Despite his discussions with Dr. Turner, Francis still had no idea what to do.

She had supported his idea to find a job, but Francis was still uncertain whether he could, or should. What if he ended up regretting it because his desire for a job was fuelled by his anxieties? What if he didn't have the right experiences or mindsets for a job? Fine, fine, admittedly a musician would not require as much dedication as a job such as a lawyer or a doctor, but Francis had never had a good record of being too ambitious or hard working, things he knew jobs required. Though ashamed to admit it, Francis had always used his parents' money to pay for his things and had never had a stable income of his own.

"So you've never had a job?"

Francis chewed his bottom lip. "No. I had those hobby jobs. You know, working as a waiter or a barista, but never anything serious."

Arthur nodded, his eyes now glued on his computer screen as his fingers tapped on the keyboard. "Mhm. Yeah, I understand," he muttered. Francis raised an eyebrow as Arthur snacked on a macaron. Arthur had been bringing his laptop to their meet ups at the bakery quite a lot after his nose healed since they came back to London, albeit healed with an inevitable crook. He had stated that he was nearly done with his novel's first draft, so he had been focused on finishing it. Francis didn't mind since his novel meant a lot to him and Arthur's efforts to make some solid eye contact after every few sentences was appreciated by Francis.

"So," Francis continued. "That's why I'm conflicted over getting a new job. On the one hand, if I don't get a job, I waste my time. But on the other I might be letting my insecurities win. It's sort of a question about free will, so with you studying literature, maybe... hey, Arthur?"

"Uh-huh." Arthur's eyes were still transfixed on the screen, his thick brow now furrowed in concentration as the typing sped up.

Francis sat back and waited for Arthur to finish his error. However a few minutes passed and it seemed that Arthur got carried away with writing. 5 minutes later and Francis decided that he should remind Arthur of their conversation. "Ahem, I am right here."

"What? Oh-!" Arthur widened his eyes and slammed his laptop shut. Realising the loud sound that made, Arthur looked around the bakery and made sure that no one paid much attention before breathing out a sigh of relief and rubbing the back of his neck. "Fu- Jesus, I didn't mean… I'm sorry, I didn't realise I wasn't paying attention. Found a weird erhm, continuity error."

Francis nodded. To his embarrassment, some part of Francis couldn't help but wonder whether Arthur wanted to avoid him and used the writing as an excuse and a distraction, but he reminded himself that even if his suspicions were true, their… well, friendship was having some 'minor complications' recently, and for Arthur, an introvert, that was obviously very hard for him. Francis couldn't blame him either, he had been confused, unsure what he wanted, but currently trying to maintain this friendship as it was— platonic. So all he could do was act neutral. "Did you... get any of that?"

"Yeah. No worries. About the right work ethics and feeling conflicted about your employment… right…?" Arthur looked up and made eye contact, an uncertain look in his eyes.

"Well, yes. As well as debating whether or not to do it."

"Ah. I see. Old doubt vs sloth debate."

"Hey!" Francis objected, a joking tone in his voice.

"Fine. Old doubt vs rebelliousness debate."

"I'm not rebellious."

"This whole conversation has been," Arthur replied, a small grin on his lips.

Francis nearly replied with a comeback before he realised that it only proved Arthur's point. His eyebrow raised before a small chuckle escaped him.

"Alright, you win this round," he stated as he sipped his coffee, a small grin on his lips. Aside from the humour, Francis could feel a bit of relief inside of him. It seemed that maybe they could still be friends and ignore that romantic aspect.

Arthur grinned as he sipped his tea, a nearly cheeky energy in his green eyes that Francis had not noticed. "So anyway, it's sort of a leap of faith thing where you can't know unless you try and all that."

"What?" Francis blinked, confused at the sudden change of topic. "Oh. Yes, right. Leap of faith, huh?" He picked up and sipped his coffee, hoping that it would give him some time to think up a reply. Much to his dismay, his mind was blank when he put the cup down.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do great!" Arthur did a small lopsided grin in a supportive attempt.

"I don't know if that can work."

"But your saxophone skills are quite good! In… in my perspective at least."

"Thanks, but the technical aspects need to be improved." Francis bulled out his phone and earphones before finding one of his recordings. "Here, listen to this." After Arthur put in the earphones and Francis hit play, he leaned closer to the phone, his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"... yeah? I don't exactly hear anything wrong."

"Are you sure?"

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows so much so that the bridge of his nose wrinkled. "Well erhm… I suppose..." Arthur let out a huff. "Shite, I honestly can't tell."

How come? Francis wondered. Well, it was true, Arthur didn't come from a musical background so he likely didn't know what to listen for.

Francis picked up his phone and opened a metronome app before setting the metronome to tap according to the music's beat. "Can you hear the gap?" The way it lingered too long or started too slow, the beat stretching and twisting his guts into a tense coil as he grimaced. Arthur leaned back as he crossed his arms and stroked his chin.

"After which bit? The high bit or the erhm… the bit that…" Arthur clicked his fingers in sudden triumph.. "That's called a sequence!"

"Well, you're not wrong! Is that from research for your novel?"

Arthur glanced back towards Francis, his eyes glimmering at the mention of his novel, and he shrugged. "Yep." He huffed. "Yet I still can't find that bloody beat."

Francis stroked his chin. "I have an idea. Let me tap my melody's beat."

"Yeah, sure."

Francis started up the music again and tapped out the beginning beat of the melody. The beats failed to align with the metronome's, now humiliatingly noticeable as Francis tapped them out, sometimes lingering too slowly, sometimes too rushed. At the sight of Arthur's furrowed eyebrows, that was when Francis knew that he had convinced Arthur.

"Jesus. That... I see what you mean, that really is bad."

The news stung and blessed Francis all at the same time, stung him because it always hurt whenever a friend criticised anything, but blessed him because it was a solid piece of tangible news that did not feel misinformed or dishonest. Granted, it was not the most orthodox way of accepting criticism but it worked for him. Francis continued: "I can practise with a metronome to improve it but I'm just somewhat worried that I'll get out of tune or go off the beat once I actually do the audition since the technical…" He stopped at his realisation. "Oh god." Agonised, he leaned back, not caring as the chair dug into his back. "Putain, I need to sight read too!" And possibly scales and arpeggios. God, he always hated those. See, that was why he rarely passed auditions, which required technical skills, skills he lacked the dedication and talent to improve and perfect.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Ah, shite." He sipped a bit more of his tea, a pensive frown on his brow. "And a whole bunch of other nonsense, I presume?"

Francis shrugged. "Nonsense? Well, at least nonsense keeps you awake."

"Lewis Carroll will remember that."

"So will Igor Stravinsky."

"What?"

"Rite of Spring. When it premiered the Parisians were so angry they threw a riot."

"Ah." Arthur glanced to the side. "Fits the rebellious Frenchmen theme, doesn't it?" He joked.

Francis blinked until he linked that reference to the earlier conversation. "Ah, it seems that the English have their wits, non?"

Arthur's eyebrows were raised high. A healthy pink flush bloomed across his nose as he looked down and laughed a little. Francis couldn't help but grin back.

They chatted and joked around for a bit longer until they've run out. Francis could still feel a small grin on his face from the last joke as Arthur resumed typing on his computer. For a while, they enjoyed the moment as it was.

There was no doubt that Francis was still worried about his employment. But after his talk with Arthur today, he felt a little more stable now.

For a while, Francis grew used to the sound of Arthur's fingers tapping the keyboard and the sound of the other patrons' shuffling until the taps stopped. Francis would've dismissed it as Arthur thinking through a problem in his story until he realised that this gap sustained itself for several minutes more. Francis glanced up.

Arthur's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he stared at his computer screen, his mouth parted. There was a eureka look in his eyes as he stared. He looked down and quickly tapped a few more words onto the laptop, his fingers tapping onto them like there was no tomorrow. He clutched his hair with both hands, staring at the screen, not daring to blink. While he stared, confused, it then came to Francis that this excitement could only mean one thing.

"You- you've finished your novel?"

Arthur nodded vigorously. He did! Arthur did it! Arthur put his hands over his mouth to prevent any sound that could come out. That didn't help as the red in his face made him look like he could explode. In an attempt to calm down, Arthur drummed the table with his fingers but that wasn't enough to stop himself from jittering and tapping the floor with his feet. Francis realised — Arthur couldn't express his excitement since he was indoors and they were surrounded by people. The way some nearby patrons glanced over with a concerned yet confused expression only foreshadowed a bad outcome.

"Francis, is Arthur…" Emma started, coming over as she was serving a dish of muffins.

Francis nodded. "Yep, he needs a moment, uh…" he leaned in closer towards Arthur. "Arthur, let's go outside," he whispered. Arthur nodded and he stood up in a stilted manner while Francis guided them outside until they were beyond the glass window and next to a brick wall.

As soon as they were out of sight, Francis stepped back and watched as Arthur cheered. "WOOOO! FUCK YES! I'VE FINISHED IT! FRANCIS, I'VE FINISHED IT!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. To Francis' surprise, Arthur stepped forward

and grasped Francis' shoulder, a wide, genuine smile on his face as he laughed, relieved. Francis couldn't help but smile and laugh along, and thank God there was no one else on the streets because soon they were both cheering in euphoria at this accomplishment. Half said words related to relief and congratulations were exchanged though they were too filled with joy, oh what warm, loving joy.

All this beauty shattered when a warm pressure pressed onto his cheek.

Francis blinked. What was that? Arthur was right next to him and… realising what happened, a surprised yet bashful feeling bloomed in his chest. Francis glanced towards Arthur, who, with his smile and his excitement had not realised his act. But noticing the quiet, Arthur's smile died down as he maintained eye contact. As if woken up from a bad dream, Arthur widened his eyes and let go, his face now pale as a sheet of paper.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry, Jesus Christ." Arthur yanked out his handkerchief and wiped away the kiss before yanking it away immediately. "... I… fuck. Erhm," he tossed the handkerchief to Francis and looked away, his eyes wide and

Francis rubbed his kissed cheek as he grasped the handkerchief, confused, emotions whirling and had leaned onto the brick wall, his brow furrowed as he refrained from any eye contact. Francis leaned beside Arthur and handed him back the folded handkerchief. Arthur glanced down at the handkerchief, though he still didn't make eye contact, and without a word took it back.

A tense silence followed as they leaned, unsure of what to do now. Arthur cleared his throat. "Let's just… let's just forget that ever happened."

"Yeah. " Francis let out a small, nervous chuckle. "Definitely."

They managed to laugh it off, but the rest of the visit to the bakery ended up in a clumsy silence that stayed long after they paid for their lunch. Completely unsure what to say after that, a constipated silence composed of traffic, footsteps and wind followed. "It's... just the first draft," Arthur started in an attempt to thin the atmosphere. "I've still got quite a lot of editing to do. Hell, I've written about… 80% while half asleep," he let out a light chuckle, "so yeah."

Francis glanced his way and nodded, though he didn't know what much to say. Not a word more was uttered for the rest of the journey. Walking in silence together had a feeling of walking next to a stranger, a stranger who happen to live in the same apartment block, except that this stranger was one he knew and talked with thoroughly. Deciding that Arthur might be uncomfortable with striking up smalltalk, Francis concentrated on walking back as if he were by himself.

They reached Arthur's floor and Arthur walked towards his door without a hitch. The way he left like that without even a goodbye stung. Francis stood up straight when Arthur glanced back, an uncertain look in his eyes. Mustering up a smile, he waved. Arthur put up his hand in a half attempt of a wave, stone faced, and did no more before he went into his apartment.

Francis rubbed his cheek where the ghost of Arthur's kiss stayed. Fine, unlike what he said to Arthur, he didn't... he hadn't minded it, but that was beside the point right now. Now Francis had a better idea of why Arthur didn't want to speak to him as much - he had been afraid something like this would happen.

He had to admit, he appreciated how careful Arthur was. Arthur, always trying his best even when times were tough, keeping a stiff upper lip and persevering anyway. At the same time, Francis couldn't help but feel sympathy for him, sympathy that Arthur did not feel like he could express himself as he wanted to anymore. He had to admit… if this didn't continue, he would miss it. Arthur's smile, though rare, could light up all of London's paper blank sky into a clean, sapphire blue afternoon.

A warm adrenaline surprised him as it zipped inside of his heart. It was at this moment when he grasped his chest that Francis realised just how legitimate these romantic feelings were. Oh, it would've been wonderful… if the timing was right. But they were both not in a position for romantic love and that was that. Arthur needed to concentrate on editing his novel, Francis needed to get employed. Maybe... maybe they could try later after all that was done. But at the thought of Lisa and the car crash, Francis stopped himself. A relationship that seemed so perfect, only to descend into bitter gall and Lisa's death several months later.

No. He didn't want Arthur to be hurt because of him. He didn't want to hurt anyone again.

Francis shook his head and blinked, confused as to how his mind wandered off to this topic. This was a topic he revisited every time when his mind wandered off from his current employment status. It was always the same answer- he might have feelings but he needed to be careful in case Arthur might get hurt. Admittedly not as much as Lisa but… he could get hurt nonetheless.

This was another hole he was getting into, Francis remind himself. He needed to get this out of his mind for the meanwhile. Francis stroked his chin as he tried to deviate from this topic. What else was he… right, his employment status.

Francis turned on his laptop and scrolled through the available jobs he had pulled up a few nights earlier, not really focusing on the screen. He had nearly skimmed through them all with barely a glance to any of them when he stopped. He couldn't do that— he was looking for an actual job, not passively scrolling down like how he always did. A careful eye and judgement was required this time. Keeping that in mind, he adjusted the search key words - including the key words performance and band- as well as specifying the entry requirement to a high one before he scrolled, reading each and every one of them carefully.

At last, an application for a symphonic band with a modest salary caught his eye, requiring high music grades and an audition. Francis frowned - playing in tune and in beat was especially important when performing with an ensemble. What if this job was not what he wanted? A part of him asked. Francis pushed it away, told himself to have no more excuses, since this was the reason why he was held back all this time. It even had his current music grade as an entry requirement, so that must be a sign.

Drawing a deep breath in, Francis clicked on the link.

After Francis wrote and sent a quick email, he collapsed back onto the couch and exhaled. It was done. All he needed to do now was to wait for further instructions. However, a realisation came over him – right now, he could be practicing his saxophone, practicing for the audition and taking his future in his hands. He opened the case and his saxophone gleamed, urging him to use it. Francis took a deep breath in and another out.

Whatever he needed to do, he would do it, because he would not fail another audition again.

INSANE apologies for the late update, my beta reader and I needed to revise for our exams so Brass in the grey had been in the backburner for a while.

Thanks to GokuSuperSaiyanTime for editing this chapter!