Yes, the title's changed! Why? Because it's getting more serious than everyone I bet expected. And because the new title is way better than the previous one. And because we need some changings, so, go and change your panties NOW. Even if you're a boy. (I bet you like wearing panties, sweetheart *hurrr-hurrr*). Changed? Well, then, onto the next chapter!

I actually don't want to put a translation, as it would ruin the magic. Yet, if requested, my mind might be changed. And I do know I write a chapter once in a blue moon (I freackin' love this expression!), but please, don't send murdering mobs ever again to threaten my grandma. She scared them.

Oh! If anyone's wondering, Francis is reading "Le Petit Prince" (the little prince) by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Check it out, it's amazing =D

Empty Words

Lulled by Arthur's hand caressing his blonde locks, Francis soon fell slightly asleep on his comfortable shoulder. He wasn't trembling any more and his breath was more calm and soft. He felt so protected with Arthur near him, that his only worry was his deceiving mind and its terrible tricks. But now that he was gently pushed down onto that foreign bed by those warm thin hands, there was no trouble in the world.

Arthur gently took off his wet jeans before covering his body with the cosy blankets. Before walking to the bathroom to make another angry call, he sat by his friend's side, stroking his hair motherly. Once he was sure the other had fallen into a deep slumber, he got up, took in a deep breath, reached for his mobile and got ready for the show.

He had quite a hard time phoning first his neighbours, then the police and in the end the electric company, but in the end he managed to get as many information as possible. His house was still where they left it, fortunately, and maybe some appliances would still work. He had heard some people living nearby could use electricity no more, or at least until the cables would be repaired. But that is life. Sometimes it's great, sometimes it's hard. You just have to be harder.

With this thought in his head, Arthur washed his face with some cool water before leaving the bathroom and turning off the lights. Yeah, Life is hard. You just have to be harder. His mind was still grasping the bright discovery, when his eyes fell on the sleeping figure in the bed next to his.

A sudden dreary feeling settled in his chest. His stomach was strangely empty and his breath came out in sighs. He couldn't explain to himself why his vision suddenly got blurry and a couple of warm tears rolled down his cheeks. He swallowed hard, whipped away the salty water escaping his eyes and scoffed at the sight of three small wet stains on his sleeve. Shaking his head to get rid of the bad thoughts, he reached his bed and dived into the suffocating sheets. He rolled from side to side, but he couldn't find the right position. The awful burden was still there in his chest, pressing down his lungs and shortening his breath.

His eyelids were pressed together so hard that they hurt, but he refused to let the sadness flew out. Sleep, he told himself, tomorrow it'll be better. But he believed this worn-out lie no more. Gritting his teeth, he let small transparent pearls leave his eyes and stain the pillow. He sobbed softly, clenching the cold cloth of the blankets underneath. No matter how hard he tried to swallow the bitterness he felt in his mouth, his throat was still sore and arid like it was full of sand.

A small groan saved him from himself. He quickly left the smothering bed to kneel down next to the sleeping blonde, hushing and sweetly humming on stroking the backside of his bigger hands. His head rocked from side to side, while his careful gaze roamed all over his shown body. Still lulling, he rested his head on his pillow, feeling its pleasurable warmth. He smiled kindly as he lifted his body to lay down next to the other's, still caressing his body.

Arthur never exposed his feelings freely. His fearful pride had always kept him from showing too much affection or care, especially through physical contact. But Francis was different. He attached so much importance to those little attentions, that refusing him some would be answered with unfriendliness and aggressiveness. It had taken time, but they had slowly grown used to each other's weird way of caring and acceptance. It was a hard contest getting Arthur to admit it, but he liked the small attentions he was given. Soon, he had learned to show the other the same friendly feelings. In his own odd way, of course. Yet, when no-one was looking, he also liked to sit down by his side and let his hands wander on him, feeling the silk skin of his body under his pads.

At first, he and his conscience had had a silent fight. Touching him? What if he had known? How would he react? No, he couldn't do that, he just couldn't. Fine, once he used to comb his hair, but they were kids at the time. What would he say if he found him sitting near him? It would be like... like showing him more than what he felt! And what if he had taken it the wrong way? He was Francis, for God's sake, he couldn't just throw their friendship away on such a stupid whim. What would they do, then? It was stupid, it was wrong, it was the worst thing to do! He didn't want to be misunderstood, but unfortunately, his mind didn't want to listen. Alone in that room, he spent his nights watching the other sleep, wondering how soft his skin could be. It happened then that one serene night, he let his pale fist unclench and his arm stretch to reach the other quivering body. He was having a nightmare, he needed comfort, was what he repeated mentally the days after. But the smooth heat he had felt wouldn't leave his pads. His fingers needed that warmth.

In spite of this, when Francis was awake, he couldn't but give him some quick glances on working around the house. A skinny body absorbed in his thoughts, ceaselessly staring at the same spot on the ceiling. His heart clenched at the sight, while his mind worked hard to find new ways of giving help. In the end, he managed to get himself to sit closer and closer to him every day. Not to scare him, he said. Reaching out to caress was still too hard for him, for the time the silent blonde was awake. Yet, when he was sure he was lost in his sleep, Arthur let his fingers tangle with his golden locks gently.

Closing the distance between them helped both to recover. Francis slept more peacefully, oblivious to the kind caresses that calmed his troubled self and to the light simper his stillness brought to Arthur's face. Soon, he responded by turning his head to that source of gentle affection instinctively, sometimes smiling in his sleep.

The smile on his angelic face, that was something Arthur's heart welcomed joyfully. Even now, in that hotel room, it managed to calm him down. All his worry disappeared, now that they were close.

A yawn advised Arthur that he was about to fell asleep. He got up slowly and silently entered his bed, his eyes not losing contact with the other's frame. His lips were still pursued upwards, when the night offered rest to his tired body.

A guitar solo.

A quick movement, and the alarm stopped ringing. Actually, the mobile smashed on the grey carpeted floor, breaking into many little pieces, before the tune went off. Francis groaned. It was still so early! Sighing reluctantly, he drove his hands to rub his eyes open.

Where am I? Was his first thought as he gave a quick glance around the room. Frowning, he lifted himself on his elbows, when he noticed someone moving in the bed next to his. Blinking, he stretched himself out to get a better look. Arthur...

Mumbling meaninglessly, he wrapped himself into his warm blanket, leaving out on the cool air his messy hair. Francis simpered. Reaching for his pillow, he sat up straight hugging it close, resting his chin in its comfortable softness. Breathing through the fabric, he stared at his sleeping friend, not daring coming closer. With Arthur, you never know. He might punch you in the face, rip off your intestines and hang you to the ceiling if you tried stealing his precious air, just imagine what he would do if you invaded his "personal space" without permission. He just needs time, Francis repeated himself. But the right time seemed never to come.

Arthur had always been suspicious of everything, human or not. Like a true Brit, he used to say, but with no pride in his words. His family surely taught him the value of disrespect and hatred. A strong soldier, a cruel assassin, a bright businessman, that's what his brothers aimed to be. Arthur... Arthur just wanted some peace.

"Today, Arthur and I went to see the sea. The waves were so high! We met a weird kid there, but I can't remember his name..."

"Alfred, straighten that back! How can you do your homework sat like that?" Arthur complained on washing the dishes. Fortunately, the old lady they were staying with liked his little brother enough to let him stay with her, too. They had managed to escape from London, away from their family and all their problems, by offering their help to a sweet old granny who couldn't do much around the house any more. She gave them food and a place where to stay in exchange for some little favours and reparations.

Alfred huffed annoyed. "Hey, Arthur!" He suddenly called.

"What?" He answered carelessly, keeping on with his chores.

"What about that boy?" Alfred replied curiously, rocking on his chair.

"What boy?" Was the uncaring answer.

"You know what boy! The weirdo you spent all afternoon trying to get what he was saying!" Alfred gesticulated, drumming his palms on the back of his chair.

"Oh, that boy. Nothing." He coldly shot back.

"Nothing?" Alfred questioned surprised.

"Yes, nothing." Arthur repeated calmly.

"But I liked him!" he shouted back.

"Alfred, don't shout."

Alfred looked hurt "But Arthur,..."

"No buts." Arthur kept silent for a moment before sighing. "Go back to your homework."

"But you seemed so happy with..."

"Homework." Arthur growled angrily. Intimidated, Alfred leant on his book and kept on writing.

"I can't remember his name, but he must be a wizard -or a fairy, because he made big brother very happy. And big brother is never happy."

–

That afternoon...

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and as Arthur had to go to the centre to do the shopping, the old lady gave them permission to spend some time at the beach. Enjoy yourself for me, too! She had said on waving them goodbye.

Sitting on the rocks near the shore, Arthur was reading his little brother "Moby Dick", just to get him fall asleep. Alfred's eyes widened as he listened for possibly the ninth time the breathtaking end of his favourite book. As soon as he pronounced the fatal words "The End", Alfred stood up shouting "AWESOME!" and jumped happily on the sand repeating loudly all his favourite quotes.

Then he turned and pleaded with shining eyes. "Please, again!"

"No!" Arthur scoffed exhausted. "I've read this book so many times it makes me sick! No more Captain Achab for you!".

"Then read me something different!" The little blonde whined on pulling his white shirt.

"Agh. You never listen, do you? I couldn't bring many books because we had to buy lots of things!" Arthur explained.

"But..."

"Alfred, don't be such a child!" Arthur scolded.

"But I am a child!" Huffing, Alfred sat down with his legs crossed. Sighing, Arthur sat next to him, stroking his hair gently, trying to calm him.

"Sorry..." He whispered into his ear, before hugging him.

He mumbled and then said stubbornly. "We need a book."

Out of the blue a young blonde sat next to them with a little book in his hands. He took in a deep breath, opened the book and started reading.

« Je demande pardon aux enfants d'avoir dédié ce livre à une grande personne. J'ai une excuse sérieuse : cette grande personne est le meilleur ami que j'ai au monde. J'ai une autre excuse : cette grande personne peut tout comprendre, même les livres pour enfants. J'ai une troisième excuse : cette grande personne habite la France où elle a faim et froid. Elle a besoin d'être consolée. ... »

And he kept on reading, not giving a damn about the younger boy's curious eyes exploring his face and body or his elder brother's utterly shocked expression. Alfred listened attentively, lulled by those sweet French words. Soon, he was leaning on him half-asleep, trying to follow the lines with his eyes.

As soon as he fell asleep, they silently stepped away, so as to exchange a few words without waking him up.

"Who are you?" Arthur roared angrily.

The other boy frowned. He didn't expect such resistance. Placing his opened hand on his chest he answered. "Moi, je suis François. Ravi de te connaître."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

English was still a foreign language for him, but he was determined not to give up. The little boy seemed better than anyone he had ever met and he would not let those stupid language barriers come between a possible friendship. Smirking, the taller blonde patted his chest with his hand. "François. C'est mon nom."

Not understanding, Arthur just twitched his eyes and took a step back, but the other was quick to take his hand in his own and drag him down on the dark sand. "What are you-?" He didn't have the time to finish the sentence, that the other had started writing with his fingers on the wet paper. Soon the word FRANÇOIS appeared on the sand. Pointing first to the name and then to himself, the blonde foreigner spoke again. "François."

Blinking as he understood, Arthur's gaze flickered from the word on the sand to the older boy next to him. Stretching his arm to a wet spot just to the side, Arthur quickly chiselled his name in the sand with his index. Once it was finished, he read it out loud. "Arthur." When he turned, it was welcomed by the other's pleased smile. Why was that boy being so kind?

Moving to face him, the golden-haired boy took his cheeks in his dirty hands, sent him a serious look, cleared his throat and stated seriously. "Arthur." He repeated, rolling the "r" on his tongue and accentuating the "u" like it was to dive from his lips. It was strange hearing his name said like that, but not that terrible at all.

Mirroring him, Arthur read his name once more before trying to say it, but his eyes slipped on the little sign under the "c", not recognizing it. What's that? He thought, before realising that the name the other boy had given as his didn't correspond to the letters he had written. Stretching out his hand to erase the letter he couldn't pronounce, he also rubbed out the "o" before it. The other just watched him curiously, not caring if he was ruining his work of art.

Once Arthur had finished correcting the blonde's mistakes, he shouted timidly. "Err...Francis?" Not so sure of what he had said, he peeked to the side to get the blonde's reaction. The other just blinked a few times before bursting out in laughter. He had expected the little Englander to be quite silly, but never this hilarious!

Slightly crossed, Arthur shouted. "Stop laughing! I said stop! Argh!" He threw his arms to the sky before crossing them before his chest and turning to face the sea. Huffing, he pouted, not giving the other the smallest glance.

In the meantime, the French boy had stopped laughing to observe him with the same curious, yet now kind of worried, eyes. Moving on his knees, he got next to him, his eyes never leaving his slightly red face. He smiled.

"Arthur?" He said in his light high-pitched voice.

"What?" he growled.

Francis curved his lips trying to assimilate the tone of his voice. If he couldn't understand his words., he might at least try to communicate his feelings.

"What do you want?" He repeated, now turning to add more emphasis to his roar, but soon he realised that his language was meaningless for the other. Embarrassed, he glanced at the ground a few times, looking for the words he couldn't speak, when two pink hands folded his own. His eyes travelled up the boy's bronzed arms, the azure sleeves of his shirt, his delicate neck to his tilted face, where a small smile was still dancing. "What-?"

The other rocked his head to hush him. Gently, he moved both their hands towards the middle section between their names to draw a small heart. Arthur looked confused. Gazing at the other, he saw his eyes shining happily before shifting to his green globes. The little English boy just snarled and said. "I'm not your lover." And with a quick movement, he divided the small heart in two.

The blonde's smile fell. He blinked, frowned, sighed. In the end, a soft giggle escaped his lips. His questioning shiny eyes went back to Arthur, while his finger pointed to the divided heart. "Ton cœur est vide." He affirmed with a challenging tone.

Maybe he didn't get the words, but it was like the other was daring him to answer. As he didn't respond, though, Francis moved to face him for the second time that afternoon. He cupped his hands in front of him and showed him his empty palms, saying. "Vide." Arthur just watched. Retreating the fingers to the inside of his hands and opening them once again, he repeated "Vide." Then, reaching for some white sand, he showed the same hands, now full of glimmering dust. "Plein." He managed to close his hands again, but now the sand hindered his movement. Arthur observed curiously. Slowly opening his hands, the blonde boy let the sand fly into the thin air before cupping his hands once again. "Vide." Arthur said. Beaming, Francis nodded.

"Empty..." He repeated, before his gaze shifted to the symbol between their names. "My heart is... empty..." He sadly said, when those same pink hands were driven above his heart's half and, slowly opening, let out a platinum stream, forming a small golden hill that cancelled every sign of separation.

Francis smiled. "Plein."

–

End Ch. 8