A few days passed since the first appearance of Francis and the successive nightmare. Francis had kept his promise and returned every night and Arthur spoke with him until the night had darkened even further in preparation for sunrise. It was at that point that he yawned every few minutes and struggled to keep his eyes open, and Francis would point out that he should get some sleep or else he'll shuffle through the day like a zombie.
Today, Arthur had to go to work. Last night had been lonely as Francis left him alone to try and get him to fall asleep earlier than usual. That worked, but after staying up so many nights in a row Arthur was forced to gulp down at least three cups of coffee before he even considered himself human.
The numbers swam in front of his vision and he had to squint to make sense of his own writing. His eyes felt heavy and all he wanted to do was to stand up and go home where he could shrug out of his jacket, sprawl on his bed, and get a few hours of sleep.
Arthur couldn't do that, this was his first day back at work in nearly an entire week. He felt grateful towards his boss for allowing him to take an entire week off. Not many people were allowed to do that without some notice. But he insisted and patted Arthur on the back, then told him to stay strong through the tough time he was going through.
He wasn't too sure if would take his leave this year. Usually he liked to take it in late November, when the restaurant Francis worked at hit a lull just before the Christmas rush. For the past three years, Francis' forced him to join him in some exotic place that he would never have visited without the man's incentive. Rainy London suited his tastes much more than France, or Spain, or even Germany, thank you very much.
He gripped his pencil tightly as he crossed another item off of his to-do list. There was still so much left to do. One thing Arthur hated about staying off work was how he would have to catch up. If there was something that he hadn't done during the work day it would be done as soon as he got home over a cup of boiling tea while Francis nagged at him to do something more interesting than to stare at a screen covered with numbers for hours on end.
His lunch hour had come and passed — he had opted to stay at his desk instead of sitting outside for an hour doing nothing. He was still a lot further behind than he had thought he would be at this point in the day. More than once, he had stopped himself from sending a text to Francis to ask whether they had remembered to put the trash out or if the roses that were growing in a small pot on the windowsill had been watered. Neither had been done.
A headache had threatened to descend upon him all day and by the time he left work at five o'clock it had stopped threatening and had hit him with a sledgehammer. He neatened his desk quickly, wanting to get out of the insipid building as soon as possible.
There was still so much for him to do and if he were feeling up to it he would stay an extra hour or two, or until his boss looked upon him with a disapproving look and told him that he needed to get out of the building or he would have to stay dead still to circumvent the security cameras.
Not today though. He double checked that he had everything before leaving. When he got outside he felt the chill in the air and saw the too-long shadows for this time of the day, winter was coming soon and that would mean cold beds and having to get up and make his own tea.
A car pulled up to him and he stared at the rusting doors and hood with disdain. The car was easily recognisable no matter where he went. Alfred and Matthew lived together and since their parents had died they were left with very little money and were forced to share a car. That was better than Arthur could say, he didn't own a car at all.
The window rolled down. "Hello Arthur." Matthew's voice was soft and he smiled gently.
Arthur scratched the back of his neck. "Matthew, are you doing well? What are you doing here anyways?"
"I came here to give you a lift home from work and I brought some takeaway." He gestured towards the paper bag on the passenger seat, bearing the name and logo of Vargas'.
The door was unlocked and Matthew helpfully lifted up the paper bag so that he could sit down before Arthur took it and put it onto his lap. It was still warm and smelled delicious. Arthur couldn't help but open the bag to check and see what was inside.
"I got two meals of the day from Vargas', I'm not sure, but I think it was lasagne today."
That saved Arthur from having to peel up the edges of the foil container up to see what was inside. He hadn't seen, nor talked to Matthew since the funeral when they had taken him home. He didn't remember much from that evening except for crying like a kid in front of them and waking up with a hangover and Alfred incessantly calling him to try and wake him .
"Thank you. I'm sure that they'll be delicious." Arthur held the packet with both of his hands.
Matthew nodded. "You're probably hungry, Francis always complained about how you never brought lunch to work and would come home starving."
"Food in a bag never keeps well, even I know that." Arthur laughed.
"This will be extra nice then. But I'm sure that Feliciano's food will never live up to Francis' mastery of cooking?"
"What do you mean?"
"You didn't know?" Matthew turns on his indicator and the ticking provides a background noise to the car ride. "Francis worked at Vargas' with his cousins, Feliciano and Lovino."
That was embarrassing, Arthur did not know that Francis worked with his cousins. "He always talks about the two brothers that own the place. I was never told that they were his cousins."
"He probably didn't want you to meet them."
"Why doesn't he want me to meet his family? I've let him meet my brothers and I was sure that after that he was willing to stay through me through the apocalypse. Surely I'm not that bad." Arthur could clearly remember the complete pandemonium that had ensured when he and Francis visited his family for Christmas lunch. They'd even taken out the family photo albums just to embarrass him.
"Oh no! Feli and Romano must have heard so much about you from Francis. He never did shut up about you. I think he was more worried about what you thought of them. He told me it was as if crazy ran in his family," Matthew said.
"I don't really care about that. I just don't understand why he let you meet him and the still hasn't let me do that."
"Today I was kissed by four people, three of them I had never met before, and that was before I ordered," Matthew said, a slight fearful tone to his voice.
Arthur winced. He knew how skittish Matthew was around strangers.
"But they're really nice people," Matthew continued, "I just wish that they didn't take their slogan of 'here, everyone's family' so seriously."
"If that's the sort of thing that they think deserves the title of 'family' then I am blessed that Francis hasn't taken me to meet them," Arthur joked.
Matthew laughed. It wasn't long before they reached Francis and Arthur's apartment. If the horizon had been visible he was sure that it would be streaked with reds and oranges. Already everything around them was beginning to darken.
"Let's get inside it's freezing," Arthur said, and put the packet on the roof of the car as he closed the door.
Matthew nodded before walking around the car to join Arthur. The walk to apartment number 14 was short, consisting only of a flight of stairs and a hallway. Arthur fumbled with the key for a moment before getting it into the door and turned the lock. He moved to the side to allow Matthew, who held the paper bag from when Arthur had handed to him so he could use both hands to open the door, to enter in first. Then he followed and made sure to close the door behind him.
The house really was a mess. Unwashed dishes littered the kitchen counter from when Arthur had been too tired to wash them after eating, a layer of dust seemed to have coated everything since he had cleaned only two weeks ago, and the pile of unwashed clothes that he dumped in the corner of the lounge when he decided that it was getting too large to stay in the bathroom shower must have been an eyesore.
"Sorry about the mess. I haven't been in the mood to clean and I'm focusing on getting everything for work sorted out," Arthur said. Hopefully Matthew would take the excuse. In all honesty, Arthur didn't bother about cleaning the areas that he didn't see Francis in, namely everywhere except for the bathroom and his room.
Matthew put the bag down on the counter. "It's fine, you must see the amount of mess that Alfred makes in a week."
"I can imagine. I'll get us knives and forks. Do you want to eat out of the container or would you like a plate?" Arthur opened the drawer and grabbed the utensils.
"I'm sure we can just eat out of the container." Matthew's eyes definitely flicked to the pile of dirty dishes for a moment and Arthur felt ashamed.
"Perfect! Just let me turn on a light so that we can actually see what we're eating," Arthur said. He flicked the light switch and was immediately able to see everything in the room comfortably.
"How about we sit in the lounge?" Arthur asked Matthew.
"Okay." Matthew nodded.
The food was delicious and Arthur had to consciously control the urge to groan out loud at the lasagne. He had never known that pasta could be so flavourful and lively. It was as if he could never get sick of it, each bite an entire new flavour was allowed to surface.
"This is excellent. Francis' family does know how to whip up a mean pasta,"Arthur said inbetween bites.
Matthew finished chewing and swallowed. "They did learn from him, I don't think he would want Feli or Lovino to be any less than perfect at their trade."
"He tried to teach me once—" Arthur took another bite of food and swallowed it— "It didn't turn out too well. We had to get a new toaster and he was upset because he had just learned all the tricks to using it."
"What were you making?"
"Oh, he was trying to teach me how to make toast without burning it and having to scrape off all the charred bits," Arthur admitted.
"But how can you mess up toast? All you have to do is put it in the toaster and push down the button." Matthew had already finished eating and put the container on the table next to a pile of magazines about cooking.
"I don't know! Because no matter how many times I try, it just doesn't work out. I've tried watching it like a hawk and Francis comes down and asks me why I'm watching toast burn. I didn't even smell it."
"Maybe instead of an affinity for cooking it's the opposite with cooking for you. Alfie always struggles to get his computer to work for him, but whenever he tells me what's wrong and tries to show me it works perfectly," Matthew said.
Arthur shook his head. "That, my dear, is a unsolved anomaly of science, not Alfred being a complete idiot." His eyes wandered around the lounge, he hated the bright pictures that Francis insisted on putting on the walls and the large collection of knick knacks that seemed to grow everytime he left the house.
The only place that Francis was not allowed to decorate was the bedroom. Thanks to Arthur it was painted in a neutral cream with plain coloured curtains, and very few items, other than the bed itself. Arthur was a firm believer in having a calm room to help him fall asleep. Francis always defended this with the argument of, 'when the lights are off there's nothing to see'. Arthur then replied with a glare and a thorough explanation on how the hours before bed would also affect his, and Francis', sleep.
"That was good, eh?" Matthew asked.
"It was." Arthur noticed himself scraping the edges of the contained to make sure that he had gotten every drop of the sauce. He put it down. "Pass your container here, I'll put them in the rubbish when I get up next."
"Okay," Matthew said and passed the container to Arthur, then leaned back into the couch, then grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly against his chest.
Arthur copied Matthew and leaned back, too full to do anything else. He toed off his dress shoes, cursing his work for having such a strict dress code. Matthew was dressed in a comfortable hoodie and jeans, while he was stuck in a suit with a tie and everything. Arthur didn't even know what Matthew did for a living.
"What do you work as again?" Arthur asked. Now that he thought about it, it was kind of weird for Matthew to have picked him up as soon as he'd finished work. He must have been there for a while.
"I work in a bookshop. It's nice, there's even an employee discount on books." Matthew seemed to be quite content about that fact.
"I take it you enjoy working there?" Arthur knew what the answer would be, but he didn't know what else to talk about. Unlike with Francis it was difficult to talk to other people.
Matthew nodded. "It's relaxing and I don't have to talk too much since I'm usually there during the week when it's slow." It was fully dark outside.
"I wish I could give up my job of being an accountant to work in a bookstore." Arthur should probably close the curtains.
"You can always work there during the December rush?" Matthew suggested.
"If only I could. December's when everybody comes crying because they've blown all their savings on a new motorbike or TV, and I have to find the nicest way possible to call them an idiot without offending them."
Even though it wasn't that cold, a shiver travelled down Arthur's spine. It was night time. During the night Francis was with him and right now Arthur was busy having dinner with Matthew.
"It's cold in here, isn't it?" Matthew said. He tugged his sleeves over his wrists and pulled hugged the pillow even more.
It wasn't the cold that was bothering Matthew at all, it was the presence of Francis in the room. Luckily there weren't any mirrors or else Matthew would be surprised when he saw Francis in the reflection.
For a moment Arthur contemplated telling Matthew, he badly wanted to do so. Then he would be able to share his burden. He would be able to explain why he used present tense with Francis instead of past tense. It was obvious that Matthew had picked up on those errors but had chosen not to comment about them, and had most likely chalked it up to Arthur being stressed or something of the sorts.
He opened his mouth on impulse to just say something like 'That's Francis. He's dead but his ghost has been hanging around.' But stopped at the last moment. Arthur wasn't stupid. He knew that Matthew would think of him as crazy man and might not even believe him even if he showed him proof in the mirror.
That was if he could even see Francis.
"It's nearing winter. Maybe it's because it's getting close to night time?" Arthur asked. What if Francis spoke and all that Matthew would hear was the disembodied voice of him? Maybe Arthur could pull it off as an accent? But then, Matthew knew how terrible Arthur was with accents.
"That's probably it." Matthew took his phone and checked the time. "I should probably get going soon, Alfred had to walk home today and he's not going to be pleased. Thanks for having me over on such short notice."
"Thank you for bringing dinner. But I should apologize for having the house in such a state." Arthur wrung his hands, his finger drifted over the raised scar on the back of it.
Matthew shook his head and his hair moved with the action "It's my fault for not warning you beforehand." He put the pillow down next to him and stood up.
"I'm sorry to be leaving so quickly, I didn't realise that it was already so late. Sorry," Matthew apologised again.
"You don't need to say sorry for leaving. I'm sure Alfred's worried, like you said." Arthur picked up the leftover containers and put them on the counter next to the paper bag they had come in, and the dishes he still needed to wash. Tomorrow, he would wake up early to do them.
Matthew started to dig in the bag he had brought with him that Arthur did not even noticed at all during the whole time that he was there. "I nearly forgot. Gilbert gave me these to give to you, and told me to tell you that he's sorry he couldn't come in person but he'll make sure to visit at some point during the week."
Arthur took the Tupperware from Matthew and lifted it up. There were chocolate dipped biscuits. "Tell him I said thank you. Him and his brother always bake amazing thingd."
Matthew smiled. "I'll pass on the second comment as well."
"You don't have do—" Arthur took the lid off— "At least have one before you leave."
"Okay, but then I'll have to leave or else I'll eat them all." Matthew grabbed one and bit into it. He savoured it for a moment before eating the rest.
"Goodbye, Matthew. I'll see you and Alfred soon?" He asked.
"For sure."
Arthur wasn't expecting Matthew to hug him tightly, but he wasn't going to complain either. After the initial moment of shock, he hugged back, still holding the Tupperware in his one hand.
"Arthur?" Matthew asked once they pulled away.
"Yes?"
"Remember that if you ever need help, someone to talk to, or someone to bring over dinner and eat it with you, I'm here. Same with Alfred and Gilbert. I haven't talked to Antonio recently but I'm sure he feels the same way. Please don't forget that you're not alone."
Arthur smiled widely at Matthew. "I won't, I promise." Matthew did care for him. He was also going through a tough time. Matthew had been closer to Francis than he had been to Arthur. Yet he was still going out of his way to be nice to Arthur when he was also in mourning.
The door closed after Matthew left and Arthur was left alone. With Francis.
"Did you really have to breathe down my neck while Matthew was here." Arthur turned on the balls of his socked feet to face where he thought Francis would be.
"You didn't tell me he was coming over or else I would have gotten you to clean up the house a bit. I can't understand what has gotten into you. You always used to keep the house so neat and tidy," Francis said snootily.
"What about the little fact that you died a week ago? And don't try to change the subject. Why were you breathing down my neck?" Arthur crossed his arms and continued scowling.
"I wanted to see Matthew." Was Francis' explanation. "And come on. We're going to clean up this hideous mess you've left even if it takes you all night." Arthur didn't even understand how the whole thing worked. He couldn't see Francis, but he could hear him perfectly well.
Arthur was not pleased with being told what to do by Francis. "I'll do it tomorrow. Right now I'm tired and would prefer to go and sleep for eight so hours, preferably the rest of my existence."
"No," Francis dragged out the word, "You are going to clean now. I am not going to spend the rest of the night watching you fester in your own filth."
"You're worried about a few dishes and some laundry when I could lose my job if I don't manage to get everything done. I was supposed to work this evening, not play entertainer to Matthew, and I refuse to get forced to clean my apartment."
Arthur was worried when Francis took a few moments longer than usual to answer. "Surely you don't feel that way about Matthew. He was meaning well."
"I don't," Arthur ran a hand through his hair, "I'm just annoyed. I'm not in the mood to do anything and I still have to work."
"I'm sure your boss will understand if you don't do everything straight away. I did just die remember?" Francis said.
For a moment Arthur thought about not doing his work and slacking off for one evening in his life, "I can't stand the idea of leaving stuff undone. It irritates me like... you know the feeling of forgetting something? It's like that but worse."
"Then why don't you clean? That's work as well," Francis pointed out.
In the end Arthur didn't end up doing work, but he did end up doing all of the dishes and putting them neatly on the drying rack, as well as starting the laundry. Him and Francis made a compromise about the vacuuming and the rest of the stuff he had to do.
Unfortunately Arthur didn't get to bed as early as he planned to, but he did get to enjoy the magnificence that was Gilbert's baking. While Francis could cook very well, baking wasn't his strong suit, and Arthur suspected it had to do with the lack of freedom and having to follow instructions. Something that was a major character flaw of Francis'
Arthur slept through his alarms the next morning.