Chapter Text
“Bloody hell.” Arthur scowled, his lip piercings bowing with his gesture. “Didn’t I pass that bird feeder already?”
The blond, British teen was trying to get to his new home, but his family had only just moved in a few days ago. Arthur had told his mum that he was going to go explore the neighborhood, and would be back before dusk. Obviously, the boy wasn’t as familiar with the neighborhood as he had thought, because now it was nearly dusk, and he had to admit defeat now.
Arthur Kirkland was lost.
“Ugh, this fucking sucks.” He swore incessantly the whole time he trudged over to said bird feeder. “This really kills the whole ‘ oh mum, imma explore the whole damn town’ vibe I was having. Because look where I am now.” Arthur huffed. “I’m in Bumblefuck. I-”
An ache suddenly welled up in Arthur’s throat. He swallowed, trying to push it back down. No, there was no way he was going to cry over this. He was almost sixteen, for the Queen’s sake! Sixteen-year-olds didn’t cry over getting lost.
“Just take a deep breath,” He told himself, pushing back his bangs and adjusting his black beanie, “Just fuckin’ breathe. I’ll find a way back.”
“Right. I’ve got to retrace my footsteps, yeah?” The blonde laughed, trying to psych himself up. “That’s it. That’s the ticket. No American suburbia is a match for me, the great Arthur Kirkland!”
With that being said, he set off in the complete opposite direction of where he came.
He went to the left of the bird feeder, swinging around it once out of whim.
“Now I just keep going straight, I think. Straight on!” The boy ran off, dusk settling on the trees like noir snow. The sun ducked down beneath the treeline, yawning away it’s once bright light.
Arthur didn’t notice, he was too busy rambling to himself to try and keep the fear away.
“I’ve just got to keep right on this way. That’s all. Then I’ll be home, probably in time to watch Sherlock. Though I’ll get a mighty fine scolding from me mum since I was out so, um...late.” His voice drew small near the end when he noticed that he couldn’t really see the ground anymore. Arthur looked up at the stars, pure fear setting in.
“Oh no.” Arthur panicked, now truly ready to cry. He never liked the dark, especially when it concerned neighborhoods he’d never been to and trails he’d never walked before. This was a new kind of fear.
Mind spinning with monsters and ghosts lingering in the trees, Arthur blindly felt his way to something hard. What was it? He patted the space, and it seem to be some kind of seat.
“I’m in a park?” Arthur murmured, sniffling. He stiffened at a buzzing sound. “Oh, what the fuck is this now?” He was almost exasperated with it all. If he were going to die out here in this godforsaken park, then he’d rather have it done already.
Instead of his wishes of death being granted, mini lanterns lit up along a stone pathway. It gave some light around the park, and made everything a little less scary.
“Oh,” Arthur breathed, tears falling. “That’s a...little better.” He supposed those lights were the ones that turned on after dark, and he appreciated it.
But he wanted to be at home, in his bed. Hell, he’d rather take being scolded by his mum than be out here, in a place he didn’t know.
“Fuck. I’m so fucked!” Arthur bit his lip, biting the snakebite piercing in the process. He cried, though he tried to be quiet about it. Arthur hated to cry, he saw it as weak. But combine fear with his crazy teenage hormones, there wasn’t much control over his raw emotions.
“Are you okay, cher?”
Arthur screamed, falling out of his seat and onto the cobble pathway.
“W-Who the fuck is there?! I-I’m warning you, I’m armed!” Clearly a lie, but what else was he going to tell the stranger? Nice to meet you, I’m lost and completely helpless?
Yeah, that’d go over well.
The voice chuckled kindly, then stepped into the dim light.
It was his eyes that Arthur saw first.
They were like the ocean, shimmering as if he had just heard the funniest joke. He was a blonde like Arthur was, only with more platinum in his golden hair than Arthur did. Barely a hint of stubble was on his chin, more so a shadow of what might come to be. But this boy was lanky, tall and thin and still not entirely out of it’s awkward phase. Yet, the male carried himself with a confidence that Arthur could only describe as sexy.
“W-Who are you?” Arthur demanded in a shaky, I’ve-been-crying voice.
“I’m Francis Bonnefoy, enchante!” Francis introduced grandly, his acccent marring his words.
“What the bloody...you’re French?! Ew.” Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms. Great. A Frenchman.
“Hey, that’s not very nice!” Then he actually pouted. “Monsieur Punk, why were you crying?”
“Did you just call me a punk?” Arthur grit his teeth. “Listen here, you frog-”
“Gah, how dare you call me a frog! La, la, la, I cannot ‘ear you!” Francis put his hands over his ears, being annoying, in Arthur’s opinion. “I shall not answer to you unless you call me by my name, Angleterre.”
Arthur stopped in his ranting to wonder what the hell ‘angleterre’ meant.
“What...did you just fucking call me, Frenchie?” The Brit was in no mood for games.
“I called you Angleterre.” He smirked, leaning against the metal bench. “Quoi, Tu ne parle pas français?”
All this bullshit was making Arthur’s head hurt. He realised he was going to have to play nice if he wanted help from this...Frenchman.
He sighed, frustrated. “Okay, look, French fry--”
“Francis.” Francis insisted.
Arthur’s eye twitched in annoyance.
“Okay, whatever. I--”
“You’re lost.” Francis smiled kindly this time. “I know. I can tell because I’ve seen you wandering out here for at least an hour.”
Arthur gasped. “T-Then, why didn’t you help me?”
Francis shrugged. “I thought you went home once it got dark because I couldn’t see you anymore. But then, I heard you crying, so now I think, ‘Aww, zhe ange needs some help!’ and so, here I am!”
Arthur only stared. He didn’t know what an ange was, but it wasn’t said maliciously. Maybe this man -however French- could really help him.
“Could you...take me home?” He muttered shyly, looking away.
“Oui, I can!” Francis grinned, and Arthur looked up at him from his place on the ground. “Oh, and by the way? Your eyeliner ran when you cried.”
He offered his hand to Arthur.
Arthur arched an eyebrow, then hesitantly took the other’s hand.
“Francis, do me a favour and shut the hell up.”
The Frenchman laughed, still hanging onto the other’s hand as he led the two of them out of the park.
Arthur didn’t pull away.
“I think you held onto my hand the entire night, too.” Francis reminisced.
“Ha. I did not.” Arthur dismissed, knowing full well that he did. “Are you going to finish the story or not?”
“You remember it as well as I do. Why don’t you finish it?”
“Fine, fine. Anyway, so we were walking…”
“How long have you lived here, Frog?” Arthur asked, blushing slightly from the warmth of Francis’ hand. My, was it that cold already?
“About a year, my family, we, ah…” He struggled for the English word. “Move? Travel around a lot, oui. So we never stay in one place for too long.”
“Oh.” Arthur hated to admit it, but he felt sad for finally meeting a friend only to have him gone so soon. “So, you’ll be going then?”
“Maybe. Maybe I’ll stay, stick around to see what happens to my petite Angleterre.” Francis grinned. God, when this boy smiles…
Arthur felt butterflies kicking in his stomach. He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. “That doesn’t work on me.”
“What doesn’t work on you?”
“Romance. Doesn’t affect me at all.”
“It does affect you. All the time.” Francis laughed, cutting into Arthur’s story. “You love romance, you just aren’t particularly romantic yourself.”
“Hey, Frog, do me a favour and shut the hell up.” Arthur smoothly threw back. “Let me finish our memory.”
Francis just stared at Arthur, a peculiar smile on his face. Determination shone in his eyes. “Hm. Guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”
“Pfft. You can try, but it won’t work.” The Brit denied, having to jog a bit to catch up with Francis. Still, their hands were enterwined, neither one willing to be the first to let go. It may have been strange if it were any other person, but Arthur felt different with Francis from the start. There was a comfortability with him, despite only just meeting. The easy back-and-forth they were able to share...Arthur missed that from his old school with his friends. He wondered…
“Do you go to World Highschool?” Arthur inquired.
“Oui, do you?” Francis seem thrilled about this news. He stopped just in front of a house with yellow trim.
“I start on Monday.” The Brit replied softly. This was it, this was his house. But he didn’t want to leave Francis, for whatever reason. The guy irritated and made him smile. God, how confusing.
“Then I’ll see you then, cher.”Francis leaned in, and at first Arthur thought about backing away, but the thought left his mind once Francis kissed his cheek.
Francis pulled away.
“à la prochaine, Angleterre.” He said happily, waving goodbye as he ran back to his house.
Shocked, Arthur put a hand up to his cheek. Sure, he was rather friendly with the Frenchie, but he didn’t expect Francis to kiss him!
He walked up to the doorway, and knocked.
“In France, it’s common to kiss people on the cheek in saying goodbye or hello.” Francis explained before Arthur could ask. He took a sip of wine.
“That wasn’t going to be my question, but good try,” Arthur grinned slyly, “My question is, how did you know how to find my house?”
“Easily, cher,” Francis peered over the photo album they were looking at. “I had gotten off the bus as soon as you walked out of your house, and I noticed you because of those goddamn eyebrows.”
“Hey! Leave my eyebrows out of this equation!” Arthur scowled, crossing his arms. “You know, you are so cute, but then you open your damn mouth, and then you-”
“D’accord, d’accord, I’m sorry.” Francis spoke over Arthur in order to make amends. He sighed, then took Arthur’s hand. “I’m happy we’re married.”
Arthur smiled, fight forgotten. “I’m ecstatic. Highschool sweethearts, huh? Sometimes, I never thought we’d make it this far. But I’m happy we did,” He added. “I can’t believe we’re almost thirty now. Where has the time gone?! You were so adorable when you were sixteen. Even when you got braces, I still thought you were the hottest thing to walk the earth.”
“Oh mon dieu, the braces!” Francis moaned, putting a hand to his head dramatically. “I honestly tried to forget that period of time in my life.”
“You didn’t look that bad. Just sorta like a spaceship crashed in your mouth.” Arthur smirked at Francis’ indignant huff. He leaned over, kissing the Frenchman. “Idiot. I’ll love you no matter what.” He murmured.
Francis chuckled, “Je’taime aussi, Arthur.”