Howdy Folks! Sorry for the delay. It's been rough. But I won't bore you with the details of my life.

It's my birthday! My golden birthday, in fact. This means that I'm turning 22 on the 22nd. Yee!

Warning: this chapter contains an abusive/manipulative relationship and mentions of underage sex. Proceed with caution. Sorry if it disturbs anyone, but it's not vivid and is necessary for my character development. Please read notes at the end of the chapter.

OMG! 50 chapters! I never could've seen this coming when I started! And the name of the chapter comes from the saying "Lie down with the devil, you wake up in hell." Fitting, non?


"Hard at work, mon cher rosbif?"

Arthur growled and felt his eye twitch at the snide, mocking tones of the student council president and wondered, for what felt like the millionth time, how Francis was president and he the vice president when Arthur himself did all the actual work. It really wasn't all that surprising, though, considering how manipulative and frankly terrifying Francis could be. When things didn't go his way, people got hurt. Arthur knew that better than most people.

Arthur turned to glare at Francis. The French boy was dressed, as always, impeccably. Arthur prided himself on his own classy and perfectly tailored suits, but Francis possessed a certain 'je ne sais quoi' that made him universally adored and reviled. Arthur had to admit he couldn't help but pity this pathetic, primping boy. Arthur, though he may have trouble gaining respect from his brothers, was well respected and relied upon for his work ethic and responsibility by teachers and students alike. But Francis couldn't be held accountable for anything but to be a colossal arse. He was cruel and flighty and had no qualms about hurting others. He, in fact, frequently ruined other students' lives and set them up for failure for no apparent reason save he found it amusing. Aside from his equally dangerous friends, nobody cared about him.

And that's where Arthur came in.

He'd been raised with the arrogant French boy. As their fathers thought a strong friendship between the boys would be beneficial both to the future politics of their respective countries and to the boys themselves, the children's childhoods consisted of various playdates and dinners in an effort to draw the boys together.

Arthur wasn't perfect. He knew his faults, foremost of which was his record at grudge keeping. He remembered every painful moment when his brothers sided with Francis, more to oppose their weak, awkward little brother than to support the arrogant French boy. He remembered countless treasures destroyed by his cruel playmate with no explanation or remorse. He remembered the placating gestures of adults in whom he confided, only to feel a deep betrayal when they brushed aside his sadness as a momentary thing and forced him to continue seeing Francis.

He remembered everything.

And that was the problem wasn't it?

He remembered the simple joy in Francis' face when he told his father that he'd won yet another contest between the boys just as well as he remembered the heartbreak on the boy's face when it wasn't enough for his cold father. He remembered how the little French boy gazed with longing at the passing families through the window, and he remembered the anger and jealousy warring on Francis' face when he bullied children at school because they had what he knew was unattainable for him. He remembered the late nights when Francis stayed over. He dreaded those nights. Francis was a cruel child who cared little for his playmate, but Arthur didn't have any other friends, really, so Francis stayed over quite often. And despite the fear and anger he felt toward the other boy, Arthur knew he couldn't lose him.

Because then he really would be all alone.

Francis knew this, and used it to his advantage. He made Arthur give him things, only to destroy them without a second thought. He hurt him and humiliated him and even let Arthur's brothers in on any secrets he could worm out of Arthur, either through pain or false compassion.

And yet-

When Arthur found a baby bird, its neck broken from the fall from its nest, and wondered if it had been pushed out by its mother because she didn't want it anymore, Francis placed an arm around his trembling shoulders and assured him that the mother was mourning with them. Arthur wanted to believe him, but the tears in the French boy's blue eyes and the tremulous tone in his voice belied his own skepticism. But when Arthur finished weeping, Francis helped him rise and dig a small grave for the bird. The two boys made flower crowns, and though Arthur knew Francis' was better, the boy didn't gloat, so Arthur didn't mention it. And as they sat in silence, two little boys in front of a flower covered mound, Arthur felt a soft hand grasp his own, and he wondered if maybe they could be friends.

And when Arthur awoke in the middle of the night to find his guest curled into a ball crying, Arthur held him and listened to the murmured explanation. He rubbed Francis' quivering back as the boy told that his mama left him and never returned and his papa never looked at him if he could avoid it. Even when Francis turned on him and shoved him, saying that Arthur wasn't any more loved than he was, Arthur couldn't help pitying him.

He grasped Francis' hand when Louis Bonnefoy brought home a mistress for the first time when the boys were there. He saw the heartache in his friend's face and the shattered hope that his mother would come back and marry his father and they could all live together happily. And when they were alone again and Francis hit him over and over, cutting into him with his cruel words, Arthur didn't even move to stop him. Because he understood.

Every time Arthur walked in on Francis in a compromising position with some nameless, faceless student, he merely stood by as the unfortunate fool would collect his or her clothes and leave with a mumbled explanation. He knew Francis was far too young. He knew the other students were too young. But when he looked into those blue eyes, all thought of reporting the incidents fled him. Francis' eyes, usually so sharp and clear, like ice or broken glass, would be dull and grey. In those moments, Arthur would gather his friend into his arms and hold him painfully tight, hoping against hope that he could finally break through, by force if necessary, and convince his friend to stop. And when Francis' emptiness turned to rage and he pushed Arthur down and tried to force himself upon the boy, Arthur gripped him tight and didn't let him go until his shudders of anger turned to ragged sobs.

He remembered everything. He remembered the taunts and jeers and bruises and humiliations. But he also remembered how Francis' face looked when he was in pain. He remembered how his voice shook when he was trying to hold off tears. He remembered how his body trembled and his eyes shuttered closed and his breaths became choked sobs.

And because he remembered all that he knew there was no escape. There was no light at the end of the tunnel that was their twisted, co-dependent relationship.

Because if Francis was going to drown in his own sorrow, hatred and self-loathing, Arthur was going to drag him out or go down with him.

That's what friends do, isn't it?


Youch. That was feelsy, huh? France is canonically bisexual btw. So don't think I made that up. I'm just going along with Himaruya's idea. France basically will sleep with anything that moves, so yeah.

Some things that need to be said:

So, first off, this is NOT FRUK. Just throwing it out there. They will not end up together. It is, however an example of a very abusive relationship. Abusive relationships don't have to be sexual/romantic. A lot of this was me venting about an emotionally abusive/manipulative friendship I just got out of. I didn't realize how bad it was until I got out, but I want to warn you guys. If you are not happy with a friend, or if they tear you down or hurt you in any way, even if it's just with words, please tell someone. You should always feel safe and comfortable with friends. If you don't, there's a problem.

Second, yes Francis is very screwed up. If you remember back to chapter 22, we knew back then that Francis was off. I mean, having a thing with your dad's mistress is screwed up. I wanted to show here just how messed up he is. He's angry and hurt and he takes that out on the people around him by destroying what they love and hurting them, and also by having sex far before he should. Arthur is basically an abuse victim who is tied to his abuser, but in this case they are both hurting teenage boys. Francis isn't all there and can't be entirely blamed for his cruelty, but Arthur also can't be blamed. He had been manipulated into a position where all he wants to do is help his 'only friend' in any way he can, even letting Francis vent his troubles by hurting Arthur.

Arthur's definitely healthier than Francis, but he hasn't fully realized how horrible this relationship is. He doesn't realize that he needs to cut ties, regardless of the outcome.

If you hadn't noticed, this story is getting progressively darker. I guess that's what happens when you write a fanfiction over some of the most life changing years of your young adulthood. and It'll get darker still, but I promise there will be a happy ending. Scout's honor!

Sooo... If I haven't scared you off yet (I hope I haven't!), I want to thank you guys for your awesome support and reviews. You're all amazing and I'm so grateful for you.

Love you guys!

8i8

~sparklybutterfly42