Green fire.
That was what he would always goad for, it was just so…Arthur. Like his anger sparked something that burnt his exterior to show his personality, through two forest green windows. Francis often said when he was drunk and more honest that he could get lost in those eyes, although he had once said it around Arthur.
It had been interesting to see his reaction, it really had. He had turned slowly bright pink before hitting Francis' head and running away as Francis started laughing, looking after his retreating form with fondness in his inebriated state.
For, how could he forget the time when that fire was alive every day, when it was accompanied by a wicked smile that cut straight through him to nest in his heart? He couldn't. But the fire flaming in Arthur's cheeks was also gorgeous to see, it was the most adorable thing he knew. It set off a lovely little spark in his heart, made his head spin – and Arthur didn't ever know what it did. Francis had become addicted to both kinds of fire, and he was the one who had the power to make more of it. It was always a dizzying concept to think about it.
And damn it if he didn't several times a day. None of his friends would ask why he would stare off into space, knowing where his thoughts were headed.
One day, he would capture that fire.