You had always been fascinated with the stars. With the idea of thousands of solar systems where out there, each one with it's own sun, or three. However, the idea you loved most, the one that thrilled you was the idea that there was life out there. That just maybe, there was a species who wouldn't mind become friends with humans.
You glanced out the window at the darkening sky and sighed. If only there was a way to contact the outside.
A large white light streaked across the sky. You gaped, eyes wide. Grabbing a pair of binoculars, you threw open the backdoor and pressed them against your face, neck craning backwards to get a better view of the sky.
It was gone. Frowning, you lowered the binoculars and squinted at the sky. There was absolutely no trace of the white light that had streaked across the sky only seconds before.
Your shoulders slumped and you sighed. You must have imagined it somehow, spent too much time staring at the stars. Closing the door behind you, you turned and shuffled back into the living room.
Dropping back onto your seat, you leaned back and sighed, eyes closed.
"I really wish I could at least see evidence of some sort of sentient being."
"It doesn't matter." You mumbled, rubbing the bridge of your nose. It was a good question though, because with an 'It doesn't matter' answer, you were practically begging for life to send something nasty your way.
Speaking of which, you had no roommate and never talked to yourself. So, who the hell had asked you the question?
Your eyes snapped open as you sat up, ready to fight off some new intruder.
Nothing you had ever experienced or seen in your entire life prepared you for the sight that greeted your eyes.
A lean man sat in front of you. His long, wavy blonde hair fell loosely about his shoulders, framing and almost too perfect face. Light stubble ran along his jaw line, which actually looked nice on him. His irises looked like someone had stolen pieces of the summer sky and had used them to color his eyes.
However, you took no notice of those qualities. Mainly because the angelic looking man was naked.
"W-Who the hell are you!!!!" You averted your eyes, cheeks flaming red.
He shrugged, eyes twinkling. His nonchalant, empty-headed grin irked you slightly.
"I don't 'ave a name yet."
He had a French accent. Of course.
You glared at him and clenched your jaw, unsure of what to do. Did he have some type of amnesia? Or was he a psycho pervert?
"So WHAT are you." If he wasn't answering to 'Who' maybe he'd answer to 'What'.
When he shrugged you felt like strangling him.
"Then why the hell are you here?"
"To study 'umans!"
You felt all of your anger drain away. In its place was extreme exhaustion. Shoulders slumped you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. He smiled at you, completely oblivious to the slight depression you were sinking into.
"Why?" Your voice was emotionless.
If he shrugged again you were going to punch him. He shrugged and you lunged forward, fists flying.
A week had passed since he had arrived. It was a week full of strange and exasperating conversations with him. You had learned that he was either a sentient as he claimed to be, or a wacko with a severe case of amnesia.
"_____!! I've picked a name!" The blonde bounded into the room a book filled with over a thousand names in his hand. Flipping it open, he pointed out a particular name. You stared at it, then at him.
He had chosen Francis, which strangely enough, suited him.
"Alright then what will your surname be?"
"Bonnefoy." Francis grinned, setting the book onto a coffee table. You nodded and looked out the window.
"Anything you need to ask me today?"
The man had spent a good amount of each day asking you about things humans do to the things humans had made. You had nearly screamed when he asked what the point of a toilet was.
He nodded, turning around and racing into his bedroom. Running back towards you, he flipped open what looked to be a crappy romance novel.
"What is Kissing?"
You blushed and looked away. "It's uh... It's something you do with someone you really like."
"You use your lips." You paused and shrugged. "I don't know, nobody has ever kissed me."
He nodded, tossing the romance novel onto the couch. You watched warily, eyes narrowed.
"It has to be someone you really like?"
You shrugged again, nodding. Geez, of all the humans he could have picked to stay with, you had to be the worst. Francis probably regretted his decision.
You flinched when a warm hand cupped your cheek. Francis was holding your face gently, as if it were a valuable piece glass.
"Francis, what are you doing?"
The blonde grinned cheekily, then leaned forward and captured your lips with his. For a moment you were frozen, eyes wide with shock. Then you were kissing him back, hands tangling through his long blonde hair.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were panting slightly. Francis grinned cheekily,
"I zink I like zat part about being 'uman."
You nodded mutely, still a little shocked by the kiss. Picking up the romance novel again, he flipped to a different page.
"So zat is kissing." He mused, flipping past that spot, lips pursed slightly.
"Yes?" You glanced at him, he grinned.
"What is sex? Can we try it?"
"NO!!!! NOPE!!!! NUH-UH!!!"
You were off the couch and halfway across the living room before he had time to react to your response.
You just shook your head, face the color of tomatoes. How where you going to explain this to him? He glanced at the book, then up at you.
"Should I use ze internet?"
Oh god. You blanched, If he used the internet, who knew what kind of crazy, perverted thing he would find. So if he couldn't use the internet, you would have to be the one to explain things to him.
Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose. This was going to be a long and humiliating day.