Chapter 2: Acknowledging Ungentlemanly Aspects of the Self

Time flew by once school picked up again. Arthur got lost in the schedule of things - chores, class, homework, occasional family dinners and chances to see Francis. Soon it was April and he was sixteen. Soon school and responsibilities were slowing down, and Arthur could catch a breath.

One Saturday, Francis and Arthur were walking around town together. After the Christmas holidays, they started finding time to hang out outside of family dinners - Francis's new house being near Arthur's. They didn't have the chance to do it often, but Francis always seemed willing when Arthur needed an escape from his overbearing family.

"Do you have any summer plans?" Francis asked. Arthur shrugged. "Not really. My dad used to make us all help around the office, just to kind of make an appearance, but he gave up on that for me. I have no idea if I'll have to do anything."

"You don't take any family trips?" Arthur grunted. "Not really. We aren't the bonding and wasting time kind of family."

Francis raised his brows. "Wasting time, really?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "You really need to catch on to what my family is like."

"British?" Francis said with a playful elbow to the side.

"More like pain in the ass."

"You should let them know," Francis joked.

"I will have given up the day I decide to do that."

Arthur went to walk ahead, but Francis grabbed him. "We should go in there?" Francis was gesturing to a storefront across the street. The store was a cross between some sort of Pagan artifacts store, the kind where they sell crystals and special books on wiccanism, and an average local bookstore. The windows were full of stacked books with questionable images, scatters potted plants, and ferns. Arthur was sure he could see a pentagram or two just from across the street.

"We are getting food," Arthur reminded Francis of their initial plans for the day. Francis scoffed. "What's the point of adventuring out of our part of town, if we aren't actually exploring?" The boys stared each other down. Blue eyes glanced away from green ones to look back at the store. "I know you secretly love that witch stuff. It's in all your favorite books. Let's just go look."

Arthur was still deciding when Francis grabbed his wrist and drug him up to the store and inside. A bell jingled and incense filled both of their noses. Arthur looked to the side and eyed a pillar filled with pins and buttons for sale. They had various slogans in small font, some had different colored stripes that Arthur had a vague idea about but not the actual meanings, and a few had pink triangles. Arthur's stomach began to knot.

"...Francis?" He couldn't be caught somewhere like this. Francis turned to meet Arthur's eyes in question, but they didn't get the chance to say more before a woman came up to greet them.

"Hello! Can I help you with anything?" Her long skirt rustled as she walked up. Short, boyish hair unmoving on her head. Despite her dark makeup, a grin brightened her face.

"We were walking by and decided to look at your book collection. It seemed like you have a lot of… unique stuff we might be interested in." Francis spoke smoothly, ever confident.

She laughed and gestured at the shelves and tables overflowing with books. "Well, you came to the right place." Arthur looked around getting more and more unsure. This place was for the kind of people Arthur's family ranted about constantly. "Yeah…"

"We have a lot of diverse sections, so just look at the colored labels on the shelves. I can always point you in the right direction to find things you might be interested in."

Francis smiled sweetly. "We would love some direction. Take a guess at what we'd want. First impressions can always be telling, and you know your collection." She pursed her lips and hummed looking at the two of them. Her eyes lingered on their hands - Francis still holding Arthur's wrist who snatched it back the moment he realized it. Despite that, the two young boys stood close together feeling her gaze - one curiously and one uncomfortably. Arthur shifted. Her eyes pierced into his skin straight to his bones.

She clapped. "Well, you'll obviously have drastically different tastes, I'll point out a few areas!" She gestured to the back. "We have some of the classics over in the corner - you know, for the fancy literature types." Francis elbowed Arthur jokingly. "Next to it, we have some books on history and stuff on pagan practices and traditions - those section blend a little what with the sub-sections - so read the labels."

She looked at them again with a tilt of her head. "We have a lot of theory, but you boys don't seem the type…" She pursed her lips looking at the small space between them. "Oh! We have great fiction! Over there we have lots of Gay Fiction you can't find in most other stores."

Francis seemed interested, as he considered the large wall she was pointing to. Arthur flushed hotly, and grabbed Francis's wrist. "Thanks, but we're good." His words were spoken loudly and at an unnatural cadence. He stared at the ground as he passed the women and pulled Francis towards where the fancy literature was.

Once in the corner, Francis turned a concerned eye onto Arthur. "Are you okay?" Arthur pretended to be reading book titles. His shoulders were stiff, lips pressed together tightly making them white. He ran a hand through his hair to calm himself. "I shouldn't have let you bring me in here."

"Why? It's just a bookstore."

"Are you daft?" Arthur was able to contain himself and only let out his words in a whispered yell. Francis held his hands up in mock surrender. Arthur groaned. "I don't know what shit your family allows, but my family and the people I associate with would want to burn me alive for supporting this shit."

"You're overreacting."

"It's sinful and disgusting and unnatural and…" Arthur huffed and started to run his hands along the spines of the books in front of him treading into the sections on paganism and witchcraft.

"It's a bookstore. The lady was nice. It's nice." Francis held himself straight, voice steady.

Arthur slumped. "It's a fucking fag bookstore and you know it." He was looking down at his shoes, hand still on the shelved books. "I can't be here supporting this and these people."

"Why?"

Arthur growled. "I told you! It's - " Francis grabbed his shoulder, jostling his friend into looking up. "Is that you talking, or your dad?" Although they were roughly the same height, Arthur felt small under Francis's gaze. Words would not escape his throat. His brain could not arrange letters to form a response.

Francis sighed. "We came here to look at books and enjoy ourselves. Let's get yourself a slightly controversial witchy book, and get our lunch."

Neither boy said anything as they browsed the books. Arthur was only half paying attention to what he was looking at.

"Does it really not bug you?" Francis just raised one challenging eyebrow in response. "You don't care about what people - what your family will think?"

Francis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I always thought your family was the anomaly, but maybe it's mine."

"Francis, I don't understand." A small smile hung on Francis's face. The sad blue eyes made Arthur feel pitied and young.

"I don't know what my family thinks." Arthur was barely able to stop his jaw from dropping in shock. "They aren't as obsessed with molding me as much as your family is. My mom wants me to form opinions and make mistakes and experiment with expression to form my own ideas. My dad is just a hands-off parent." Francis shrugged. "I've never had to consider what they and other people thought as much. I mean, yeah, they give me advice to follow, but when I suck at the business stuff, it's considered something Francis just doesn't have a talent for. The box I have to fit myself into is very large, so I just don't think about it."

Different emotions swirled in Arthur mixing and morphing. Red rage and green jealousy were subdued by a navy blue sadness. A discolored shock and surprise contained all the fighting colors inside. Unable to find one emotion to win, Arthur looked at the large book in Francis's hands and grabbed the tome.

"I think I'll get this one."

At the register, the woman from before looked at them gently. Her smile and tone was just as bright and welcoming but instead of mimicking harsh sunlight, it felt like soft lamplight on a rainy sunday afternoon. Her eyes looked at them knowingly, not pitying, but with an empathy Arthur didn't want to acknowledge or understand. She offered him a free pin or bookmark. Ignoring the multi-colored striped and logo pins, Arthur grabbed the first bookmark he saw. He only subtly acknowledged what the clerk said about always being welcome and upcoming clubs and events, denying a flyer. Francis took and pocketed it himself giving her a sincere thanks.

They did not discuss the bookstore at lunch, only flipping through the book Arthur bought.

A few days later, Arthur was sitting at his desk reading his new book to himself, lost in interest, absorbing the new ideas about the world. Knocking intruded on the quiet of Arthur's room, but he did not notice, lost in printed words. The door opened causing Arthur to jump. Slamming his book closed, he pushed it away and grabbed a notebook from the corner of his desk.

Arthur's father stood in the now open doorway, a smile on his face at surprising his youngest son.

"I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute."

Arthur eyed his "witchy book" as Francis called it, noting that the spine was turned away from the door. "Sure, Dad. What do you need?"

"I am going on a business trip out of the country for a week." He walked to the bed and sat on the corner. Arthur turned in his chair to face his dad, knowing that this was going to be a long conversation, as his father began to talk about the purpose of the trip and all it entailed. Arthur began to zone out when he dad said something interesting. "But that isn't why I came to talk to you. I thought you might be interested in coming along."

Arthur startled. His dad smiled. Arthur tried to hide his confusion when speaking. "No offense, but why?"

His dad laughed. "I know it's not exactly what you are interested in, but, remember when I said part of the trip was to meet a contracted lawyer for the company? Well, he studied classics and literature in school. I thought you might like to talk to him. Someone successful with your interests. I know we can only follow along so much.

"I think it's a good opportunity to explore your interests. I know you'll be there the rest of the time, but I'm sure there are museums and preserved libraries that can entertain you when you can't or don't want to come with me."

Arthur nodded along to what his father was saying, genuinely surprised. His dad was not only accepting his interests, albeit in his own way, but trying to connect. It was still a few weeks away though. "I don't know."

Arthur's father sighed, "Arthur, it's important that you think of what you can do in life with your talents and to surround yourself by people who are successful in things you can be successful in." Seeing the look on Arthur's face, his dad defended, "Look. Walt always was sent to camps for science and is shadowing that professor who's doing research. Scott is, well..." Arthur finished for his father, "Scott is Scott."

"Yes. Think about it, Arthur. We want you to be able to explore and do what you love, but still be successful. These are the kinds of things you need to do to put you on the right path. It will not be all work - you can spend partof the week talking with someone who is an expert at things you like and exploring the city."

"Okay," Arthur conceded. He liked how much his dad was trying to understand him. He even liked how his dad was trying to steer him in the right direction, a show of caring the same way he cared for his other sons. In that moment, it was easy to focus on how his dad tried to educated him on what a good, moral person was and less on how he berated things Arthur liked.

His dad patted him on the shoulder and walk out of the room. Arthur leaned back in the chair and eyed the book Francis got him to buy. Despite the entire fiasco, he was enjoying the book, but he was over everything that happened and the conversation with his dad helped Arthur feel steadfast in his opinion. Sticking with his convictions and hanging out with Francis seemed to be incompatible.

Arthur could only avoid Francis for so long. The weeks following their bookstore trip he tried to see as little as Francis as possible, occasionally picking fights with the other, but, somehow, they still found themselves hanging out together. It was likely because Arthur had no other actual friends. There were people he talked to and sat with at school, but no one else he saw outside of school besides family.

The older he got, the more he felt the growing rift between him and his family. Something made him different - an inherent inability to fit in he supposed, not at school and not at home. He hated not being able to have a place to belong, all the differences about him only separated him from the world around him. All the books in the world couldn't give him the comfort of belonging - the fantasy worlds only offering a brief escapism from the problems of his life.

Sometimes his skin didn't feel like his own. He would sit with his family following all the gentlemanly protocols and feel himself watching the interactions from outside his body with a scowl. None of it ever felt right, but it was the most right it could be.

As much as Francis' eccentricities caused him discomfort and as much as his family secretly berated Francis' flamboyant nature, Arthur was drawn to him. Walt could only give so much comfort as a friend. Being family, Arthur always felt like Walt's caring nature came as an obligation. The weight of supposed responsibility lingered on their interactions half the time. Francis was different - different from Arthur's family, different from the people around them, and different in that he seemed to be interested in being around Arthur.

Arthur really should apologize for calling Francis a French Wanker last week.

He sighed and leaned back on his bed, the shirt and sweater he was considering putting on forgotten as he let his bare skin touch the cool comforter. Francis just knew how to get under his skin. He always challenged Arthur's beliefs and started debates, but did so with such a caring intention. It irked Arthur that some French kid could pretend to know him better than himself. What a frog. Not too mention he always sat a little too close and felt a little too handsy, but that's just how the French are or that's what Arthur made himself believe, since he didn't personally know any other French people.

As much as he wanted to stand by his assertion of Francis as slimy and odd, something a gentleman should never be around, Arthur did in fact miss him. He hated the feeling he got inside every time he caused a hurt expression to form on Francis's face, blue eyes such breakable glass. Arthur was always kind-hearted according to his mother.

He was getting a chance to get passed their most recent argument tonight at another joint-family dinner.

Arthur was lucky Francis could be so forgiving, because he never had to give a proper apology, despite the gentlemanly voice inside him berating him. Once he saw the Bonnefoys walk in, he was filled with annoyance the same as when he last told Francis off. Watching the way Francis could just be and how his family not only accepted it, but allowed it in times like this. The way Francis could wear a blue cape-thing, a real god damned blue, not even navy, have his hair long and tied back with a ribbon, and own it fully got under Arthur's skin in an unbearable way.

At this point, the gatherings had been going on long enough, that formal introductions were unnecessary. Everyone greeted and then split up. Francis smiled brightly at Arthur who forced a scowl, denying how contagious the smile felt in his stomach. Francis almost went for a hug, but held himself back instead teasing, "Oh, Artie, you really should work on that attitude. It's not very welcoming."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He gestured for Francis to follow and led the way to the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, they were intercepted by Scott who was walking towards the kitchen. He gave a barely suppressed sneer at Francis before acknowledging Arthur hissing, "Might want to keep the door open with this one around." With that one statement, he gave Arthur an intense look and then continued onto the kitchen, ignoring the glare Francis was giving him.

Frozen, Arthur stood for a moment looking at the floor. Once composed, he stated, "Come on," and began up the stairs. They entered the room silently. Francis threw himself on the bed as per usual. Arthur sat in this desk chair, spinning slowly looking up. The door was left open.

"Scott is an asshole," Francis stated.

"You get used to it," Arthur replied absently.

"Doubtful." Arthur only let out an amused breath in acknowledgement. Francis continued, "No use lying to me, you know."

Finally, Arthur tilted his head to look at Francis who laid comfortably in the bed. "You don't know me that well."

"I'm getting there." Francis shot him a grin and rolled to sit up.

Mimicking Francis, Arthur responded, "Doubtful."

"Ha ha. The british are so funny what with their humor and their most famous comedian Arthur Kirkland," Francis mocked applause, "Congratulations."

Arthur stood up and walked to the bed to slap at Francis's hands to get him to stop. "Shut up, Frog." He sat on the bed next to Francis who rolled his eyes at the insult.

"Besides, you only think you know me well because you read some poems and my favorite book."

Francis hummed, "You know that's not true."

Arthur raised one impressive eyebrow. "You're a mind reader now?"

"Arthur Kirkland you have many masks, and I just happened to be the person who got you to take off a few. Not quite mind reading." They stared at each other. Amusement shown on Francis' face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Arthur's face held a much more serious expression. After a moment, Francis's face matched Arthur's.

"And what do you see?" The question caused Francis's eyes to turn sad in the way Arthur hated.

"Lots." Francis crawled back so that he could lean his back against the wall instead of sitting on edge of the bed.

"You're wearing shoes on my bed."

"I highly doubt you care that much." Arthur nodded and moved to sit next to Francis.

After a moment, Francis admitted, "I don't know you perfectly at all. You confuse me a lot still. I just know enough for… well, I know enough."

"I'm British. I'm pretty plain and straightforward."

"Ah, there we go with the lies again, and I thought the French were supposed to be the dramatic ones."

"You're the one avoiding saying something you obviously want to say."

Francis blurted, "I'm sorry about your family."

The admission made Arthur hold any retort he was preparing. Instead of acknowledging what he thought Francis could mean, he denied, "Nothing wrong with my family."

"I'm sorry you can't be yourself around them."

Arthur looked at his hands, the anger from earlier threatening to rise in him due to his frustration. How dare Francis of all people try to say these things to him.

"Sometimes rules are good and help. Having people there to guide you in what's right is good. It's just something you don't understand because your family lets you run around like a crazy person."

Francis pursed his lips in thought. "Still. I wish you could be yourself more openly."

"I get to be the most important aspects of myself openly." Now, Francis looked like he ate something sour.

"You think that?"

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah. You're just irked because your a romantic about everything." Their eyes met, and they stared at each other's faces intently, both looking for something different. Francis broke eye contact to look down as he grabbed Arthur's wrist. He murmured, "I'd like to see you happy."

The words hung in the air as he sat frozen. Everything about the conversation seemed beyond him, and the last statement knocked him hard in the chest. No one was ever that sincere about his own happiness. He looked down at Francis' hand on him, then up at Francis' face who stared back at him. Arthur was reminded of how easy it could be to get lost in the blue. He was broken out of his trance by the feel of Francis shifting on the bed.

Arthur took his hand back and jolted out of the bed and plopped in the desk chair spinning slightly. Francis blinked - one moment a boy sitting closely and the next moment the boy was across the room fidgeting in a chair. Despite the change, Francis smirked.

Leaning back to stare at the ceiling, Arthur sputtered, "So, do you know any other good books to read? A guy can only read Jane Eyre so many times." Francis' smirk turned into a grin, and the two talked about different books until they were called down for dinner.

Dinner was oddly loud for once, with chatter traveling across the table about how the Bonneyfoys would spend the next part of their summer in France. Arthur didn't mind how the conversation was being controlled - it meant he could sit silently for once and observe. His eyes kept wandering to Francis throughout the dinner whenever Francis seemed occupied with someone else.

He liked looking at Francis. The new way he had been tying his hair back looked good, despite how feminine it was. A lot about Francis seemed feminine to Arthur and the rest of the Kirklands for that matter, but instead of being put off like the rest of his family, Arthur was drawn to it. Well, more so that he was drawn to Francis himself. He couldn't help it. Arthur's thoughts drifted to aspects of Francis: the way his emotions showed themselves so vividly in his eyes, the way his body moved when he talked, the way he looked so comfortable sprawled out on the bed.

Arthur looked down at his plate quickly and took a bite. He snuck a quick glance at Francis, who was laughing at something Walt had said. Arthur shifted uncomfortably. A tight feeling spread through his chest as his watched mirth expel from Francis's face and eyes.

Shit.

Arthur tried to do some introspection at the table, avoiding participating in conversations by taking well-timed bites of food. He thought back on every interaction, on the things he noticed most about Francis, about the things he wanted. Arthur wasn't an idiot. He never had the crushes on girls growing up that his brothers did, but he always thought he could avoid thinking about it. If he avoided the topic, maybe everything would fall into place as it should. He had no plans to give into those kinds of urges. The phase would pass, and Arthur could get himself a girlfriend by the end of the year maybe.

Francis was breaking down the foundation of Arthur's plans. Why did he have to be so intense and talk about caring about Arthur's happiness? Maybe he could keep ignoring it and stay on his mental path to be the businessman's gentleman son he had sworn himself to be.

Chewing slowly, Arthur thought back to the feeling of Francis's hand on his wrist. It felt right. It felt like not enough.

God dammit.

He could not have a crush on Francis of all people.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading! I appreciate the comments. I realized not everyone has DMs open, so I'll just say here that they meant a lot and gave me tons of writing energy.

I'm feeling really good about everything I have written so far and what I have planned.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Let me know your thoughts, feeling, predictions, anything.

See ya'll soon.