Francis had hoped that Arthur's reunion with his family would be smooth and joyful. True, there would inevitably be some hardships, no matter how careful one may be, but he hoped that the good moments will outweigh the bad, at least. Since Angus came back, that possibility slipped farther and farther away.
As kids, Francis had figured out that Angus was too bubbly and sociable to have a bad side. During dinner when he talked with his in-laws, that good side was very much present, but… Francis was unsure. His chilling, unforgiving glare directed at Arthur proved otherwise.
During dinner, everyone had their conversations with bright smiles on their faces, and even Boadicea smiling a little from time to time. They shared wine, stories, and best wishes for Marianne and Angus' marriage. Arthur, in contrast, shrivelled into the corner and watched from the sidelines, his eyes darting side to side. Francis knew that Arthur enjoyed his time alone, but this is his first proper time trying to catch up with his family again, he was just too nervous to.
No one noticed him cower to the corner, either, too busy congratulating Angus and Marianne on the marriage. Francis knew that their wedding was tomorrow, but Arthur worked hard to come here! He had mustered up so much courage to come back, even if he hadn't seen him for at least 7 years, even when he was scared to come here. Arthur was tapping his fingers on his knees, something he did whenever he was nervous.
Eventually, Arthur stood up and slipped away towards the backyard door at the end of the room. Francis, out of habit, found himself standing up. He excused himself and followed Arthur outside.
As soon as he opened the door, he shivered and clutched his arms at the cold wind, so different from the warm, insulated house. Squinting and looking around the small yard, Arthur didn't seem to be anywhere, until Francis looked beside the block of stairs. Arthur leaned against the house, looking into the nighttime sky, a notable storm clouding his eyes.
"Hey," Francis started, walking down the stairs and leaning next to him. Arthur glanced over at Francis, his expression softening.
"Oh, Francis..." Arthur seemed to have wanted to say something, but halfway from breathing in, the words died in his throat. He frowned and took another breath in, trying to find the right words again, but gave up and he drew out a long, quiet, tired sigh. "It's alright, they've invited me for Angus and Marianne's wedding, they didn't invite me to celebrate my birthday or something. I'm just not needed right now. Don't stress too much, it's bad for you. Alright?"
Francis raised an eyebrow and nodded. Arthur had a point, too much stress leads a person nowhere. He stroked his stubble, twisting his lips as he thought. Well, he could at least do something for Arthur, Arthur shouldn't stress all by himself, either. Francis remembered Arthur's anxieties on the train, where he Arthur told him about how he didn't know what the future held, how he was so nervous over whether his family forgave him or not. Angus' ambiguous reply seemed to be the cause of Arthur's dampened spirits. Maybe if Arthur gets a direct answer from Angus, it will lighten his spirits. He could do it, Angus was his old friend, so he'd be able to tell him.
"Wait here," Francis murmured to Arthur as he walked back up the stairs.
"Hey! Where are you…" the closing door blocked off the rest of Arthur's question as Francis walked back to the warm dining room.
Angus laughed as he talked with his future in-laws. Francis opened his mouth but hesitated. Should he wait for a little? They were busy having a conversation, and it would be rude to stop them. He stood, tapping his foot and shifting side to side as he waited. Maybe this was how Arthur felt tonight- frustrated and bored that he couldn't fit himself into a conversation. Finally, he spotted his loophole when Marianne's father stopped talking with Angus. Wanting to be discreet, Francis tapped Angus on the shoulder.
Nothing- Angus continued to talk. Francis frowned. Was that too light? He tapped his shoulder harder.
Angus glanced back. "Oh, hey," he muttered before chatting with his in-laws again. Francis raised an eyebrow. Was that on purpose?
"Angus, I want to talk," he whispered. Angus' conversation stopped. He turned around and faced Francis, his thick brow furrowed into an uncertain frown.
Looking back at his in-laws, Angus smiled and waved, saying: "I'll be back in a jiffy!" Before leading Francis into the hall.
The hall, shadowy and unlit, had a different vibe than the festive dining room. Angus stopped wearing a smile as a neutral, undecipherable poker face appeared.
"Alright, what's up?" He asked. Francis bit his lip, glancing towards the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he organised his words. Angus patted him on the shoulder, encouraging him to look up. "Come on, Francis, I don't bite," Angus encouraged with a chuckle.
"Why are you still mad at Arthur?" His chuckling stopped. Angus furrowed his eyebrows, confused. With a huff, he patted his shoulder again. Francis expected an answer straight away, but instead, Angus looked at him, his brow furrowed as something tinkered behind those blue eyes.
Angus adjusted his glasses. "It's a family matter, Francis, I'll talk to Arthur myself when the time's right," was all he said before he walked towards the dining room.
"What? Angus, what do you mean?" Angus continued to walk towards the dining room. He ignored him! "Please, Angus? You didn't answer my question, you didn't answer why you're still mad." Angus stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A shiver shot up his spine as Angus squinted, the light illuminating his eyes an icy blue. Angus exhaled, trying to calm himself down, and took off his glasses.
"Look, Francis," he started as he cleaned the lens with a lens cloth, "all I'm saying is that yes, I know that what he did was wrong, even though everyone else is fine with it. Better? I hold my grudges, that's it." Francis frowned as Angus immediately walked back towards the dining room. He grabbed Angus' shoulder.
"Angus, Arthur's outside. If you want to say anything, he's-"
"Oh, so he regrets leaving now, huh? Well, why didn't he did so a year ago?"
"Well, Arthu-"
"Or two? Or three? Or even five? If he really misses us, how come he blocked us on all forms of social media?"
"He!..." Francis realised what Angus was describing. That Arthur had purposefully blocked any sort of contacts with the family he missed. "He... did?"
"Yes. And, and refuse to reply to our emails and letters and phone calls before that. Every single one of them!" Angus… Angus wasn't bluffing, was he? No… there's...
"I'm sure there's a reason-!"
"And everyone's pretending to be fine about that when they're all just as angry and the prick doesn't even know-"
"It's just because he's embarrassed!"
Silence. Only his own heaving breaths followed. Angus stood, eyes wide in shock. Francis came to realise what had happened and straightened himself. No, this wasn't him. This wasn't the best he could do. Francis drew a deep breath in, calming his nerves.
"That's not right of me, excuse me. But… Arthur… I'm really sure that he regrets that a lot." Francis furrowed his eyebrows, trying to find a loophole through all this. "And… the past is in the past, he regrets it. And he misses you. He misses you all. He came here on a whim, he… he almost didn't come here. But he tried. That... should be the only thing that matters."
Despite expecting a reply, as Angus was a stubborn man, only silence replied. Looking up, Francis saw Angus' expression in a relaxed, pitiful thing, unlike the brash, jovial moods he had associated with Angus. A sea of sadness and confusion swelled in his eyes. Angus sighed, brushing back his hair as he put his glasses back on. Angus was never this tired. Never this serious. A dreaded realisation dawned over him. He had crossed a line.
"I'm sorry. I appreciate your concern, Francis, but… please. Let me sort this out by myself. You needn't do anything. Alright?" Before Francis could reply, Angus left for the dining room, ready to talk with his in-laws again
Francis stood in the dark, curling the toes in his shoes and fingers and the fingers in his pockets, drawing deep breaths in as he digested in what Angus told him. About how Arthur never replied to his family's emails… Francis had always assumed that the Kirkland family had never even bothered sending one, because of how mad they were at Arthur. Hearing that… he wanted to doubt who Arthur was. Why didn't he answer his calls and emails? Why did he block them? Is this still the case now? Is this all true? To ask these questions was falling into a bottomless rabbit hole. But he had wanted to ask him about why he disliked Arthur, and now he knew.
But Arthur was too sensible to do that. Right? Even after doing so, he would've regretted it now. Arthur regretted a lot of things in the past, and it would likely be that he regretted it now…
A voice in his head told him that this was all wrong. That he was having his own head up his ass, finding biased evidence in flawed memories, justifying Arthur's actions just because he was his friend- Francis shook his head. He was probably better off focusing his energy onto something else.
He walked back out to the backyard. Arthur, still leaning on the wall, glanced at Francis. Francis must've sported a frowned expression because Arthur immediately furrowed his thick eyebrows.
"Did you talk to Angus?" He asked. Francis looked to the side, shifting from side to side, realising that he didn't clarify that earlier.
"Yes," he muttered as he went down the stairs and fiddled with his hands.
"You… you did?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and glanced to the side. "What did he say?"
"Did you… did you block everyone in your family on social media?" Arthur widened his eyes. Hesitating, he nodded. Arthur looked away from him, letting out a small, cold laugh.
"Yeah, I know. I've fucked up. I've fucked up real bad." Arthur slid down the wall, a lost, glassy sensation clouding his gaze. "That was around 6 years ago." He brushed his hair back, twitching his jaw as he tried to calm down. "Back when I was still in uni. I've… I've forgotten about that." He exhaled. Arthur fished out his phone, opening his social media apps and toggling the settings. "And… done." Arthur tucked the phone back into his pocket and huffed.
Francis kneeled down to Arthur's level. Wanting to comfort him, Francis gave Arthur a gentle pat on the shoulder, letting him know he wasn't alone.
"You were prideful, but at least you know better now." Arthur tensed a little, but relaxed. He turned around and smiled before glancing back down again.
"Francis, you're too kind..." But as he glanced down, though his brows furrowing as something tinkered behind those bottle green eyes. Arthur took a deep breath in. "You know what? Fuck this," he declared. Before Francis could reply, Arthur stomped back into the house. He tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out what Arthur meant. But then it hit him.
Arthur was going to talk with Angus.
His first instinct screamed to follow Arthur, but halfway up the stairs, he stopped himself. No, Arthur needed to sort this out by himself, no intervention allowed. Drawing in a deep breath, telling himself that the least he could do was to sit here, Francis sat onto the stairs with a huff.
With no one present, the trees rustled and the wind blew. Francis shivered as he held his arms closer. It must be rather nice in the warm house right now.
Finally, Arthur finally came back after what seemed to be a millennium, Francis rushed to his side. Thankfully, Arthur didn't seem too distressed, wearing just a calm, neutral face, his hands tucked into his pocket. He looked… refreshed.
"How did it go?" To his surprise, Arthur made firm eye contact and patted the side of Francis' cheek.
"Relax, Francis, I didn't deliver the Gettysburg address," he replied in a casual manner. Francis raised an eyebrow. Realising his own formality, he gave a small chuckle. "I talked to my mum, not Angus, he would have bitten my head off by now. Well, I tried talking to him, but he nearly did." Francis huffed. Poor Angus.
"What did you two talk about?" Arthur chewed his lip.
"I said sorry about blocking her and my brothers on social media, and that I undid that." His eyes darted away. There was that Arthur he knew, who had trouble making eye contact. "She seems fine, she seems to have accepted the apology." But Arthur sighed, and his hand slipped away. "Well, she doesn't seem angry, at least. I… just... I don't know if she's not secretly angry anymore."
Francis touched him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry that Angus is making you feel all guilty."
"No no, what he feels is justified." Arthur's eyes widened a little, realising what he was saying, and huffing rubbed his temple. He gave out a small laugh. "All this thinking, it's just making me repeat the same things, over and over and over again." He huffed. "I'm really sorry, Francis, but…" he walked back towards the wall. "I don't think that there is any sort of straight solution to this problem. I just don't know what's going on amongst my family, worrying's just going to make things worse."
With a huff, Francis slid down, too, a little disappointed, knowing that this solution couldn't be solved yet, despite their best efforts.
"I understand." Francis sighed, and leaned onto the wall. Inside, the rest of Arthur's family cheered, laughing and bantering. He frowned, looking to the side. It sounded fun. Only that Arthur would be out here, all alone. He sighed, looking back up at the sky. Myriads of stars glimmered in the sky. These stars were more visible here, away from the lights of London that masked them. Being a person raised in cities, the opportunity to see stars this clearly were nearly nonexistent. He wondered if Arthur ever looked at those stars with wonder when he was a child. "Well, at least the stars here are pretty." Arthur glanced at him with his bottle green eyes that glinted a jewel-like colour from the stars above. A small grin peaked at the side of Arthur's face. Francis jolted as Arthur patted him on the cheek.
"Silly Francis, always trying to help other people." A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. Francis smiled back, finding himself grasping onto Arthur's hand on his cheek. "Thank you so much, anyway, you've done well." Arthur looked up again, making eye contact, freeing his other hand from the grasp to brush one of Francis' stray, golden locks away. Francis flashed a mischievous grin.
"Getting quite intimate for an Englishman, huh~?" He joked as he leaned into Arthur's hand in a comical manner. Arthur snickered, slipping the hand away.
"In your dreams, ya pervert Frenchman!" He shot back, brushing his hand onto his fleece in a comical manner as he stuck out his tongue.
And they laughed. At that strange interaction, at that strange recovery, it was what they had needed. A breather away from all of this mess.
After Arthur finished laughing with Francis, he patted him on the shoulder. Francis stopped laughing, looking at Arthur, curious.
"I'm going in." Arthur motioned his head towards the inside of the house, and he stood up.
"Wait! But Angus… I'm not too sure if he wants to talk with you yet." At the door, Arthur turned back.
"I know. But if he still hates me? That's his problem. He wants to talk to me? He'll do it in his own time. Guy's stubborn as a cow. Now come in, the roast's getting cold." Before Francis could reply, Arthur stepped back into the house.
Francis sat back. He rubbed the back of his neck, watching Arthur walk back into the house. Arthur had a point. They couldn't do anything about it, oh well, it didn't mean that they couldn't enjoy anything else. Whatever was on Angus' mind was Angus' own business.
"Wait for me, Arthur!" Francis responded as he followed Arthur into the house.
Dinner for the rest of the evening went by smoothly. Arthur sat back and watched as they talked, snacking a little oh the food, even occasionally talking a little with his would be relatives. Angus still stayed away from Arthur. Francis tried to intervene, but Angus brushed him away.
Hours melted away, and soon they were in their pyjamas, off to bed. Francis read a bit of Trombones are blue as Arthur lied in the bottom bunk.
"Arthur, would you like to sleep in the top bunk?" Francis asked. Arthur shook his head.
"I'm alright, thanks," Arthur replied, drawing in a deep breath and relaxing into the bed. "I used to look out of the window when I was a kid, I sort of miss this feeling." Francis got out of bed and climbed down the ladder, thankfully wooden unlike the cold, iron casted ones back in the apartment, to see what Arthur was talking about.
Nestled between the top and bottom bunk was a circular window that fit like a little picture. Outside, a willow tree perched on a hill, filling the circle perfectly. Francis smiled, seeing why Arthur chose that. Relaxed, he wriggled back between his covers and yawned.
"Arthur, can you turn off the lights?"
"Sure," Arthur replied. He got off the bed and reached for the light switches. At the sight of a dark poster square beside them, he stopped. Arthur thumbed the dark square, and though his back was facing Francis, he could tell that Arthur was thinking.
Arthur opened the door and went downstairs. "Mum, where did you put my Edgar Allan Poe poster?" He called out. An Edgar Allan Poe poster? Francis gave out a small chuckle. Judging from what he had read of Edgar Vinn, with their similar grim atmosphere, it seemed right for a teenage Arthur. He wondered if Arthur had named the titular character after Edgar Allan Poe, too.
After a few minutes, Arthur came back with a rolled-up poster under his arm, and for some reason a marker and a bottle of whiteout in his hand.
"Arthur, did you name Edgar Vinn after Edgar Allan Poe?" Francis asked. Arthur looked up, his eyes wide in bewilderment.
"After-" He heard a huff before a nervous laugh. How cute. "Heh, yeah." Arthur scratched the back of his head. "I think that I chose the last name from a random word from Angus' notebook which... I did not steal for that very purpose." Francis snickered, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "Oi, I returned it before he could notice, alright?" But Arthur couldn't help but laugh along as well.
Francis stroked his chin. "You know, I wondered if that was intentional since vin means wine. Heh, you even added an extra n at the end! Quite the dramatist, aren't you?"
"Oi! It sounded cool in my 16-year-old brain, alright? Edgar Vinn. Figured that it had a nice ring to it." Arthur sat on the bed and unrolled the poster. "And the proper term is sensationalist, a dramatist is a person who writes plays."
"How fitting."
"Sod off," Arthur replied, words dripping with sarcasm. Francis grinned. Though when he heard what seemed to be an exasperated sigh, he raised an eyebrow.
"May I have a look at that poster?" Arthur hummed in thought and stuck the tube up towards the top bunk.
"Yeah, sure." Francis grabbed the waxy surface and unrolled it. The serious, calculating gaze of Edgar Allan Poe peeked through the roll. As Francis rolled more of the poster, he noticed the tip of something in white on his black blazer. Unrolling the rest of it, he raised an eyebrow at a crudely drawn shape in that all too common was graffitied onto school desks.
"Why is there a dick on his suit?"
"Oh yeah, Angus used to draw the penis. Bloody cunt." The phallic object was drawn in whiteout, he noticed. Francis remembered how Arthur had the bottle of whiteout and the marker, likely to erase them. "Keep rolling, there's more." Francis did what he was told, and covered his mouth.
"Edgar Allan Hoe?" He stifled out a laugh at the white, crudely drawn H in whiteout. "Wow."
"Exactly. Oh, the joy of siblings! Francis, can you pass it back?"
"Er, sure." Francis leaned over the side of the bed and dangled the poster over the edge. Arthur grabbed the edge and hopped off of the bed, spreading it out on the ground, the whiteout and marker in his other hand. Lying on his stomach, he coloured out the phallus and H letter with the marker, before colouring a P back in with the white out.
"Heh. When I was a kid, Angus liked to vandalise this poster." Arthur blew onto the surface of the poster, trying to get the whiteout to set. "Even though I liked to stay up late and read books by torchlight, that cow still gets away with vandalising my poster." he continued as he rolled the poster back up again, careful not to fold in any parts. There was a jokey, light-hearted lilt in his voice in contrary to his subject matter. He looked back to Francis. "Every single day after I fix the poster, I wake up, and what do I find? Mr. Allan Poe's dignity tarnished." He chuckled. "So I started using this as bait." He slammed his hand back onto the poster.
"Bait!" Francis chorused, amused.
"Yes! As a kid, I've dreamed of catching that arse red-handed for years. But I've never succeeded in doing so. He may have the name of a cow, but he's sure as sneaky as a fox. " He huffed, tucking the poster under the bed. "Of course, he won't vandalise this anymore, since he's an adult now and all that." Arthur huffed as he sneaked back into the sheets. From his tired tone, Francis wondered if Arthur missed that. That knowing thought that he was still casual enough with his brother to still be fine with playing pranks onto one another. Close enough to play pranks onto one another, and close enough so that they're not too serious.
"Big day tomorrow, huh?" Francis started.
"Yep." Below him, Arthur huffed as the covers shifted. "Holy shit. Angus getting married," he repeated to himself, each word in disbelief, digesting each of them. "It's happening. Angus is finally getting married. Wow. And you've seen what he used to do with his poster!" Arthur exhaled.
Francis nodded. "People change a lot over time, don't they?"
"Uh-huh." He sighed. "Ever had someone morph into a different person in such a short time?"
Arthur asked.
"Oh! Me?"
"Mhm." Francis furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recollect someone that matched Arthur's description. His father… no, he was always strong, even during his mother's death. Frail at times, but always someone who knew the answer. Close friends? Antonio always supported both him and Gil, Gilbert's always logical of the bunch. Not it. But there was one answer.
"Well… my fiancée…"
"Oh! You, you have a fiancée?" Arthur asked. Arthur said that in such a blissfully unaware manner, as if yes, Lisa was still around. That they still talk, meet up, things that are impossible now. "How come I've never met them?" Francis had to bite the side of his cheeks. "Francis, are... oh. I-I'm sorry. We'll sort it out tomorrow," Arthur hopped off of the bed towards the light switches. But Francis knew that it can't be sorted out. Lisa will forever be stuck as a memory, never to talk again. "Ready to turn the lights off?" Arthur asked. Francis sighed.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight." The light snuffed out at a click.
Due to study commitments, probablysomebody on AO3 is no longer able to beta read the chapters. A round of applause to her for being able to beta read Brass in the grey this year!