neufhistoires

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 14

“You… You what..?”

Arthur struggled to even get the words out, his eyes wide in shock and horror. Suddenly, Francis looked equally horrified even though he was the one who said it.

Despite the look on his face, the words, “You heard me,” still came out of Francis’s mouth.

For a moment, all Arthur could do was stare at the other man, never breaking eye contact with him even though he was so lost in his thoughts that he had already mentally left. Eventually, the silence became too much to bear. Francis’s lips parted as he went to speak again, but suddenly, the Englishman turned his back. He was walking away.

Francis wanted to call after him, but that would’ve been embarrassing and he was already embarrassed enough as it was…

But how was Arthur going to get home? He’d left Francis alone in the passenger side of his car, but then he abruptly started walking in the opposite direction. Was what the Frenchman said really so bad that the Englishman was willing to abandon his own car?

Angry, Francis got out of the car and started walking fast in the opposite direction of Arthur. The Frenchman went around the side of the courthouse and leaned on the wall in the shade, glancing across the parking lot to see what Arthur was going to do. To Francis’s dismay, when Arthur noticed that the Frenchman was no longer in the vehicle, he walked back over to it and drove away. From what Francis could see, Arthur hadn’t even looked around to see where he was at. He just left.

Francis waited for a half an hour or so, hopeful that Arthur had just gotten upset for a moment, that he wouldn’t really just abandon him, but… He never came back.

Eventually, the courthouse was closing and the worker that had been helping the two of them with their divorce came out of the building. Embarrassed, Francis hid from her. Since when was he chasing after another person, letting them belittle him this way? People were supposed to chase after him!

The Frenchman didn’t really have enough money to call a cab, so he awkwardly pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Feliciano’s number. His co-worker might’ve been a bit of an airhead, but at least he was reliable. He immediately agreed to pick him up at the courthouse.

A few minutes later, a vehicle pulled into the parking lot. It was then that Francis realized he had no idea what sort of car Feliciano even drove. It seemed like there were always different cars parked in the parking lot at their work. On second thought, sometimes there were no cars parked there at all…

Francis couldn’t quite see from where he was standing, so he walked over to the vehicle to see if it was Feliciano.

Suddenly, when Francis had almost reached the vehicle, the driver beeped at him and startled him. An angry looking man with slicked back, blonde hair rolled down the driver side window and stuck his head out.

“What’s taking you so long?! Hurry up!” The man yelled, thoroughly scaring the Frenchman and making him wonder if it was really the right car.

Then Francis heard a familiar soft voice telling the driver not to be so harsh and scare his friends.

“Francis,” Feliciano called out from the passenger side window, “this is the right car, so get in!”

The Frenchman let out a sigh of relief. He would live another day.

Francis got in the back of the car, where he was promptly introduced to the driver, a German man named Ludwig. Feliciano said that Ludwig was his best friend, a comment which made the German seem uncharacteristically flustered.

“Well, Ludwig, it’s nice to meet you. Enchanté,” Francis said awkwardly, still secretly sort of afraid of the German driver.

“You could’ve told me he was French…” Ludwig muttered to Feliciano as he started to pull out of the driveway.

“And what is that supposed to mean?!” Francis raised his voice at the German, causing the Italian to laugh nervously at the situation.

After a bumpy, both literally and metaphorically, ride home, Francis thanked Feliciano and Ludwig and waved as they pulled out of the driveway. Upon turning around to face his house, Francis noticed that the lights were on. Arthur must’ve already been home for who knows how long. Wasn’t he worried about the Frenchman?

Francis unlocked the door, a scowl on his face as he just so happened to lock eyes with a certain Englishman again. He would’ve rather bickered back and forth with the German at that point. At least he hadn’t abandoned him.

Arthur turned his back to Francis again, ready to walk away from him and let his horrendous smelling food burn in the oven.

“Oh, I don’t even get a ‘welcome home’?” Francis said sarcastically, his voice laced with malice.

“When have I ever said that to you?” Arthur spat, turning around to glare daggers at the other man. He had intended on ignoring him, but he was… angry.

“Right, I’m sure you haven’t,” Francis replied, hanging his coat on the rack by the door.

“What exactly do you want from me? You clearly hate me, so why won’t you just leave? I’ve been trying to get this divorce settled, but you’re being so difficult. You’re acting like a child,” Arthur said, a smirk starting to form on his face.

“Isn’t walking away and avoiding someone else childlike? If you think that I hate you, then you really don’t understand anything!” He’d done it again. Why did Francis keep yelling things like that? Arthur wasn’t sure if he couldn’t understand the other man, or if he wouldn’t understand him.

“You’re saying I’m childlike for walking away, but you keep saying these cryptic things that I can’t understand,” Arthur replied, starting out like he was going to raise his voice, too, but instead he ended up laughing nervously.

Francis hesitated and leaned down to untie his shoes, using it as an excuse to avert his gaze toward the ground.

“To anyone else… the meaning behind what I’ve told you would be quite clear…” Francis said, his voice low as he continued to stare at the ground, slowly untying his shoes.

Arthur gulped, his heart suddenly racing. Why was he so afraid of hearing what the other man had to say? Well, it was because it would…

Francis finished taking his shoes off and stood back up straight, making eye contact with the man across the room from him.

“Can’t you see, I… I don’t want to divorce you because I–”

“Stop,” Arthur suddenly said, the smirk on his face replaced with a terrified expression.

It was because it would change everything. If Francis said what Arthur thought he was going to say, that is.

Francis looked a combination of shocked, confused, and hurt when Arthur stopped him. Did he really know what he was going to say? And if he did, why was he stopping him? Why was he looking at him that way..?

“Arthur, I…” Francis started, stepping closer to the Englishman.

“I said stop,” Arthur reiterated, but he didn’t back away from the taller blonde.

“I love you,” Francis stated simply, a soft look in his eyes as he closed the gap between himself and the shorter blonde man in front of him. Before the Englishman could object, soft lips pressed against his and he let them. He let them there only for a short moment, before he gave the Frenchman a small shove.

“If this is supposed to be a joke, I… I don’t find it funny,” Arthur stammered, his cheeks flushed pink. He seemed out of breath even though they had barely kissed for more than a few seconds.

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but I’m telling you the truth,” Francis replied with a soft laugh, his eyes seeming to glow as he looked at the other man.

“Well, this is all the more reason for you to leave. You’ve clearly gone insane..!” Arthur replied, laughing, too, but it was more of a scoff, like he was laughing at him, not with him.

“Quoi? Arthur, you…” Francis’s soft expression contorted into an irritated one. Had he really confessed how he felt only for Arthur to… dismiss him?

“You can’t kiss me on a ferris wheel at night like that and then act like you don’t feel anything towards me!”

“I do feel something towards you and it’s hate!” Arthur yelled, turning his back on the Frenchman again so he could check on his burnt food. “You can’t keep bringing up stuff like that that doesn’t matter. I made a mistake– that’s all,” Arthur added, muttering as though it was difficult to get the words out, like he was lying to himself.

“Doesn’t matter?” Francis repeated, his eyes narrow. “Then I guess it didn’t matter when I took care of you when you were sick, or God knows how many times when you were drunk, and–”

“Oh, so I should stay married to you because you took care of me a few times? You’ve really gone mad, haven’t you?” Arthur said with another sarcastic laugh as he pulled the burnt food out of the oven.

“You’re the crazy one for not wanting to marry me!” Francis yelled, pointing his finger. “People line up asking for my hand in marriage all the time..!”

“Oh, do they now? Like that girl you invited over a few months ago? She couldn’t wait to get away from you!”

“Ouai, because of you!”

Arthur’s eye started to twitch and he turned to face the Frenchman again, an angry look in his eyes.

“Well what are you getting at then?!”

“I’ve already told you! Don’t you listen to anything?!” 

Francis seemed angrier than Arthur had ever seen him, and admittedly, the Englishman was being sarcastic, even more so than usual, and he had sort of instigated this whole thing, but… He wasn’t expecting the Frenchman to get so heated that he…

“You must be the biggest fool in the world, rejecting me! It’s like I said, that girl from before was only excited to leave here because of you! You and your big bushy eyebrows must’ve creeped her out! She wouldn’t have come the whole way over to the countryside to go on a date with me if she didn’t want to be with me! But, of course, you’ve gone and messed things up for me!” Francis yelled, stepping closer to Arthur with each word. However, this time, every instinct the Englishman had told him he should back away from the angry Frenchman.

“Calm down, calm down,” Arthur laughed nervously. He reached his hand up to put it on the other man’s shoulder, but when his eyes met with uncharacteristically furious ones, he decided that it was best not to.

“And it wasn’t just that I took care of you when you were sick (or always drunk)! I did a lot of other things, too! I gave you roses in the most beautiful vase I could find (in this country with terrible taste) and you didn’t even appreciate those,” Francis continued on, picking up the glass vase from the counter beside them. “Non, you didn’t even-”

“I’m sure I mentioned that I liked those,” Arthur muttered, letting out another nervous laugh, as he had already backed up so far that he was against the kitchen counter and didn’t know where else to go. For some reason, his heart was racing, and it wasn’t in a good way.

“To who?! Because it surely wasn’t me!” Francis yelled, throwing the vase against the wall behind the Englishman.

After the crash and the sound of broken glass falling on the counter and the floor, the room fell silent.

Francis didn’t intend on throwing the vase. He had done it without thinking, but… He especially didn’t intend on throwing it so close to the other man. It didn’t directly hit Arthur’s face, but a shard of glass ended up grazing his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but the blood that started to drip down the Englishman’s cheek made it look bad.

Francis reached out to touch Arthur’s cheek, but the Englishman quickly batted his hand away. The Frenchman couldn’t help but think the way the other man was looking at him was somewhat different than before…

“Arthur, I’m sor–”

Arthur didn’t want to hear what the other man had to say. He shoved past him and left the house, the door making only a small clicking noise as it shut behind him.

The house was so quiet…

…

…

…

Arthur had sent Francis a text message, letting him know that he would be staying somewhere else for a few days. He said that he wanted some time to think about things alone, so he shouldn’t come looking for him.

Unsure of when Arthur would come back, Francis tried to pretend like everything was normal. He kept going to work at the flower shop, taking any extra shifts or tasks to keep his mind off things. When he got home, he would make dinner and watch a TV show. Anything to make the house feel less silent, less empty. As for falling asleep, he struggled with it, but a few glasses of wine seemed to do the trick.

A few days later, Arthur returned. It was while Francis was at work, so he hadn’t known it yet.

The Englishman brewed tea and ate some biscuits at the kitchen table while he awaited the other man’s return. He felt hesitant to see the Frenchman again, especially after he had witnessed such a surprising display of anger a few days prior, but Arthur was calm enough now, had thought things through well enough to know that they needed to talk.

When Francis got back from work, he was surprised to see Arthur’s car parked in the driveway. Of course, he suspected that the Englishman would return at some point, but he had no idea when that would be. The Frenchman’s curiosity peaked when he opened the front door and saw the Englishman sitting at the kitchen table. Did that mean that he wanted to…

“We need to talk,” Arthur said in a tone that Francis couldn’t quite read. The Englishman’s voice was firm, yet hesitant.

“Oui, we do,” Francis replied, hanging his coat up and slipping off his shoes before he entered the room. He couldn’t help but notice that Arthur’s cheek had a bandage on it where he had accidentally sliced him with the broken glass from the vase.

“Look, Francis, I…” Arthur started quietly, “I’ve given this a lot of thought…”

“As you should have.”

Arthur, who was still seated at the table, glared daggers at the long haired blonde man who was standing beside it.

“Would you let me finish?”

“Oui, oui. Go on,” Francis said with a sigh as he sat down across from the other man. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what he was going to hear.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… divorce is the only option that makes sense here.”

The room fell silent, as Arthur expected Francis to say something, anything, after he completed that sentence.

“It doesn’t matter how you feel about me, or how I feel about you, this marriage was founded on a lie, a lie that wasn’t even our idea. It only makes sense to end it,” Arthur continued quietly.

Silence overtook the room, no, the entire house, again as Arthur waited for Francis to say something. The Frenchman furrowed his eyebrows, his expression changing from an angry one to a distressed one in a matter of seconds.

“How could you say that? What ‘makes sense’ doesn’t even matter in this situation! This is a matter of the heart– a matter of love!” Francis eventually replied, raising his voice.

“It’s only a matter of love for you!” Arthur yelled back, but then he calmed himself down. While he was away, thinking things through, he had decided that he was going to try to stop arguing with the other man… “You can’t force me to be with you– we’re done.”

Francis left the room without another word, leaving Arthur in the kitchen alone. It was a shame, really, Arthur thought, that they couldn’t even have a simple conversation without one of them storming out of the room.

The Englishman stood up from the table, his body feeling heavier than usual, like he was trying to lift himself up while carrying several bags of heavy groceries. Really, he was just that exhausted. Glancing over at the spot on the kitchen counter where the glass vase used to sit, he couldn’t help but feel that its absence alone had created a somber feeling.

That somber feeling was reason enough for the two of them to stop whatever it was they had going on though, wasn’t it? Regardless of how they might’ve felt about one another, they weren’t happy together– that was clear. 

Arthur walked over to the counter and put his hands on it, leaning all of his weight into them as he gazed out the window. His hands slid forward some and he winced, drawing his hand back towards himself. A thin red line formed on his hand and he furrowed his brows, glancing around the counter to see what could’ve caused it.

Ah, he had missed one of the shards of glass from the vase…

With furrowed eyebrows, Arthur carefully picked up the piece of glass and disposed of it, thoroughly washing the cut afterwards. Suddenly the Englishman was reminded of the last time he had accidentally cut his hand. Francis had rushed over and helped him, making sure the wound was disinfected and securely bandaged. Arthur smiled at the thought before reality hit him and he realized things like that wouldn’t happen again. They weren’t supposed to happen in the first place after all.

Something wet hit Arthur’s hand and he silently cursed to himself. Was it really still bleeding? It was just a small cut.

No, what landed on his hand was clear… it was transparent and it just kept falling… and falling…

For some reason, Arthur was crying.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Arthur left the kitchen. Pacing back and forth in the living room, at first he wasn’t sure what he should do. That was when he abruptly decided that he would go to the flower shop. The lack of flowers in the kitchen was surely what was upsetting him, after all. It was purely a coincidence that Francis had most likely headed there to work when he ran off.

Yes, it was just a coincidence. But if Arthur did happen to see a certain Frenchman there then he would act as if nothing happened. He was simply going to buy some flowers and it didn’t matter who he saw along the way there. That was what he kept telling himself at least…

Upon arriving at the flower shop, Arthur hesitated, but then went back to reminding himself, or rather lying to himself, that he didn’t care if he saw Francis there.

Arthur entered the shop and immediately glanced around, expecting to lock eyes with the Frenchman any second, but instead his eyes locked with the closed eyes of the small italian man who was working there.

“Um, can I help you with something..?” Feliciano asked Arthur, a concerned look on his face because the Englishman was, from his point of view, suspiciously looking around at everything but the flowers in the shop.

“Oh, uh, I’m here to buy some flowers!” Arthur practically yelled, surprising even himself because he wasn’t too sure why he did that. It was probably because he had hoped that if Francis was in the back room getting ready he would hear a familiar voice and come out.

Feliciano looked visibly upset, maybe even scared, by Arthur’s tone, but quickly returned to his usual cheerful self.

“I see. What kind of flowers are you shopping for?” Feliciano asked softly.

“Ummm… roses? I guess? Yes, roses,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, still glancing around the store, although he was trying to be a bit more nonchalant about it.

“Roses? Sure, they’re right over here!” Feliciano replied, leading Arthur towards a table of different colored roses with long stems.

“Ahh, thank you,” Arthur muttered, following the other man over to the table.

Still, each time Feliciano looked away from the roses to see if Arthur was paying attention, he found the Englishman staring at everything but the flowers.

“Could it be that you’re looking for something else, too..?” Feliciano asked, setting the roses back down on the table.

“Ah, um…” Arthur fumbled around with his words, wondering what he should tell the other man. He worked with Francis after all, so he couldn’t say too much to him, but… “There’s another person who works here… Um, is he…”

“Oh, do you mean Francis? He’s not working today,” Feliciano replied, a confused look on his face as his brain was suddenly working too hard thinking about why the man in front of him might be looking for his coworker.

“He’s not..?” Arthur replied, dumbfounded. If Francis wasn’t at the flower shop, then where could he have gone..?

“Nope, not today! I have his phone number though. I can call him and see where he’s at, if you’d like,” Feliciano offered innocently, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“NO! No, that’s alright!” Arthur abruptly yelled again, but this time somehow louder, and started waving his hands back and forth. “Sorry about that… He and I just, um… we can’t, uh…” Arthur apologized and then trailed off.

“O-Oh okay,” Feliciano stuttered, once again looking horrified when the other man raised his voice. It was like the italian man was walking around, working, while he was asleep.

“Sorry to bother you,” Arthur muttered and suddenly went to leave the store.

That was when it finally hit Feliciano.

“You’re his fiancé, aren’t you?” Feliciano asked, stopping Arthur dead in his tracks.

The Englishman turned around with red cheeks.

“Huh?”

“You’re Francis’s fiancé, right? The one he’s always talking about?” Feliciano pressed further, an innocent look still on his face.

“Always talking about?” Arthur repeated, his face hot with embarrassment.

“Mm, Francis has this person he’s always going on about. I think he’s really in love with him! Actually… I think they got married… Maybe I’m wrong, but… I think they did,” Feliciano mumbled, his hand on his chin as it started to sound more like he was talking to himself. “Anyway, I thought you might be him because you’re here looking for him. Am I wrong?”

“Ah, no! You’ve got the wrong person..!” Arthur retorted. “Thank you for the help! Bye now!”

Arthur ran out of the store so fast he was out of breath, his cheeks so hot they stung. Had Francis really been talking about him so much that he had convinced his coworker they were in love? The thought alone was overwhelming.

Arthur wanted to find the Frenchman and apologize for being so harsh with him, but he had no idea where he ran off to. He supposed he deserved it because he had just done the same thing, but he was still frustrated nonetheless… He could’ve just called him, or even had Feliciano call him to see where he was, but he had too much pride to do that.

The Englishman was sure Francis just left to prove a point and would come home that night, but it was a few days until he saw him again.

[neufhistoires]

updated pinned post

22, female, student

My native language is English, but I can also speak Japanese, French, and Chinese. If you want to communicate or request something in one of those languages, please do, but keep in mind that I might make some errors!

On that note, I might take requests, so if you would like me to write something or have ideas, just ask!

I don't really like writing smut, but I'm not against it. I love writing angst though, so if you have angsty ideas, please request them!

I'm currently writing one FrUK fanfic, and the a03 link is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47088574/chapters/118634182

I also upload my fanfic on here, but on ao3 it's more organized and I write author's notes! :)

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 13

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 13

Word Count: 4,308 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis awoke to a wonderful aroma the following morning. It was a warm, inviting smell…

Francis sat upright and stretched his arms in the air, letting out one last small yawn before he got out of bed. He had a tendency to stay in bed for awhile when he first woke up, but that day he had slept really well. At first, he couldn’t quite remember why that was. It was as though he was in some sort of blissful haze.

Glancing down at his phone, the Frenchman noticed that he had several missed calls and text messages, but he chose to ignore them for the time being. He wanted to go see his lover.

Humming softly, Francis pulled on a long, plush, lavender robe and slipped his matching slippers on. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, that was when he remembered. His own lips were enough to remind him of the ones that softly, but purposefully, pressed against his last night. His cheeks felt warm again at the thought.

Although, that still didn’t explain what the Frenchman smelled…

It was surely some sort of food. Pancakes, maybe. But it was unbelievable because Arthur’s pancakes usually smelled the same as everything else he cooked– charred.

Intrigued, Francis made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. There he found Arthur and pancakes that mysteriously weren’t burnt. The Frenchman’s eyes scanned the room until they stopped on the takeout bag and receipt that were on the counter. So he bought them…

“Bonne matin, Arthur,” Francis said softly as he approached the Englishman, leaning on the counter beside where he was standing. “I see you were out doing some morning shopping.”

“Yeah, well you would prefer I bought them, wouldn’t you?” Arthur replied sheepishly.

They were standing right beside each other, only inches apart, and yet Arthur hadn’t looked over at Francis once. The Frenchman wondered if he wouldn’t look over at him because he was embarrassed after what happened last night.

Francis, however, wasn’t one to get embarrassed, so he gently, but firmly put his hand on the other man’s chin and turned it so that he had no choice but to look at him.

“Eh? What are you doing..?” Arthur asked, his green eyes reluctantly meeting the purple ones in front of him. He seemed to freeze for a second, but then he quickly turned away from the Frenchman, batting his hand away from him.

“What? You’re allowed to do it, but I’m not?” Francis pouted, not bothering to hide his words under his breath.

When he got only a huff in response, Francis furrowed his eyebrows and took another step towards the Englishman, closing the gap between them again. In one swift movement, he spun the shorter blonde around and pressed him against the counter, causing the Englishman to bend backwards some as he almost ended up laying on the counter. The only thing that prevented his fall were his forearms that probably bruised from hitting the counter so suddenly.

“What’s the matter with you?!” Arthur yelled, looking more frightened than angry. He wanted to hit the man who had suddenly whipped him into the counter, but his arms were shaking so badly from abruptly supporting all of his body weight that he couldn’t lift his arm to get a swing in. Not to mention that the Frenchman was leaning over him in such a way that the best thing he could do was probably head butt him.

“Me? You wouldn’t even look at me, so I had to make you!” Francis retorted, and suddenly they had gotten into an argument again like usual…

Arthur’s bushy eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. That was it. He was definitely going to whack him. 

“So you threw me into the counter?! That’s it! Enough! Get off of me!” Arthur retorted, finding enough strength to lift one of his arms up and give Francis a shove in the chest, although it wasn’t really enough to move him.

Something about Francis in that moment sort of… scared him… But he also thought he was kind of hot, suddenly pinning him to the counter against his will like that. However, that thought alone scared him even more than the Frenchman’s actions.

“Arthur! You can’t just kiss me and then–”

“If you would get off of me, I would tell you the exciting thing I found out today,” Arthur said, raising his voice even louder than Francis’s voice in order to shut him up.

Francis seemed to calm down when he heard what Arthur said, his hand lifting off the counter as he stood up straight. That gave Arthur the chance to slip out of the small space he had been trapped in. His arms were definitely going to be bruised…

“You know– the reason I prepared breakfast and everything today is because–”

“You didn’t prepare it,” Francis murmured, somehow an innocent look taking over his face when Arthur scowled at him in response.

“As I was saying, this morning I found out something that made me happy. Very happy. And I know it’s something that will thrill you, too,” Arthur said, a proud look on his face as he slowly beat around the bush, wanting to drag the whole thing out for as long as possible. It was a good thing, after all– shouldn’t they revel in it?

“Well, what is it? Spit it out already,” Francis insisted impatiently, crossing his arms. Something about the look on the Englishman’s face irritated him– was it really something that would make Francis happy to hear, too?

“I got this text message!” Arthur exclaimed excitedly.

“What text message?”

“Oh… Let me find it…”

It was silent for a moment while Arthur unlocked his phone, went to the SMS app and scrolled through different conversations looking for the message he had received. Why would he have said that if he didn’t even have the message ready..?

Eventually…

“I got this text message!” Arthur repeated, somehow with equal enthusiasm after the awkward silence he had just endured while he searched for it.

Francis took Arthur’s phone so he could see it better and read the message out loud.

“Arthur, I know this whole arranged marriage situation has been a hassle for you. The Bonnefoys are our friends, and the publicity from your marriage was just what they needed to redirect the attention from their struggling business. We’re all aware that you and Francis don’t get along, so that’s why I want to thank you for enduring living together for these past few months. I just heard from Mrs. Bonnefoy today that their wine business had a successful reopening this past week! She said that the sales were even greater than they could’ve expected! What I’m saying is that you two may file for divorce now!”

As Francis got to the end of the message, he paused for a moment, taking the whole thing in. It had only been a few months and they were already going to get a divorce? It made sense. Yes, it definitely made sense, but…

“It’s great news, isn’t it?!” Arthur asked excitedly, an unrecognizable enthusiasm consuming him as he took his phone back from Francis, his eyes scanning the message again to make sure it was really true.

“Oui, it’s a relief!” Francis replied in a forced tone, using his years of faking interest during networking events to make it sound as believable as possible.

“Yes, exactly! See? I knew you would be pleased to hear this, too!” Arthur replied, continuing to laugh in excitement about the end of their marriage.

Francis joined in on the laughter, unwilling to show that he was actually crushed by what he just heard. After all, how would he be able to stop the divorce from going through? They hadn’t truly married each other in the first place.

Honestly, Francis wouldn’t have been upset if they weren’t married. It was all too rushed anyway, but… If they divorced now, what were the chances that they would ever get married again? Arthur seemed thrilled to get rid of him, and that devastated him.

“Well, anyway, now I’m sure you understand why I woke up early and bought us breakfast! We need to celebrate!” Arthur continued to talk in an uncharacteristically cheery tone as he fumbled around getting mugs out of the cupboard. 

“Look, I even made you coffee– coffee!” Arthur beamed, pouring Francis a cup of coffee and handing it to him. All Francis could do was laugh nervously in response. He had no idea what to think about Arthur having so much energy all of a sudden. It felt kind of twisted that that was what it took for him to seem so lively…

“I can’t wait to not have to see you every day, humming your silly French songs, walking around the house naked even though I’ve asked you to stop several times. It will be nice to have some peace,” Arthur said, his words gradually turning into a murmur as his smile faltered some. 

It would also be nice if he could stop thinking about how he had kissed the very man he was treating like a nuisance. Him leaving the country completely would probably help with that. Why address confusing thoughts when you can just avoid them?

Francis felt like he was being stabbed in the heart, so that was probably why what he said next slipped out so effortlessly…

“Ah, oui, it will be nice to go back home to France where the food and wine tastes good and the people are beautiful. I’m sure I’ll appreciate it even more after being here for so long,” Francis said it in such an innocent, sing-song tone that Arthur almost laughed and agreed before it sunk in.

Arthur scowled, and Francis was sure he was going to have a snarky comeback, but instead he uncharacteristically regained his composure, a happy smile returning to his face.

“You know what? I’m not even going to bother fighting with you– we won’t be seeing each other much longer anyway, and I think I can put up with this since it’s just a little while,” Arthur said, his eyes on the pancakes that he was moving onto plates.

The dismissive way he was acting was much worse than actually fighting with him, Francis thought.

“Here,” Arthur said, handing Francis one of the plates of pancakes. “They came with bottles of syrup, too, so feel free to use some,” He added, gesturing towards the syrup bottles on the counter.

“Merci,” Francis replied, a sort of hollowness in both his gaze and his tone as he walked past the syrup and sat down at the table.

Arthur glanced back at him, wondering why he ignored his comment about the syrup. Surely he wasn’t going to just eat the stack of pancakes plain… was he?

Francis took a bite of the plain pancake and Arthur flinched, unable to read whatever mood the Frenchman was in. He thought Francis would be happy, but he didn’t seem to be.

“You know, you won’t have to worry about finances or anything,” Arthur started awkwardly, sitting down across from Francis. “Like my mum said, your family’s wine business seems to be thriving again. And evidently, even if something were to come up, our parents get along so well that I’m sure they would help out…”

That was why Arthur thought he was upset? Maybe they didn’t have any chemistry at all.

“Is that so?” Was all Francis could manage to get out before he took another bite of his dry pancakes.

The day continued on with Arthur happily humming around the house, relieved that his confusing relationship with the other man would be coming to a close. Meanwhile, Francis was glaring daggers at the Englishman every time he turned his back to him. When it came to falling asleep, Francis wasn’t even sure how he could. The previous night was bliss, the thought of Arthur’s lips on his own lulling him into a peaceful sleep, but now… he was struggling to believe it actually happened.

When the next morning came, Francis, who always arrived downstairs last, found mail addressed to him on the kitchen counter. His heart sank in his chest when he saw that it was from the courthouse, but after looking back and forth to make sure Arthur wasn’t around, he decided to open it.

Just as he thought– it was their divorce paperwork. It seemed like it came too fast, but the thought of their divorce had haunted him all night, so it wasn’t too difficult for him to guess that was what it was.

“What are you reading?”

Francis jumped slightly when he heard the familiar voice behind him. So he had managed to sneak up on him anyway…

“Oh, did it come already? That’s great,” Arthur beamed, taking the paper from Francis’s hands so he could get a better look at it. “I was going to ask if you wanted to do something today, so why don’t we stop at the courthouse and sign the papers on the way there?”

Already? Wasn’t this all happening a bit too quickly?

“Oui, of course,” Francis replied instinctively, thinking that he would quite literally rather die than admit that he didn’t want to part with Arthur.

“Good then. Make sure you’ve got your passport with you. It says that you’ll need it to verify your identity… And you’ll also need it to go back home, which you get to do soon. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Mais oui, like I said, I’m looking forward to the good wine and beautiful women,” Francis replied, something hollow about the way he said it.

“I don’t remember you mentioning the women last time, but alright,” Arthur muttered. “Just hurry up and grab your passport. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Francis went upstairs to his bedroom and easily found his passport in one of his bags, where he always kept it. Something about the way it felt in his hand felt nostalgic. He used to travel frequently for his family’s wine business, but for the past few months, he had just been with Arthur in England.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Francis slowly flipped through the pages of his passport, looking at each visa he had acquired over the past few years. When he reached the last page, which had his current visa for his stay in England, he felt like a hand was stretching into his chest and squeezing his heart.

After Francis went back to France, he wouldn’t be able to see Arthur regularly anymore. They would definitely see each other again at occasional parties or business meetings, but they would quickly regain their status of acquaintances, or rivals… but they never really stopped being rivals.

If Arthur hadn’t been so cheery about never seeing him again, maybe the Frenchman would’ve been able to confess how he felt, but things weren’t so simple. Arthur had kissed him, but then he completely rejected any advances Francis made when they were in the kitchen the day afterwards, so… he had no idea how Arthur felt about him.

Clenching the passport in his hand, Francis made up his mind. He wasn’t going to bring it with him. He would say he forgot it and buy himself some more time, even if it was only a few more days, to decide what he wanted to do.

“It took you long enough. Did you remember to bring your passport?” Arthur asked when Francis finally joined him in the car. Impatiently, he started pulling out of the driveway before the Frenchman had even buckled his seat belt.

“Oui, what did you think I was doing?” Francis retorted, even though he was lying. He couldn’t care less if he looked bad later because he had no problem playing dumb.

“Who knows with you… Curling your hair?”

“I don’t curl it! It’s natural– you should know that!”

After arriving at the courthouse, Francis and Arthur met with a worker and explained that they were looking to get a divorce. Well, it was really only Arthur who was doing the talking and Francis would just interject every once and awhile, saying things like, “I can’t stand being with him anymore,” and “he made me eat his terrible cooking, which is basically the same thing as abuse!” To the Frenchman, it was theatrical fun. To the Englishman, it was an embarrassment.

“I understand. Well, we’ll get everything taken care of. Would you please give me your passports or another form of identification so I can start the process?” The worker offered, holding her hand out expectantly.

Arthur quickly placed his ID in the worker’s hand, and then the two of them watched as Francis stuck his hands in all of his pockets and glanced around the room.

“I must’ve forgotten to pick it up. My bad, ” Francis said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“You forgot? You just told me in the car that you remembered to bring it,” Arthur retorted, narrowing his eyes at the Frenchman.

“Maybe it fell out of my pocket in the car,” Francis suggested, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be there either.

“Then go check..!”

Instead of looking around the vehicle, where Francis was positive his passport was not at, he used that time as an opportunity to get some fresh air. The courthouse was stuffy and warm… or maybe it was just that the place that would take the person he loved away from him had an unpleasant atmosphere.

“Francis! Are you even looking..?” Arthur asked, once again surprising the Frenchman by coming up behind him.

“Oh… I looked, but I couldn’t find it,” Francis replied, his voice soft as his eyes locked with Arthur’s eyes.

Something about the way Francis was looking at him made Arthur gulp and look away.

“Well… I guess it can’t be helped then. We’ll carry on with our plans and come back here with your passport later,” Arthur said, his tone matching Francis's softness.

The Englishman couldn’t be too upset with the Frenchman if their plans to file for divorce were only put off by a few hours…

Arthur ended up taking Francis to a bookstore with a cafe, where they ordered drinks and then walked around with them, shopping for books. However, Arthur could still tell that something was off with Francis. Usually, Francis would’ve been adamant about how they had to look at the section that interested him, the culinary section, but today, he just followed behind Arthur while he looked at fantasy books. It was like he was in deep thought.

Honestly, it sort of unsettled Arthur to think that Francis was zoning out, thinking about something so hard. He found him to be unpredictable, and somewhat unhinged, especially after he suddenly pushed him against the counter yesterday morning and wouldn’t let him go. The Frenchman seemed to perceive it as playful fun, but he really did leave the Englishman with black and blue forearms… Also, despite the agreements that they had made about not talking about their honeymoon fiasco, Arthur still remembered everything (except for the part where he was black out drunk) very clearly, and it haunted him.

“Don’t you want to go look at those cooking books that you like? I’ll go over to that section with you if you want,” Arthur offered awkwardly, hoping the taller blonde that seemed to be in another world could at least hear him.

“Non, I’m alright,” Francis replied simply.

“Well, all I need to do is check this book out, so how about we head back home to pick up your passport then?”

Francis only nodded in response and the two of them headed up to the counter at the front of the store, Arthur bought his book, and then they went back to their home.

“Remember, the only reason you’re going inside is to set my book on the desk and get your passport. Don’t forget it this time,” Arthur said, leaning his head out the car window as Francis went back inside the house.

“I know, I know.”

However, Francis still wasn’t willing to bring his passport over to the courthouse. He still had some things to think about, after all. He just needed a few more days to collect his thoughts, to think about how he wanted to tell Arthur how he felt about him…

So, similar to the way he looked for his passport when he went out to the car earlier, Francis just used the restroom and paced around until he went back outside and got in the car.

“You remembered it this time, right?”

“Oui, I have it,” Francis lied.

After receiving confirmation, Arthur pulled out of the driveway and drove back to the courthouse. Fortunately, it was still open for another hour, which the worker said would be more than enough time to get the initial paperwork completed. The unfortunate part came when she asked to see their forms of identification again.

“Oh, I seem to have misplaced my passport,” Francis said in an unconvincing tone.

“You’ve forgotten it again? You must be having a laugh!” Arthur said in a sarcastic tone, unable to believe that they had really driven the whole way there and gotten in line again just for Francis to do the same thing.

“I’ll go check for it in the car. Once again, désolé, mademoiselle,” Francis said to the worker, his usual charm somehow not quite there despite saying the same words.

Arthur waited inside with the worker until Francis came back about five minutes later saying that he still couldn’t find it.

“Well that’s just great. I suppose we’ll be back tomorrow then,” Arthur told the worker, shooting a glare at Francis before the two of them left together.

“Really, how could you have forgotten it or misplaced it again when you entered the house for the sole purpose of getting it?”

“Désolé, je ne sais pas, Arthur. I set your book down and I ended up using the toilet when I was inside. I must’ve left it on the table,” Francis lied, but excelled in making it sound believable that time.

Arthur let out a huff.

“Whatever. When we go tomorrow, I’ll make sure to check that you have it before we leave the house since you’re clearly too incompetent to do it.” 

Although the thought that Francis was doing it on purpose did cross Arthur’s mind, he couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to bring it. After all, it was necessary for them to finalize the divorce. Unless… Francis didn’t want to follow through with the divorce, but, no… that was ridiculous.

The next day, Arthur asked Francis if he was ready to go to the courthouse with him as soon as he finished eating his breakfast. Despite the way Francis viewed it, Arthur wasn’t so eager to end their relationship because he hated him or felt indifferent about him, but rather it was because he wanted to avoid the possibility of having romantic feelings towards him…

“I’ll make sure you’ve got your passport this time! Where is it?”

“Right here,” Francis replied, holding it up to show the Englishman.

“Good, we can finally get this over with then,” Arthur said as he pulled out of the driveway to go to the courthouse for the third time that week.

Upon arriving at the courthouse, Arthur was feeling optimistic. What happened between the two of them didn’t matter. Any intrusive thoughts or unwanted feelings that he had developed didn’t matter either. They weren’t going to have to see each other or live together anymore, so everything would be fine. Arthur could go on living a normal life and find someone he loved, a woman probably, and start a life with her. He had no reason to be sucked into an unwanted, loveless marriage again..!

“We’re here to file for divorce,” Arthur said, an oddly happy look on his face for someone who had shown up at the courthouse to end his marriage.

“I’m sorry, but do you have all your documents with you this time? We’re quite busy today and I don’t want to hold the line up for too long,” the worker replied sheepishly.

“Yes, yes, we’ve got them all this time,” Arthur insisted.

The woman brought them back to the same room they had been in twice previously and started the process again for the third time. Once again, Arthur handed her his ID, but…

“Francis…” Arthur started, a look of disbelief and utter disgust forming on his face when the Frenchman didn’t even pretend to reach for his passport. He had left it in the car.

Instead of replying, or even apologizing to the worker for taking up her time yet again, Francis left the building with Arthur chasing after him.

“What’s the matter with you?!” Arthur started to yell at Francis in the parking lot, not caring who was looking.

Francis kept ignoring Arthur and waited for him to unlock the car doors. Getting inside the passenger seat, the Frenchman propped his head on his hand while his arm leaned on the inside of the car door.

“You’re not even going to say anything now? I don’t understand you at all…! You couldn’t have truly forgotten it this many times, so you must be doing this on purpose, but why?!” Arthur yelled, his heart racing as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“What is it then? Do you want to stay married to me?!” Arthur continued to push, figuring that would be enough for Francis to say something, to object to the very notion of staying married to his rival because it didn’t make any sense, but…

“So what if I do?!”

[neufhistoires]

Cheering Time

[neufhistoires]

I saw this outfit at a department store and felt like it was made for Russia. I’ve poorly cropped his head on the mannequin so you, too, can visualize it ( ・∇・)

[neufhistoires]

England, tipsy, about France: Look at him, with his stupid stylish suit and annoying shining hair, he thinks he’s so hot - I’m going sweep him off his feet tonight.

America: dude… dude?

England, panicking: wait no-I meant I’m going to sweep the feet from under him. That’s right! I’ll trip him up-! H-Honestly-!

America: … sure.

England: If you open your big gob about this to anyone no one will find your body

[neufhistoires]

my dog kept putting his feet on my computer while i was drawing. sigh

[neufhistoires]

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 12

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 12

Word Count: 4,281 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, well, just for Arthur, the Englishman and the Frenchman were able to get home the next morning. Arthur might’ve broken a law or two and let Francis drive because he was so tired. Although he did end up waking up a few times on the way back when the Frenchman decided that driving on the left side of the road was a silly rule and he wouldn’t be following it…

A few days passed since then and Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Francis had seemed rather… off. He wanted to say that the Frenchman’s strange behavior started the day they took the trip to London, but they hadn’t spoken for a week prior to that, so he could only conclude that Francis was still upset about what happened in Seychelles. He couldn’t blame him for still thinking about it. It was haunting him every night, too, after all… But he needed to get over it at some point.

That was why when Arthur received an invitation to a business party in London, which was addressed to him and his newly wed, he decided to keep it to himself. Francis was clearly still in a weird mood, and the whole thing was just a weird situation in general. If the two of them went to the party together, they wouldn’t be able to deny being in a relationship, and people were sure to ask about it because they hadn’t attended any events together since their marriage was announced. Arthur concluded that it was best if he just never mentioned that it was a party and Francis was invited, too. That way, he could simply say that it was a business meeting, go to the party for a few hours, and return home before dark.

However, things could never work out that easily. Arthur had carelessly hidden the invitation under a stack of magazines on the coffee table in the living room. When Francis was cleaning, naturally, he moved the items on the table and came across the invitation. What Arthur couldn’t have expected was…

“Arthur, did you see that we were invited to a party? It sounds like it’s a big one, too,” Francis said, peering around the corner to look at the Englishman who was washing dishes in the kitchen sink.

Arthur turned around, even more than he was to see that Francis found the invitation, he was surprised to hear the Frenchman starting a conversation with him. Not to mention that he had an excited expression on his face. The last time he had seen him remotely close to being that interested in something was when they found that bakery in London a few days ago. That was probably why he…

“No– What? Where did you find that?” Arthur lied, shaking the water off his hands over the sink and drying them on a nearby towel before he walked over to the other man, pretending he had never seen the invitation before in his life.

“It was on the coffee table. You must’ve put it there. Don’t you remember?” Francis asked, suspicious of how Arthur would have forgotten something that, in his opinion, sounded like a lot of fun.

“Oh… It, um, must’ve been something that I meant to read, but forgot about,” Arthur muttered, taking the paper from Francis.

“Well, it says that the party is tomorrow, so you probably missed your chance to RSVP for it…” Francis replied, the ever slight change in his tone somehow made him seem dejected.

“No, no, they don’t actually care about that sort of thing..! I’ll, uh, send them an email, and I’m sure they’ll say it’s alright if we come!” Arthur replied hastily, surprising even himself with how quickly he jumped to try to prevent the other man from returning to his previous gloomy mood. He should’ve been grateful that Francis was in such a mood, because when he wasn’t energetic and peppy, he also wasn’t teasing the other man, or trying to prove that his taste was superior, but… something about Francis being in a bad mood, especially a sad, depressing one, put Arthur in a bad mood, too.

“Oh, is that so?” Francis asked, seeming to lighten up as soon as he heard Arthur’s response. “Well, send them an email and find out! We’ll need some time to think about what to wear and, of course, what to tell them about you and me.”

“R-Right, I’ll get right on that,” Arthur replied with nervous laughter as he walked over to his computer. Fortunately, Francis didn’t follow him, so he simply replied to another business email and hoped that the sounds of clicking keys were convincing enough.

Some time passed and Arthur awkwardly said, “It’s just as I said– they quickly responded and told me it’s not a problem that I didn’t RSVP on time,” which was once again followed by nervous laughter.

The Englishman couldn’t quite pinpoint why he felt nervous about lying about a stupid business party, but it was probably because… more than feeling nervous, he felt… guilty. The one thing that clearly cheered Francis up was also something that Arthurt had lied about and kept a secret from him… If Francis found out, they would surely get into a fight, and Arthur wasn’t sure what he would even be able to say if that happened.

“Vraiment? They replied so quickly,” Francis mused. “Well, why don’t we go look at your closet then? I should hope that you’re not planning on wearing that tacky, I mean– unique coat that you bought in London the other day.”

Francis had definitely cheered up, that was for sure.

“You can’t say that something suits me and then call it tacky!” Arthur retorted, unable to just let that one slide.

“Non, non, I said unique!”

“After you realized that you slipped up!”

The following day, Arthur and Francis showed up to the party in sleek, black suits. Admittedly, Arthur did feel rather confident when the other man helped him select an outfit and style his hair. He wasn’t always the best at choosing outfits for things, but Francis always looked stylish, so he figured that if they were wearing the same thing, then he must be fashionable, too.

Upon entering the venue, Arthur was delighted to hear compliments, thinking that Francis’s fashion advice had really worked, but then he realized that all of the compliments were aimed at the Frenchman. Well, so much for that.

“Aren’t you Mr. Kirkland– or should I say, Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland?” A woman asked, approaching Arthur.

“Ah… yes, and you are?” Arthur asked, deflating some when he heard the Frenchman’s last name tacked onto his.

The woman introduced herself as the CEO of an up and coming clothing company. Then, before Arthur could get another word in, she proceeded to start what sounded like a sales pitch. It sort of caught Arthur off guard and an annoyed expression crept onto his face as he waited for her to finish talking.

She went on and on about how she already partnered with some other businesses whose representatives were at the party. Then, of course, the question came out.

“Would you be interested in partnering with us? I know your watch company is already well established, but I promise you that there would be something in it for you, too.”

Before Arthur could flat out reject her and tell her that she had wasted too much of his time, Francis swooped in and saved the Kirkland family name.

“Ah, mademoiselle, that’s a lovely offer, but we weren’t anticipating starting any new business partnerships this evening, so I’m afraid we’ll have to pass for tonight. Please take our business card and reach out again in the future,” Francis said in a charming tone as he held the woman’s hand while slipping Arthur’s business card into it.

Once the woman got past the giggles she let out after Francis held her hand, she replied, “Of course, of course. That makes sense. You’ll be hearing from me again soon!”

Finally, the woman left, causing Arthur to let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could listen to that…” Arthur muttered, glancing over at the slightly taller blonde beside him, the thought that he looked rather good in a suit crossing his mind.

“Oui, I could tell, but it’s not good for your business if you’re rude to potential business partners.”

“Since when do you care about my business? And actually, how did you get my business card?”

“I took it out of your back pocket,” Francis replied innocently with a small shrug before he reached out for an hors d'oeuvre on a tray that was passing by him.

“What were you doing in my back pocket..?”

As the night progressed, similar situations continued to occur. Whether it was other people nonchalantly pitching business deals or people who just wanted to socialize, Francis continued to charm everyone he spoke to and Arthur took the back seat. The Englishman didn’t particularly mind because it took the immense social pressure that he felt off of himself, but it also left him impressed by the Frenchman.

Arthur would’ve been lying if he said that he wasn’t a bit worried Francis might end up saying something out of line. He thought that he might make some kind of joke or jab at him in front of business connections that had a good impression of him, but on the contrary, he seemed to take Arthur’s business seriously. In fact, Arthur thought that they might even have a better impression of him after talking to Francis. Everything was going well. A bit too well…

“Mr Kirkland! Or should I say Bonnefoy-Kirkland? I’m so glad you were able to make it tonight!” A man exclaimed, enthusiastically approaching Arthur. Francis hadn’t met that man yet, but he was on a social high and was more than willing to introduce himself.

“Francis, this is Mr. Lukasiewicz, the host of this party. Mr. Lukasiewicz, this is Francis, my… husband,” Arthur mumbled the last word so badly that Francis couldn’t help but glare at him.

“He’s your what?” The host repeated loudly. He probably knew what he said, but he was making him repeat it anyway.

“Husband,” Arthur replied, his cheeks suddenly pink as he looked away.

“Your husband? You said he wouldn’t be able to make it because he was so sick! I’m really glad that changed. It’s nice to meet you,” The man replied, shaking Francis’s hand.

“I was sick?” Francis repeated, his gaze falling on Arthur, who wouldn’t look at him.

There was silence as the host stared at them both, his expression going from expectant to confused. Eventually the tension became too much for even the host to bear, so he repeated that he was happy to meet Francis again, and then he walked away to greet other guests.

“Arthur?” Francis urged, as Arthur still wouldn’t look at him, overwhelmed with guilt.

Arthur knew that Francis loved parties and anything social, but he was embarrassed by the whole arranged marriage fiasco, and he thought it would be a burden to go to London with him again. Thinking back on his own reasoning, his heart sank and he felt so guilty he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t look at the Frenchman.

“You didn’t really forget about that invitation, did you?”

Francis had a terrible feeling in his stomach then, too, as he realized that the Englishman considered him a nuisance, that he was telling his business acquaintances lies so that he didn’t have to be the bad guy when he excluded him. Francis had been fantasizing about someone who thought so lowly of him?

“Enjoy your party,” Francis said, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. He then left immediately, not waiting for any sort of reply or objection… mostly because he feared that there wouldn’t be one.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, still not turning around to face where Francis had been standing. He was paralyzed, the world around him stopped as he stood there wondering how he could’ve been so rude to the other man. If he was in his situation… he would’ve been hurt.

Despite the terrible feeling Arthur had, he continued to fake a smile and engage in small talk as he slowly made his way towards the exit. He had hoped that by the time he made it outside he would’ve come up with something good to say, some sort of apology or way that he could make it up to him, but nothing came to mind.

The Englishman expected to see Francis outside the venue somewhere, pacing around or maybe even talking to a cute girl, but… he was nowhere to be found.

Arthur pulled out his phone and looked at a map, trying to see if there were any convenience stores nearby. Maybe Francis had gone to get a drink or something, he thought. However, after walking to all of the nearby stores, he concluded that he must not have done that.

It had been at least an hour, so he started to panic. Once again, Arthur must’ve made a poor decision– he should’ve ran after him as soon as he went to leave. He should’ve known that all the time in the world wouldn’t have been enough for him to come up with a good apology– he was terrible at that sort of thing. He would just have to be honest with him, to tell him that he did care about him, wanted him to come, and even enjoyed spending time with him at the party. He knew that they quarreled frequently, but that wasn’t indicative of how he felt about him. He wanted to tell him all of those things, but… where was he?

Arthur had avoided calling or texting the other man because he assumed he wouldn’t answer, and he was right. Forteen calls and twenty text messages. They were going through, but he wasn’t answering or reading them.

Feeling defeated, Arthur walked aimlessly around London. Just as he wanted to avoid, day had turned to night and it would be difficult to drive home. If he got to drive home that was. He couldn’t just return home without him.

After wandering for another thirty minutes or so, Arthur found himself in front of the famous London Eye. It was a massive, brightly lit ferris wheel, so he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed himself walking towards it until then, but there it was.

The line for the ferris wheel was rather long, and he had been walking alongside it for quite a bit until he saw familiar blonde locks and a fancy black suit.

“Francis!”

At first Arthur thought that maybe he got the wrong guy, but as he got closer and closer he realized that it was indeed him, but he was just that good at ignoring him.

“Francis, we need to talk..!  I know that lying about the invitation was wrong. I wish I hadn’t done it, but I did..! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or–”

The line started to move up and Francis still hadn’t even flinched when Arthur spoke to him. It made the Englishman look like some sort of crazy person who had just cut the line that Francis had clearly been waiting in for quite some time. That seemed to be what everyone was thinking as they all glared at him and whispered amongst themselves while staring at him.

“If someone did that to me, I would be really hurt, so I… I understand if you don’t want to talk to me,” Arthur continued, his voice softer as he continued to follow after the other man as the line kept moving up. Francis seemed to be a bit more receptive when the Englishman’s voice softened like that, although he still wouldn’t look directly at him or say anything.

“I should’ve stopped you from leaving as soon as you started to walk away, but I was trying to think of a good apology, one that really… you know, made you feel better… But I… I couldn’t think of anything. I’m not good at that sort of thing,” Arthur continued, his voice growing so quiet it was almost a whisper. He wasn’t sure if the Frenchman was even listening to him.

“But it’s no excuse, Francis, I… I’m really sorry,” Arthur eventually said, causing Francis to look over at him for the first time since he approached him. “I saw how excited you looked when you saw the invitation and I’ve felt guilty ever since. You… you were great at the party, a lot better than anything I could’ve said, and…” Arthur trailed off.

The two of them remained silent for another minute or so as Arthur wondered what Francis was thinking and the line continued to grow shorter. Eventually, it was time to get on the ferris wheel and Arthur was left contemplating whether he should keep following the Frenchman or if it would be cutting the line because he seemed more like someone who was harassing him rather than his, well, husband.

Francis went to step onto the ferris wheel pod, but then he stopped and slowly turned around to look at the Englishman, who seemed to have decided to wait behind.

As Francis’s eyes locked with Arthur’s, his long, golden locks seemed to perfectly frame  his face which was illuminated by the moonlight. It was then that Arthur noticed that the Frenchman had also unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt at some point after he left the party. Something about him looked picturesque when the moonlight shone on him in such a way.

Francis always looked good, but… suddenly, Arthur thought that Francis looked kind of… handsome. He almost felt… attracted to him.

Although it was just a thought and not something that he would dare speak out loud, it was enough to make Arthur blush and stop dead in his tracks. It seemed that Francis was saying something to him, but he had no clue what it was. He had finally said something, but he couldn't hear him. Great.

The worker urged people to continue loading onto the ferris wheel pod, but Arthur was still frozen, his eyes locked with the periwinkle ones in front of him.

“Are you coming or not?” Francis said, his voice soft despite the bad mood he was in. It was more so soft in an exhausted sort of way.

Arthur cursed himself for still not being able to get a word out, but he somehow managed to get his legs to move and followed the Frenchman onto the ferris wheel, an annoyed crowd of people pouring into the pod behind them.

 Since the London Eye was such a big ferris wheel, it wasn’t just the two of them in the pod alone together. There were about twenty other people in there with them, but the quiet chatter amongst the others was kind of nice– it made up for the fact that the two of them were struggling to talk to one another.

Francis was standing by one of the walls, which was a window, gazing out of it, an expression on his face as if he was in deep thought. Arthur was standing beside him, but instead of just looking out the window, he kept looking back and forth between the view outside and Francis, trying to gauge if it would be okay to try and talk to him again.

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it? Arguably the best one in London,” Arthur said quietly, glancing over at the Frenchman again.

“I was hurt that you lied, but I understand,” Francis abruptly started, his voice calm. “The arranged marriage bothers you, and you wouldn’t want to be forced to discuss something that frustrates you with business acquaintances.”

“That’s true, but… I still shouldn’t have excluded you from something that you were invited to. I know how much you like–” “Arthur. It’s okay,” Francis interrupted, his voice still calm as he glanced towards the Englishman beside him. A small smile was on his face, but it bothered Arthur. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Well… good then,” Was all Arthur managed to say, still confused about the other man’s calmness after what was understandably an upsetting situation.

The two of them were silent for a moment again, and Arthur felt so strange. He was sort of anxious because he couldn’t tell what Francis was thinking, but contradictingly he also felt relieved because he was standing beside the other man after searching for him for so long.

In reality, Francis hadn’t been thinking about anything too profound. He was tired from waking up early to get ready for the party and walking around London for hours. His calmness was really just the result of him being sleepy and wanting to enjoy the view from the ferris wheel before they headed back to their rather boring rural home. Similar to how Arthur felt, since he knew the other man was there beside him, it relieved any anxiety he might’ve had about what he would do next.

“Arthur?”

“What?” The Englishman replied instantly, eager at the thought that the other man was going to talk to him. It was a reaction that left him feeling a little embarrassed.

“That over there… it’s Buckingham Palace, right?” Francis asked, pointing to a large, cream colored building in the distance.

“Oh… yes,” Arthur replied after he leaned over to get a closer look at what Francis was pointing at. Even though the Frenchman insisted that everything was okay, he was sort of surprised that they went from having a serious conversation to one about attractions.

Speaking of attractions, he… he suddenly had that same thought again. Something about the way Francis was standing beside him, quietly taking in the scenery and asking questions every once and awhile… something about it was… cute.

Arthur’s heart started to race as he considered every other possibility. Surely Francis wasn’t cute. No, he was definitely ugly. He probably only thought he was cute because he wasn’t talking non stop, making fun of this and that, or bragging about how he could do something better. But was that really enough to make him think that he was cute? And wasn’t everyone in the ferris wheel pod with them technically falling into that same category then..?

“Oh, and there’s Big Ben… But its real name is something else, isn’t it? What was it again..?” Francis murmured, putting his hand up to his chin as he tried to remember the name of it.

“The Great Clock of Westminster…” Arthur replied softly, his gaze resting on Francis instead of the clock.

“Oh? I thought that it had the name Elizabeth in it..?”

“Technically you’re right– it was renamed Elizabeth Tower to honor the queen about a decade ago… You know, you say you dislike things about England all the time, but you sure seem to know a lot about here…”

“Well, you know what they say…” Francis started, locking eyes with the emerald ones beside him, which were rather close because the Englishman had leaned in to see what he had been pointing at.

“What..?” Arthur asked, swallowing the lump in his throat as he backed away from the other man, his heart pounding in his chest when he became hyper aware of how close they had gotten.

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Francis smirked.

Arthur scoffed and broke eye contact with the other man, looking back out the window. He felt like his heart was going to burst, he couldn’t bear to look into his eyes any longer.

“Arthur, what about –”

Suddenly, Francis’s sentence was interrupted by a warm hand which quickly went from the back of his neck and up into the underneath of his hair, working as a solid foundation to support the warm, soft lips that were pressed against his immediately after. At first, he was shocked, assuming that he must’ve been dreaming because… Arthur was kissing him.

The kiss was gentle and simple, just the two of their lips pressed against each other’s. But it lasted a few seconds– long enough for Francis to feel the heat that was radiating off of Arthur. He must’ve been so nervous, which only added to how cute it was.

As Arthur pulled away, due to his hand being on the other man’s head, Francis could feel the way his hand was shaking. He refused to make eye contact then, too. Instinctively, Francis reached out and took his hand in his, holding it close to him. Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise and he glanced back over at the other man when he felt his hand suddenly being pulled on. He didn’t know what to say, but… it seemed that was okay. Francis wasn’t saying anything either, but as he gazed out the window, a firm grasp on Arthur’s hand, he had a soft smile on his face.

They were silent for the remaining duration of the ferris wheel, but it wasn’t awkward and there wasn’t tension. They were comfortable in the silence.

On the way home, Arthur drove since Francis illegally took the wheel last time, and it was his fault they were going home so late again anyway…

The next day, Francis would talk to Arthur about the kiss, ask him what it meant, but… in the meantime… he wanted to fall asleep with the memory of Arthur's lips against his own fresh in his mind.

[neufhistoires]

AO3 link for Loveless Marriage FrUK fanfic

Here's the link for Loveless Marriage on AO3 again, in case anyone is interested in reading it on there instead: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47088574/chapters/118634182

I think it's easier to locate the chapters on there. Also, I usually include author's notes that I omit when I upload the chapters on Tumblr. I'll continue uploading the new chapters on here, too, though for consistency!

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 11

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 11

Word Count: 4,496

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about a week since Francis and Arthur spoke. They hadn’t really seen each other either because the Englishman made sure to leave before the Frenchman woke up or he would get home so late that the other man was already asleep. On days that Arthur didn’t leave the house, he would stay in his bedroom all day and complete work from there. Francis was starting to wonder if he was a ghost, if he didn’t even exist.

It was a miserable existence, but Francis used work as a distraction. He didn’t share his frustrations or embarrassing stories with Feliciano. Instead, he pretended like nothing bad happened, like he had no life problems and he was happy to be living abroad, working at a flower shop.

Escapism worked well for Francis until he returned home each night to either be alone or be ignored– he wasn’t sure which was worse at this point. Arthur wouldn’t even eat his food anymore, and Francis honestly had no clue where or what he was eating. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the thought that the Englishman might be eating meals with someone else all day…

“How’s your fiancé?”

Francis was cutting flower stems in silence, something that he usually did while humming softly. He was working slower than usual, too, as if he was in some sort of trance, lost in deep thought about his recent misfortunes. However, he was pulled out of his thoughts when his perceptive coworker noticed a change in his body language.

“What?” Francis replied, a mix of surprise and sadness in his eyes when he heard someone bring up the very person he had been thinking about.

“You mentioned that you have a fiancé a few times before, so I was wondering how he is,” Feliciano replied softly, taking some of the flowers to help the Frenchman cut the stems.

Francis was quiet for a moment, motionless as he stared down at the stems.

“How is he..? I wonder that, too,” Francis murmured, his voice almost a whisper. Then, he suddenly returned to trimming the flower stems as if he hadn’t just froze for an abnormal amount of time.

Feliciano glanced over at the other man, who refused to make eye contact with him, with an empathetic look on his face. He wasn’t sure what happened, but he could tell that Francis was really upset because of something that happened between him and his fiancé. 

“Are you two fighting..?” Feliciano asked hesitantly, hoping he was prying into his coworker’s personal life too much.

“Something like that,” Francis replied, still keeping his gaze fixated on the flowers in his hands.

“Why don’t you bring him some flowers again? I’m sure it will ease the tension between you two, at least some, and then you can talk,” Feliciano suggested.

Francis finally made eye contact with Felciano as he started to seriously ponder the Italian man’s suggestion. He knew that it wouldn’t fix everything, but like Feliciano had said, it would probably release some tension and at least break the ice…

“D’accord, I’ll take your advice,” Francis replied, smiling warmly at Feliciano, who immediately mirrored his smile.

Francis returned home with a bouquet of red roses, just like he had given Arthur last time, and carefully arranged them in the same vase from before, which was still sitting on the kitchen counter. 

Arthur wasn’t home yet, but Francis decided that he would wait in the kitchen until he came home, that way he couldn’t avoid him or sneak past him.

The Frenchman prepared dinner, cooking for two even though Arthur had either been eating premade meals or someone else’s food. He figured that he would offer him dinner and roses and he wouldn’t be able to avoid talking to him for at least a little bit.

Hours passed and Francis couldn’t help but feel frustrated when he thought about how he cooked dinner for the other man but he was coming home at a terribly late time just to avoid him.

And that was exactly what happened. Francis ate dinner alone, which he let become cold because he had foolishly assumed that today might be the one day the Englishman would come home on time. After he put the leftovers away, he cleaned up the kitchen, scrubbing the counters and mopping the floor more times than it needed to be done in hopes that when Arthur came home and saw him he would just think that Francis was busy, not that he was waiting up all night for him.

Eventually, Francis sat back down at the table, exhausted and frustrated. He lay his head down on the table, telling himself that he would just rest for a second and then he would go back to finding things to clean, but… he passed out.

The quiet jingle of keys could be heard from outside, and then the front door opened. Arthur was surprised to see the kitchen light on so late. He tensed when he noticed the Frenchman sitting at the table, but then he did a double take when he realized he was passed out.

The Englishman stared at him for a few, his keys and bags still in hand as he tried to make sense of why the other man was sleeping on a kitchen chair instead of in his own bed. Then, as he glanced around the room, he noticed that the kitchen was spotless. Everything was clean and organized. The only thing that stood out was the bouquet of fresh, red roses, arranged beautifully in the intricate glass vase from before.

Arthur’s chest felt tight when he saw the flowers, recalling how Francis had bought him the same ones before. He must’ve been waiting up all night to talk to him, Arthur thought. He felt kind of guilty until he reminded himself why they weren’t speaking in the first place and his thoughts turned sour.

Carefully, Arthur slipped past the table, hoping he could avoid the other man like he had been. But, in spite of his efforts, the jingling of his keys as he passed by was enough to make the Frenchman open his eyes.

“Arthur..?” Francis called out groggily. He couldn’t believe he had stayed up so late and yet he still ended up passing out at the kitchen table, of all places.

The Englishman hesitated when he heard his name, but then continued in the other direction anyway.

“Arthur! Wait!” Francis called out, stumbling as he tried to stand up from the table after just waking up.

Arthur continued to walk away from Francis, picking up his pace some when he heard the sound of the other man’s footsteps behind him.

“We live in the same house– you can’t keep avoiding me like this..!” Francis called out, frantically chasing the Englishman up the staircase.

“It’s like I said– you disgust me and I don’t want to see or talk to you,” Arthur replied coldly as he stood still on the top step, his heart aching at the sound of his own words.

Francis felt a pain in his chest, too, when the first words out of the other man’s mouth were yet again ones of disdain. Could he truly never forgive him?

“Arthur, I want to apologize to you and–”

“No apology will fix what you did,” Arthur interrupted, abruptly turning around to face the Frenchman, a look of anger and hurt on his face as they locked eyes.

“And I want to clear up the… misunderstanding,” Francis finished his sentence anyway.

“Misunderstanding?” Arthur repeated with a sarcastic laugh.

“Oui, I…” Francis hesitated as he took a step closer to Arthur, moving up a step so they were eye level. “What happened at the hotel was…” The Frenchman’s eyes averted towards the ground.

“Yes?” Arthur urged, impatiently crossing his arms as his icy gaze never left the man across from him.

“It was meaningless. I was so drunk I can’t even remember what led to it, but I can assure you that I would never want to do something like that with you..! I mean– you and I, together in a relationship? Really? We can’t stand each other! It’s been driving me insane to think that you would even suggest that I would want to have sex with you..!” Francis blurted out, feeling like he was a star in some sort of cheesy highschool play.

He was lying through his teeth.

Arthur hadn’t moved at all, an unreadable expression on his face as he seemed to pause and contemplate what the other man just said. Francis watched the Englishman’s eyes impatiently, wondering what was going through his head, if he bought the act, or if that false information even meant anything to him.

Well, it was partially false information. It was true that Francis had been terribly drunk, that he couldn’t remember much, and that he wouldn’t force himself on Arthur. But the lie was that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with the other man. In fact, after their sham of a honeymoon getaway together, he couldn’t be anymore sure that he had feelings for the Brit.

“I wish you’d put it that way sooner,” Arthur replied, both his tone and gaze softening when he said so. Francis didn’t know if he should be relieved or heartbroken.

“The thought of you and I in a relationship is definitely laughable, isn’t it?” Arthur continued, a smile grazing his lips for the first time since they were in Seychelles.

Now he could at least identify how he felt as heartbreak.

“Oui, it’s truly a bizarre thought,” Francis replied unenthusiastically.

“Let’s put this behind us then…” Arthur started, his tone returning to a more serious one again. “But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone what happened that night, okay? On that condition, we’ll just forget about the whole thing…”

“D’accord… I promise,” Francis agreed, trying his best to hide how deflated he suddenly felt. It was somehow a worse feeling than before, even though he was elated to talk to the other man again.

“Alright… Good night then,” Arthur replied dismissively, turning around and continuing upstairs without waiting for a response. He was probably hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with Francis suggesting they share a bed again. Although, the Frenchman no longer had any intention of suggesting a thing like that.

Francis went to bed alone that night, conflicted about whether or not he made the right choice by lying like that. Sure, Arthur was willing to talk to him again, but at what cost..? 

It was much later than Francis usually woke up, and he probably would have continued sleeping, too, if he wasn’t awoken by a few knocks on his door.

“Francis?” A familiar voice called out, causing the Frenchman to slowly open his eyes and roll over on his side.

“Come in,” Francis replied with a groan. He had slept more than usual and yet he felt even more exhausted than usual. It was most likely because despite being in bed for so long, he hadn’t truly been sleeping the entire time. He stayed up the entire night, tossing and turning as he contemplated everything wrong in his life.

Francis was disgusted by the way Arthur could destroy his entire day just by stringing a few words together. The worst part was probably that the Englishman didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Arthur opened the door, fully dressed in trousers, a button down cardigan and loafers. He looked a bit irritated when his eyes slowly made their way down to the Frenchman who was still in bed.

“I was going to… ask if you wanted to come shopping with me today in London…” Arthur said, his thick eyebrows furrowing as he realized that if the other man said yes, he would be waiting forever for him to get ready.

The Frenchman held back his surprise and… excitement when he heard what the other man proposed. Yes, the way Arthur’s words could lift his mood in an instant disgusted him, too. When did he become this way? “I guess so… You probably need someone like me to go with you so you know what kind of things to buy…” Francis mumbled into his pillow, his attempt at seeming uninterested coming off as more of an insult.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked, his eye twitching as he leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. He was hoping that the Frenchman would get up and start getting ready sometime this year.

“Nothing,” Francis replied with a yawn as he finally sat up.

“Well, you’ll have to be ready soon though if you’re coming. I don’t want to have to drive home in the dark,” Arthur said, standing back up straight. “I’ll make you breakfast and you can eat it on the way or something…”

“Non, please don’t,” Francis replied so quickly that Arthur couldn’t help but be a little offended. Was it really that bad?

“Just hurry up,” Arthur said, his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment as he shut the door and headed back downstairs.

Surprisingly, Francis didn’t take too long to get ready and Arthur didn’t subject him to his awful cooking. The two of them headed off for London and the skies appeared to be bright and sunny.

Understandably, there was an awkward tension between the two of them, albeit for different reasons. However, without words, they both agreed to try and make things work. They cracked jokes and passive aggressively roasted each other until they got to the city. It was as though nothing had changed between them…

“What do you think of this one? It’s nice, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, his green eyes settling on the Frenchman as he lightly pulled on the bottom of a long, plaid trench coat that was hanging on a rack in front of him.

“Hm? That one?” Francis murmured, putting his hand on the coat, too. He seemed inattentive despite how long he gazed at the coat in front of him. His mind drifted off into thoughts about how Arthur’s hand was so close to his, how he swore he could feel warmth radiating from him.

Ultimately, the only quiet response Arthur was left with was, “It suits you.”

Then, Francis turned away and continued on in the same direction that the two of them had been walking in. Confused, Arthur looked back at Francis, then the coat again, and ended up pulling it off the rack to follow after the Frenchman.

“That’s not necessarily a compliment, you know? Is it a nice coat or isn’t it?” Arthur repeated his question, his cheeks tinged pink as he realized he was basically begging for the other man’s fashion advice.

Arthur ended up buying the coat and the two of them headed off to the next store that caught their eyes, a street fashion clothing store. It wasn’t particularly either one of their styles, but part of going into the city was seeing things that they usually didn’t see, right?

As they walked through the store, Arthur saw a pair of black, ripped, oversized jeans and ran over to them. He pulled them off the rack and held them up to his waist in front of a mirror to see what they looked like without the hassle of actually trying them on.

Francis slowly walked behind him, cocking an eyebrow in confusion as he stood behind the Englishman and watched him in the mirror. He soon realized that Arthur wasn’t actually considering buying the pants, but was just joking around. He heard him start to speak, a big grin on his face, but… he couldn’t hear him.

Something about the way Arthur was messing around, being so carefree and playful, as if no one else existed but the two of them… it reminded Francis of walking around Seychelles and taking stupid pictures in straw hats and gaudy sunglasses. He felt disgusted with himself for even considering it, but he wanted to cry. His heart ached at the thought that the Englishman didn’t return his feelings, that he would probably be elated if he never had to see him or deal with him again.

“Did you know that I wanted to be in a band when I was in high school?” Arthur mused, laughing at himself as he put the pants back on the rack.

“Oh? What stopped you?” Francis asked, his jaw clenched tight as he mentally talked himself out of suddenly crying. He would surely be worse off if he did something like that.

“My parents,” Arthur replied, his mood visibly becoming sour. “As you know, they like making choices for me,” He added, giving Francis a small smile.

“Oui, clearly mine do, too,” Francis replied weakly, assuming that Arthur was referring to the arranged marriage.

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to deal with this whole thing much longer. I heard from my parents that your family’s wine business is slowly, but surely, starting back up,” Arthur murmured, shifting through clothes on the racks as he passed by them.

“Oh, is that so? I didn’t know that,” Francis replied, his voice almost a whisper as he started to space out again. He couldn’t help but feel hurt that Arthur didn’t even seem to notice the way he hadn’t been paying attention…

“Really? They’re your parents…” Arthur replied, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced over at the other man, who was looking down at a shirt in front of him. It didn’t look like the sort of shirt that would usually catch his eye, so the Englishman assumed that he had become bored of the store and zoned out.

“Anyway, do you want to go somewhere else now?” Arthur initiated, periwinkle eyes meeting his. “We passed a decent looking bakery on the way here. I think they might have had macarons.”

“Let’s go there then,” Francis replied so quickly that he made Arthur let out a small laugh.

“You could’ve told me that you were hungry..!”

“Well, I wasn’t hungry until you mentioned macarons,” Francis joked, his mood seeming to lift at the thought of food. Maybe he was just overthinking things because he had gotten hungry.

Nonchalantly, Francis looped his arm around Arthur’s arm and pulled him along out of the store. The Englishman didn’t seem to mind though because he left it there.

“Which way was it?” Francis asked, glancing down at the map Arthur had opened on his phone.

“It looks like it’s that way,” Arthur replied, struggling to point because he was holding his phone, shopping bags, and now Francis was clinging to his other arm.

They eventually found the bakery, which was rather extravagant and expensive, just as one would expect of a specialty bakery in a big city. It was a café as well, so they both ordered a cup of coffee and various different kinds of baked goods. Normally, Arthur would’ve gotten a tea, but he was trying to take Francis’s recommendations, because although he was reluctant to admit it, the Frenchman did have great taste.

They chose a window seat which gave them a nice view of the city around them. However, the sky that had been bright and sunny for the majority of the day had abruptly become gray and cloudy.

“I suppose I jinxed it by saying that I didn’t want to drive home in the dark,” Arthur mused. As soon as he finished his sentence, the sound of thunder rumbled through the bakery, causing the lights to dim for a moment. Then, a heavy rain started.

“Non, I think that there was jinxing it,” Francis replied with a small laugh before he took a sip of his coffee and turned to look out the window in awe. It was unbelievable how quickly the weather had changed.

“Well hopefully it will let up soon,” Arthur murmured, using the side of his fork to cut a piece of the pastry in front of him.

Once again, Arthur had jinxed it. The rain never let up, and eventually the two of them had been there too long. Hours had passed, the sun went down completely, and the bakery was going to close in less than a half an hour.

“Aren’t there any hotels nearby?” Francis asked, standing up. He started to clean up their table, stacking the garbage onto one plate so it would be easier for him to carry it over to the trash can.

“That’s what I’m looking for…” Arthur murmured, bent over his phone as he scrolled through lists of nearby hotels. “It looks like the closest hotel is a two minute walk away, but even so, we’ll still get drenched…”

“It seems that we’re going to get wet regardless, so you might as well call that one and see if they’ve got any rooms available,” Francis replied before he walked away with the garbage.

When Francis returned, Arthur had just finished up his phone call.

“They said they’ve got a room available and they’re willing to hold it for us if we make it there within the next fifteen minutes,” Arthur said as he stood up and started to collect his bags.

Francis gulped when he heard Arthur say they had a room available– a room. Just one? Was it really a good idea for the two of them to share a hotel room again?

“D’accord, let’s get going then,” Francis replied, grabbing his bags, too.

The rain never let up, so they were completely drenched when they reached the hotel. Somehow, running in the rain was kind of fun though.

“Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland?” The receptionist asked, making Arthur blush in embarrassment and Francis chuckle.

After the ceremony, they hadn’t been able to agree on who would take whose name, as both of them were reluctant to give up their own name. The only possible agreement they could come to was to use both of their names with a hyphen in alphabetical order. The alphabetical order part was Francis’s idea, of course.

“Yes, is the room available?” Arthur replied, reluctantly answering to the name.

“Yes, we have it all set up for you two,” The woman replied, a smile on her face as she handed Arthur the key.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied, swiping his card to pay for the room before the two of them went upstairs to find their room.

Eventually they found room 212, which was a rather large room– a luxury suite, to be exact. The only problem was that…

“What kind of joke is this?” Arthur asked loudly, his voice shaking as if he was terribly offended by what was in front of him.

There was only one bed.

Francis let out a heavy sigh and set his bags down on the floor.

“Well, what did you say to the receptionist on the phone?” Francis asked, mostly due to his own curiosity. Did Arthur go around calling him his fiancé, he wondered.

“I said that two people, two men, needed a room for the night because of the storm,” Arthur replied, seeming more and more annoyed and worked up as time passed. “I mean, do I really seem–”

Arthur was cut off when Francis let out a laugh that he failed to hold back. He pretended he was just coughing or choking when the Englishman glared daggers at him.

“You think this is funny?”

“Non, non,” Francis replied, waving his hand as he continued to cough in an attempt to cover up that he was only laughing harder when Arthur got more upset about it.

Irritated, Arthur stormed out of the room and went back down to the lobby, determined to get a second bed.

“Excuse me,” Arthur started, a forced smile on his face as he approached the receptionist again.

“Yes, sir? Was there a problem with your room?”

“Yes, yes, there was.”

The receptionist seemed surprised to hear that there was something wrong with the room, but was eager to help resolve whatever the issue was.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the issue?”

“There’s only one bed in our room,” Arthur replied, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“Oh, I…” The receptionist’s cheeks flushed, too. “I just thought that because you two have the same last name… that you… Not to mention that the two of you suit each other quite well…” She trailed off in embarrassment.

She then started to hurriedly click through different rooms on the computer behind the counter in an attempt to find a different room before the uncomfortable conversation could continue any further.

“It’s not like that!” Arthur raised his voice defensively, his cheeks now completely crimson.

They suited each other? That was the same word Francis used to describe the coat Arthur had bought earlier. Once again, he was left wondering if it was really a compliment. All the two of them did was fight, so surely the woman, who was merely a stranger, was mistaken.

“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, but the last room with two beds has already been taken. And there aren’t any single bed rooms available tonight either… Again, I’m really sorry,” The receptionist replied, avoiding eye contact with the Englishman after he raised his voice.

“I, um, I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have yelled,” Arthur replied awkwardly before he turned around and went back upstairs.

When Arthur got back to the room, Francis was sitting on a chair, drying his wet hair with one of the hotel towels. He glanced up at the Englishman.

“What did she say?”

Arthur ignored Francis and walked past him.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing has me exhausted, so I’m going to sleep now,” Arthur eventually replied dismissively.

“She thought we were a couple, didn’t she?” Francis teased, a smirk forming on his face.

“Only because of our stupid last names..!” Arthur replied, getting worked up again. “Now where do you want to sleep– the bed or the couch?”

“Well, since you asked, the bed.”

“Fine,” Arthur replied as though he was disappointed, but too tired to object. In fact, as soon as he heard a response, he started moving a blanket and pillow over to the couch.

“Just because I’m going to sleep in the bed doesn't mean that you can’t, too. We are married after all,” Francis continued to tease the Englishman as he walked over to the bed.

“At this point I wish you would invite the receptionist to the bed so she would get whatever idea she has about me out of her head…”

“It might get that idea out of her head about me, but not about you. Bonne nuit!” Francis replied in a singsong tone as he turned off the light.

“Oh shut it!” Arthur yelled, tossing his pillow at the Frenchman from across the room– a decision which left him stumbling around in the dark trying to find it for quite awhile…

[neufhistoires]

she’s everything

he’s just england

[neufhistoires]

oh nooooo his cool girlfriends gonna see him holding hands with pretty posh boy 👿👿👿

disgusting 😳🫢🤢🤮

[neufhistoires]

Wasn't originally a date. Arthur just wanted to relax and Francis came and bombed that idea. Arthur doesn't mind it despite what he says.

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 10

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 10

Word count: 4,023

**There are some suggestive themes in this chapter**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait! I just need to take one more photo of these ones,” Francis called out as he leaned over pink flowers at the botanical garden, trying to get the best angle he could. Arthur was slowly, but surely, walking away from him.

Francis had insisted on buying a disposable camera at one of the souvenir shops (even though he obviously already had a camera on his phone) because it would be aesthetically pleasing to develop the photos and put them in a physical album. Arthur argued that it was a waste of money because he already had a camera on his phone, but that didn’t stop the Frenchman. His mind was set.

“You’re so slow– I’m heading to the next area without you if you don’t hurry up!” Arthur called out, although it really wasn’t much of a threat anymore, seeing as he essentially already did go to the next section of flowers without the Frenchman. Francis was going to ignore the other man until he glanced over and realized how far away he was, irritation becoming apparent on his face.

“Hey! I told you to wait!” Francis yelled back, his eyes narrow as he took one more photo and then ran over to the Englishman.

“I didn’t realize you were my parent,” Arthur muttered sarcastically, his gaze averted away from Francis as he snapped some photos of the next area of flowers with his phone camera.

“I’m not– I’m your husband,” Francis teased, a smirk forming on his face as he watched Arthur tense up and glance around to see if anyone heard him say that.

“That’s even worse! Stop it!” Arthur yelled in a hushed tone.

“You’ll appreciate the effort I put into these photos when you see them developed later. Hey, I might even let you make your own copies of them,” Francis said, completely changing the topic as though he hadn’t even heard the other man.

“No, thanks,” Arthur scoffed. “I’ll be posting my photos and sending them to my friends today– maybe even right now– because I don’t have to go somewhere and wait for them to be developed.” “You know, you’re so much more tolerable when you’re drunk…or sick,” Francis muttered, trying to take his next set of photos faster.

“Well, if I get poisoned, I’ll know who did it,” Arthur replied, but he let out a small laugh, which made Francis smile, too.

The two of them continued to make their way through the garden, making sure to take photos of, and with, the Coco de Mer plants, which Francis couldn’t help but make dirty remarks about. Then, they proceeded on to the Thai Garden and the Chinese Garden, where they listened to a park employee explain the history behind them.

After the interesting, but very detailed, history lesson, the two of them were hungry so they stopped at a restaurant called Wildflour Cafe, which was located in the botanical garden. Arthur ordered tea and Francis ordered coffee, both of which tasted exceptional. For the food, they split a savory avocado bun, which was essentially thick, toasted bread with avocado spread and tomatoes topped with basil. They split it because they also each ordered a piece of homemade ginger and lime drizzle cake, which was also, of course, delicious.

Just when Arthur thought that they were done and went to ask for the check, Francis went ahead and ordered wine… even though it was lunch time.

“What are you doing– drinking at this time?” Arthur leaned in and whispered, which caused the waitress to stop and wait to see if the Frenchman would still want it.

“We’re on vacation– normal etiquette doesn’t apply! I want to try their wine,” Francis replied defensively, making Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

“Whatever– I guess I’ll try some, too, then,” Arthur said, making the waitress smile and nod before she walked away to go get their drinks.

“That’s the spirit,” Francis mused.

“Yeah, yeah. Admittedly, I find things more tolerable when I’m drunk, too,” Arthur said with a laugh.

“Like I said, we’re on vacation. Would we really be enjoying it if we didn’t get at least a little bit wasted?” Francis replied, sounding like he was a college frat boy who couldn’t contain himself. Well, at least the Frenchman knew how to have a good time– Arthur would give him that.

The waitress brought them their wine and then Francis held the glass up expectantly, waiting for Arthur to lift his glass up, too.

“To us,” Francis said, locking eyes with Arthur as he gently clinked their glasses together.

Arthur wanted to scold Francis, to tell him to stop joking around about their supposed marriage, but… he looked so serious when he said it. It sort of freaked the Englishman out, so he took it as a cue to drink faster. At least he wouldn’t have to think about it too much if he got drunk. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember something as small as the way Francis looked at him then.

“My family’s wine is better, of course, but it’s not bad,” Francis said, swirling the wine around in his glass.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you the difference,” Arthur replied, making Francis scoff. He wasn’t sure if the Englishman was just trying to push his buttons or if he really meant it.

After they finished up at the restaurant, they returned to the botanical gardens to do one last walkthrough to see if there was anything they had missed the first time. It seemed a lot more laid back and enjoyable when they were a little bit tipsy. Francis wasn’t being uptight about getting the right camera angles anymore, and Arthur stopped complaining about the fact that the Frenchman wasted his money on a useless camera. 

This time they were taking completely random photos together. Some of them were rather silly. Most of them were photos of times when they tried to make serious faces or pose elegantly, but they just ended up bursting out into uncontrollable laughter instead.

The two of them stumbled around the gardens for who knows how long until they started to walk back in the direction of their hotel. They continued taking photos and walking into souvenir shops, buying things that they definitely didn’t need, like big sun hats and flashy glasses. At one point, Arthur even started doing impressions of American presidents, which was when they realized that maybe they were a little too drunk. 

Although… if they could notice something like that, then they probably weren’t too drunk at all. That was Francis’s reasoning at least when they finally returned to the hotel and went straight for the bar in the lobby. That was starting to become a regular thing for the Frenchman– getting wasted in hotel bars.

Still wearing their huge sun hats and sunglasses, they drank for hours until they genuinely started to feel sick. Arthur threw up all over the chair beside him, which Francis made sure to get a picture of on his disposable camera. He was grateful when Arthur didn’t treat him the same way though when he started to puke next. The mess they made wasn’t enough to embarrass them because they were too drunk to really comprehend what embarrassment even was, but it was enough to make the bartender kick them out.

They should have been embarrassed. At least a little bit, right? But instead they were laughing about it in the lobby.

The truly embarrassing part was probably when they both decided that they wanted to take the stairs, but couldn’t make it up more than three steps without falling over. It went on like that for a few minutes before one of the hotel employees politely suggested that they use the elevator.

On the elevator, they continued to mess around and laugh at things that they usually wouldn’t find funny. Francis pressed all of the buttons on the elevator, making it hit every floor on the way up to theirs. Arthur closed the door immediately each time they reached a floor, making it difficult for others to even get on the elevator while they were on it. It was surprising that they could even remember which floor their rooms were on, but somehow they made it to the correct floor…

Upon stopping outside their doors, Arthur leaned against the wall in the hallway, watching as Francis pathetically tried to get the key in the door to his room. He started to laugh at the Frenchman, which caused Francis to turn around with a frustrated expression on his face.

“Why don’t you try to open your own door instead of watching me?” Francis slurred, his whole world spinning when he turned around to lock eyes with the equally drunk Englishman across from him.

“It looks too difficult– I’ll just sleep here,” Arthur said in a matter of fact tone as he slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

Francis huffed and turned around to continue messing with the key. Then he realized he had been trying to use the wrong key and laughed at himself for a second before he put the correct key in and unlocked the door.

The Frenchman turned around again and saw the Englishman almost passed out in the hallway. Francis was drunk, too, but he could at least still recognize that sleeping in a hallway was wrong.

“Come on,” Francis mumbled, trying to lean over and grab Arthur’s arm without falling over himself.

“Where are we going?” Arthur slurred, his eyes still somehow closed as Francis tugged him into a standing position.

“You can sleep with me,” Francis replied, trying his best to focus for just a few more seconds so he could get the other man in the room and pass out in peace. Arthur wasn’t making it easy for the Frenchman though, as he kept fully collapsing into him. He almost knocked him over each time.

Eventually, the two of them got in the room, slamming the door on accident. At least the slam was loud enough for them to hear it and know that it shut for sure.

It would’ve been pitch black in Francis’s room, but he had accidentally forgotten to turn off the small lamp in the kitchenette, so the room was dimly lit. Unlike Arthur, Francis hadn’t made a mess by tossing clothes everywhere, so his room was well organized… before the two of them threw their sun hats, sunglasses, and all the other random souvenirs they had picked up along the way on the floor.

For a few minutes, the two of them didn’t really say anything. They both felt like everything was moving and every sound echoed, so Francis sat on the edge of the bed with a hand on his head and Arthur fumbled around in one of the cabinets trying to find a cup so he could get some water before bed.

It went on like that for a while, the sound of Arthur moving dishes around filling the room. Eventually, he found a cup, messily poured it with water, which got all over his hands, and then made his way over to the bed. Unfortunately though, as Arthur was walking over to the bed, just as he had almost made it there, he tripped on the unorganized pile of souvenirs and fell on top of Francis, spilling the glass of water on the other man.

“Merde! Arthur, what is that?” Francis slurred, not realizing that it was only water because he was too drunk and confused to have been paying attention to what Arthur was doing before he came over to the bed.

“Ouch, sorry,” Arthur mumbled, accidentally letting go of the glass completely as he tried to push himself off of the other man. Fortunately, when the glass hit the floor, it didn’t shatter.

As Arthur tried to use his hands to push him off of Francis, he accidentally placed his hand somewhere he shouldn’t have, causing the Frenchman to let out a groan. Arthur didn’t really realize what he had done, and then he made the situation even worse by reaching for a nearby folded blanket and attempting to sop up the water he had poured on the other man. Most of the water had spilled on his pants…

“Arthur, wait, I can–” Francis attempted to stop the other man, his cheeks flushed as the Englishman repeatedly wiped his lower half with the blanket. Right as Francis reached his arm out and grabbed Arthur’s wrist to stop him, the Englishman made contact with a certain area again and made him moan, this time much louder than before.

Although Arthur really couldn’t think too clearly, his body seemed to be thinking for him because his shorts suddenly started to feel tight and restricting after he heard the noise the other man made.

The two of them sat there frozen for a second before Francis said that he was going to take his shorts off because they were wet, but Arthur didn’t get off of him like he thought he would. No, instead he helped him take off his shorts, to which the Frenchman helped the Englishman take off his shorts, too.

It all happened so fast, as though in a matter of seconds the two of them had succumbed to some sort of primal urges and… became one.

They both weren’t thinking, their brains too distorted by alcohol to really understand what they were doing. They were only trying to get rid of the uncomfortable throbbing down below, so they didn’t even consider using lube or anything else that could have made the process a little less… regrettable the next day.

The sun coming up in the morning wasn’t enough to wake either of them up. They were both utterly exhausted from, well, a series of unfortunate events that led them to the situation they were currently in. It was only when an unassuming hotel employee entered the room to clean it that they realized how late it was.

The sound of the door opening was enough to frighten and startle them both. They glanced over at the woman who was staring at them wide eyed as if she had seen something she shouldn’t have.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was in here! I’ll excuse myself,” The woman said, covering her eyes as she fled the room, clearly embarrassed.

Francis wasn’t too concerned after he saw that it was just a housekeeper who had embarrassed herself  by accidentally entering the room. He was genuinely oblivious to the whole situation due to the pounding headache from his hangover. So he carelessly drifted back asleep, figuring it was just because he had a tendency to sleep naked.

Arthur was going to fall back asleep since his head was killing him, too. He couldn’t quite remember the previous night, well, at all… but he just assumed that he had a hangover. It wasn’t like it was that bizarre of an occurrence for him. However, at first he did think it was strange that someone… Francis… was lying on top of him, but upon further thought that wasn’t really that strange either.

Something seemed off though, so Arthur shifted some as he tried to consider what it might be, his head hurting even worse the more he thought. What was truly bizarre was the way his ass stung when he shifted only slightly. No, actually, his ass… was terribly sore. He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted again, glancing down to get a better look at the man who was lying on top of him. The Frenchman had promised to wear pajamas if he was going to sleep in the same bed as him before, and yet… he was naked! Putting all of the pieces together, Arthur’s cheeks flushed and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Instead of waking him up gently, Arthur woke the Frenchman up with a rough shove. Usually the two of them could get away with shoving one another rather playfully and it meant nothing, but this time it actually physically hurt and startled the other man.

“Ow! What’s your problem?!” Francis yelled, falling over on the other side of the bed and grabbing his shoulder where he had been shoved. It was honestly such a hard shove that he would probably be bruised later.

Francis had been startled by being woken up so aggressively, but once his initial shock wore off, he realized what sort of situation they were in. Normally, he would have blushed and maybe even said something smug about the whole thing, but instead he felt sick to his stomach. It was just like the wedding, wasn’t it? Something that was meant to be romantic and meaningful had been screwed up, and even worse, he could tell Arthur wouldn’t ever forgive him for it. He was going to truly hate him.

“What’s my problem?! You’re the pervert who put me in this situation! I should’ve known you would do something like this!” Arthur yelled, getting off the bed and pulling his underwear on. His ass hurt so bad, but he was mad enough that he could look past that for the time being.

“Arthur– you have the wrong idea! My head is killing me! I was drunk last night, too! I can’t remember anything!” Francis yelled back defensively as he stood up and walked over to Arthur who was getting dressed so quickly it looked like he was running away from a murderer or a monster. Maybe that was what Francis was to him now– a monster.

“Get away from me, you liar!” Arthur yelled, almost tripping himself on his pants that were halfway on so he could put more space between himself and the Frenchman. “You’re always like this– sleeping around with anyone you can get your hands on! Didn’t it ever occur to you that other people have feelings, too, and not everyone is comfortable with how close you get to them?” Arthur continued, no longer yelling as he became more level headed, his words clearly striking to kill.

And it was working, too. Francis was too shocked to speak. That was really what Arthur thought of him? Well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t alluded to it before during their fight when they kissed, when Arthur said that Francis would take anyone. He truly thought that Francis was a pig, a nuisance that was in his way.

“I knew something was up when you said that you wanted to sleep in bed with me because you were too cold. You’re disgusting,” Arthur continued to insult the Frenchman, pointing his finger at him accusatively.

At the beginning of their argument, Francis had wanted to defend himself, to explain that he didn’t realize what happened until morning either, that he never intended on hurting the other man, but… he felt so low he felt numb. He could only take so many insults.

When Arthur didn’t get a response, he simply said, “Stay away from me,” and left the Frenchman’s room.

That was the last time the two of them spoke before they got on the plane to return to England. Francis was still hurt by Arthur’s insults, but he had wrongfully assumed that the Englishman would be willing to make small talk with him on the plane.

“I went to develop the photos yesterday. I think the–” Francis was cut off when Arthur abruptly stood up from his seat and walked over to the nearest flight attendant, asking if there was anyone in economy who would want to switch seats with him. He explained that he didn’t care if the seats were more cramped, he just absolutely didn’t want to sit in his original seat.

With that, Arthur disappeared to the back of the plane, not even glancing at the Frenchman as he walked past him.

The two of them had fought several times. It was sort of their thing. But, it was usually a more playful, competitive kind of fight. Neither one of them had ever given the other the silent treatment for any longer than a few minutes. This time, they hadn’t spoken in days.

It was a painfully long thirteen hour flight. The whole time Francis was plagued with the thought that things would never be normal again, or well, at least as normal as they were. Arthur, on the other hand, spent the whole flight thinking about how Francis had gotten him drunk on purpose and taken advantage of him. He was contemplating every oddly intimate gesture and glance that the Frenchman made towards him and how he must’ve had a perverted ulterior motive. They were both miserable.

When the plane landed, Francis got off first because he was closer to the front. He waited for Arthur, hoping he would at least acknowledge that they arrived at the airport in the same car together, but when he greeted him, he was still walked past and ignored.

“Arthur, you’re acting like such a child,” Francis lashed out when the other man walked past him without a single word or glance.

“Maybe if you weren’t a disgusting manipulative liar, I would acknowledge you,” Arthur replied, stopping, but not turning around to look at the other man. He really knew how to hurt the other man with his words.

“You’re just as much at fault for what happened as I am!” Francis said, raising his voice as he stomped over to walk in front of the other man and force him to look him in the eyes. “We were both drunk! I can’t remember anything other than the next morning either!”

For the first time in days, Arthur reluctantly made eye contact with Francis. His gaze alone was enough to hurt Francis. It was so cold.

“You know what? Let’s say that’s true– that you really were drunk and you can’t remember anything. There’s still something worth noting– you aren’t disgusted by what happened, and I am,” Arthur said coldly, pushing past the Frenchman again.

Francis froze because what Arthur said was absolutely true and it devastated him. He understood why Arthur was upset– the whole thing was an accident, after all, but… the fact that he was disgusted with him and kept telling him over and over again really wounded him.

Arthur figured Francis was still following behind him, that he would get in the car and they wouldn’t speak on the way home, but when he opened the car door and nonchalantly glanced behind himself to see what the Frenchman was doing, he was surprised to see that he hadn’t followed him. He felt a bit guilty and hesitated for a second, but then he reminded himself that Francis was an adult with a job, so he was probably paying for a taxi, so he left. 

The Englishman assumed that the Frenchman’s reluctance to respond or follow him after what he said was an answer in itself– Francis really must not have minded that they had sex.

Francis was indeed taking a taxi back to their house, but it still hurt to know that Arthur wasn’t even concerned enough to send a text asking how he planned on getting home. He honestly didn’t make too much money working part time at a flower shop, so he would be spending most of his savings on the expensive airport taxi, but he was dejected enough that he supposed it was worth it.

Francis got home later than Arthur because he had to wait for the taxi. He noticed that no one was home, but that Arthur had definitely already been there because his luggage was in the kitchen. He figured the Englishman must’ve left immediately in hopes that they wouldn’t run into each other.

The Frenchman went upstairs with his own suitcases and slowly unpacked his things, hoping that he would hear the familiar sound of keys jingling as they unlocked the front door downstairs, but hours passed and he hadn’t heard anything. When he came across the photos he developed and the silly sun hats and sunglasses, he broke down.

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 9

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 9

Word Count: 4,327

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seychelles was a beautiful country, so any couple would be happy to have their honeymoon there together… That is, if the couple was truly a couple.

It was rather awkward for Francis and Arthur to go to such a lovey dovey place together alone. Their parents had booked them separate rooms, instructing that they just had to be careful not to post pictures that alluded to them being in two different rooms. They told them that it was their treat to them for following through with the whole publicity stunt so well. Francis was hurt by the wedding ceremony, but the thought of essentially just hanging out with Arthur on an island where they didn’t have to put on a show anymore didn’t sound so bad… Actually, it sounded kind of fun.

Francis wanted to hit up the different nightclubs on the islands, go shopping, see the botanical gardens– that sort of thing. On the other hand, Arthur wanted to go to the island that was supposedly haunted. What they were interested in on the island did differ some, but they were both excited to go nonetheless.

Checking into the hotel felt normal because they didn’t have to pretend they were in love or anything, and they were both registered under their own last names. It was sure to be a whole argument when they had to figure out what to do about their last names now that they were technically married, but they would deal with that when the time came…

They brought their luggage to their hotel rooms and then met back up in the hallway afterwards. They didn’t have to spend time with one another, and they did want to do different things, but… they didn’t know anyone in Seychelles, so it made sense to stay together, right? Surely that was the only reason they did.

“I guess I’ll spend time with you because you’re terrible at socializing,” Francis said with a smug look on his face as he leaned over Arthur’s shoulder to look at the tourist map they had been given in the hotel lobby.

“Hmph, a haunted island would be more fun alone anyway. Go off and hook up with random people you’ll never see again if that’s what your idea of fun is,” Arthur said dismissively, as though he was too caught up in looking at the map to care about the Frenchman’s jabs at him.

“Are you really looking for ghosts on an all expenses paid vacation? I thought you were joking,” Francis said, surprise apparent on his face.

“I’ve already heard all the ghost stories in England. Not to mention the ghost that I keep seeing in our neighbor’s window…” Arthur muttered the last part, but it sent chills up Francis’s spine.

“Stop reminding me,” Francis retorted. He hated that sort of thing. Especially because he was pretty sure he had seen it a few times, too…

“How about we make a compromise?” Arthur said, lowering the map and locking eyes with the taller blonde beside him. “We’ll go to the haunted island today and then I’ll go out drinking with you afterwards.”

“That’s not fair– you like to go out drinking, too!” Francis complained, narrowing his eyes at the Englishman.

“Fine– what do you want to do then?” Arthur asked, sounding as though he was forced to ask him that question.

“We’ll go out drinking tonight, because we both want to, and then tomorrow will be my day to choose what we do… Which will most likely be…” Francis pulled the map out of Arthur’s hands so he could look at it again. On the right hand side of the map different attractions and events were listed. “We should go sunbathing and swimming at the Côte d’Or!”

Arthur looked like someone had stabbed him when he heard that Francis wanted to go sunbathing and swimming on some crowded tourist beach. However… the truth was that he didn’t actually want to go to the haunted island by himself… and the people in Seychelles did speak French, so it would make sense for Francis to come along with him… so…

“Alright, fine– we’ll go there tomorrow,” Arthur agreed reluctantly, making Francis smirk victoriously. Arthur cursed himself for thinking that Francis looked kind of handsome with that smug look on his face.

“It’s settled then– off to Moyenne Island!” Arthur said, pointing his finger at the island on the map with such enthusiasm that he made himself blush with embarrassment afterwards.

They took a ferry from the main island to Moyenne Island, which was supposedly haunted by ghosts, some of which just so happened to be British, and others which happened to be pirates. Arthur had always been interested in both ghosts and pirates, and he was British, so it was like it was practically made for him.

When the ferry finally arrived on the island, it left to return other tourists to the main island and pick up more people who were interested in going on the haunted tour. Francis was a bit unsettled by the whole thing, but it was still rather early in the day, so he figured he didn’t have to worry too much about seeing any ghosts. After all, they only came out during the day, right?

The tour guide started by explaining some of the history of the island while they were still standing at the shore. Then, after adding in some details about how the last man who owned the island died there (great), the tour guide began leading them through the wooded part of the island and it started to seem darker due to the shade from the trees.

They passed a sign that said the Moyenne Island National Park closed at four o’clock, but it was already four thirty. Francis had been reassured by daylight, but it was most likely going to get dark for part of their tour.

“Arthur– how long is this tour?” Francis asked, nudging the Englishman out of the trance he was in as he listened to the tour guide.

“It’s going to be a few more hours, but don’t worry so much– I checked and some of the bars around here don’t even open until midnight,” Arthur said dismissively, putting his hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder to urge him to continue up the trail with the other tourists.

It wasn’t exactly that Francis was thinking about drinking, but more so that he didn’t want to be on an island that was allegedly haunted in the dark… It was too embarrassing to admit that though, so he just accepted that Arthur apparently thought he was an alcoholic and continued to tread up the trail.

Eventually, they made it further up the hill and reached an area where mounds of cement with iron crosses atop them donned metal plaques which read “Unhappily Unknown.” They were tombstones.

Unfortunately, the sun had started to set when the tour guide stopped in front of the tombstones and started to explain who built them and when. The nameless ones were supposedly pirates who had visited the islands in the 1800s. The previous owner of the island was buried there himself along with his father. The thought alone sent chills down Francis’s spine. He wanted to leave.

“Do you think I’ll be able to capture a photo of a ghost?” Arthur whispered, leaning in towards Francis so he didn’t interrupt the tour guide who was still speaking. The Englishman had his phone out every once and awhile, making sure to take a photo of anything the tour guide mentioned being haunted or belonging to someone long dead.

“I don’t know– maybe,” Francis replied nonchalantly, but on the inside he was going against Arthur, hoping he didn’t see any ghosts.

The tour continued and they had finally made their way past the ominous tombstones. Francis had been impatiently waiting for that moment, but then his own paranoid thoughts caught up to him and he started to think about how unsettling it was that the graves were behind them now.

Francis and Arthur were at the back of the tour group, which was most likely due to a combination of Arthur stopping to take photos of everything and Francis being reluctant to be there in the first place. At the beginning of the tour, Francis thought being in the back was the thing to do. After all, he didn’t want to be there so why get in the way of those who did? However, he was starting to regret it because he felt rather vulnerable with no one else following behind them.

Nonchalantly– at least he hoped it was nonchalant– Francis grabbed Arthur’s hand and then acted like nothing happened when the Englishman turned to him with a confused expression on his face. 

“You got my hopes up– I thought you were a ghost,” Arthur joked. The sun had finished setting and it was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything other than the light that the tour guide was carrying and the occasional light from the other tourists’ cell phones.

“You were hoping to hold hands with a ghost?” Francis asked dumbfoundedly.

“Why are you holding my hand anyway?” Arthur asked, ignoring the Frenchman’s question. Of course he wanted to hold hands with a ghost.

Francis contemplated what he should say for a moment before a smirk formed on his face and he cleaned in closer to the Englishman. “You’re my husband– why shouldn’t I hold your hand?”

Arthur’s face flushed and he gave Francis a light shove, making their hands detach from one another. “Don’t say things like that..!”

The two of them walked in silence through the dark woods for a few before Francis casually reached out and took Arthur’s hand again, causing him to let out a sigh. Arthur would’ve just accepted it, but then a thought crossed his mind…

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Arthur asked with a smirk. 

“What? What’s there to be afraid of?” Francis retorted, but his offended tone made the truth easy to reveal.”If anything, the ghosts would come after you– you’ve been taking their pictures all day, after all..!”

Arthur’s expression was enough to make Francis even more annoyed, because the smirk on his face just kept growing.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to come because you were scared– you didn’t have to lie and tell me you just thought it was boring,” Arthur continued to tease Francis until they reached another spot in the tour, so they had to quiet down if they wanted to hear what the tour guide had to say.

However, there was quite a distance between Francis and Arthur and the tour guide. That was why the noise that Francis heard behind himself was so distinct. He had definitely heard something. It sounded like some sort of rustling in the trees.

Francis still had Arthur’s hand in his because regardless of how much the other man had teased him, he still secretly liked holding him close like that, especially in public… So, in the most aloof way possible, he turned around to look at the clearing behind him to see if anything was there. There didn’t appear to be anything, but then he heard it again and he suddenly went from feeling a little suspicious to feeling terrified.

“Arthur– did you hear something?” Francis whispered.

“Huh? No, did you?” Arthur asked, feeling a bit empathetic towards the other man when he felt how tight he was squeezing his hand.

“Oui, it sounded like there was something behind us just now,” Francis replied, glancing at the path behind them again.

“You know what– it was probably just a–” Arthur started, but he was cut off by Francis suddenly jumping and clinging to his arm. The Frenchman’s actions were enough to catch him off guard and scare him, too, in the process.

The culprit that had followed and terrified Francis turned out to be a giant tortoise, which slowly crept out of the bushes after Francis’s sudden movements. Upon seeing what it was, the Frenchman released Arthur and let out a sheepish laugh.

“What I was going to say was that it was probably a giant tortoise,” Arthur said in a somewhat annoyed tone because Francis had scared him, too. “Weren’t you listening? The tour guide mentioned that the man who bought the island brought giant tortoises here, so we might see them roaming about during our tour.”

“Yeah, and he also mentioned how this island is haunted about five million times! How was I supposed to know it was a tortoise and not a ghost?!” Francis yelled in a hushed tone, hoping Arthur was the only person that witnessed his embarrassing reaction.

“So you do admit that you’re scared..!” Arthur said with a smirk, pointing his finger at Francis accusatively.

“Non! I was trying to protect you from the…” Francis stopped speaking and his cheeks turned pink as he became more and more aware of how embarrassing the whole thing was.

“From the tortoise?” Arthur pushed further, a smug grin on his face.

Francis didn’t answer him, letting out a “hmph” as he turned back around to face the tour guide. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. Then, the tour guide and the group of people in front of them started to walk further up the hill, so Francis and Arthur followed after them, still holding hands. It was pitch black outside, so it made sense for them to keep holding hands like that. You know— for safety reasons…

Eventually, the tour came to an end and they took the ferry back to the main island. Francis was spooked the entire way back to the island, thinking some sort of mysterious sea monster or vengeful spirit might attack them while they were drifting through the water. Meanwhile, Arthur was kind of hoping something like that would happen. For some reason, he would have loved to have seen it. Not to mention that he thought the way Francis had tried to pretend he wasn’t scared the entire time even though he kept latching onto the Englishman was rather endearing.

“Bien, c’est fini. Now let’s go to the bar,” Francis said, letting out a sigh of relief as they stepped off the ferry. “I need a drink after that,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I need one, too,” Arthur replied, a small smile on his face as he reflected on their time at the haunted island. It was actually a lot of fun.

Just like Arthur had mentioned, the bars didn’t actually open until around eleven thirty or midnight, so they had to wait a few until they could get in. Once they did, they drank much more than they should have and then headed back to the hotel.

The next morning, Francis woke up feeling like he had gotten the short end of the stick. It was his day to choose what they did, but since his day came after a night of way too much drinking, it was also plagued by a terrible hangover. Since Francis and Arthur were in separate rooms, the Frenchman couldn’t even bother the Englishman for medicine and water. He would have to get up and get it himself…

Reluctantly, Francis moved off the bed and stumbled into a standing position. He could barely remember the night before. Due to the fact that most of the night involved talking about ghosts, he couldn’t keep straight what was from the tour and what was from some sort of fever dream.

Francis fumbled around in his suitcase, trying to find medicine. Eventually he found it, took it, and then stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He looked like a mess, but he should be able to fix it within a few minutes. He just needed to take a shower and that would probably be enough to wake him up and freshen up his appearance.

Meanwhile, Arthur hadn’t even woken up until Francis was already in the shower, getting ready for the day. He was suffering from a hangover, too, but it was even more difficult for him to have motivation to get up and get ready because he absolutely didn’t want to go sunbathing and swimming at a crowded beach.

There was a selfish voice in the back of Arthur’s head that urged him to fall back asleep and forget about the plans he had made with Francis. After all, the Frenchman didn’t have a key, so all he could do was knock for a bit and then give up. Then, Arthur would have the day to himself and he wouldn’t have to do something he didn’t want to… Arthur smirked at the thought and closed his eyes again.

Just as Arthur was about to fall asleep, he realized that he couldn’t. He had a guilty conscience, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t have been able to fall back asleep knowing that he lied to Francis and made him spend the day alone, especially after he had gone to a haunted island that he was clearly afraid of.

Arthur let out a groan and sat up, stretching his arms in the air as his head pounded with a terrible headache. Then, he went to take medicine and get a shower, too.

As soon as Arthur got out of the shower, he received a text from Francis, asking if he was ready to go. He had to rush a little bit, but the truth was that it didn’t take him very long to get dressed. He envied that Francis could get dressed in the same amount of time, but he still always ended up looking more fashionable. Actually, sometimes they wore similar things, or he took the Frenchman’s fashion advice, but he still looked better.

It had been just a normal morning and Arthur didn’t usually contemplate what he was going to wear too much, but his own thoughts suddenly overwhelmed him and he started to feel insecure at the thought that they were going to a popular tourist spot and Francis would be dressed so much better than him. He started frantically sifting through the clothing that he had brought with him, hoping to find something to pull on before Francis stopped waiting for a response and just came over himself. However, that time came quicker than the Englishman anticipated, as only a few minutes later he heard a knock on his door.

Arthur ignored the knock and continued to go through his clothing, but then he realized that nothing he packed would make him look as good as Francis. No, maybe nothing he owned would make him look as good as Francis. Or, maybe it was just him, and he couldn’t pull off anything as good as the Frenchman. Francis would look good even if he was wearing a trash bag, but Arthur felt like he struggled to put a decent outfit together.

“Arthur, bonne matin– are you awake?”

The Frenchman’s voice was easy to hear through the door, but Arthur really didn’t want to answer the door in his underwear, or, even worse, admit that he was terribly insecure and felt inferior to the Frenchman, so he was sifting through his clothes at the last minute and questioning all of  his life choices that led up to this moment.

Arthur chose to ignore Francis again and continued to look through his suitcase to find an outfit. Then, the knocking started again, and in a stressed panic Arthur just pulled on a random pair of shorts and a shirt before he ran over and swung the door open.

Francis’s eyes widened upon seeing that Arthur was indeed awake and he looked stressed rather than hungover.

“Arthur– what are you–”

“I know, I look terrible– go ahead and laugh,” Arthur said, cutting the Frenchman off before he could even finish his sentence. Also, he sort of looked like he was going to cry, like his eyes were glassy and the tears just hadn’t poured out yet.

Francis just stared at Arthur for a moment in confusion, trying to understand what could’ve made the other man so upset. He really had no idea, but he could see that the Englishman’s clothing was mismatched, so he decided to take it from there and tread carefully.

“I was just going to ask what you were doing– I could hear you rustling around in here…” Francis mumbled. “Anyway, didn’t you pack a white button up shirt with you? Why don’t you wear that? It will look nice with those shorts,” Francis said, pushing past Arthur and entering his room. He noticed the messy piles of clothing throughout the Englishman’s room and then he started to understand.

“Are you sure it will… look nice..?” Arthur murmured, shutting the door behind them as he walked back over to the piles of clothing Francis was standing in front of. He was embarrassed that the other man was looking at the mess he made– he had intended on cleaning it up when he got back later.

Francis found the white button up shirt in one of the piles of clothing and picked it up, turning to face Arthur. His heart ached at the thought that the other man felt so insecure. He felt sort of guilty, too, because he knew that he could tease him about the way he dressed sometimes. He was usually just joking and he didn’t have any malicious intentions, but he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was probably hurting the other man without realizing it.

“Oui, of course it will. I’ve always thought that you look nice in button ups– they suit you,” Francis said softly, a gentle smile on his face as he started to undo the buttons on the shirt.

Arthur felt inexplicably relieved, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He turned his back to Francis as he took off his shirt, but it wasn’t really because he was changing– he finally gave his eyes permission to release his tears and the pressure in his head went away some.

Arthur nonchalantly dried his cheeks when he pulled the shirt over his head and then he turned back to face Francis, who lightly tossed the shirt he had unbuttoned at him.

“Thanks,” Arthur murmured, pulling the shirt on and hastily buttoning it back up. “I’m ready then, if you are.” “Wait– you didn’t forget this did you?” Francis asked, picking a bottle of sunscreen up from Arthur’s bed.

“Oh, actually I did,” Arthur said, letting out a small laugh. He had been so concerned with his appearance and yet he had almost set himself up to get burnt to a crisp.

“I figured,” Francis said in a matter of fact tone as he opened the lid.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m going to put sunscreen on you,” Francis replied in a voice so innocent that Arthur almost obliged.

“No. You’re not.”

“Oh, come on. There are places you can’t reach,” Francis said, taking a step towards Arthur with a smirk on his face.

Arthur’s face paled and he took a step back, moving away from the Frenchman.

“I’m not going to get naked on the beach, so I think it’s just fine if sunscreen isn’t applied to those places,” Arthur hissed, continuing to back up as Francis neared closer.

“Arthur, you’re no fun,” Francis commented, the smirk on his face growing even larger as he lunged at the Englishman and tackled him onto the bed.

The whole thing happened so fast that Arthur felt as though his life had flashed before his eyes. The two of them ended up wrestling and laughing, accidentally getting some sunscreen on the bed and their clothes during their fight, if it could even be called that. It all felt light hearted and fun until they landed in a position where Francis was on top of Arthur and the two of them were panting from laughing and rolling around– that was when it started to feel a tad too intimate and they both abruptly pulled away from each other and got up from the bed as if a deafeningly awkward tension hadn’t just erupted.

Francis cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “anyway, you should put that on before we go to the beach.”

The two of them headed off to Côte d’Or and it basically turned out the way they both expected it would– Arthur set up a beach towel and an umbrella, hoping to fully stay out of the sun, but then Francis urged him to come get in the water, essentially guilt tripping the Englishman by saying that he did what he wanted the previous day, so now it was Arthur’s turn.

Reluctantly, Arthur did end up joining Francis in the water, but the beach turned out to be a lot less crowded than he had originally thought it would be, so it was also much less awkward than he had predicted, too. It actually wasn’t so bad. Although, to the Englishman’s dismay, because he hadn’t listened and didn’t keep reapplying sunscreen like Francis because it was too awkward to lather himself with lotion in front of a group of other tourists, he did end up getting burnt. It was mainly on his pale cheeks and his shoulders. It was sort of cute though, like he was in a constant state of blushing, Francis defended. And now he wouldn’t know if Arthur had actually blushed at that comment or not.

The day came to an end similarly to the previous one, but this time they vowed not to drink as much so they could wake up with ease and enjoy the next day properly. The plans for the following day were arranged according to Francis’s suggestion, too, but it was something that Arthur supposed he could get behind– the Victoria Botanical Gardens.

[neufhistoires]

These two 🥹💗💗💗

Just a redraw of a little sketch I did some years ago

Thank you so much for all the support in my first post here I wasn’t expecting all that love hehe☺️💚