#and arthur never ever knew. i'm unwell. i'm unwell

[gvaine]

WHAT DOESN'T KILL ME MAKES ME WANT YOU MORE @merthurweek2023 day six —Cruel Summer

[dufferpuffer]

Dufferpuffer Lupin fiend… I want to know what you think: do you think Lyall knew about the Order of the Phoenix? Do you think he knew what his son got up to after graduation?

I believe he’d be very eager to support his son (financially, offering him a home), and Remus would be very eager to decline that support - but would he eventually say “it’s fine dad, I actually don’t need a job because I’ve been camping out at my rich friend’s house, which became a headquarters for a guerrilla, which I fight for full time, so don’t worry about me”?

I have a small obsession with Lyall and I am a Lyall survivalist (I believe he lived to bury his son). The reason for my obsession is because I hate the old overused children’s adventure trope of dead parents! I think it’s delicious to try to make sense of a relationship that could be very complex and problematic.

Could he have been someone like Andromeda and Ted, not an order member, but a distant supporter? Or would he disapprove completely? Or would he be completely ignorant?

it is I, the Loopy Lupin Fiend I too am a Lyall Survivalist - I wrote a little thing ages ago, just a tiny little story about Lyall walking up to accept Remus' Merlin of Honor on his behalf while being haunted by what he has said about werewolves in the past. Just a silly thing :) Maybe needs a rewrite idk, i'm no writer. I'm a yapper. I yap.

Remus is the sort of man who cuts off those he cares about most. If it weren't for the war he would have NEVER spoken to Harry, Sirius, Albus... anyone ever again. He would have fled when Tonks showed any amount of love for him. He would have fled Arthur's unwavering support and Molly's kindness despite her fears and prejudice.

He would have held their positive feelings in his heart like treasured memories and not dared ruin them with the disappointment he would surely bring. Leave them happy.

That is what I think he did to his father. He 'killed' his mother, after all. Just a sweet accepting Muggle, and she died earlier than she should - after his childhood left her thin and weak from stress. (of course he DIDN'T kill her, but the stress parents show when looking after disabled children... it hurts us. Speaking as a disabled child, it hurts a lot seeing parents suffer from being unable to help. it feels like it is our fault for being unwell, confusing and hard. Remus is the type to REALLY blame himself.)

He didn't want to put financial or social strain on his father, who already would have been a target: Specializing in the study of Boggarts and Dementors and such - the exact Dark Creatures Death Eaters use... alongside the fact he insulted Fenrir personally...

I don't think Remus told him shit. I think Remus cut contact completely, at least for the war - maybe, hesitantly, letting his dad know he was alive afterwards... But the best thing he can do for the people he loves is let them live without him - and I think he truly loves and idolizes his dad. He knows Dementors inside and out, and the first think he caught and taught at Hogwarts was Boggarts. His dads specialty.

I think Lyall would be supportive of the whispers of an 'Order of the Pheonix', a secret group maybe perhaps curated by Dumbledore. An underground illegal militia working outside the Ministry. He may have worked with the ministry himself sometimes - but he has seen their incompetence first-hand and experienced their lack of support for the most vulnerable in society.

But if he knew Remus was a part of it all he would do was worry, even if he was proud of his son... so Remus wouldn't tell him. If anything - just let him know he was safe and well (even if its a lie) and he wasn't being pulled in by Fenrir's nonsense.

I like to think he wrote to Lyall telling him he was going to work at Hogwarts. Albus hired him - he was going to be a professor!!! That every time he wrote to his dad it was good news, and Lyall treasured the fleeting contact with his son - even if he knew if he ever wrote back "Come see me sometime!!!" Remus wouldn't respond.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

For the lovely Cass! @theshelbyslimited

Ment to have this done right away but they actually made me participate in my school meeting this morning! Anyway, this is a bit rough (ended up a lot more personal than I intended because I'm going thru some stuff) but I hope it gives you that fluffy feeling. Lots of hurt comfort... But honestly when do I ever not put in happy a ending, might be my biggest flaw as a writer lol

Any way! Love you 💜

Warnings: the reader is a bit depressed, description of feeling down and not being able to get out of bed, Tommy is angry at one point, but it's all just for that big fluffy ending.

Despite the warm august air floating through the open windows of arrow house, you felt cold to the bone. You didn’t know what brought it on. Years of running on tea, whiskey, and adrenaline catching up to you finally, or maybe you were coming down with a cold. 

Francis helped the kids get ready for the day and Johnny Dogs dropped them off at school for you. It was kind of them to help you out on last moments notice and you silently promised yourself to make it up to them when you were feeling better. 

You lay there in your bed. Staring up at the ceiling. It was a good life, well earned, but at what cost? Your husband spent more and more time in London, the family still at odds with each other. None of them were willing to speak to each other despite your efforts to try and work on things. You were the only person running around in between. Somehow free from the consequences of your husband. 

Sounds of birds chirping you put on a record and got back into bed letting your mind drift as you did some deep breathing. 

_________________________

“What do you mean that Johnny Dogs took the kids to school?” Esme asked over the phone. “She always takes them to school, figured she be by right after.”

“Nah, He’d said Francis asked him to take them, said she was ill.” John responded back. 

“If she’s laying down somethings wrong. Poor lamb is always working on something. I’ll swing by to check on her.” 

“Love you,” he said absently. 

“Love you too. Now quit gossiping and do your job.” She quipped. 

Esme sighed and finished the last of her coffee. 

“Fucking bastard must have done something,” she muttered, thoughts of Tommy made her head hurt as she decided to see if Polly knew what was going on. She dialed the familiar number, knots forming in her stomach remembering what they’d last said to each other all those months ago. 

“Shelby.” Her raspy voice answered and Esme faltered slightly. 

“It’s Esme John’s said that y/n is unwell. Do you know what's happening?” 

“Hardly the family doctor these days.” She answered coldly. “What did you hear?” 

“Just that she’s not able to get out of bed. Sent the kids with Johnny Dogs this morning.” 

“She let him drive them?” Polly responded in a shocked tone. “Best to give her space I suppose, I saw her a few days ago. Seemed fine.” 

“I guess so.” Esme thought about it for a moment. “Thank you for answering.” Despite everything that had gone down between them she missed the old bat. 

“Well, thanks for calling I suppose” She responded back equally uneasy. They said their polite goodbyes and Esme grabbed her coat. 

__________________________________________________

“Where’s he fucking taking them then?!” Tommy snapped pinching the brigade of his nose, wishing there was a cure for this never-ending headache that was his life. 

“I don't know. Packed up their things and took off. Called to check in on ya.” Charlie muttered. 

“Fuck - You saw this?” 

“No, Linda overheard John at the shop, then told Arthur, who came by earlier and mentioned it. Wanted to know if you're alright.” Charlie sighed and Tommy hated how aged it made him sound. “Look, Thomas, you can fuck everything up, but don't let that one go, eh?” 

His head started spinning, as he hung up the phone and tried to go over every interaction he’d had with his wife. 

You seemed normal, distant, tired, but not so much that you’d fucking leave. 

He got up from his desk and made a brisk pace towards his car. 

“Mr.Shelby! Where are you going?! The meeting is starting -” A sniveling voice called out behind him and he knew if he took one look at that man - he’d fucking cut him, right here in the entryway. 

“My wife needs me,” Tommy responded coldly, taking the stairs as quickly as possible. 

“Your Wife-” Mosley started and put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder. Without thinking, Tommy grabbed him by the jacket lapels. 

“MY WIFE.” These were the only words he could get out as he gave the taller man a warning glare. “Is my fucking business.” He growled. He briskly moved Mosley aside and made his exit before causing a bigger mess to clean up later. He could feel the man's stunned glare follow him out the front doors. 

He got into the car and purposely forgot the speed limit. Trying to get home as soon as possible to figure out where you’d run to. 

____________________________________________

You lay there feeling defeated by the things you knew you should be doing. No motivation followed the sinking feeling of desperation. Your body had simply had enough of the mental stress. It was waging a war with your brain, and you wished more than anything your mind could be left out of it. 

It was no use. You rolled onto your side and picked up a book that had been stacked on your night table for ages. The small paperback felt like it weighed as much as a gold brick, you felt your eyes try to resist focusing on the small black print. 

Fucking useless. 

You abadoned your attempt and put the book down on the bed. You were in some sort of state between awake and asleep when your husband's voice floated up through the house. 

“NO - I WANT TO KNOW WHERE THE FUCK MY WIFE IS.” 

Guilt shot through you at laying in bed, clearly there was something you were meant to do today and you’d forgotten. You sat bolt upright and resisted the urge to puke. His footsteps got closer and the bedroom door flew open. 

His eyes looked at you in surprise. You realised your hair must be a mess, blankets wrapped around you like a cocoon of laziness. The anger rolling off of him was unavoidable, and you felt yourself start to panic. Normally you’d rise to the challenge and take him down a notch. 

“Where are my kids?” 

“Your kids? Our kids are at school” You whispered, unable to put any spice in your tone. 

“At school?” He looked puzzled. He looked you over again like he was trying to understand some great mystery. He sighed and resisted the urge to put a hole in the wall.

To your surprise, he slipped off his shoes and undid his tie. He came over and sat on his side of the bed and took another deep breath. 

“Are you alright? Sick or just-” He picked up the discarded romance novel and gave you a coy look. You tried to swat it out of his hands but he was too quick for you. He opened it and pulled himself down onto the bed next to you. 

“Trapped in a hypnotic state of pleasure he freed her tender bosoms from her restrictive gown -” 

“Stop! That’s enough.” You wrestled the book away from him, and he trapped you in his strong grip easily. 

“Good lord, I’m your husband, not your priest.” He looked down at you trapped against his chest.

“Have you just come home to shout at everyone and then torment me, eh?” 

“Charlie called me from the yard saying - well fuck -whole fucking family thinks you’ve let Johnny dogs take the kids while you - well the whole thing doesn't make any fucking sense. Should have called home is what I should have done.” He released your arms to light a cigarette. 

“Didn’t realize they’d just been shipped off to school because their mother was enchanted by the spell of - whatever that bloke's name is.” You looked up at his nature, he looked relieved. You couldn't remember the last time you’d had a private moment with him in this type of mood. 

“Couldn’t read - Can’t do anything. Just - my bones are tired, there's a million things I should be doing. But I just - can't” tears started to well up in your eyes and his arms found their place around your body. 

“Just got the blues then.” He answered easily. Initially, you were irritated by his diagnosis. “Your mind stresses your body out to the point where it just stops. Your body needs to rest, but your mind won’t stop eating at you. 

“You get like this?” 

“If I didn’t feel like it was life or death all the time I would, yeah.” 

“How do you fix it?” Normally he wasn’t so open with you, normally conversations were like gymnastics. Took more effort than they were worth a lot of the time. He looked into your eyes and you knew your husband well enough to know that he could feel that same statement. 

“Opium.” He whispered and you tensed up in an attempt to smack him. “Lucky for you I’m here to give you a much better prescription.” 

“And what's that then? Whiskey?”  

“I think the pompous spell caster bloke had the right idea personally.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you wondered if you were still asleep. Did you fall into another world? Or did the thought of you packing up and leaving freak him out this bad? Bad enough to pause with you to ensure that you were okay. 

He shifted himself and placed a soft kiss to your lips. Somehow managing to put his cigarette out on the night table.  

You felt your body respond, not just to the passion but the care in his touch as he ran his hands over you. 

That’s when the universe decided to play its usual cruel tricks on you. Suddenly a whole bunch of commotion erupted from downstairs. You groaned loudly in frustration as he pulled away. 

“SHE’S FUCKING SICK YOU ASSHOLES. BE QUIET!” Esme’s loud irritated voice called out, but the commotion only picked up again. 

“To bring her food.” 

“What like you didn’t think the rest of us would come by?” 

“She’s closest to me you knew I’d be here.” 

“This was probably Thomas!” 

“It really hurt when you put that dent in the car and you never apologized.” 

You listened to snippets of the conversation as you and Tommy descended the stairs. Everyone was arguing with each other and you soon realized the whole family was there. 

“Your alive!” Arthur announced. Everyone's focus shifted from you to Tommy standing behind you. You stepped on his foot in warning to keep his mouth shut and you quickly took control of the meeting before it resulted in bloodshed. 

“You all came here to check on me?” tears welled up in your eyes. “How thoughtful! I really can’t express how much this means.” You let your tears fall and really tried to drive the point home, in hopes that maybe you could get them to overcome this feud. 

“All my favorite people together! Excuse me” You dabbed your eyes. “ I got a bad case of the blues, I didn't mean to cause a panic.” 

“Well, you're easily missed ‘round these parts,” John said giving you a smile. “Had to make sure Tommy hadn’t sold you off or anything.” 

Tommy’s jaw clenched and you grabbed his arm hoping it would be enough to get him to hold his tongue. 

“I’d never. No one else to put up with me these days.” He answered calmly. You watched as they took in his words, you were happy when Esme laughed at the tension allowing others to do the same. 

Next thing you knew people were pilled into the kitchen whiskey poured. The rosier the faces the more they seemed to relax around each other. Esme had brought you your favorite treats from a bakery across town. Linda had a whole massive pot of your favorite soup made. 

The boys just brought their hugs and whispered questions needing assurance that you were fine. Tommy was in line. They all still did business together, but you could see that they were missing this just as much as you were. Enough to let sleeping dogs lie. 

Finn showed up at one point after hearing from someone else that’d you died in your sleep. Panic left his features as he embraced you tightly. 

You had everyone stay for dinner, all the kids eating as fast as possible to go play. 

Stories and jokes were told, which soon turned into songs. Something hit you as your chest vibrated, ears filled with the off-key singing of your family. This was what was missing. Tommy’s arm was around you, his face less grumpy looking as even he sang along. 

This was the only cure for the blues. 

You cried, as the feeling of belonging washed over you. Your crying made Esme cry, once she was crying Polly was crying - and Linda, though she would never admit it also looked a bit misty. 

“No - come on ladies -” John started but was quickly silenced by Arthur's loud wail, pulling his brothers (as many as he could reach) into a tight embrace. 

“Well if you’ve all got it out of your system. We should probably check on the kids.” Linda cleared her throat, fascinated by the edge of her napkin. 

“Or we could go play around? Pretty sure they are playing hid and seek.” Tommy said easily. 

John let out a whoop and everyone piled out of the kitchen. 

“Why are all the lights off?” 

“Charlie!” Tommy called out. He came down the stairs and became almost explosive when hearing that they wanted to play. All the kids came to the bottom of the stairs and explained they were playing hide and seek - with the lights out. You resisted laughing at how this affected them. 

They had a whole system for how the game worked and who had to do what. But once realizing that they didn't have the brain capacity to follow along. Charlie just decided it was kids vs. adults. 

All they had to do was hide. 

So they did. All taking off in various directions. You paused down the back hallway unsure of where to go. With a house that big you could probably find a cupboard somewhere. Before you could make it to the end of the hallway large arms pulled you into the wine cellar and you resisted the urge to let out a yelp. 

Tommy pulled you against him ducking down behind a large barrel. Before you could speak his lips were on yours with a fever driven from more than just need. It was a thank you. Family back together, kids happy, all of it because you were too tired to get out of bed. 

________________________________________________

They all spent the night awake. Eventually moving outside to start a bonfire. Wrapped in blankets they let the kids stay up with them, realizing that the little ones wouldn't have experienced these types of gatherings before. So they told all the spooky stories. Polly managed to get a few screams out of the little ones. 

Johnny dogs, Charlie, and Curly came around for the fun too. 

It became a monthly type of thing moving forward. 

Fancy gifts, horses, you had never seen the kids that happy. Ruby settled herself in Tommy's arms, tucking her face in his neck every time the story would get scary. You wanted to lean over and comfort her - but you could see that in her world Daddy’s arms were still the safest place in the world. She’d been having a hard time with him gone so often that you knew it was best to let her enjoy her time with him. 

How on earth he thought you were taking the kids away blew his mind. Ruby still insisted he go to her room every night and pick out a dress for her. Didn't matter how late it was or if she was asleep. He had to pick out a dress and leave it hanging for her to wear the next day. Somehow she always knew if someone else had done it. 

Charlie was next to his cousins laughing at the little one's reactions to his favorite stories.

[cloversreblogs]

Brass in the grey- Chpt. 9

Previous chapters (AO3 only): 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 Links: FFN.net, AO3, Wattpad Read on Tumblr: 7 / 8 / X / 10

Francis and Arthur apologise to each other

Pairing: FrUK

Genre: Modern AU, Artists AU

Chapter rating: T

Chapter warning(s): Arthur has a bit of a nervous breakdown at one point

He decided to rest for the rest of the week.

After a couple of days of resting and thinking instead of constantly having to push himself out to busk, he actually felt… better. Not completely healed, but better. Pretending to want to busk was tiring, anyway.

Over the past couple of days, Francis had reflected. He busked so that he could feel useful. Other than that? It was mostly because of the fear of doing nothing, being nothing, even. After he realised that those thoughts were irrational, it was easier to think about the problem.

Francis sipped the mug of coffee that rested in his hands as it rained outside. It was a calming silence somehow.

It was not uncomfortable like the silence of the park. The park's silence was a void that consumed anything and everything. Maybe it was something to do with the addition of the pitter-patter of the rain, the refrigerator's low hum, or the ticking of the clock, but it was soothing.

When he finished his coffee, he placed the mug into the sink, and sat onto the couch. He soon realised that he had sat on his folder, and pulled it out from underneath him.

It was quite bulky, so much so that the pages were sticking out. He had bought it sometime during June. As he flipped through the folder, he noted that there were only three empty pockets left.

Francis leafed through all the adagios, the concertos, and the gavottes before pulling them out of their pockets.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes and ripped them. All of the music sheets that he had printed, marked, highlighted over the course of weeks, months even, gone in a matter of minutes.

At last, he let go of the last piece of paper. Ripped paper littered the floor around him. Only two music sheets, Autumn Leaves and In a sentimental mood, remained in the folder's front, pieces that Francis had never found the heart to throw away, despite the age.

He didn't know how to feel after tearing apart the music sheets. One one hand, he was irked at how he had destroyed so many perfectly good music sheets. On the other… he was… relieved.

As he cleaned up the scattered mess of sheets, a thought crossed him that maybe he should apologise to Arthur. He had toyed with the idea of doing so, but it had only remained as an idea. Even now, Francis wasn't sure if he was ready to apologise.

On the other hand, today he had been feeling much better today. It wouldn't hurt too bad, right? He grabbed the keys and left the apartment. Now would be a good time to do so.

Since that encounter with Francis, Arthur had found that his writers' block had returned.

His head was clouded by regret, so much so that the fuse refused to light. No matter how much he turned his thoughts away, it was still there. The regret hung onto the fuse, like glue. He knew why- ever since the last time they had seen each other, Arthur couldn't help but feel guilty.

He should've stopped himself just before the actual argument happened. Was he the reason that Francis had actually been forced right up to the edge? In fact, was Francis even unwell in the first place? He was disgusting. He shouldnt've intervened at all.

Arthur shook his head, and focused back onto the computer screen. To his dismay, he found that he had wasted 15 minutes from thinking about Francis.

He growled and slammed the laptop screen shut. Writing had always been a source of comfort for him. Back when he was a kid, so why couldn't he do that-

A quiet knock pushed him out of his trance. Who was that? His mind mingled with the possibility of Francis, but he shut it down. Why would Francis want to see him at all, especially after how he treated him?

A peep through the peephole proved otherwise.

On the other side of the door was Francis.

Panic started to rise up within him. Sure, he knew that one of them had to apologise to one another sooner or later, but never in a thousand years could he have dreamt for it to happen at all! Nevertheless, he took a deep breath in, straightened his shirt, and answered the door.

Francis glanced up, and smiled at the sight of him, but forced it down.

"I know you're mad at me, but-" A raise of a hand by Francis signalled him to stop. Francis took a deep breath in.

"I'm… I'm sorry… e-excuse me." Was he going to apologise? He said it so quietly, Arthur thought that his ears were playing trick on him. "For..." He took a deep breath in and cleared his throat. After he raised his head, Francis made eye contact and said:

"I'm sorry for yelling at you the other day. I- didn't know what got into me, so… so yeah."

Arthur was stunned. Francis apologised for something he wasn't even responsible for! He glanced to the side. How should he respond? He couldn't just say "apology accepted" and leave it like that, especially when Francis had mustered up so much courage to come apologise. That would be cheap and assholish. Jesus, why couldn't he think straight in these situations?

"No no, it's not your fault. I… we were probably both at faults, but honestly it's not your fault that you, e-exploded and whatnot. Erhm, it's natural? Jesus Christ, I'm sorry, I…" He took a deep breath in as he rubbed his temples. All the things that he had felt over the past couple of days were building up, and his nerves were starting to get the better of him. If he wasn't careful, his emotions would build up like water in a dam and overflow. "I shouldnt've stuck my nose out of your business and shit. I'm sorry for being a such bloody arse and judging you and seriously, I-I was so scared that I fucked you up permanently, ugh, I'm so sorry, Jesus, ugh fuck!"

A wave of panic crashed onto him as the dam walls burst.

And once it burst, it just wouldn't stop flowing. LHe could feel his breathing become more and more shaky as he took deep breaths in. His head started to throb, his heart was hammering against his chest, and his hands were clenched so much that they shook violently, his whole body shook, in fact. But those were all overshadowed by the sensation of tears pricking at his eyes.

He hung his head down. He was crying. He was actually crying! The disgust of it just made him cry harder.

At this point, everything around him started to close onto him, and his surroundings started to spin as nausea overcame him.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lead away from the hallway back into his apartment. He felt the couch's edge at his knees, and collapsed down onto the couch. The couch shifted as he felt someone else sit next to him- Francis.

"Try taking in deep breaths, OK?" Francis instructed as Arthur sat down. He drew in a deep, shaky breath before exhaling, and breath by breath, he felt more and more in grips with himself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"That's it. It'll be over soon, I promise, I'm here for you."

He repeated it like a mantras until slowly, but surely, Arthur's crying slowed down.

By the time he was done, he was absolutely exhausted, and his cheeks were probably red hot. He must've looked like a mess right now.

"Here." Francis passed him a handkerchief which he took.

"Thanks," he muttered as he wiped away his tears and mucus with it.

Francis stood up, and grabbed a folded blanket that sat on the other end of the couch before unfolding it.

"Lie down," he calmly instructed. Arthur lied down, and Francis laid the blanket onto him.

"Sorry, I tend to get terribly emotional."

"It's OK, it happens to all of us. Rest for as long as you need to, OK? Do you want a drink or…"

"Sure," he muttered. "The tea's in the first cabinet at the right." At this point, he was too tired to care about his pride and whatnot. He heard Francis walk into the kitchen, and rummage through the cabinets.

"Which kind?"

"Chai."

As he lied down, he could hear Francis busy in the kitchen.

He sighed. It had been awhile since he had been taken care of like this.

A thought crossed into his mind. Was it fair? Francis had came to apologise, and now he was making tea for him. Christ, that wasn't right at all.

Furthermore, why did Arthur cry when the situation wasn't even about him? Who even did that?

Maybe he shouldnt've just let his emotions loose like that, and make everything about himself. He should've controlled them more, and then they could've left the apology cleanly.

When Francis came from the kitchen carrying a mug of tea, he sat up, and took it.

"Thanks."

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thank you." He was about to take a sip when he stopped. When Francis cried a couple of days ago, he just left him without another word. This time, when he himself cried, Francis not only lended him a handkerchief but led him inside and took care of him, even after all the shit he put him through.

He snapped out of those thoughts. But what if those thoughts were wrong? What if it was just his habit of overestimating situations? Arthur's head started to spin. Drinking the tea would be ignorant. Rejecting the tea would be rude-

"Are you alright?"

Arthur glanced to his side at Francis, who looked at him, concerned. By then, he realised that he had been staring at the tea for awhile.

He placed the tea onto the table, and sat up straight. After taking a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and thought of what to say.

Arthur took a deep breath in, and fiddled with his hands. "It's… it's just not right for me to make you cry last week, and now you're here apologising for something that's not even in your control. And... now you're making me tea and lending me your handkerchief and overall just being much more kinder than you needed to be and just treating me decently even after all the shit I put you through last week." Frustration started to pent up inside of him as Arthur held his hands tighter.

He felt a pat on his shoulder, and glanced up towards him. Francis smiled at him reassuringly, with no hint of disgust whatsoever, and he felt a bit relieved.

"Arthur, look. Oh one hand, I did all this, because honestly, nobody wants to be left alone and uncared for, everybody needs a shoulder to cry on and…" he stopped his words when he remembered about Arthur's earlier words.

"Alright, you made a mistake the other day, but I understand. To be honest, I-I don't think that I would had accepted an apology from you after I broke down and such, anyway."

"Ah." Arthur nodded at his words. "Makes sense. But it doesn't dismiss the fact that I've been practically verbally harassing you and whatnot."

"Harassing?" Francis gave out a small chuckle. "Bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Hm. I, I suppose. Excuse me, I'm sort of at this shitty level of asshole and care-too-much, so… yeah. I just overjudge things too much." There was a brief pause from Francis after he said that.

"Arthur, look, I… forgive you. It was a mistake that you made the other day and so on and so forth. Erhm, maybe I was at faults as well since I should've been more… more clear about what I was feeling. Point is, it's past us now, alright?"

Arthur was still hesitant. Here Francis was trying his best to give him advice and such, but it wasn't working as effectively as the other had hoped.

He heard Francis sigh, and he looked towards him. Francis looked down, dejected.

"To be honest, I probably needed to face what I was going through, anyway."

"What?"

"You were right the other day, I couldn't just bottle up my emotions and problems and expect them to go away. I… bottled them because I thought that I'd hurt people if I was open about them. And now…"

"Wait, no no, it's not your fault either. It was something you couldn't control at the time…" Arthur remembered about how he was upset over his mental breakdown. It was something that he couldn't control either, and somehow, he felt… better about it. "Sort of like how I broke down today." Francis nodded, and he stroked his chin as he thought.

"You exploding and me exploding as well were out of our abilities, so maybe we could apologise over the things we do have control over. Hang on." Francis cleared his throat, and waited a bit before starting. "I'm sorry that I wasn't clear about how I was feeling. I was scared that talking about the bad things I've been feeling would, well, scare people away if you know what I mean. And… maybe I could've told you that I didn't want to talk about it." Arthur nodded.

"I'm… sorry for judging every single thing you did and pressuring you. I did it since it worried me alot to see you clearly bottling up your emotions, since…" he paused. He glanced over to Francis who listened on. Good god, this was going to be embarrassing. "You're… a… well, erhm, friend of mine, and I… hate to see you like that. I… sort of have a fear of being ignorant, so... that sort of adds to it." Friend. Huh. He had never thought that he would use that word.

"Well, maybe if you're worrying too much over me next time, you could ask "are you alright?" or something like that."

"Yeah, and you could reply with "I don't exactly want to talk about it" if you have to, cause honestly, we only just met two weeks ago and such and such." Francis snickered a bit.

"Feeling better now?"

"... A lot!" Talking about how he felt actually made alot of progress. "Though… there's still the thing about your job, and me about constantly overjudging everything. I… couldn't help with that, I apologise."

"Arthur, look, I think that it's OK not to be always be informative since, well, we are people, and there are things that we don't know. Besides, you tried to help all you could over the last week, even if it doesn't always turn out well. Well… I could go see a therapist if I have to."

Arthur thought. "Hm, I know this one therapist near here. Here," he grabbed a loose leaf of paper and a pen before scribbling down an address and passing it to Francis. "She's quite nice to talk to, and her office's really close from here. Actually, I think that I'm overdue for an appointment, anyway."

Francis looked at the address, and smiled. "Alright, I'll think about it!" The whole room seemed to lit up as Francis smiled, and Arthur actually felt… happy.

Francis and Arthur bit farewell. As Francis walked up the stairs, he let out a content sigh. The conversation with Francis today had cleared, dissolved the solid weight that had built up over the last couple of days, until it was lighter than air. The freedom from it was as if he had taken flight, as if he was free.

Too long had it been since he had felt this way.

When he headed back for the tea, it was lukewarm. Arthur didn't like cold tea, but he could let that pass for now.

Dinner was tense.

Over the past few days, he had been more clear of what he had been feeling. As a result, Gilbert and Antonio, usually loud people, became more and more quiet.

What was usually a time of hearty conversations and recounts had turned dead silent. Francis knew that it was because though he tried to hide what he had been feeling, it radiated a poignant air that you'd have to be blind to miss.

He put down the fork, to which they looked up towards him. It was so quiet, even the tap of a fork was enough to catch Gilbert and Antonio's attention.

"Francis? W-we've been, erhm, noticing that you were…"

"I know." Toni had never been the type of subtle comfort. At those two words, Gilbert and Antonio perked up. He sucked in some air, which helped ease tension. It was now or never.

"I've been feeling a bit depressed-"

"What?!"

"Look, I've been… been, ugh." He started to feel tears prick up in his eyes. Antonio handed him a box of tissues, which he gladly accepted.

"Thanks." After taking a moment, Francis said: "I've just been feeling a bit, well, erhm, u-useless?" It was much harder to say the word, especially since Gilbert and Antonio were the literal reasons he felt that way. "It's just the way that I get to hear how your days are going, while I don't have a job and such. I-I'm much better now, but… yeah. I've been feeling this way for awhile now."

"Fran... " Antonio was about to say something, but all words were lost. "W-we're so sorry."

"To be honest, I should've told you this earlier." They nodded, though there was uncertainty in their eyes.

"Is there anything, anything at all that we could do to help?" Gilbert asked.

"Well… maybe… you could try not to talk as much about your jobs…" he started to realise a flaw. In turn of him having to not feel as bad, he was asking Gilbert and Antonio to hide their emotions- the very thing that made him depressed. "But it's more regarding to me as it is regarding to you all, so, erhm, try not to take it too personally. Hm, maybe… maybe I could try out therapy for awhile."

"Ah. Sure. We'll think about it."

It's important to talk about your emotions with close friends/family in terms of mental health, since bottling them up just causes bigger problems later on.