Francis strolled up the path to the school with a bright, confident smile on his face. He was wearing the dress that Arthur had made for him and was buzzing with excitement. It fell all the way to his shoes with a bow around the waist to taper it. The shoulders were puffed which allowed him plenty of motion while the bodice was decorated with small, embroidered flowers that had been expertly made.
His grin started to slip off his face as he neared his classroom. All around him students whispered, pointed, and laughed. Suddenly he wished he had not chosen to wear the dress. He hung his head as he entered the room. Several gasps rang out around him. He tensed and waited for the unpleasant comments that were sure to continue. Instead, all of the girls crowded around him and started cooing over him, babbling about his new dress.
"Where did you get it?"
"It's so pretty!"
"I want one!"
His head snapped up in surprise.
"M-Mr. Arthur made it for me," he stuttered out.
"Who's that?" one of them asked.
"My…dad…"
The teacher shooed the students away so they could put up their bags. She complimented him on his dress before she walked away.
After the success of his first dress, Francis continued to wear dresses regularly. He drew dozens of designs and gave them to Arthur. Arthur in turn created each design, no matter how intricate or complex. The pair visited the fabric store every Wednesday to pick out new fabrics and notions.
The girls at the school would eagerly wait for each new outfit and a few begged him to ask Arthur to make them their own dresses. Due to these requests, parents were starting to learn about the boy in class who was wearing dresses. Some of the parents were supportive but not all. A few even called Miss Gray to complain. She kindly defended Francis to every parent, reminding them that the fashion choices of another child was not something they could control and did not affect their child's ability to learn. The parents seemed to back off after that to her relief. With a sigh, she stood up after hanging up the phone and walked to the office. As she did, she saw a curious sight.
For the first time, Arthur was late. Francis sat on the school steps, head in his hand. While he waited, he mindlessly toyed with the hem of his light blue dress. The teacher stepped outside to check on him. She sat next to him, asking why he was still there. He replied that Arthur had not yet arrived. Trying to comfort him, she told him that he could either come inside to wait or walk home. He thought about that as the teacher went back inside. He decided that something had probably come up at Arthur's work and he should take himself home. Standing up, he brushed himself off and started down the stairs. The walk home should be simple and quick.
Arthur ran around his office, throwing papers into disorganized piles as he tried to quickly finish his work. He should have left half an hour ago to pick up Francis. Deeming his work done, he dashed out the door to where Jeffrey was waiting for him with the car.
They sped to the school and Arthur's heart rate doubled when Francis wasn't waiting for him outside. He ran into the building but was told that the boy had departed. Starting to panic, he sprinted back to the car and instructed Jeffrey to drive along the path that Francis would have taken. The man did as he was told and Arthur kept his eyes peeled for the boy.
A disturbance in an alley caught his attention and he yelled for the car to stop. He cautiously stepped out of the car and approached the alley. Two men were in the alley, one pining someone to the alley wall. A tuft of soft, blond hair was visible along with a bit of blue and a pair of sturdy brown boots.
His heart stopped.
Francis. These men had Francis. They had him trapped, head close to his to whisper something to him while a wandering hand was inching under his dress. The boy let out a whimper and tried to pull away. He wouldn't stand for this.
"Let him go!"
The two men jumped and turned to face him.
"Go find your own!" one shouted back. "We got her first!"
His temper started to flare.
"That's a boy!" he shot back with a snarl. "And more than that, he's my son!"
The men looked back and forth between the two blonds.
"No way. He looks nothing like you!"
He took a threatening step forward.
"Remove your hands or I will remove them for you. Permanently."
The men laughed.
"Try us, old man! You're outnumbered!"
The man holding Francis grinned before leaning forward and biting the boy's neck, causing him to let out a shrill cry.
Something in Arthur snapped.
"Close your eyes, Francis," he called softly to the boy.
He did so.
Once his eyes were tightly shut, Arthur stalked forward. Moving swiftly, he attacked the men. He hurled the one holding Francis into the opposite wall, knocking him out. He immediately grabbed the second one before he could run and repeated the action.
After making sure they weren't going to get up, Arthur threw his arms around Francis and held him tightly. He had been terrified that something was going to happen to the boy and he wouldn't be able to help him.
"It's over now, dove," he whispered as the boy started to shake. "We're going home now."
He picked the boy up and carried him to the car. As he did, he murmured calming words to him. For some reason though, the boy continued to say, "Not again." Over and over until he fell asleep, safe in Arthur's arms.