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The warm light hit you as you drove your car, the crisp, sweet air blowing your hair about. It was lovely, the summer sky, but soon it would change to Autumn, where the days were colder, and the sun became duller than before. That meant only one week in your Paris home, but you figured you'd make the most of it before leaving to go back to the States. In the car with you was a close friend of yours, Arthur Kirkland, who seemed to be exasperated about the trip.
"Isn't Paris beautiful, Arthur?" You asked, sticking your hand out the window to feel the cool wind as you drove down the highway.
He groaned, resting his head in his hands.
"I'd rather not be in France at all, even going to the US is better than this." He groaned again in annoyance.
"Ah, hush, you know I have to leave in a week, might as well enjoy it while it lasts!" You pouted, turning to look at him.
“You’re lucky I’m such a great friend, getting the movers to pack up your things.” He rolled his eyes in annoyance at you, before they grew wide in fear. “Watch out for the road!” Arthur screamed, clutching onto the seat.
You turned your gaze back to the road, noticing your car had swerved to the wrong side of it and was about to collide with another.
You screamed in fear, pulling the wheel and barely scuffing the side of the other car. They honked, angrily sticking their fist out of the window. When you were steady on the road again, you laughed in awkward panic at the realization that you just almost died. The two of you remained silent for the rest of the trip until you got to your apartment.
“Close one, huh, Artie?..” You parked the car, slowly turning to face him.
He looked furious, but he didn’t say anything.
“Like I’ve said before, you’re lucky.” He hopped out of the car, slamming his door angrily.
You sighed, nervous for his soon-to-come outburst, following him by hopping out of your car. Quickly you ran up the stairs to catch up to the irritated Brit.
He was stopped in front of your door as you caught up panting. You placed your arm onto his shoulder, leaning for support as you heaved out and took in the familiar surroundings. But while you were doing this, you noticed your door was cracked open a bit.
“Erm, Arthur, why is my house unlocked?” You straighten yourself out, hoping that Arthur had just opened it right then and that you hadn’t left in exposed in your extreme haste earlier that morning.
“Oh, dear…” he uttered out.
“What is it? Nothing is stolen, right!?” You panicked, pushing him out of the way before he could answer.
Yet again, your haste had led you to a misleading assumption, but not something to your complete dismay as there was a (very) handsome stranger in your boxed up home.
You fell, taken aback, onto the ground, shocked as the beautiful man was gently packing up valuables. He didn’t seem to notice that you two had entered, as he leisurely continued to place things into boxes.
“You bloody frog!” Arthur yelled from across the room, making the mystery man turn.
He smiled, still ignoring you on the floor.
“Bonjour, Arthur!” He cooed.
You looked back and forth between the two. Did they know each other?
“How the hell did you get in here!? I told you not to come!”
“I know, I know,” He chuckled, not seeming to mind the infuriated Brit. “But those pretty mover-men were all sweaty, so I sent them home.” He seemed to be excited by the thought of them. The idea of hunky hard-working men in the heat.
"You pervert! You broke into his home, just because of some 'attractive' men?—" He kept on yelling until the other man noticed you on the floor.
"Oh, who may this charming young man be?" He pulled you up, kidding your hand as he did so.
You blushed a bit, enchanted by the aura he presented. You introduced yourself and went to shake his hand when Arthur dove between you two.
"Francis, if you even think about touching him, I'll—"
"Relax, mon ami." He smiled. "My name is Francis Bonnefey, it's lovely to make your acquaintance." You watched him wink and you swore you saw stars.
"It's lovely to meet you, too, Francis."
Arthur coughed and you took a guess what it was about.
"Oh, right… How did you get into my house?" You looked around to see everything boxed and bagged.
He didn't seem that dangerous, and Arthur seemed to know him, so you permitted yourself to interact with him, despite Arthur's heedful warnings.
"Right, Arthur wanted me to help pack up your things, and instead he hired movers. Why waste money on that when I can do it?" He scoffed.
It seemed like all the boxes were taped up and wrapped properly, so he did do a good job at least. There was just one problem: you were the one who paid for the movers. Arthur had just hired them.
Francis seemed to catch the atmosphere.
"You didn't pay for them, did you, dear?" He asked you.
When you nodded yes, he seemed to get offended.
"Arthur, how dare you mistreat this angel like that!" He smacked Arthur on the back of his head.
He got ticked, but didn't fight back as he normally would.
"I'm only for support." He groaned for the millionth time that day.
Francis thought for a moment, he didn't want you to have wasted your money. Then an idea popped into his head.
"Why don't you come to my dinner party tonight?" He suggested. "Arthur will be attending." A smirk grew on his face.
That didn't sound too bad.
You accepted the offer, making Francis clap happily.
"We'll pick you up at nine PM, sharp." He was out the door with Arthur before either of you could protest.
"One week left, I have to make the most of it." You mutter under your breath, watching as the gusty man swept down the hall.