Arthur yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He should've been wide awake, not half asleep. It was noon already. But that was what happened when you get up half an hour ago after partying all night. He rested his head on the table only to flinch upwards when a cup and plate were placed in front of him.

"Honestly. You look half dead," Marceau said before sitting down across from him. "How late were you out last night?"

Sitting up straight, he couldn't help smiling at the new pastel streaks of pink and blue in Marceau's hair. "Hmm, 'till three or four. I blame Gilbert entirely. He wouldn't stop flirting with the bartender."

"Ah. The Russian one again, I take it?" Marceau asked, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "He's never going to give up."

"Nope. When does he ever?" After taking a drink of the much needed coffee and listening to the quiet murmuring of the cafe, Arthur asked, "So how much did your parents freak out over your new hair?"

Marceau's smile was a self-satisfied smirk. He may have been born with a silver spoon, but he loved to tick his parents off. Just in a different way than Arthur. "Oh, they were livid. They were so afraid that I would be kicked out of university over it."

Arthur laughed and shook his head. If he could stay in, with his hair mostly dyed black with mint streaks and all the piercings, then Marceau's hair would hardly faze the administration. "Mh, well, nothing new there. They have always been old world idealists. And delusional." Marceau laughed back and smiled.

People always looked at them weird. Arthur looked like the personification of a punk, with his hair, piercings, and tattoos while Marceau was the rich kid who wore light colors and followed all the rules. They contrasted each other in every way and it had been ugly when they first met.

Fortunately, they had mutual friends who… helped them reconcile. Once they saw past the differences and found the similarities, they were practically inseparable. Part of that was the fact that they started dating a few months ago, but no one knew that. They couldn't.

Marceau's parents would disown him. Arthur's family had kicked him out of the house as a teenager, so he didn't want Marceau to have to deal with the drama until they were both graduated from university. That way, Marceau would be completely free of his family.

Once afternoon classes were finished and Arthur's hangover was no longer trying to kill him, they met up again. They didn't have anything in particular in mind. It was easy to just meander about the campus. It was funny for Arthur because he knew Marceau hated not being able to be… affectionate.

"Gilbert wants to go out again tonight," Arthur yawned after checking his phone.

Marceau scoffed and shook his head. "Of course. He just wants to flirt with the bartender again. Don't you have morning classes tomorrow?"

"Mhh… I think I'd rather just stay in. Maybe I'll let him have the flat and stay at your place, hm?" Arthur suggested with a half-smirk.

"Ah… I don't see why not. Let him know." It would be nice to spend some time together without worrying about other people. "It'd be a nice way to end the week."

"Mhh-kay… I should still have clothes over there, yeah?" Arthur asked while texting. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings at all, but he trusted Marceau not to lead him into a wall. Well… maybe he didn't, but he wouldn't be seriously injured.

"Of course. Enough for a weekend, actually," Marceau told him. For a very good reason. Arthur regularly needed an escape from Gilbert's insanity.

While they were walking around, though, Marceau's phone rang. Of course it was his mother. He sighed and told Arthur, "Why don't you go ahead to my place? This is going to take a while." He gave Arthur a spare key a while ago, so it was easy enough to say.

Arthur had frowned at him, but went along with the suggestion. He wasn't thrilled about it, but nothing could be done. Marceau had to put up with his family still and couldn't afford to blow them off.

What he hadn't expected was to be waiting alone in Marceau's living room for three hours. He knew better than to get paranoid, since Marceau had sent a text saying his parents were making him go out for dinner. But… it still sucked. Maybe it messed with his head a little bit. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. Rowdy "punks" didn't have insecurities.

Marceau felt like trash when he finally was able to go home. He didn't feel any better upon finding Arthur asleep on the couch. He knew that Arthur was probably… frustrated with him. He threw the miserable, preppy sweater off―having hated every second of wearing it―and walked over to Arthur.

He knelt down and shook his shoulder. "Arthur… mon cher… I'm home…"

"Mhh… Hi…" Arthur mumbled, opening one eye at him. He was half asleep, still.

"Hey… Are you mad at me?" Marceau asked him with a sheepish smile.

"No… You're too pretty," he said with a tired, cheeky smile.

Marceau laughed a little, ruffling Arthur's hair as he stood up. "Well, then. At least I have that going for me."

Arthur yawned and sat up, taking a look at Marceau. With the school-appropriate sweater gone, he couldn't help a snort at Marceau's shirt. "Do you wear that planning on having me over?"

Marceau paused briefly before looking down at his shirt. He had completely forgotten. "Well… Maybe. What do you say?"

Arthur snicked before pulling Marceau down by the tattered hem of the shirt for a kiss. "It's cheesy, but it works."

"Better than your shirt that says 'Fuck me,'" Marceau said with a snicker. "Really, though, I'm sorry for being so late…"

"It's alright… I passed the time quickly… How was dinner?"

"Miserable. All they did was pick apart my appearance and grades," Marceau sighed as he sat down.

"Just a few more months until graduation… Then you can tell them to fuck off," Arthur reminded him. It wasn't like his childhood, but it was still miserable. All the pressure to look and act right. Any time Marceau dyed his hair or pierced his ears, they had a fit.

"And then we can leave Oxford and go to London, right? Get away from all of it. My family, your family…" Everyone they knew in the area.

"Sounds perfect," Arthur sighed. It would be perfect. Away from the judging stares and into their own little bubble of dark and light colors. A bubble of piercings, music, and paint.

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