Francis was disappointed in him.
Francis was disappointed in him, and Antonio could not bring himself to that fact.
Antonio saw how indifferent Francis' face looked after he came back from the audition. He did pull up a smile on the journey home, but even Antonio doubted that it was genuine.
It was the morning after the audition. Francis hung over the table, eye bags under his eyes, his hair knotted, his fist in his hair.
Antonio sighed and turned off the stove before scraping the ham into the plate. Antonio could like Francis now the same. Of course he could. They were friends. They always were, and always will be. If only Antonio could put enough effort in. He did not understand why Francis couldn't get rid of the down mood.
"Morning, Francis! You're up early!" Antonio started in his chipper mood. Francis had no reaction to Antonio's statement, and something inside Antonio shrivelled.
Francis didn't want to be around him. That was alright. It was true, Antonio was mad at Francis for saying that. But he knew that Francis needed something else.
Perhaps it was a good thing Gilbert was not here right now. Perhaps not, Antonio did not know. Ludwig had asked him to check the servers at their company. Antonio had a feeling that Gilbert, with his lack of nuance, would make everything worse. Then again, Francis and Gilbert's argument from yesterday remained unresolved.
Antonio placed breakfast in front of Francis and patted his shoulder. Deciding that Francis had enough intrusions as it was, Antonio sat on the sofa and ate his meal.
He did want to think about something else, of course. The theatre director wanted to commission him for another musical production, though he wasn't sure what ideas Roderich had.
Roderich. Antonio paused, then he glanced at his ring finger. No need to hide it anymore, after all. He found rubbing it during Francis' audition to be helpful and comforting, like holding Roderich's hand. But now there begged the question:
What will happen now?
Antonio loved Roderich with all of his heart. He'd move Hell and high water for him, always and for forever. There was the issue that this was easier said than done. Antonio did realise the previous day when he was coming back to the apartment that one day, he will have to move out eventually.
And where will that leave Francis and Gilbert? They certainly do not go on well. The worst part was that Antonio wanted to move away, to be away from this mess, as if he could wipe it with a kitchen towel and then throw it away. But Antonio had to solve it. He had to help Francis through it. He must.
Somehow.
Will this always be the cycle from now on? Francis searches for an audition, Francis does not prepare soon enough, Francis' loved ones try to help, Francis pushes them away, Francis breaks them, Francis fails the audition, Francis snaps at his loved ones, Francis breaks them even more, and it all comes down to this.
And all for what? So Francis could help that insatiable part of him that wanted worth but could never achieve it?
These all circled in Francis' head this morning as he gulped down his breakfast.
Antonio acted like all of this did not matter anyway, and that he will forgive him. Why shouldn't people be honest enough to admit what they truly thought without any fear that Francis might be too fragile to handle the truth?
Who knows. Maybe the truth was that he was indeed that fragile.
Francis wolfed down the last piece of bacon and dragged himself to the bathroom. He forgot to brush his teeth.
He locked the door, but as he was no longer looked upon, Francis' knees gave way and he collapsed onto the tiles.
He grabbed his phone so to calm himself down he absentmindedly flipped through it.
Francis did expect missed calls from Arthur. Arthur was always quite the pep talker. That was the thing Francis liked about him. Despite tough times, he pushed through. He pushed through, even if it was out of spite or necessity. He sighed.
He really wanted to see Arthur right now.
Francis jolted when his thumb slipped and dialled Arthur's contact. He chewed his bottom lip as the phone rang, but before he could hang up the phone, Arthur answered.
"Francis! Argh…" Arthur gulped. "Excuse me for that." He heard an inhale, and an exhale. Arthur then asked: "Are you quite alright now?"
That was all he wanted to hear someone else say to him. He didn't care that it was basic, he needed to hear it. The sincerity was too much, so Francis sniffled.
"Francis? Oh… oh, dear…" and Francis was not sure whether Arthur meant that last word as an exclamation or as an endearment. It didn't matter, because his soft, hush tone was soft enough to make a grown man cry. "It's... " Arthur gulped. "Do you want me to come upstairs?"
And see him look like this? Francis shook his head. "No. N-not yet. Please."
There was quite a long pause. "Very well-"
"Don't hang up." The words shot out without Francis' permission. Arthur waited on the other side. Francis did not know what to say to Arthur. Thank you seemed too rushed, and… he bit his lower lip. I love you felt right, but too early. Francis loved Arthur. He really did.
As Francis came to more, he realised that Arthur was breathing from the other side. He bit his lower lip in embarrassment.
"I shouldnt've kept you waiting," Francis stated aloud.
"I suppose not." Arthur sighed.
They basked in the mutual silence for a while.
"I don't feel well today," Francis thought aloud. The heavy weight inside his chest was still there. He was too tired for this.
There was only silence from the other side. Francis forgave Arthur— the other day he had been dismissive of him because he was too much of a coward to admit that he had been pushing people away. So it was better to push people away sooner rather than later. Francis really believed himself to be despicable, and Arthur seemed to be so hardworking, so good.
"I could… read you something. Is that alright?"
Francis perked up. "Sure. Sure, anything to forget about this… this bastard of a week."
Arthur hummed in agreement. "Yes. Hang in there, old chap." Francis was about to complain about that nickname when he heard Arthur stand up, then he heard some books being rummaged.
"You know, you could always read me your novel," Francis teased. He didn't mean to, but it had felt natural.
"Patience," Arthur reminded. "We'll read it when we read it. On the other hand, I'm not feeling like reading prose today so we're just going to read some poetry, is that alright?"
Francis nodded. "Mhm."
"Hmm. You feeling like reading something funny? I've got this funny poem anthology. Would be the first for you and I."
"Oh yes. Try it. Anything to fish me out of this pit of despair."
"Alright, alright, Hamlet. Now." The pages of the anthology fluttered. There was a brief interlude, then a soft chuckle from Arthur (oh, he loved it) and a quiet swear of amusement. "You uh, feeling like some surrealism today, Frenchie?"
"I don't do visual art."
"Hmph. Well. I'm saying it anyway:
"Babycarrot / Small / Ugly / Lives in the shadow / Babycarrot."
Arthur chortled throughout the entire segment. In contrast, the contents made Francis furrow his brows a little. "... That's it?"
"And you can't believe who it's by! Henrik Ibsen!"
"Who?"
"You haven't… oh, right. Well it's sort of like if, say, Stephen King, you know, with all his creepy clowns and nurses and all that?"
Francis hadn't read any of Stephen King's material nor watched any movies, though he got the sense. "Yes? Actually no."
"No!"
"Horror is disgusting! All the blood..." Francis inhaled when he remembered how much Arthur liked Edgar Allan Poe. "To… an extent. Yes, I could see how bizarre this poem would seem to you. Even though it does seem irreverent."
"First of all, poppet, Stephen King is a thriller writer. Second of all, I didn't compare the two yet!" Arthur responded with a light lilt in his voice. "Perhaps a comparison would make this clearer. It would be like if Stephen King wrote… say, Dumb & Dumber."
Francis pouted. "Haven't seen that."
"... probably for the better." Francis smiled a little. "Now, back to funny poems." He heard Arthur smack his hand onto the book for emphasis.
Then Francis became a little guilty due to their prior phone talk, because Francis had stated his feelings for Arthur as a last-minute resort. In truth, the fact that Arthur felt the same drove Francis to do so. But now that they were in this moment, Francis realised that he may be acting upon premature emotions. And Arthur possibly did not know exactly how he felt himself yet.
Francis ruffled his hair and sighed. "Arthur, thank you." He closed his eyes. "Thank you so much. And I didn't mean what I said yesterday. I'm awfully sorry."
"Oh. I accept your apology."
He knew that Arthur wanted it to be the case. Yet the quick response did not sit well with Francis, anyway. A thought itched Francis that spawned a dangerous question. "Can you say please say the truth?"
"Pardon?"
"What I had said to you was too much. I shouldnt've had ignored your efforts, Arthur. I shouldnt've have said all those awful things to you. Yet you kept on supporting me, anyway. I feel like you're hiding something. It's fine. I'm not that fragile. And I don't think that I should be." Francis clasped his hand over his mouth. But there was no doubt that there was a hint of truth in it. He sighed. "Are you sure you're not hiding something?"
"I had no one. I had no one else for all those three years before I met you. I want what's best for you. And I don't care if you believe yourself to be more awful than what you are- fuck, I've been just as bad, if not worse. But I promise you. I want you to have the best because I know that you were under a lot of pressure. I knew that I did not like connecting with other people, and thought that I could survive with never quite entangling myself with another. I am not quite sure whether this is the same case with you, Francis, but… I want for you to have someone by your side. A-and maybe it's just pride. Hubris, whatever. But even if it's only me…"
Maybe this was why Francis adored Arthur so much. Arthur helped get his feet upon solid ground, not because of fear, but because he believed that Francis had something worthwhile inside of him. He loved Arthur. He loved Arthur for mustering up the strength to help him. But right now, it was too early to say 'I love you.' So Francis smiled and said a quiet: "thank you."
As Francis leaned back, they enjoyed a comfortable silence together. The sky was a beautiful paper blank colour today. The world was not ending. The world did not end simply because Francis failed an audition. And it did not end because Francis said the truth, either.
"Now," started Francis, a light lilt in his voice. "What other poems do you have?"
Francis soon emerged out of the bathroom. He did eventually realise that no one was able to help him because Francis decided to conceal them within himself. Luckily he understood that he can't do that anymore. It was too tiring to keep it in.
"Antonio-"
"I'll do anything, Francis. Just tell me."
"What?"
"Tell me. Please? And I'll do it!"
Antonio's full gaze was on Francis. Perhaps it was time to address the issue. "We need to talk about what you said yesterday."
In response, Antonio staggered back. He chewed his bottom lip as his eyes drifted to the carpet. But Antonio drew a deep breath in and nodded.
Francis "I've… never felt suicidal in my life. I once had assumptions about how depression is only serious if you're feeling suicidal, too, but I know now that assuming so also devalues someone's mental health if someone's life is not immediately in danger because of it. Thank you for being so concerned with me. And you're right- I should not be neglecting itself, and I should treat myself better. But please don't assume that I am hiding suicidal intentions just because my mental health is bad. Please don't assume that "
Antonio sat down. "I'm sorry, Francis," he sighed. "You're right, I know nothing about mental health. And I was scared because even though you kept all this for so long, I was so scared over the fact that I thought nothing of your changed behaviour. And, and, I felt like such a fuckwad! What am I talking about. This should be about you. I love you, Francis, we've always been together! I can't imagine my life without my best friends!"
"Oh… Toni. I love you too. I've been wrong, too- I could've listened to your points first before I said all those horrible things to you." Francis stretched his arms out to envelope Antonio into a hug. Toni staggered back, unsure whether it was appropriate to accept it. "I should've said everything earlier. I should've said the truth, maybe I should've said everything I believed. But what does it matter now?" Francis gave a hollow laugh. "I've failed my audition anyway. It had only been a matter of time."
"I'm sorry you failed your audition. I hate that you've failed your audition and there had been nothing we could've done!"
"We're both the idiots here. Shh." He patted Antonio's back to calm him down.
"I love you all, but I don't know where I'd be without all of you, and I, I hate thinking that it'd be my fault. That I'm too air-headed and careless to even notice your condition!"
"Shh. There there. There there. I'm sorry I tried to be so distant. It's just… after Lisa and my mum died because of my careless words, I became too scared of hurting people around me just by saying the wrong things. But I should've known that letting people know my hurt has nothing wrong. We're both at fault, I'm sorry."
Antonio dug himself deeper into Francis' hug. "Oh, Fran."
They held each other for the rest of the morning.
Hi! Relatively modest chapter update, and not quite up to my usual quality, I'm afraid.
A lot of things have been going on in the world. We're seeing the best of times and the worst of times. We see people at their kindest and most brave, as well as people at their cruellest and most selfish. We're seeing history being written, and it can be overwhelming.
Take care of yourselves. Stay safe. I love you all.