Arthur was stunned as he watched the photos flash before his eyes. Glimpses of him laughing. Glimpses of Francis smiling. Glimpses of them together. Arthur watched in horror as picture after picture of times he wished to forget floundered around in the air before finally resting onto his lap.
"Arthur"
"You bastard. Why did you rummage through my bag?"
"Why do you still have those pictures."
"I just never got the chance of burning them up," Arthur snapped back.
But Francis was not fooled by the lie. His eyes never broke contact with the vivid green ones that looked at him with growing resentment. The blue eyes begged the green ones to remember the times of the past despite the pain that might have been associated with them.
"Arthur, just remember for me would you? Can you remember everything we've been through?" Francis' voice was boarding on desperation. Arthur almost sneered. That frog never begged for me.
Despite his desperation not to, Arthur's heart pounded from the memories that were rekindled by the deep blue eyes that watched him like a lover just like before. Wanting to shut his eyes and banish all of the memories that bubbled from within him, yet not wanting to lose the war between their eyes, Arthur dared Francis to continue venturing into places he did not belong in anymore. Arthur watched as the Parisian opened his mouth to speak, but before and sound escaped, Arthur hastily picked himself up and dashed for the door. The door that would separate that man and him. Separating the painful past from him. Leaving behind the pictures. Leaving behind his feelings and memories. Leaving behind the man who crushed his heart into a bloody pulp. This time I will be the one in control.
Francis never tore his eyes from the dirty blond who was trying so hard to escape from the past that they had. The blond who didn't know that he still loved him and had never stopped. Mistakes had been made. I should have never teased him so much in the classroom. I should have left him alone. But I couldn't. But I can't.
Arthur ran until his lungs gave out and his legs felt like they were going to collapse underneath him. Tears he had been trying to keep in flooded out of his eyes in torrents. Damn that bloody frog. Damn it. It's been four bloody months from then already. Why is he still making fun of me? I had resolved to forget about the time completely. Why does he open old wounds? Bloody sadistic bastard.
Arthur closed his eyes to let the last bit of tears leave his eyes. Why does he make me act like such a sodding girl. Look at me. I'm crying my heart out. It's bloody disgusting. He could see the taunting manner in which Francis had merely tossed the photos containing their past onto the ground, mocking him for ever valuing the memories. It was another game to him. Play with Arthur's feelings. That's all it ever was. After all of these thoughts coursed though his mind, he momentarily snapped out of his lull to figure out where the hell he was. Relaxing for a moment, he opened his fist with a picture he had instinctually grabbed before he had fled.
Unfurling the picture, Arthur gazed down at the crumpled image in his hand. It was a picture of him and Francis arms, around each other laughing and smiling at each other in a way completely lost to Arthur now. It was a picture of them in school, taken by Elizabeta, a Hungarian friend of his sister. A perfectly, beautiful candid photo of them. Elizabeta was always good at stalking couples, especially those of the homosexual variety, Arthur thought to himself amusedly. Unconsciously, Arthur began smoothing out the wrinkles and sat there just soaking in the warm, crisp, clear afternoon of the day, losing himself in the memories he had been holding back in the presence of Francis.
"You bloody git. I hate you."
"Ah. But mon amor, I know you don't," Francis smiled warmly and wrapped his arms around the pouting English boy.
"Get your perverted hands off of me or you'll be sorry." Arthur blushed, but didn't carry out with his threat. If anything, Arthur pressed his should even more into the Parisian's chest. Francis kissed the top of his boyfriend's forehead and felt Arthur slowly begin to wrap his own arms around his body as well.
*click*
Arthur momentarily snapped out of his haze of happiness and looked up to see his sister and Elizabeta smiling down at him with a camera in the hands of the latter. Arthur almost pushed his boyfriend onto the ground; he was so astonished. Crap.
Victoria purred, "Arthur… I never put you as one to swing that way. Especially with a frog."
"Shut up. I do not like him."
"That is totally why you had your arms all around each other."
"I see that American is still rubbing off on you. How long have you liked him again?"
"Shut it Kirkland. Stop trying to change the subject. At least I'm straight and not fraternizing with the enemy," Victoria teased and glanced back at Francis with a wink.
Francis pulled Arthur close again and blew into his reddening ear. "Arthur… no need to be ashamed of our relationship." Elizabeta giggled a little in the background and took a few more pictures.
"No point in denying it my dear brother, I don't think I've ever seen you quite that red before. And you're practically sitting on his lap."
Arthur blushed even redder and tore himself off of Francis' legs as quickly as possible and placed himself out of the clingy man's reach.
Once settled, Arthur spoke with as much dignity as he could muster considering the situation, "Victoria, I would appreciate it if you and Elizabeta could hand me that camera so I can delete those unbecoming pictures you have decided to take of us."
"That is if you can catch us," Victoria winked once more at Francis and then took off with Elizabeta, camera in hand.
Unbeknownst to Arthur, Francis had scooted closer to him once more and grabbed his waist before the frazzled British boy could get up and chase after them.
"I get a copy of those pictures, Lizzie," Francis shouted to the disappearing backs of the two girls.
"Fuck you. Everyone just likes making my life miserable," Arthur glowered after giving up trying to get out of the release of the French boy.
"I would be happy to. Name the time and place," a gleam of something predatorial flashed through his sky blue eyes.
"Wha…?" Arthur said baffled for a split moment before comprehension dawned. But Arthur just kissed his boyfriend on the lips for a split second before abruptly pulling himself away, straightening his uniform that somehow became unbuttoned while saying, "We're going to be late for class," just as the bell rang. Francis slowly got up from where he was sitting and walked side by side, hand in hand, and step in step, with Arthur into the building to class.