Hours later Arthur stepped out of the airport, confused by the French language surrounding him. Of course he had picked up some along the way during his time interacting with Francis, but it clearly wasn't enough to get about his way in Paris. He took a cab and showed the driver the address he wanted to go to. After the driver had set off, he kicked back in the back seat and thought over everything that had occurred during the last few hours.

After his mother had said that distance means nothing, he had made his mind up. He had darted through his flat in search of proper clothes, his wallet and Francis' light blue cardigan he had worn on his darkest days. He remembered how awful he had felt upon finding his small note about not being able to have breakfast with him in the pocket. After gotten everything ready, he had called the number of Francis' mother that had been left in his cellphone when the Frenchman had used it to call her once.

"Oui, qui est ce?" a woman's voice had asked on the other line. "Oh, umm, I'm a friend of Francis', Arthur Kirk-" "Arthur?!" The woman had shrieked on the other line. "How dare you call after everything you've done to him? Do you have any idea, what-" "Yes! Yes, please, please listen to me!" Arthur had desperately interrupted her and she had ceased her bickering, her French interest in dramatic situations overpowering her. "I know very well what I have done... And this is why I need to talk to you. To try and fix things one last time. Please, hear me out, I don't have a lot of time," he pleaded, Margaret smiling, prouad of her son.

From Mrs. Bonnefoy Arthur had gotten Francis' Parisian home address and after a short ride, the taxi stopped in front of the renovated warehouse. He took the elevator up, his heart beating so hard he thought it might jump out anytime. He hesitated before ringing the doorbell, not from not wanting or from discomfort of going in, but rather he tried to get himself together, since he feared he would just stare at the Frenchman or burst into tears before he could even say anything. Finally he rang the bell a few times, but after 15 minutes of doing so he was sure Francis wasn't home. He didn't care though; he was willing to wait for him, not caring if it took hours for his friend to come back. "It's already 7 in the evening, it won't be long, I'm sure," he thought to himself and sat down next to the metal doors.

Hours later Francis entered the building and rode the elevator up, only to be startled by a figure sitting beside his apartment's door. "He came here," he thought, immense happiness and hurt flowing over him when he watched the Brit sleep along the wall. He cursed himself when he saw him awaken. "Francis," he hushed, standing up, brushing off the dirt and dust from his pants. Francis regained his composure, appearing cold and numb to Arthur, but he loved hearing him say his name again, knowing it was safe between his lips. "What is it, Arthùr? Why are you here?" he asked, climbing up the few steps and unlocking his door. Arthur, startled from the frigidness of his tone and behavior, drooped, and looked at him stand in the doorway, the room dark behind him. "I... I came to bring you back your cardigan, you forgot it before," he wryly said, handing over a brown paper bag. "That can't be the only reason you're here," Francis said, hoping his words to be true. Arthur slowly shook his head. "Well, come in then, I guess," Francis sighed, and turned his back to him, so he could be able to release the big smile that had wanted to flow onto his face ever since he saw the Brit sit next to the door.

Arthur took one step inside and Francis closed the door behind him. At the moment all he wished to do was punch him straight to his handsome face and then pull him to his embrace, but he wanted to hear what the Brit had to say for himself. Francis threw the bag to his sofa and leaned against a column in the middle of the loft, nodding his head in signaling Arthur to talk. "I'm not here to beg for your forgiveness and take me back to your side. I'm just here to... to apologize and tell you how I really feel. Just... please; give me just five minutes," Arthur begged. The Frenchman couldn't stay irritated at him. Even though he was still badly hurt and broken from all of the Brit's harsh words, some of the ice surrounding his heart seemed to melt when he saw him standing there after a long way of finding out his whereabouts and realizing what he had done. Again, he noticed his red dry eyes and felt awful for them both. "If only you would have let me into your life," he thought sadly of all the tears Arthur must had shed. "Talk as long as you want," he finally said, the Brit exhaling to calm his nerves.

"You know... it sucks when you get in the habit of talking to someone every night... and then one night when they're not there, everything's just so lonely and it's hard to sleep," he said, fidgeting his fingers in that adorable manner of his. "I remember all those late night conversations and on my worst days I miss you more than usually. It hits me at the most random times, like when I walk out of the house in the morning, or when the midnight air creeps through my window and nips at my cheeks. I remember everything you said and I can't help but be mad at myself for pushing you away." Francis sorrowfully watched Arthur clench his fists, trying to hold his tears back. He looked into Francis' sapphire eyes and seeing tears glisten in them, he couldn't hold on anymore. Francis felt his heart clench when he saw the Brit just standing there, crying. "I... I feel like we have known each other our whole lives. I don't think I have ever connected with another human the way I have with you. When I look into your eyes that's when I feel it. That sudden sense of hope. You give me hope. You make things okay. You are always there for me. No one else in the world can do that for me but you. You… you are special," Arthur continued, broken. "The things I've said to you during our friendship... only now I know it had been my heart subconsciously talking all time long." Francis took a few steps forward, not being able to just stand there, but stopped, knowing his friend wasn't finished yet. "Falling in love with you was like coming to a place I didn't realize I'd been missing all my life. You're the only person I've ever known who accepts me for who I am, right in this moment, faults and all, and isn't waiting for me to become someone else. Francis, I..." Arthur stopped, not being able to talk from crying. "It's just... It's just so devastating for me to know that I realized all these things when it was already too late. "Oh, Arthùr," Francis sighed, and rushed to him, pulling him to his embrace. "It's not, it's not too late," he hushed, holding the Brit ever stronger between his arms. "I'm so sorry for everything," Arthur said, crying into his chest. "It's okay, everything's going to be okay," Francis smiled, crying from happiness. He rested his forehead against Arthur's and wiped his tears, saying: "I love you, I always will, and nothing is ever going to change that." He kissed his forehead and continued to tell him how lucky he was for having someone like the Brit and other things that mattered until his, finally, new-found lover had calmed down.

"I love you, Francis and I am ever so sorry for being dishonest with your heart and mine," Arthur said and dried Francis' cheeks, the Frenchman sighing in relief and complete happiness. After all that time, he finally felt everything was going to be alright. "I will never leave your side." Francis nodded, smiling and leaned in closer. Their lips brushed gently against one another's, enjoying the soft feel of their tender love and after having fallen to their first kiss, they were reminded of their longing for each other. Soon they were drinking each other's lips passionately, Francis leading Arthur to his bed. They fell to it, covering one another's necks and collarbones with pecks and teases. "If you'll have me," Francis whispered, breathing in the Brit's sweet scent. "I would be lying if I told the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Arthur chuckled, before he succumbed to the Frenchman's kisses once again, knowing he was safe and secure between the arms belonging to the love of his life.

NB! This isn't the final chapter yet!