A/N: Hey! This chapter has alcohol in it and other teenage stuff. Also, some mentions of the bed boogie. This chapter is longer than the others because there was a lot of things I wanted to write. Enjoy -Scott
When we stepped out of the building, I was thankful for the coat that Francis had lent me, due to the fact that it was bloody freezing at 9 o'clock. I was surprised that Francis wasn't cold, he was just wearing a shirt and trousers. His chest hair and goatee was probably keeping him warm. I giggled to myself at the mental image of Francis covered from top to toe in hair.
As we started walking, I suggested to Francis that we should have hailed a cab. He pointed out that the cabs were really expensive these days. I hummed in agreement and shivered. Francis must have noticed because he then said;
"It's only a 15 minute walk to the club, stop shivering." I glared at him.
"It not my fault. It's yours. You're the one that decided for me to wear these flimsy clothes," I huffed. Francis laughed I frowned at him. "What, frog-breath?"
"But it's also the first time you actually look attractive. "He said. I was about to throw another empty insult at him, but the words were trapped in my throat. That compliment took me off guard.
It was silent for the rest of the trip apart from Francis humming a song which I didn't heard before. But it was beautiful and I wondered what it would sound like if Francis sang. It would probably sound like an angel. That then got me thinking what it would sound like if he moaned…
I blushed and shook my head, hoping to get that thought out of my head. The French man gave me an odd look, but let it slide and resumed humming.
When we were drawing closer to the club the streets suddenly became busy and noisy. There were more women out then men. Many of the girls looked in our direction and then giggled, presumably gossiping to their friends. Francis smiled and winked to the ladies, causing them to blush and squeal slightly. Just as I thought, Francis was a womanizer. I suddenly felt jealous and rejected. Some girls were looking at me and smiling shyly, which made me feel rather self-conscious. I had never gotten this much attention before from anyone. I attempted to hide behind Francis. The man in front of me looked behind him and gave me a quizzical look.
"You okay, mon cher?" He asked, turning around so he was facing me. He put a hand reassuringly on my shoulder. I didn't say anything of him calling me 'mon cher', but instead I said;
"I'm nervous. I never got this much attention before. They're all looking at me weirdly. I think I should go home…" I turned around and went to walk home, but Francis quickly reached out and grabbed hold of my hand, looking at me sadly. Some of the girls squealed. For what reason, I didn't know.
"Listen, Arthur. There's nothing to be nervous about. They're looking at you because you're beautiful, once you have some alcohol in your system, you'll loosen up" He said and brushed some hair out of my face. I blushed and tried not to look at him directly. "Now, mon petit lapin, shall we carry on?" He said smiling. I nodded and we carried on walking, his hand still in mine, leading me. Something about being called his little rabbit made me content and wanted. He looked back at me to check if I was okay and smiled once again. Idiot. The one who's beautiful is you, I thought to myself. I wish I could have told him that, but yet again, I didn't have the guts to.
When we reached the club doors, Francis let go of my hand and pushed them open. Near the entrance, we saw Alfred surrounded by some people in my class. Francis and I made our way over to the huddle.
"Bonjour, everyone." Francis said. Everyone's heads spun to look at me. I hid behind Francis again, hating myself for being so nervous.
"Woah, Arthur, is that you, dude?," Alfred said, putting down his beer and walking over to me. I didn't reply. "You look great, bro."
"And I was his personal stylist." Francis said while winking at Alfred. Alfred laughed. Some of the girls rushed over to us.
"Arthur you look so cute! Nice job Francis." Said Emma, a Belgium exchange student. She gave Francis a thumbs up which my roommate returned.
"You look good too, Francis. I love the shirt" Mei said, checking Francis up and down.
"Can I have a picture of you two together?" Asked Elizabeta, rummaging through her handbag, attempting to find her phone. Francis chuckled and accepted the offer.
After Elizabeta took the photo, Francis took me to the bar where we found Ivan, who moved to England from Russia with his two sisters a couple of years ago. Francis ordered two beers for us and took a seat next to Ivan, who was drinking some kind of clear liquid in surprisingly small glasses. I awkwardly sat next to Francis. I tapped my roommate's shoulder. He looked at me.
"Yes?" He said, looking at me with big, blue, curious eyes.
"What's Ivan drinking?" I asked, feeling stupid that I didn't know what the answer was. I hated not knowing things. Francis chuckled as the bar man gave us the beer and he took a sip from it.
"That, my dear, is vodka," He said as he passed a beer bottle to me. I picked it up and took a couple of large swigs from the bottle. "Please tell me you've had it before."
"Hah!," I said, the alcohol affecting me slightly. "Of course I have. I love the stuff." I lied. Shit, what was I getting myself into? Francis raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised.
"Right then. Two shots for me and my friend please," He said to the bartender. I swallowed, nervously. After a couple of seconds, two small glasses were placed in front of us. Francis picked up his glass, I copied his actions. He raised his glass slightly and said "Cheers," Then threw back his head and swallowed the clear liquid in one gulp. Again, I imitated him. That was probably one of the stupidest things I had done in my 18 years of living. The liquid burned as it trickled down my throat and I need to cough. It had a sharp taste and it made my vision blurry slightly. I put the small glass on the table, tears in my eyes. I looked over to Francis who was grinning at me, obviously not affected. Ivan was smiled creepily in the corner of my vision which made me slightly uneasy. "Ready for another?" He sang. I sighed internally. I had to prove myself a man to my roommate, or he would tease me about it for weeks. Nodding, the bartender handed us another two glasses. I hesitated, but then drank the substance again. I had to close my eyes and gasp fro air when I finished. I glared at Francis who was still looking as cool as he did when he entered his damn club.
"That's enough." I said as I drank some more beer, in order to get the awful taste out of my mouth. I was surprised with myself that I had managed to finish the bottle of beer. Francis chuckled.
"Whatever you say, Arthur," He said as he picked up his beer and started to walk back to the group our friends. I followed clumsily, the alcohol slowing my reactions. Everything was swaying slightly and I felt light headed. When Francis had reached the others, I didn't notice that he had stopped so I crashed into his back. I hit my nose and fell back. Francis turned around and frowned. "Arthur? Are you okay?," He said as he crouched down next to me and looked me straight into my eyes. His facial features showed that he was concerned for me, but at the time I couldn't register his emotions. Everything was too much for me at that moment. I tried to stand up but my legs were dead. I rubbed my eyes and groaned as I sat up. Francis sighed and smiled sympathetically and then to my surprise, he put one arm underneath my leg and one arm underneath my back and picked me up like a maiden in distress. I tried to fight what Francis was doing, but I was too drunk. My roommate tutted "You drank too much, Mr Kirkland." He said as he sat me down on a sofa near the bar. I lay my head down on the back of the sofa and closed my eyes, breathing heavily out. Francis got up and started to walk away.
"Wait," I said as I reached out and grabbed out, holding to his shirt. "Don't leave me, please. I need you with me." I whispered, embarrassed about what I was saying, but I couldn't control what was coming out of my mouth. I was afraid of being alone. Francis smiled and turned around, kneeling in front of me.
"Don't worry, mon petit lapin, I'm just going to get you a glass of water. I'll be right back." He said, making me feel like a fool.
"I'm-I'm not a …little rabbit." I said, grumpily.
"Oh, so you do understand French after all? You never said anything when I called you "my dear" or when I called you a little rabbit earlier. Tell me, why didn't you say anything." He said smirking.
"…Because I like it when you call me those things. If I pointed it out, you'd stop it. I wouldn't want that," I said, on the verge of tears. Only God knew why I was crying, must have been the alcohol influence. I started to rub the tears away with my shirt sleeves. Francis chuckled and then, to my utter surprises, caressed my cheek and then softly kissed it. I stared at him wide eyed and I stuttered. "W…why? Why did you do that? You don't even like me…why would you play with my emotions like that?" I said, my eyes streaming with tears that stained my rosy cheeks. Now it was Francis' turn to stare at me wide eyed. His face softened and he shook his head, smiling softly,
"That's where you are wrong, my love. I would never do that to someone I like." He said, then stood up ruffled my hair and walked off to get the glass of water. I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but yet again, I couldn't bring myself to do that. Cursing, I lay back on the sofa and closed my eyes.