ASDFGHJKLJGHFGHJKGJGJ IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 0M0" If you followed my author profile you would've seen that over the past 2 months I wrote 13K words worth of other fanfic, so ye.

This chapter is around 3K. Add that and… wow, I published 16K words over these past 3 months. How am I still alive? I'm beginning to terrify myself.

Arthur wasn't sure how he had not realised that Francis was the penpal of Angus' old French class. Again, it had been years since he had seen Angus, the likelihood that he remembered his penpal's name was very slim, anyway.

Arthur scrolled through the train's schedule on his phone as he stood at the platform, a suitcase in his other hand. Their train was arriving in 5 minutes. Like any other Friday, the station was buzzing like of bees, of people leaving the city for a weekends escape. Being the only suitable formal wear he had, he brought his regular work suit. He wrote down to buy another one— the seams of this one were starting to split — but he kept on forgetting. Well, at least it wasn't like his family knew that he wore his suit for work at his brother's wedding. Worst case scenario, he will just buy another suit there.

Gilbert was still at work, so Antonio saw them off. Antonio hugged Francis before he shook hands with Arthur. "Have a nice trip, you two!"

Francis gave him a gentle smile. "Thank you, Toni," he replied. His iPhone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. "Hang on, Gil's calling me right now," Francis said as he walked across to the other end of the platform.

Antonio patted Arthur's shoulder, catching his attention. When Antonio didn't say anything, the atmosphere shifted. His eyes darted left and right as if he was figuring out what to say.

"Arthur… ever since Francis started therapy, he's been better," he started quietly. Antonio looked back to Francis, who stood by the entrance of the platform, and then back to him. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Thank you."

"You're... you're welcome? I..."

Antonio let go, smiled like nothing had happened, and patted his shoulder one last time. The way he did so was such a stark contrast that it was hard to imagine that Antonio had said anything at all.

Just as Francis came back from the phone call, the station's speakers announced the departure of a train.

"That's our train!"

After bidding a final goodbye to Antonio, they hopped onto their train and pushed their luggage into the upper compartments. Arthur sat in a seat by the window as Francis sat beside him. Outside, Antonio waved at them with big arm lengths. Francis waved back, prompting Arthur to do the same. As the train sped up, he followed the train. Following, following, until he reached the edge of the platform, and then he was out of the window's view.

Arthur huffed, and collapsed onto the window, the environment of the train much more controlled than at the platform.

A pang of realisation hit him. They were actually going to his town. "Holy shit," he muttered. "Holy shit, we're actually going to be doing this." Francis turned his head towards him, his eyebrows raised. "Going to my town. I, actually no, don't ask." Francis' eyebrow lowered as he looked at Arthur with a questioning gaze.

"How long has it been since you've seen them?" Arthur grimaced, and inhaled.

"You're not going to like this." He glanced back. Francis looked on, waiting for an answer. Arthur sighed, and looked downwards as he covered his eyes from Francis' view. Here goes nothing. "7 years."

"Really!" Panic jumped up and down within Arthur as the sensation of Francis's gaze nudged his neck.

"Yeah."

"No contacts? No…" Arthur shook his head.

"No." he cleared his throat. "Well guess who the asshole of the decade goes to, then!" He said it in a joking lilt. Truth be told, he was too nauseated of worry to joke. His insides were wriggling like worms tied into a knot, muting his surroundings. The muffled sounds, temperature, focus. It was as if a weight sunk him deep into the ocean's water, the water's pressure suffocating him.

Francis frowned. Even he Skyped his father at once a week, but Arthur… he tapped his knee as he tried to think of something positive. "If they invited you despite all these years, then maybe they've missed you." To his dismay, Arthur frowned, his gaze focused on the seat in front of him.

"Me? No."

"Well, why else would they invite you, then?" His eyebrow twitched when he sensed the growing annoyance in his voice. Arthur paused. He leaned against the front as he rubbed his temples.

"I dunno," he muttered. "Guilt trip me for leaving and finally say fuck you to my face," he realised that it was a little too pessimistic, so he tried to be more realistic. "Make me stay, I, I suppose. Probably lynch me," he joked. He continued to not make eye contact. Francis huffed.

"Well… you regret it. That should be enough."

"Enough?" Arthur scolded as he focused his attention back to Francis. He doubted that regretting something would be enough to forget about 7 years. Hell, if Francis wasn't coming, then he doubted that he would come back to that town at all. Francis' brow was tensed into a slight frown.

"But it's better late than never that you go back!"

"But I've still been gone for seven years!" Anger bubbled inside of him. "That's almost a decade! What, a-are they going to welcome me with bloody tea and scones and magically forget that I ignored every single way they've tried… that they've tried to contact me until now…" All the red, hot anger that boiled inside his chest condensed into a cold stone that sunk into his stomach. Arthur huffed in frustration as he looked away. Fuck was he a horrible person. Was he so pigheaded that he ignored every single one of his family's attempts to contact him? He justified that back then by telling himself that he was the one who ran away and severed ties. It would be humiliating if his family found out that he did not become a respected author like he had hoped…

He slumped to the front. Was that it? That was his reason? Anger bubbled in his chest again. Except that it was directed at himself. Fuck was he stupid. Contacting him over and over again, that was not a sign of wanting to humiliate him, that was something else larger.

"Perhaps they wouldn't be as mad-"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Only silence replied. He looked over and saw Francis turning on his phone. Great. Francis had given him the silent treatment, because he was angry at him or disappointed in him or whatever, he wasn't sure, he couldn't quite see Francis' expression. It made him feel like shit at the sight of Francis ignoring him. Oh well, he probably deserved that.

Arthur glanced back. His eyes widened when he saw that Francis was texting to Angus. Angus.

"What are you doing?" His question was answered when Francis sent a text:

I've met your brother Arthur in London. He's coming with me!

"FFF-!" He stopped himself when he remembered that he was in a public space. Clearing his throat, he found it hard to calm down the adrenaline bubbling in his veins, the fight or flight response urging him to do something. He closed his eyes and counted to 10. As calmly as he could, he asked: "why did you send that?"

Francis shrugged. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"Not when there's a major chance of failure!" Or death, but he decided that even that was too dramatic. Francis shook his head in a sigh.

"How bad could it be? I'm just telling him that you're coming with me. You've already decided to come, so it shouldn't hurt to just-"

"No, you don't understand, they'll lynch me, Francis. At least give a warning or…" Arthur huffed. Francis did have a point, he already decided to come with him. If he gets metaphorically lynched, then it was his own fault, not Francis'. Feeling cross, he slammed his head back onto the seat's head.

He heard Francis shift. Probably stroking his stubble while thinking of a good response. "Why did you leave?" He asked.

In literature, Arthur found many quotes that shook him to the bone. Yet this, an everyday question, carried the same poignancy as the phrases of the literary greats. Should he say it? He realised that Francis didn't have the same context as him, therefore doesn't know how big this whole going back to his town thing was. Arthur took a deep breath in.

"Mum wanted me to stay behind. I didn't want to. A university in London had accepted me, and I wanted to leave my town." He sighed. Back then, leaving his town felt like the right thing to do. He didn't want to be held back. He wanted to flourish. It was natural for parents to watch their child succeed, so he was mad and confused when his mother didn't support his dream. "She told me that I'd be homeless in months if I became an author. I argued that it was bullshit." His mother sat on the table and tried to change his mind to a calmer state, but he fired back sharp daggers of insults and objections. It became a full-blown argument of screaming, tears, and cussing. Even his mother, a conservative woman, swore. Fuck this, fuck that. She had cried. It was hard to get rid of that imagery out of his head. Mum was tough as shit. She always kept a stiff upper lip through her troubles. But he left anyway. "Well guess who got shat on by life?"

"And now you… you only write part-time."

"Only write part-time? That's the least of it. What, do you think that this is only me with my writing? No. This is with my real life. My real clusterfuck of a life, Francis." Realising that he snapped at Francis, Arthur sighed. He leaned against the window and rubbed the bridge of his nose. God was all this shit making him nauseous and tired.

His debt of years of ignorance had now paid off into this dreaded phobia of the unknown. He wanted to know now. He wanted a light inside of this pit of darkness. What will their reunion be like? It was hard to tell. Even after the years of ignoring every form of contact, of not seeing them, do they still hope for him to come back? Or do they want him back to deliver him justice for his treatment?

Arthur wasn't sure of what their motivations were. He was just one of her kids to Mum. Angus didn't like him. Dylan was so and so with him. Peter, hell, he had been gone for half of his life, did Peter even remember him?

Did they still live in the same little house down the street next to the cornershop? How much had they all changed? His mother should be over 40 now. 50? No, that was too old, somewhere over 40. How many grey hairs had she grown? How many wrinkles resided on her face since? And he couldn't get started with Peter. He had been gone since Peter was 6. He should be almost 13 now. 13! This year, he was turning into a teenager!

When he left, Angus was studying to be a doctor. He couldn't remember what Dylan did, he was either studying education or nursing. Oh, and he couldn't get started with Connor! His cousin Connor had lived with them since he was 3. His other cousin… Seth, was it? Séan. His other cousin Séan asked them to look after him until he could graduate from uni and take care of Connor.

Their lives had had so many changes by now. Did he change as much as they have? What had been his story so far? He left and studied literature at a university in London to prove that he was capable of living by himself. Countless publishers turned down his first book. When it did get published, it didn't even sell past 10 copies. So now he lived as an accountant. Convincing himself that it was only temporary, but now... that was it.

Though Francis was mad at Arthur's rejection of his help, a twinge of worry now filled him. Arthur had been staring at the seat in front of him for a while now, with the rising of his shoulders the only sign of movement. He had been like that for a couple of minutes.

"Arthur?" No response. "Arthur." Arthur still wouldn't budge. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed and twitched, a habit he did whenever he was under pressure. His panic levels shot up as a glassy gleam coated his eyes.

The cold water that was unpleasant now froze Arthur to the very bone in a painful, painful way. That was where his story ended. Failure. That was it. Compared to their lives, with so many things that had changed now... he was a failure.

"They shouldn't care anymore." His mind rendered his perspective back into the train. The seat in front of him dissolved into a blue blob as an uncomfortable pricking in his eyes appeared.

A light pressure pressed upon his shoulder. His mind rooted back to reality, and the train's sounds and the temperature became normal again. Still, that heavy, tight sensation was present. Arthur realised that Francis' hand was on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing in a reassuring circular motion. He looked up. Francis looked concerned, but he gave him a reassuring smile. Somehow, the weight ebbed away. His sour mood returned when Francis offered him his handkerchief. He pushed it away before he wiped his tears away with his fleece- he shouldn't rely on someone.

"Arthur, please. I just want to help." Arthur glanced back at him. Francis was frowning, a concerned gaze filling his eyes. Suddenly, he felt bad. What Arthur had done in rejecting his family's attempts to contact him… he was repeating that.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made you worry. I-I'm just." He exhaled. "I'm just stressed as fuck, my mind doesn't want to think straight." He felt bad at being ignorant of Francis' concern. Here Francis was trying to lighten his spirits, only for him to reject them like some asshole. He didn't deserve to get an earful of his ignorance. He heard Francis inhale.

"Okay." Francis patted his shoulder. "I forgive you." Forgive!

"But-"

"We all do shitty things under pressure. Look, you're going through a lot right now, I, I understand. True, I'm a little mad. Not 'mad' mad, but," he huffed. "Oh well. It happened. At least no one was seriously injured or anything like that." Arthur nodded. Francis had a point. "Arthur, look. You're a smart guy, and you try to help me. I want to at least return the favour." Hearing Francis' compliment touched him. An urge to pop a self-deprecating joke in regards to his advice threatened to rear up, but he held it down.

"Thank you." Arthur huffed as he sat back and relax back into his seat. "Well, I could try to accept more compliments in the future."

"Yeah, that's a good idea!" Seeing Francis upbeat, it caused a smile to grow at the corner of Arthur's mouth.

But Arthur remembered that they were on a train. A train to see his family. Suddenly, the ugly knot reappeared. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and huffed. Fuck. "Sorry. I just, I just remembered that we're seeing my family." He couldn't believe himself- he went over this same conversation with himself a million times. Why was he still miserable?

"Still worried?"

"Yeah." Arthur stared outside of the window, storms brewing within his heavy gaze. In a few more hours, they will be in his town.

In a few more hours. His heart raced and jumped into his throat as the panic within him arose. It was a mess back there. So many untied issues, all tangled into this Gordian knot which he had no sword for. He didn't want to go back, everything was happening too rapidly.

"I'm not ready," he blurted out.

"Not ready? But-"

"No, it's that… will they be upset? Will they be mad? I-I don't know."

The train conductor over the speaker announced something in garbled speeches. The brakes groaned, and with a hiss, the doors opened. Outside the train was no longer greenery, but a train station. Half of the people on the train took out their belongings and rushed outside as chatter resumed.

"The next stop should be my town." His town. One more stop and they will actually be there.

"You could go back to London," Francis noted. "I could text Angus that you're not coming after all." Arthur raised his eyebrows and looked over to Francis, who shrugged. "Your choice."

A wave of relief washed over Arthur, and he grabbed his suitcase's handle from the luggage compartment. While he pulled it out, a small voice in his head interrupted him. If he came back to London, he will forever be left with unanswered questions. Will he come back to his town if he chose to go back to London? The gut feeling said that it was unlikely. So if he went back, that was it.

Arthur sucked in air. He pushed his suitcase back in and sat down. His decision was confirmed when the doors closed with a hiss. There were even fewer people on the train now. He came from a more rural area, which was why.

This was the point of no return. In the evening, they will arrive. Arthur took deep breaths in, a sense of fear knotting his guts. To his surprise, a small voice thanked him. In a few more hours, at least all his questions will be answered.

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise as Arthur sat down, but his features relaxed, and a smile formed on his lips. Arthur looked to the side to think up something to say.

"I want to make amends. Even though it's a bloody mess back there… I, well I don't want to be left in the dark." A gentle smile spread across his face.

"I'm glad."

He looked back down to his phone as a notification came up. "Dylan's picking us up." Arthur nodded. He glanced out of the train's window. London's towering skyscrapers were but decorations of the horizon, as more and more trees filled the scenery.

"Yeah, Dylan was always the responsible guy."

Francis nodded. From the corner of his eye, he saw Francis typing up a document on his laptop. He leaned over.

"Is that a resume?"

"Uh-huh." Francis typed a bit more before he passed his laptop to Arthur. "Here, Arthur, can you read some of this?"

"Yeah yeah, sure," he muttered. He scanned over the material and typed in some things. "Mostly grammatical errors, a little passive in the language I suppose."

For the rest of the afternoon, Arthur helped Francis update his resumé.

Finally, they were done for the evening. Arthur rubbed his face, leaning back with a comforted sigh. He was drowsy from helping Francis with his resumé but satisfied that his mind had been taken off from all this stress. A fuschia and tangerine line crossed the border between the horizon's silhouette and the indigo sky, stars glittering in the inkiest areas.

"Wow. The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?" Francis stated. The scenery outside is quite stunning, he had to agree. Arthur turned around and seeing Francis smile, his mouth spread into a smile as well. Francis patted his shoulder. "Everything will be fine. If you're still not ready, then you could just get on the first ride back once we get there. Okay?"

Arthur nodded. Francis' reassurance made him feel whole for some reason. He liked it. He usually hated being pitied, because it made him feel weak and helpless. But Francis… something about how hushed his voice and how sincere he was made him change his mind. And he wanted to help him, it was silly to reject that, anyway. If it was Francis, perhaps he'll give him a pass.

He noted that Francis was leaning in to get a closer look at the scenery outside. "Here." Arthur stood up. Francis glanced up at him with a puzzled expression. "You can have my seat if you want." His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Are you sure? Don't get me wrong, I could see the sunset perfectly from here," he teased. Arthur gave out a chuckle and crossed his arms.

"Oh Francis, you horrible liar, say that before you leaned forward."

He gave out a sheepish chuckle as he put his hand on his chest. "Well, don't mind if I do then," he replied before he stood up and switched seats with him.

Francis' earlier encouragement repeated in his mind, a whisper that soothed him like a lullaby. Everything will be fine. That soothed him somehow. That either way, everything will be fine. If he didn't want to meet his family again, if he wasn't ready, he will get on the first ride back. Back to London, and he wouldn't have to face this again.

London. That jungle of concrete and greys. What was his town like now? He couldn't remember, but the sky sure as hell was bluer there... So the grass wasn't greener on the other side at all. On one hand, he missed his town, he wanted to know what had happened with his siblings, his mother. A sliver of the anxiety threatened to resurface.

He looked towards Francis, who leaned against the window, enjoying the beautiful panorama. But he and Francis will arrive, together. At least he wouldn't have to face this mess alone, and with Francis, he felt capable. All of the stress slipped away.

Arthur yawned, feeling sleep cast its spell upon him. With eyelids dry and heavy, his eyes closed and he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Thanks to probablysomebody on AO3 for beta reading this chapter!