Francis moved about the house that suddenly felt much too large for just one person.
He wondered if Arthur had gotten the letter, and would take it seriously.
The Frenchman rushed about the stove, preparing a gourmet meal for just him and Arthur as well as stepping back at certain moments to set the table for two and light up the candles.
It had to be just right to convey all that Francis wanted to say: an apology, a confession, and hope that Arthur would accept that the ball was in his court now.
It was now up to Arthur to make the move; you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn't make it drink it.
If Arthur still refused, this would all be for naught and Francis would cry to his friends as they ate the dinner that Francis had been preparing for all day.
Francis had never been a pessimist and so he waited for Arthur to arrive, and refused to think that the Brit would stand him up.
Francis was dressed for once in a suit and had definitely cleaned up about the house as well as made sure that specks of dust were no where, not on himself or in the house.
He contently or as contently as he could hummed to himself as he checked to make sure that he didn't make any errors as he flawlessly prepared the meal.
A knock on his door pulled him out of thoughts of Arthur and large houses that were surely meant for more than one person.
Francis answered the door with a flourish, and found Arthur out there, already dressed up.
"Come in, come in." Francis smiled kindly at the other man and let him in.
He immediately took to finalizing the finishing touches on their dinner.
The dinner seemed to go surprisingly well as they talked of nothing important yet every word uttered spoke volumes about the person as well as the other in this moment.
Arthur gave in to his emotions, and finally, finally his lips met Francis's in a sweet and chaste kiss.
Words weren't needed for such a beautiful feeling and moment; this kiss seemed to say it all.