Round and Round

Part 36

You can't kill Francis. You can't kill Francis. Murdering someone while in a cop's home would be an incredibly bad idea.

Arthur just had to keep repeating that to himself. Just had to convince himself that strangling Francis right now would be a really bad idea... Very cathartic, but not worth having to spend the rest of his life in a cell.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Instead, he was going to have to content himself with just sitting at this table and arguing with the idiot. Or attempting to argue with the idiot. Francis currently wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, he was flitting around the kitchen like some spastic hummingbird, humming to himself like he didn't have a care in the world.

...Git was probably making some disgustingly French dessert right now.

And the idiotic frog didn't even acknowledge his question at first. He just kept humming to himself as he cracked three eggs into a bowl—looking like some professional chef while he did it, of course. Arthur had never been able to figure out how to crack eggs without dropping at least half of the shells into the batter. Not that he was a bad cook! He could cook just as well as the frog. Better than the frog if he wanted to...

Anyway... So Francis didn't bother answering his question immediately. Of course not. Not until he had cracked all the eggs into the bowl and then lifted it into his arms so he could begin stirring at the mixture. Only then did he finally turn to face Arthur, flashing him an amused smirk.

"I am making dessert, mon cher. Did you really need to ask?" He tilted his head to the side as his eyes widened in an incredibly fake-looking concerned expression. "I see. You really are such a bad cook that you can't even recognise quality cooking anymore?"

...Maybe if he was quiet, Leon wouldn't hear him kill the git. And then he could just make his getaway somehow. He was currently in the shower after all, so Arthur rather doubted that he could hear them anyway.

Not that he would probably care too much, even if he could hear them. He had seemed pretty out of it earlier after all. He'd arrived looking absolutely exhausted, apparently too tired to even put up much of a fight when Francis decided that he was spending the night.

He'd just sort of sat at the table for a few minutes while Francis went into the other room to talk to his servants, staring at the lobster toy that Arthur had fixed for him. Which he hadn't even thanked him for fixing. Ungrateful pig. Then he'd just sighed in resignation, stood, and walked toward the bathroom, informing Arthur that he was going to take a shower and ordering him to not touch anything.

Putting quite a lot of trust in him, although he'd at least been awake enough to realise that it'd be in his best interest to lock the door behind him. Although, Francis was actually being decent right now, surprisingly. He'd come back into the room, asked where Leon was, glanced back toward the bathroom door for a moment as if indecisive... And then he'd instead walked back into the kitchen and started making his dessert.

And now the git was acting like he had no idea what he was talking about...

"You know what I mean, frog." Arthur now pulled himself to his feet with the help of the crutches, cursing in annoyance when his injured ankle hit one of the table legs. Damn it, how much longer would he have to use these fucking things? His ankle definitely felt better, but he still couldn't walk without them, which was annoying as hell.

"Do I?" Francis's stirring had slowed to a stop as he stared back at him, actually looking slightly curious. "I don't think that I understand what you're asking, mon cher."

Arthur growled in annoyance as he made his way over to the other teenager, only stopping when they were about a foot away from each other. "I want out of here as soon as fucking possible. You're supposed to be figuring out how to get that money from your parents' little safe. What are you doing here when you're supposed to be doing that?"

"You're the one who called me here, cher." And Francis's voice slipped into a more dangerous tone. One that Arthur had heard a few times—not very often, but he knew that it was a warning that he shouldn't keep pushing...

Since when had Arthur actually paid any attention to that, though?

"You were supposed to just bring the thread and then leave, fucking frog. Not decide that we're going to have a goddamn slumber party..."

And now Francis set the bowl on the counter, a dangerous smirk passing over his lips as he stepped forward so they were standing chest to chest.

...Of course the bloody git was an inch or so taller, too, so Arthur had to raise his head if he wanted to match his stare.

"Honestly, mon ami, you're really being very selfish about this. I'm the one doing all the work, oui?" He slid one of his arms behind Arthur's back, resting his hand against his hip. "I'm the one who is risking more, oui? What if someone catches me trying to steal that money? I would greatly prefer not going to any sort of juvenile hall."

"I knew you were going to try to chicken out of this..."

Francis's gaze darkened slightly as he shook his head. "Non. I've already done too much to chicken out of this." His fingers were now digging into Arthur's hip, possibly subconsciously, as he wasn't focusing on Arthur himself.

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other, Francis not even seeming to notice him at first. Until he started laughing—almost hysterically—and then releasing the other teenager as he turned back to the bowl.

"Ah, we are both idiots, mon ami." He lifted it into his arms and began stirring again. "I spoke with Antoine today."

Arthur blinked, frowning slightly at the rather out-of-place remark. "About what?"

And Francis laughed again, his stirring almost violent. "Not much, mon cher. I told him that I hated him."

He said that incredibly calmly, almost jokingly. As he continued to stir, hard enough that Arthur wondered if he might break the bowl or the spoon.

And Arthur's response was to stare at him in shock.

What?

"You tol—what? You actually told him that you hate him?" Why? Everyone knew that was as far from the truth as you could possibly get. Francis absolutely adored Antonio. It was obvious to everyone with eyes. Except possibly Antonio himself, but he was a special case...

"It's better this way, non? We'll be leaving soon and we won't be able to return after we've left. And it will be easier for Antoine if he doesn't feel like he's tied to either of us... Easier for him to move on. Besides, this way he and Lovina and Gillian can reconcile without a problem. He and Lovina can finally realise l'amour and everything will be as it should be."

And Arthur just continued to stare at him.

Francis saying that to Antonio.

That was just—

He couldn't even imagine it. Those two had been practically joined at the hip since they were children. Antonio had even gone along with them when they'd strayed from the 'straight and narrow'. And Arthur had known that the other boy hadn't actually enjoyed the drinking and the girls and all of the other shit that they'd been involved in. Not that he was involved in all of the shit that they did, since Francis did everything in his power to protect the other boy and keep him as clean and pure as possible.

Honestly, Arthur had always suspected that Francis was actually in love with him. In his own twisted, incredibly fucked up way. He knew that there was no way that Francis would ever actually act on his feelings—since it was also obvious that Antonio and Lovina were head over heels for each other—but the emotions were almost definitely there...

But, this was for the best. Once they left this godforsaken town, they'd never be able to come back. They'd never be able to see anyone again.

Damn it.

He wanted out. He wanted to leave now. He didn't want to think about this anymore.

Which was why he suddenly leaned forward, startling Francis into slowing in his stirring. And he stared at him in confusion. "Cher?"

"Fine. Then that's one problem out of the way, right? Then why the fuck are we waiting?"

Francis's confused look only deepened. "I don't—"

"Three days. We're going to be out of here in three days."

Francis's eyes widened slightly at that. "Three days? Pourquoi?"

"Why not?" He couldn't hear the shower running anymore, which meant that he should lower his voice. "There's no reason to stay here."

"Your ankle..."

"Fuck my ankle. I don't need to have a fully healed ankle to get on a fucking plane." He needed to get out of here. Even three days was too long... "I'm leaving in three days with or without you."

And now Francis just looked exasperated. "And what about money, cher? You plan to fly to London without a penny to your name?"

"If I have to, I can always just go home and borrow some from my mummy dearest." He snorted as he glanced around the room. "Maybe the pig has some lying around somewhere."

Francis leaned back against the counter, eyes narrowed slightly in an irritated expression. "I doubt it, cher."

"Doesn't matter." He doubted it too. The idiot didn't even have a computer from what he'd seen. "So, three days. Are you coming with me?"

"Oui." He sighed, now setting the bowl onto the counter as he turned to pick up the skillet that he'd set there earlier. "Although this is idiotic."

Arthur may have responded—or he might not have, since he didn't really care how Francis felt about his plan—but he was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door being opened. And then Leon walked out, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and white T-shirt, with a stack of blankets in his arms. Looking at least a little more awake.

"I don't have another bed, so you're just going to have to sleep on the floor. I have an air mattress in one of my boxes..." He glanced toward the pile with a slightly unsure expression and then continued, "So it shouldn't be too uncomfortable."

"Ah, you are too kind, cher." And of course Francis had slipped into his flirting voice. Also known as the voice that made Arthur want to punch him even more than he usually wanted to punch him. "Although I could always just joi—"

"Air mattress or carpet. Your choice." And that was definitely a tone that left no room for argument.

It was hard to entirely hate the pig at moments like these. When he actually managed to make Francis shut up.

"And Arthur, I bought you some CDs while I was out today." He'd set the blankets down on the floor beside the couch and now he walked over toward the door, where a small black bag had been unobtrusively resting against the wall. "Since, you know, you're stuck here all day and I know it must be boring... I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I picked out some different ones. I can return the ones that you don't like."

And Arthur was too surprised to immediately respond, as he walked across the room and dropped the bag into his hands.

"Um..."

"And thank you for fixing Ned—ah, the lobster. I can't really sew very well, so..."

"Ah..." Arthur caught Francis's eye at that and was annoyed to see that the frog was sending him an amused smirk. "Fuck off. I only did it because you're a pig who can't even do something as simple as that. No other reason. And I don't need you to buy me anything..."

"Stop being cruel, Arthur. Cher Leon is just trying to be nice." And of course the git butted between them, sending Arthur a look that was almost warning. "Ignore him, cher. He's always like this when he gets flustered. I'm almost done with these, if you want to prepare the toppings? You have fruit, I noticed. And powdered sugar."

"Um, yeah." He was distracted by that, of course.

Three more days. Just three more days.

Three more days and he'd be completely free.

A/N: Oh, Arthur... =.=

Okay, so someone asked me last chapter to post my thoughts about the Eurovision contest. I wrote a journal entry about it here: theauthoress13 . livejournal . com / 30955 . html Just remember. Flaming is bad and makes me cry. You don't want me to cry, right?

Anyways, so yeah. In other news, new poll! Which involves the following question.

So recently I've been considering actually attempting to make some money off of my writing... Since it's very unlikely that I'm going to get a job this summer and I'm kind of incredibly broke right now and all that. Which I'd do by putting together a book of original short stories and selling it online as a PDF document for download. It'd probably only be like $5-8, set up very nicely and edited... All that. As nice as I can possibly make it. I could probably even get someone to do a pretty cover for it, so, you know, that's a plus.

I was wondering if people would be interested in something like that? I'd work on it over the summer and hopefully have it done by September. (Depending on whether I can get a job or not...) If this goes well, maybe I can even attempt to do more in the future and possibly even get hard copies done at some point once I can afford to self-publish.

And yes, I'd still work on my fanfics, so no worries there. I might even put some not-necessary-for-understanding-of-plot stories in there about some of the original Pleasantville characters as a bonus for people who buy the book.

Anyway, it's a thought. If you'd be interested, you can vote in the poll. If you're registered at least. Can't really get a super accurate idea, since anons can't vote, but whatever. I can at least see if it'd be worth working on.