, or repeated it constantly in his head, but somehow, his heart never really got the message.
Arthur thought about it more, "…he could have anyone he could ever want in this world; someone who's probably much more accomplished than me; someone that could actually support him financially…physically."
Arthur turned over to his over side, staring at his reflected image in the mirror hanging on their dorm room's wall.
He wasn't very muscular, thought he played some sports; he normally would only pass for an average player, a bench warmer. He was rather fit, though; his siblings would often tease him about his feminine-like figure, much to his displeasure. Therefore, he thought, "…If I'm only of an average attractiveness, why would he choose me?"
True, Francis would often call him "cute" and "sweet" thinking of random, strange and unusual pet names just see how much he would blush.
"…That frog…" he babbled softly, genuinely smiling as he buried his nose into Fluffy's mane. He breathed in the scent, so familiar and so real.
One day, while Francis was out grocery shopping for ingredients, Arthur had snuck into his closet and sprayed some of Francis' cologne over the unicorn; which always made him happy, though he would never admit it to anyone; the fragrance offered Arthur a sense of comfort and wholesomeness. It reminded him that he might have actually found something more important than himself.
Then he thought of Jeanne; the poor girl only had Francis for the last three years of their relationship, and he often wondered what had happened between the two of them. He hated to acknowledge it… but somewhere in the back of his mind told Arthur that they actually looked good together.
But looks really didn't mean much, right?
So when Arthur prodded on this thought some more, he became clueless, and doubtful of himself.
"…I'm just a burden to him; there are so many problems now because I jumped into this picture. I don't belong here…"
He trembled, covering his eyes with his hands, "…what if that child is his?"
Arthur looked towards his nightstand, some papers scattered around, and his notebook lying on top. In the past, Francis would try to sneak a glance at Arthur while he was intensely writing something in that book. He would never let Francis see though; trying to assure him that it wasn't anything interesting. What made matters worse, was that if Francis ever truly saw his notebook, he would not hear the end of it.
It had nothing to do with homework, or daily plans, or useful lectures he may or may not use on Alfred and Matthew. The seventy page spiralled book was filled with nothing but poorly doodled hearts with their names. Of course, the designs differed on each page, but the message was all the same.
He wanted to get up and make tea; make something—anything to ease his pain.
"…How the hell did we manage to end up together? It's merely a series of coincidences arranged by fate."
Alas, no amount of tea could help him now.
Now angry, Arthur chucked a pillow as hard as he could towards the door, which, in synchronized time, revealed a shocked yet mildly amused, Francis.
"Cher, I do not think the pillow did anything regrettably dreadful to you." He laughed, struggling to close the door behind him while trying to juggle the bags of groceries in his arms.
When he finally succeeded in closing it, he beamed in pride, "Today I will make some vegetable dishes!"
Arthur tried to force a smile, "…S-sounds good…!"
From the way he was acting, Francis was sure that Arthur wasn't feeling well, but he guessed that because he wasn't present, Arthur had just woken up from a nap and was merely tired and drowsy.
Arthur lay back down onto the bed, tossing and catching Fluffy up and down as the aroma of vegetable stir fry filled the room.
As Francis continued to prepare the dish, he set the stove to medium heat as he spoke, "You are very quiet today, Arthur."
"…fuck. He noticed." Arthur really didn't feel the need to voice out any of his opinions or ideas prior to when Francis came home; his mood had sunk substantially low, and he wasn't in the right frame of mind to be speaking anyways, "…Yeah, sorry."
Leaving it at that for the time being, Francis arranged their meals accordingly, and placed their plates and glasses on the dining table.
As he sat down, he watched Arthur from the other side of the room intently, staring amusingly at the ground; comically entertained by this, Francis pushed the chair across from him away from the table with his foot, signalling for Arthur to join him and eat.
Doing so, Arthur took his place across Francis and began to consume the meal.
The table was quiet; something that was uncommon and rare. Arthur thought nothing of it, wanting nothing more than to simply finish up, and get to bed.
Francis couldn't stand the silence around them sensing that something was slightly off with Arthur today; he hesitantly dropped his fork and knife, and called out to him, "…Arthur…? Are you feeling well? Did you catch a cold?"
Arthur continued to eat, not very aware of his surroundings, or the atmosphere that clouded them, "…Yes, I'm fine…don't worry about it…"
The air remained still, Francis clearly trying to get some truth out of Arthur, and obviously, failing at his goal.
"…Look at me, Arthur." He leaned in, trying to meet Arthur's eyes; but his lover kept them down at his plate of vegetables like they were the most interesting thing in the world.
"So something is wrong, then." Francis concluded, with all his reasoning, he could only imagine that Arthur was upset with that.
He stared as Arthur felt those eyes watching him, dropping his eating utensils onto the plate and pushing everything towards the middle, "…I'm full…"
This was a shock; Arthur had always finished every single piece of food he made, so to Francis, it felt almost insulting, especially since it was coming from Arthur.
"…Then I will save your portion for later, oui?" He slowly asked, warily, not wishing to poke into some sensitive topics that Arthur may be hiding from him. Francis walked to their kitchen, and wrapped the plate with plastic wrap, then placed the food near the front of the first shelf inside the refrigerator.
"Right…" Arthur kept his head down, dragging himself over to their closet and pulling out fresh clothes to sleep in.
Slyly, Francis snuck up to his rear enveloping Arthur with a hug from behind; flinching, Arthur did nothing else but continued to change clothes.
"…Arthur? If something is bothering you, you may tell me." Francis whispered, a worried tone filtering through, "…is there something wrong?"
Arthur pushed Francis away desperately; he really did not want to deal with it right now.
"…it's nothing. Ignore it."
But Francis would not disregard this matter, "I know there is something wrong, and you should be able to tell me. Do you not trust my judgement?"
"…it's not that, really." Arthur dully replied, if anything, he just wanted to get some rest.
"Not really? Then you do not trust me?" He roughly hissed out, "I care about your well being, and if you do not tell me if something in your life is troubling you, how am I supposed to support you?"
"…I don't know!" Arthur screamed out, his head pounding, as he clutched a fistful of hair angrily, "It's just so fucking problems!"
"What problems?" Francis yelled out, with equal voice and irritation, "If you do not tell me any specific details, then how am I supposed to know?"
"Everything was fine!" Slumping onto the bed, Arthur groaned loudly into a pillow, "and it will turn out fine for everyone else except me!"
"Except you? Arthur, you are not perhaps referring to the fact that the child Jeanne is carrying could be mine, are you?" He thought he had explained this to Arthur a long time ago, but of course, with his hard-headed and stubborn attitude, his soothing words probably had an expiration date. To which at the end of the limit, he had to deal with the aftermath.
"What else could the problem be? Because of this, we may never even see each other again!" He screamed, tears more than already pouring out, "You'll just leave me for her!"
Arthur's words enraged Francis, and without any sort of restraint, he did not hold himself back as he shouted out forwardly, "…Then you really have no faith in me. I thought we were stronger than this; I suppose I was wrong."
Angrily, Francis slipped into their bed, his back facing Arthur; and vice versa.
He added, "…Once upon a time, I met a boy who believed in me."
That night, neither of them could sleep, and at a quarter past one in the morning, Arthur was desperately trying to make an effort to suppress his sobs into his pillow.
Hearing the quiet hiccups and feeling Arthur shift uncomfortably every couple seconds, Francis flipped over to face Arthur, tenderly turning him over so that they were now facing each other, Francis sported an apologetic look, Arthur more panicked now, hurriedly whined, "I'm sorry!" as Francis pet him gently on the head, "I am sorry too, cher."
Feeling relieved, Arthur blushed and boldly brought his face close to Francis', and, as if by some "telepathic connection" he knew what that meant, and closed the distance between their lips.
The kiss was sweet, innocent, sincere, everything that Arthur could ever hope for after their very first fight.
But something felt different; much to his dismay…
This kiss was a little off to the side of his lips.
"Seal with a righteous kiss
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!"