Chapter 27
Matthew awoke lazily Saturday morning to the scent of maple syrup, which was always a good thing. He stretched, causing the sleeves of one of Francis's old dress shirts to slide down his slender arms.
"Francis?" he called, stifling a yawn. But his boyfriend didn't seem to be in the room. That was rather odd, as Matthew was quite sure he'd fallen asleep in Francis's arms the night before, and he was a fairly light sleeper. If Francis had gotten up, he surely would have awoken.
Matthew's nose twitched again, luring him towards the elegant little table set up beside his bed. He peered over his pillows and smiled in delight. A plate with two heart-shaped pancakes, a single rose in a vase, and a folded little card were elegantly arranged on the table. Matthew reached for the card.
You are beautiful.
Matthew's heart melted into a pile of goo and he eagerly pulled the table to the side of the bed, breathing in the scent of the beautiful rose and smiling sappily at the perfectly made pancakes. They were so cute, he almost didn't want to eat them. He hesitated only a moment, though, before he ate his fill, practically moaning at the buttery, syrup-soaked perfection that was Francis's pancakes. Done with his luxurious breakfast in bed, Matthew moved towards the bathroom only to notice a trail of his favorite candies on the floor. He picked them up curiously as he made his way to the bathroom. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary inside. As was his habit, he used the toilet and brushed his teeth before turning the shower on as hot as he could stand. After a long, relaxing soak, Matthew exited the tub and blinked in surprise at the mirror. Once he had fogged up the bathroom, he was able to view Francis's next message:
You are my treasure.
The swirling French words in the foggy moisture made Matthew a little breathless. He touched a finger to the glass, biting his lip. What had he possible done to deserve such a special morning seemingly out of the blue?
His towel wrapped securely around his hips, Matthew re-entered the bedroom to find that Francis had returned, and was dressed only in sunlight as he sat in the armchair by the window, another little card held casually between the tips of his fingers. Grinning, Matthew crossed the bedroom and took the card, leaning over to kiss Francis sweetly before opening it.
I love you.
Matthew's eyes were full of emotion when his gaze lifted to Francis's. The two of them had shared so much in the past three weeks, connecting on a deep level after Francis's troubles with his parents. They'd cried together and explored each other's bodies in all new ways. Matthew didn't think it was possible to love another person as much as he loved Francis.
But his winter fling was a dark stain on his happiness. He rarely saw Gilbert, and in fact, went to great pains to avoid him. The other boy didn't appear to have told anyone Matthew's secret, but Matthew no longer cared if he did. The whole school could call him a stoner and a whore and he wouldn't care…but he didn't want Francis to be hurt by his stupid mistake. He loved his boyfriend, and while he'd temporarily strayed, Matthew couldn't bear the idea of losing Francis over it. He had to tell him, though. He couldn't let Francis think there was nothing between them now—couldn't let the other boy be so heart-breakingly good to him—without Francis knowing just what sort of person he was.
His lips slanted desperately over Francis's, wishing he hadn't been so stupid, wishing he'd known that his troubles with Francis were only temporary. The high he'd felt from doing something bad—the feelings of freedom it had granted him—were now fading into the reality of what he had done and a suffocating feeling of guilt. He'd always been the good one, but something about being with Francis made it impossibly hard. First he'd crossed the line with Alfred, and then with Gilbert. He loved his boyfriend, so why couldn't he control himself?
"Matthew, mon cher, why these tears?" Francis asked. The pure, happy light in his eyes had transformed into worry. Matthew swallowed thickly, brushing at the tears on his cheeks absently. He forced a smile.
"I'm just happy, that's all. I feel so lucky to have you, because I don't deserve you…really I don't," Matthew said. Francis looked at him as if he were being silly, and gave him a loving smooch.
"What's this nonsense? I have tried to make you smile, but I have made you sad," Francis said, brushing Matthew's wet locks behind his ears and clearly trying to make it better. Matthew leaned into his arms, burying his face in Francis's neck.
"I love you, Francis, that's all. I am happy. You're perfect," Matthew said, his voice breaking slightly on his last words. Francis seemed a little confused, as if he understood that Matthew was both touched and forlorn, but could not discern why. He decided actions spoke louder than words, however, and began to comfortingly stroke up and down Matthew's bare back, his fingers teasing the grip of the towel. Matthew surrendered to his touches and peppered kisses over the stubble on Francis's jaw. Francis shifted, allowing Matthew to crawl into his lap. Only the towel was between them, and Francis was a little amazed that Matthew had become so confident to allow himself to be seen in the light of the morning, with barely anything on. Something had changed the boy he cared so much for, but Francis didn't have a clue as to what had finally loosened Matthew's inhibitions.
Whatever it was, he was grateful.
USUK
Arthur decided it was going to be a terrible day. For starters, the night before he had gotten drunk in public, pierced his nipple, and probably said some very embarrassing things to his old roommate—whom he had roused out of bed in the middle of the night and called upon to come pick his sorry arse up from a seedy part of town. He might have thought Alfred was angry at him, but the way he'd been so carefully cared for and tucked into bed (with Pinky, no less) told Arthur that his ex-best friend had been quite wonderful.
Which was a bitter pill to swallow, because it made it harder to stay mad at him for being a jerk when he went around being all sweet and gentlemanly.
'He's doing it on purpose—just to mess with me!' Arthur thought vindictively. A shooting pain stabbed through his nipple and he winced. 'That's IT, Arthur! No more drinking! No good ever comes of it!' he berated himself. Finally, his need to piss forced him out of bed and into the bathroom. When that business was finished, he neatly brushed his teeth, and then gently peeled back the bandage to inspect his act of rebellion. He figured it would look ridiculous, and incredibly gay, but he was actually a little surprised.
Well, it did look incredibly gay…but it was kind of hot. Arthur squinted at the reflection of his slender chest in the mirror. 'Have I always had such attractive nipples?' he mused, pinching the non-pierced one slightly and admiring its rather perfect roundness. The little hoop of metal winked merrily against his pale skin, and while the area around it was still rather swollen and abused looking, it sent a jolt of naughty excitement up Arthur's spine. He struck a provocative pose, and winked at his reflection.
'Well aren't I just a sexy little minx?' he thought saucily, throwing in a flirty wink. His mirror self agreed, and winked back. Arthur struck another pose, showing off the little bit of metal by arching his back a bit. He was startled out of his imaginary cover shoot by a harsh, loud knocking on the door. Arthur turned red, coming back to reality to realize he'd just been flirting with himself in a mirror, of all things. He hastily covered the piercing back up with the bandage and tugged his T-shirt back on. He wondered if it was Alfred at the door, or perhaps Celio coming to see if he'd made it back alright.
When he opened the door, there was actually nobody there at all. Instead, a rather somber looking wreath of autumnal flowers waited for him. Arthur had seen such arrangements before—at funeral services. He brought the wreath inside, rummaging about in the foliage for a few moments before he found what he was looking for—a discreet little card that read, in elegant typed script:
Gone yet not forgotten
Although we are apart
Your spirit lives within me
Forever in my heart.
For a Grandmother who was dearly loved
And shall be dearly missed.
Arthur dropped the wreath in shock, nearly stumbling as he floundered to find his phone. He knew when a beloved monarch died, her people often expressed sorrow by dropping off wreaths and flowers with little messages of comfort, but Arthur never imagined he would hear the news in such a way. He noticed that he'd missed nearly ten calls from his mother, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. How could his grandmum be dead? How could he just be finding out now, via a wreath some well-wisher had left outside his door? She'd been healthy just the day before, when Arthur had called her and asked if she'd received the mittens he'd sent her.
His mother answered, and Arthur was already crying.
"Mum! What happened? What happened to grandmum?" Arthur asked. His mother, however, only yelled in response.
"She's died of embarrassment, that's what!"
"W-what?" Arthur asked, growing more and more confused by the second. "I…I…got flowers…in the hall—"
"What the bloody hell are you rambling about? Are you still drunk? Arthur, your father and I are on our way to the school right now. You have some serious explaining to do! The both of us are beside ourselves in disappointment!" Mary screeched.
"But…how did you know I was drunk last night? Regardless, I really don't think that matters much considering grandmum is dead!" Arthur replied.
"Oh for God's sake, Arthur, she's not really dead! It's just an expression! Quit trying to play dumb to get out of trouble—that only works for Patrick!" his mother shouted. Arthur confusedly eyed the little card in his hand, and then glanced up to the door, where Alfred was doing a fairly decent job of imitating a tomato and waving to catch his attention. In his grief and surprise, Arthur must have left the door open, and Alfred had heard his distress.
"So…grandmum is alright? She's alive?" Arthur verified. His mother growled at him on the phone.
"I don't know what game you're playing, young man, but when I get there, I'm going to bend you over my knee and spank your bottom till it bleeds for all the trouble you've caused! I've raised three boys through their teen years and not once has there been a scandal in the papers, but you, my baby! If I keep talking, I'm going to say something I will likely regret. You make yourself decent and get that chunk of metal out of your nipple if you know what's good for you before I reach the school!" There was a click, and then a busy tone, indicating his mother had hung up on him.
Arthur stared blankly at his cell phone for a moment, his head spinning.
"I should have known I was getting the wrong thing! I'm sorry, Arthur! I just thought they were pretty flowers, and Berwald said—"
"YOU left these on my doorstep? What the HELL, Alfred? Did you think you were playing some kind of sick joke? Payback for last night? You don't joke about someone's grandmother dying! First you ruin her portrait and now you pull this? What has my grandmum ever done to you?"
"B-but I didn't realize they were dead grandmother flowers! I've never bought flowers before!" Alfred tried to explain, but Arthur would hear none of it. He was already throwing things—whatever he could get his hands on.
"Get OUT! You're a total wanker! I can't believe you'd pull such a nasty prank, and even worse, you sent that video to my parents! You called them, didn't you? Thought you were being clever? Well I hope you choke on a cheeseburger and die, you spectacular arsehead!"
Yelping in pain as a boot connected rather solidly with his head, Alfred scrambled out of the room and shut the door behind him. For a moment, he slouched panting outside the door before Arthur rammed it on the other side, giving Alfred a jolt of fearful surprise. He leapt away from the door, running on all fours a few moments before tripping to his feet and scrambling down the hallway like his life depending on it. Considering Arthur's mood, it likely did.
Fearing the worst, Arthur hastily turned on his computer to see that he had made headlines on nearly every popular news site. In just a span of a few hours, his reputation as a quiet, shy teenage heartthrob had been replaced by captions claiming he was secretly a wild party boy, accompanied with fuzzy pictures snapped of him at the concert with drinks in his hand. It was nightmarish, and it was one headline after another, each worse than the last:
Prince Arthur Spotted in a Gay Bar!
A Royal Mess: The Little Prince gets in Big Trouble!
Out of the Closet and into Rehab—Prince Arthur's Wild Night!
And it got worse. The video of his piercing was on the internet, and it had already been slammed with hits. As Arthur refreshed the page, the number of views jumped by hundreds.
"Bloody fuck," Arthur moaned. Furious with his shitty, terrible, absolutely rotten life, Arthur kicked vindictively at the funeral wreath and sent it flying in a spray of leaves and petals. He was going to kill Alfred for leaking the video. He was going to kill him with his bare hands!
Arthur slammed his door open and stared down the hall, like an enraged bull. A few classmates jumped out of his way as he barreled through them, shoving them roughly aside. He heard the whispers swell behind him.
"He totally looks hungover. Did you see the video?"
"He's on a crazy bender ever since that dorky kid Alfred dumped him."
Growing more and more enraged, Arthur banged furiously on Ivan's door, shouting all the while.
"Come out, you bloody coward! I'm going to castrate you for posting that video!" Just as Ivan answered the door scowling, protectively blocking Alfred, Arthur was distracted by Celio, who came sprinting down the hall towards them.
"There you are! Arthur, I did all I could, but Alfred was not the only one you sent the video to last night—you sent it to my entire contact list! Somebody leaked it to the press. They're already calling me trying to get an interview," Celio said, huffing and out of breath. Arthur felt the hot air deflate out of his balloon. Ivan raised a brow at him, as if to say, 'Now what are you going to do?'
"Oh…so Alfred didn't…that is to say…" Arthur trailed off, feeling awkward. Ivan glared at him accusingly.
"You need to watch yourself. Keep assuming the worst about your only friend and he's eventually going to prove you right," Ivan warned. Intimidated, and just a little disturbed by the taller boy's aura of death vibes, Arthur took a hesitant step backwards. Shyly, Alfred peeked over Ivan's shoulder.
"Easy, Ivan. Arthur's just had a rough morning. I certainly didn't help with my flowers. I swear I was just trying to do something nice. Berwald told me that when he fights with Timo, he gives him flowers so that he'll be forgiven, but he didn't tell me what kind of flowers, and there were so many at the shop, and I didn't want to get something girly. I just thought those looked nice! I didn't see the card, I swear! And I'm really sorry the video leaked, Arthur. I can tell your dad it was my fault—I should have been looking out for you."
Arthur took another step back, hugging himself protectively and feeling rather trapped despite the spaciousness of the hallway. On one side, he had Celio, explaining to him that it had been his own drunken stupidity that been responsible for leaking such a private experience to the world, while Ivan was glaring at him for making a dick of himself and threatening Alfred, who had really done nothing but been sweet since the whole mess began.
Arthur didn't know what to do or say in such an awkward position, so after an anguished glance at Alfred, he simply took off running, returning once more to the safety of his room. Or at least, that's what he tried to do. He found his way blocked off by a rather pissy looking Headmaster instead, who beckoned him to follow with a disapproving glare.
Alfred had tailed him. He stopped at the sight of the Headmaster, but called out in support, "It'll be okay, Arthur. Just tell the truth about what happened. Maybe you'll get cleaning duty with me!"
Arthur shot him a pathetic glance over his shoulder before he and the Headmaster turned the corner at a brisk pace, and he was hauled off to his uncertain fate.
USUK
"Now, what to do with you lot," the school counselor said, eying each boy in turn. In front of her sat Arthur, looking thoroughly humiliated and browbeaten (courtesy of his mother and father, who had finally left after hours of lecturing him that morning), Lovino, a hot-headed sophomore with anger-management issues and a tendency to get in fights, and Gilbert, who still looked a little high off the weed he'd been caught smoking just that morning.
The three boys wore very different expressions, ranging from annoyed, to mortified, and (in Gilbert's case) apathetic.
"I've discussed your individual cases with the Headmaster and we've come up with a solution we think will benefit all of you. You three have shown some serious scorn for the rules and the traditions of excellence associated with World Academy. You've started fights and caused bad press for the school. With that in mind, the Headmaster thinks you should all have to do something to polish up your images a bit. Conveniently enough, your classmate, Alfred Jones, has started a community service club this year. Arthur is already a member, but from henceforth, you are all required to log forty hours of community service through club participation before the end of the semester. I have replaced the coach as the faculty sponsor for the club, and I'll be overseeing the fulfillment of your hours."
Instantly, all three boys began to protest.
"I'm not a member of that stupid club anymore! The last thing I want to do is see Alfred!" Arthur declared. Lovino was already cursing.
"Fuck that! I'm not joining Queer Club, and I'm not helping them with their retarded shit!"
"I'll contribute some special brownies to a bake sale or something. Is that the kind of community service we're talking here?" Gilbert asked, kicking his dirty sneakers up onto the counselor's desk. She shoved them off with practiced ease.
"Look, amigos, I got you off light. If we go buy the rule book, you'd all be doing a stint in alternative school. This is your last warning: you better check yourself, before you wreck yourself. You hear me?" she asked, directing the question at Gilbert. He scowled at her.
"Stop trying to sound cool. You just sound lame," Gilbert accused.
"Your face is lame. Now get out of my office, and go better your community," she ordered. Gilbert childishly stuck out his tongue.
"My face is awesome—awesome, you hear me?"
"Ah huh, whatever you say, Gilbert. Lovino, you owe me two dollars in the swear jar."
"I'm not giving you anymore of my fucking cash!" Lovino growled. The counselor pointed towards a jar on her shelf labeled Margarita Money.
"That's another dollar. Keep going, buddy; just this session alone is gonna pay for happy hour."
Reluctantly, and grumbling all the while, Lovino shoved some bills into the jar and stormed out. Arthur winced at being sorted into the same group as such crude boys.
"And speaking of happy hour, you're going cold turkey on the bottle as of today, you feel me, boozy?"
"I beg your pardon!" Arthur replied, drawing himself up to his full height. He'd endured quite enough abuse in one morning, and he was drawing the line at being nicknamed "boozy" by a school official. The counselor smirked and sized him up.
"I can tell you're not really a troublemaker, Arthur, and I know the fight you're in with Alfred is the real reason you're acting out like this. That's why I'm really forcing you back into the club. You need to talk to him and sort everything out. You'll both be happier in the long run. Understand?" she verified. Feeling sheepish, Arthur ducked his head after nodding rather pathetically.
Before all three boys could get too far out into the hall, the counselor leaned out of her office and shouted one last admonishment, "Next time kindly rebel during typical school hours! Nobody wants to work on the damned weekend!"
"HEY! You cursed! Put a fucking dollar in the jar!" Lovino roared back. The counselor just smiled, and shut her door. That kid was hopeless.
USUK
Matthew tracked Alfred down while he was anxiously waiting for Arthur to return from the office. To keep himself busy, he was working on the final design for the new Hero Club poster. He'd created a new logo, and put together a rather professional looking theme of partnership, cooperation, and progress. Matthew glanced over it in surprise.
"Wow, Alfred, that looks amazing!" Matthew praised. Alfred smiled proudly.
"You really think so? I'm trying to take the club in a new direction. Arthur's dad gave me the idea," he said.
"That's cool. I'm really proud to be an original member now," Matthew said cheerily. As he sat beside Alfred at the library table, however, his smile began to fade. "It's funny that you should be working on Hero Club stuff right now because I could actually use some hero advice."
Alfred blinked in surprise, his pencil freezing on the poster. "You want advice…from me?" he asked incredulously. Matthew huffed a bit in amusement.
"Don't look so shocked, Alfie. When you're not being clueless, you're a pretty decent guy."
"If you say so…what's bugging you?" Alfred asked, resuming his sketching but obviously paying close attention. Matthew bit his lip.
"Francis was really amazing this morning. He made me breakfast in bed, flowers, little romantic messages all over the room—more attention and love than I ever expected," Matthew said. Alfred winced.
"Figures Francis could pull it off. I tried giving Arthur flowers this morning. I hoped taking care of him last night might make him forgive me a little, and the flowers this morning would show I was really sorry…but it all went horribly, horribly wrong," Alfred said.
"Yeah…I saw the internet video and all the bad press, but that's not your fault," Matthew consoled.
"No, but I accidentally gave him funeral flowers with a card tucked in them offering condolences for the death of his grandma. Arthur thought she'd died and started freaking out before the video thing even happened," Alfred said with a sigh. Matthew stared for a moment, simply speechless, and then began to chuckle. His chuckling turned into unrestrained laughter (which was still fairly quiet, considering it was Matthew) but the librarian swept by and gave them disapproving looks. Alfred scowled.
"Jeez…it's not that funny. We can't all be smooth like perfect Francis," Alfred groused. Matthew giggled once more and then managed to get control of himself.
"Oh, Alfred…you really are something else. Poor Arthur—it's like the morning from hell."
"Okay! I get it! I messed up something as simple as flowers! Can we get back to your problem?" Alfred said with a pout. Matthew smiled affectionately at him.
"I'm afraid I messed up something, too. Alfred…if you did something you really regretted…something you knew at the time would hurt someone you loved, but you did it anyway…would you tell them?"
Alfred frowned, putting the pieces together in his head. "What did you do that would hurt Francis? Aside from that whole making out with me thing, that is," Alfred said sheepishly. Matthew frowned.
"It's something really serious this time—not just an innocent kiss. We weren't technically dating, but I can't help but feel as though I've cheated on him. Over winter break…well…you see…I-smoked-some-pot-with-Gilbert-and-sucked-him-off," Matthew mumbled in a rush. Alfred blinked a few times, clearly shocked, before he managed to close his mouth.
"Uh…"
"I know it was wrong, and I'm never going to mess with pot again, or with Gilbert for that matter," Matthew hastily added. He was blushing now, and looking quite miserable. Alfred sighed, taking pity on his friend.
"If it were me…I would just be honest. He might be really mad at you—might even hate you for awhile—but something I've learned recently is that it's easier than you think to hurt people you care about without really meaning to do it. We're all human, ya know? We can't be expected to get it right all the time. So…tell Francis what happened, and tell him how sorry you are. He doesn't have to give you a second chance, but working really hard to earn one couldn't hurt your chances," Alfred advised. Matthew wore a sad little smile.
"Is that what you're doing, Alfred? Working to earn a second chance with Arthur?" he asked meekly. Alfred shrugged.
"I'm realizing how badly I hurt him. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't see just how much he was putting himself out there. We both made mistakes, and we're both hurting. I just don't want to fight anymore. I'll do whatever it takes to show Arthur that I…that I really love him."
Matthew blinked in surprise. Alfred looked equally shaken up.
"Did you…"
"Mean that? Huh…I guess I do. I love Arthur. I want to fix things between us, no matter the cost," Alfred said, gaining confidence in the declaration. Matthew found himself grinning.
"Yeah, and I love Francis, so we've got to make things right," Matthew said. They shared determined smiles.
"So…what was pot like?" Alfred whispered, pitching his voice conspiratorially low. Matthew bit his lip, smiling a little mischievously.
"Honestly? For the first time in my life, it made me drop all my inhibitions. I've never just let go like that…but as I've learned the hard way, inhibitions can also prevent you from doing really stupid things."
"Yeah," Alfred agreed with a grin, "Like sucking off a loser like Gilbert."
"Exactly. While I love the confidence boost, I could have done without Gilbert's involvement."
Alfred winced on behalf of his friend. "Man, I hope it all goes okay with Francis. When are you going to tell him?" Arthur asked. Matthew's eyes glittered in determination.
"Tonight. I can't put it off any longer."
For the next hour or so, until Alfred realized it was time to go check on Arthur and see if he'd been released yet, he and Matthew debated how Matthew could break the news to Francis, and talked about how he was likely to react.
USUK
Matthew entered his dorm room and gave Francis a nervous smile in reply to his cheery greeting. By the way Matthew remained standing unsurely in the doorway, Francis knew something was bothering his boyfriend.
"What's wrong, Matthew? You look pale," Francis said, as he set aside his laptop. Matthew inched closer, finally settling on the end of the bed. Francis patted the spot next to him, grinning charmingly. "I don't bite…hard," Francis teased. Matthew, however, swallowed thickly and stayed where he was.
"We need to talk," he said. He hadn't meant to use that phrase, as he felt like it was always used by someone right before a couple had a huge fight, but it had slipped out. Sure enough, Francis's happy expression slowly morphed into one of nervousness.
"Alright," he said levelly. Matthew knotted his fingers nervously, popping his knuckles and staring hard at the duvet.
"There's something I have to tell you…and I'm worried you might not love me anymore once I say it. So, if that's the case, I want to tell you now that you've made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. This year with you has been everything to me. Sometimes I look at you and I can't believe I had a chance with you. You're too good for me, you know?" Matthew said, still unable to lift his eyes.
A gentle touch to his chin caused him to glance up in surprise. Francis was giving him a kind look. He leaned forward, chastely pressing their lips together.
"Please tell me what's worrying you, so we can put it behind us already," Francis said with confidence. Matthew stared into his gorgeous blue eyes and hated himself for what he'd done. To be where he was now, looking into the eyes of the boy he idolized, to tell him that he'd messed up again…he was disgusted with himself. There were no other words for it. It felt horrible.
"I…I got high with Gilbert over winter break," Matthew began. Francis's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Matthew…what were you thinking? What on earth made you want to do such a thing with that idiot?" Francis asked. Matthew winced.
"It gets worse," Matthew said. Francis pulled back slightly, shaking his head.
"Oh, Matthew…tell me you didn't," he said. Matthew winced.
"I was high, and it made me feel like I was being bad ass for once in my life, and I got really horny…I gave him a blowjob, Francis."
Francis was quiet for a long time. This time it was him avoiding Matthew's eyes. Biting his lip, Matthew looked closely at the other boy and saw the wetness pooling around his lashes. It was torture, seeing the pain he had caused. He reached out for Francis, fully expecting to be pushed away, but Francis leaned into his touch.
"Do you…have feelings for him?" Francis asked. Matthew hastily shook his head.
"None, Francis. I love you, more than anything. I was confused and I just wanted to do something crazy. I really don't know what came over me," Matthew said. Francis gave a small nod.
"And the reason you've been so…uninhibited lately? Are you still getting high?" Francis asked. Matthew fervently shook his head.
"No! Gilbert gave me some pot, but I threw it away. I don't want to become like him—brain dead and going nowhere in life. I swear I don't know what made me do it. It's just that…sometimes I feel like I'm not experienced enough for you. I feel like you're unsatisfied with me, because of how prudish I am. You're good looking, and charming, and so smart, and I'm just boring, plain old Matthew. I felt like I was doing something interesting for once. I know it's not any sort of excuse, but that's what was going through my head," Matthew said.
Francis was quiet for a long time, simply thinking it over. Finally, he stood, lightly tugging Matthew to his feet.
"I still love you, Matthew. I want to sleep on it before we talk anymore. I just need to…adjust to the idea," Francis said maturely. Matthew nearly sagged in relief. Unable to help it, he flung himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Francis's neck. The taller boy caught him with an 'oomph' of surprise, but smiled fondly after a moment. He briefly squeezed Matthew in his arms, kissing his temple.
"I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, Francis," Matthew vowed. His boyfriend gently loosened Matthew's grasp on his neck.
"You do not have to earn my forgiveness, Matthew. When I am ready to give it, it will be yours. I'm not entirely sure there's anything to even forgive. We weren't together at the time, and you were honest with me about it. That's all I ask—for you to talk to me. But it's getting late, and I'll have a clearer head in the morning. For now, let's go to bed."
Matthew nodded, not quite able to believe his luck. He dressed hastily in his pajamas, unsure of which bed to sleep in. Since school had started, he'd shared with Francis, but now he didn't know if that invitation still stood. Francis, who had been changing and brushing his teeth in the bathroom, slipped up behind him and wrapped his arm around Matthew's middle. Matthew felt Francis place a kiss against the crown of his head.
"Get into bed, mon cher," Francis said, nodding towards his bed. He gave Matthew an encouraging pat on the rear when he still hesitated.
"Are you sure you don't mind, Francis? I can sleep in my own bed if you want some space," Matthew said, glancing fretfully over his shoulder. Francis merely leaned forward and kissed his nose.
"Bed. Now," Francis insisted. Still nervous, Matthew climbed into bed and lay awkwardly on his back as Francis climbed in. The only difference from their usual routine was that Francis didn't spend a half hour kissing him and teasing his body before sucking him off or tugging him to completion, before Matthew did the same in return. Instead, Francis turned onto his side and was quiet. Biting on his lip, Matthew tucked up against Francis's back and buried his face in the material of the other boy's nightshirt. He could smell Francis's cologne, still lingering on his skin, and he could smell the detergent he'd used on his cotton shirt. Matthew drifted off to sleep to the comforting presence of his boyfriend, praying in his mind that it would not be the last night he'd have the opportunity to do so.
A/N: I went back and forth on how this last scene would play out, but in the end, I figured as long as Matthew wasn't messing around with Alfred again, Francis would probably be more forgiving. I also considered how close they've grown together over the past few weeks, and how Francis really needs Matthew now. He'd be less likely to dump Matthew over a fling that didn't mean anything when they weren't even dating. Besides, I figured he'd handle their fighting a little more maturely this time, having learned something from the first round. There will be more discussion about it, but I didn't think it would be some big messy scene like it would be if it involved Alfred and Arthur.
As to switching their names, I sincerely apologize. It's one of those mistakes that's hard for me to catch when I'm skimming back over the chapters, as I mix up their names a lot even when I talk about them out loud. I will carefully find each mistake and fix them when I repost chapters, but for now, just let me know when you spot one and forgive me, please!
A lot of you were like "Wha? Nobody noticed Arthur?" They most certainly did, but I didn't want Arthur to realize people were snapping photos of him and speculating, as this is really his first experience with going out on his own and rule-breaking. I wanted him to learn the hard way that celebrities can't get away with anything! Also, to answer another question, the singer was not a country representative. He's just a random singer.
Oh, and there are two new fanarts for you to enjoy, courtesy of some super awesome reviewers:
i1142(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/n611/catmilkakai/lc(dot)png -and-
http: / i51 . tinypic . com / 10h8ynr . jpg