December 5

On Christmas Eve, Arthur was feeling especially lonely. Even if he did have his imaginary friends and his cat, he felt as if no one was there.

He was curled up under a thick, furry blanket with his wool sock covered feet sticking out of the bottom.

"Marley was dead to begin with-" The book started. Arthur buried himself deeper into the cushions of his couch, the long cloth of his thin, cotton shirt bunching up as he tried to keep the oversized sleeves from covering his hands.

Deciding he was uncomfortable in his current position, he rose and staggered off to his room. He stopped along the hallway, where pictures of haunting memories still hanged. No matter how hard he tried to take them down, he could never gather the strength to do it.

From his window, the blinking lights taunted him, making multicolored reflections on the walls. Most of the shops were still open, and he knew there would be a small café for him to sit in.

So, trading his thin shirt for a thicker one, a jumper, and a scarf, he slipped on his shoes and walked out into the splintering cold.

How cliché it was for him to walk by his lonesome, past all the brightly illuminated houses with clear views of parents and their children playing inside, to sit in a coffee-house, while the young teenagers read their poetry of love and loss and religion, to sip on a piping cup of tea as the snow slowly drifted outside the window, and to walk right back out into that frigid and sit on the cold, hard, cement bench outside the bookstore.

He rubbed his hands together, friction between the skin causing him to heat up slightly. The bell on the door behind him jingled as someone stepped out.

"Arthur." The voice said, making the hairs on Arthur's neck stand up.

"Francis." He gets up and turns to the Frenchman, plastering a fake smile on his face. "What are you doing here old chap? Shouldn't you be in Paris?"

"Oui, if it were a usual Christmas." Francis shifted his feet, slipping the bag he had into his coat.

"And what's so different about this Christmas?" Arthur looked at the ground and not Francis' face. To many memories in the eyes.

"I had to talk to you." Francis reached out for his hand, but he yanked it away, turning his back to the Frenchman.

"You made it very clear the last time I saw you that you never wanted to see me again." Arthur said through gritted teeth.

He turned back. "Then again, you never seem to keep your promises, fro-"

The Englishman was silenced by Francis' arms around him. "I've missed you," The Frenchman sobbed out. "I've missed you more than I've ever missed someone. I've tried forgetting you, I've tried everything I could. I just couldn't stop thinking of you."

Arthur's eyes were widened in surprise, but her hugged the other man. 'Hush, don't cry,' He wanted to say. 'No more tears.' He couldn't seem to form the words though, and just stood in silence.

"Please," Francis sniffed. "Please don't make me spend another day without you."

Arthur nodded his head slowly, afraid to speak. Francis pulled back, hands still on Arthur's shoulders, his eyes bright with happiness, although puffy. "Really?" Arthur couldn't help but let a small smile break onto lips. Francis' face lit up, and he kissed Arthur on the cheeks rapidly, saying "Merci, merci, merci," between each one. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime, Arthur."

"I have no idea what that means." Arthur just endured his affection until he stopped.

And they stood there in the frigid cold, smiling at each other as the snow swirled around them, warmth radiating from their blushing cheeks.

"Joyeux Noël." Francis said to him, breaking the silence.

"Merry Christmas to you too, bugger."

~La Fin~

How did you all like this one?

This was actually meant to be a one-shot, but since I forgot to get one for today, I panicked and sent this instead.

Have a happy weekend!