Arthur stood next to the window, staring into the street. He had not moved from that room since his visit with Alfred, rushing immediately upstairs and locking himself away. Of course, Francis came inside and attempted to calm him, but hardly anything could be done. Arthur was convinced it was occurring all over again and soon enough, this gorgeous house would be infested with evil intentions and fear.

"Arthur?" A voice came from behind the door. "Arthur, please. Let me in. It's terrible to think of you so upset. Is there anything I can do?"

There was not a response. The poet merely stood in place.

"I'm coming in, Love." The door creaked open gently, and finally Arthur moved his gaze to the Frenchman. "Oh, Arthur. You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

"No…"

Francis moved in deeper, the entire room, once so sunny and bright utterly full of tension. The bed shifted at its corner as the intruder sat upon it and took his lover's hand. "Just a few days ago you were fine, darling. Come away from the window, won't you?"

And Arthur absent mindedly listened, taking a seat upon the blankets. Quickly, his body was embraced, still dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day beforehand. "Arthur, are you going to come out tonight?"

There was not an answer.

"I understand if you can't bear to go. But is there anything you do wish to do? Maybe we can go to the park, or get some lemonade." A sad smile joined by an even sadder kiss. "Please, say something."

"I don't know what I want to do. I think…I think I should get some sleep. I tried to last night, but my eyes wouldn't shut. I was terrified."

"Well, alright. Let's go to sleep. I have a while before I need to go back out again. Do you want me to bring you back something? I was just going to pick up a few groceries before my next performance."

"Some lemonade would be lovely."

"Oh, Arthur." Francis pushed the man onto the covers and took him inside those arms, layering pecks all about his cheeks and neck. "I'll bring you so much lemonade you won't know what to do with it. And then-" Touch. "And then maybe you'll feel motivated to go outside once again, because-" Pop. "You'll be reminded of how lovely that evening was, and drinking lemonade inside-" Smooch. "Just isn't the same as drinking beneath the stars during a lovely night."

There were not words left in Arthur's throat.

"Everything is going to be alright. I promise you, it will." Francis settled into the crook of his lover's neck. "You just have to believe it for yourself, mon petit auteur."

"What do you think I should do?"

There was a hum against that collar. "I think you should go outside and face your fears. But if it's too soon, it's simply too soon. Just don't wait too long, Mr. Kirkland."

Nothing.

"Now don't you worry." The first few buttons to Arthur's shirt were undone. "I'm going to take care of you, and by the time I'm done you won't have a damn thing to think about." Fabric was rolled from shoulders and cast onto the floor. "I'll fuck the sense right out of your head."

Arthur was slightly annoyed that once again, comfort from this man came in the form of intercourse. They made love when Arthur was upset. They made love when he was not upset. They made love at night and in the morning and in the afternoon. They seemed to be making love at all hours of the day. The writer wondered if sex was simply the solution to every problem with his darling. Because inside his mind, not every mishap that came could be solved with a throbbing cock and warm oil.

Oh well. At least dear Francis was skilled.

It was difficult to resist that happy temptation when such a beautiful mouth is causing all sorts of ecstasy. Whenever Francis decided to take Arthur, he took Arthur well. Cries easily penetrated the walls, and the Englishman was almost always left in a disorganized pile at the right side of the bed. Francis behaved as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

And just as promised, the sense melted away as that warm tongue traced each of Arthur's hardening nipples. There were no such things as demons and fright any longer. There were only uncomfortable trousers and a handsome blond man to remove them.

Ah. That was the secret. Francis removed problems by creating new ones entirely and then provided the solution himself. Uncomfortable garments? He'll remove them! A disgusting need? He'll get rid of it in an instant! Heart dry of love? Francis Bonfeuille will fill it up until it's painful! Literally! And not only do you receive all of that, but we guarantee that you'll adore every minute of it!

So why wait?

Arthur Kirkland certainly could not produce a single reason.

The session ended as all of their sessions did. Arthur, sinking into a pool brimming with hot pink pleasure and Francis kissing his cheek and running off to the tub, so either of them could clean.

Those emeralds did not hold worry for quite a long while afterwards.