The day went by quicker than I anticipated. It was probably because I was excited about what might happen. Maybe I could get a chance with Francis.
When I got home, I glanced at the clock. It was 4 o'clock. I sighed and flopped myself onto the sofa, closing my eyes, hoping to get some rest before the party. During my slumber, I dreamt about what if Francis and I were dating. In my dream there were a lot of flower petals blowing gently in the wind. Francis and I were sitting outside of a café, drinking tea in Paris. Francis lent in to kiss me and-
"Arthur!," Someone said loudly, causing me to jump off of the sofa and crash onto the wooden floor below me. I sat up and groaned, rubbing my head where it collided with the ground. I opened my eyes and looked up at who was the culprit for my suffering. It was Francis. He was looking down at me with an innocent smile on his face, his hair falling in front of his face. I had to look away because I was blushing so much (why did he have to be so attractive?). Francis stuck out a hand for me to grab onto in order to help me get up. I ignored him and got up by myself, brushing my trousers down. "Arthur, it's almost 9 o'clock. We have to be at the club in 45 minutes. I wanted to leave you there. You looked and sounded so happy," He said, turning around and walking into his bedroom, probably to get changed.
I cursed to myself. I usually talked in my sleep. I wondered who much of my dream he had heard. I cringed at myself. This wasn't going well.
As I waited for Francis to come out of his room so we could leave, I thought of ways to ask Francis out. It was difficult, due to the fact that I had never asked anyone out before. To be perfectly honest, I had never had a crush as serious as the one I had on Francis before. I had been out with some girls before when I was in the early years of secondary school but it never felt right. I just didn't see the pleasure in girls that all of my other mates did. I've never told anyone that I was gay, but I'm sure people had their suspicions.
About 5 minutes later, Francis came out of his bedroom. He was wearing a dark purple shirt with some black skinny jeans. The shirt had been unbuttoned at the top, showing off some of his chest. He had an army necklace around his neck and a few silver bracelets were slung around his wrists. If you were to ask me, I say he was downright gorgeous. "How do I look?" He said smirking and winking at me playfully.
"Like a twat." I said. Shit. I had a hard time expressing my feelings. Francis pretended to cry and pouted, giving me puppy dog eyes. The he stopped, looking at me from top to toe.
"Please don't tell me you're going out like that? Are you?" he said, frowning. I glared at him and shrugged violently.
"What about it, frog face?" I spat, hurt about how he was insulting my fashion sense.
"It's not very. You know. Party-like. You'll look like a party pooper. Come here." He said as he walked over to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me into my room.
"H-hey!," I shouted as he pushed me down onto the bed and walked over to my wardrobe, pulling the doors open." What do you think you're doing?!"
"Giving you some sex appeal!" He said as he started looking through my clothes, humming to himself. After some searching around, he smiled to himself as he pulled out a black and blue t-shirt with a big skull in the middle, some dark blue skinny jean and a union jack bandana for my neck out. He threw them at me and said he was going to wait outside for me while I got changed. I grumbled to myself unhappily as he exited my room.
After I put all of the clothing items on, I walked over to the big mirror in my room and gasped. I was a completely different person. I smirked to myself, surprised at how good I could look.
I strutted out of my room and saw Francis leaning against the door way opposite my room. He smiled when he saw me.
"Wait there." He said as he quickly ran into his room. I could hear some things being moved and some rustling. Francis returned with some black studded bracelets and told me to hold out my hands. I did as I was told and he carefully fastened them onto the wrists. His hands were so soft and delicate. After Francis was finished, he walked back a few steps to observe his masterpiece. He grinned to himself and said.
"You look so good, I could date you myself." I wish you would. I thought to myself. He then threw me one of his coats. It was a nice black leather. I bashfully thanked him and put it on, smiling at hoe warm it was. We then left for Black Velvet.