Drunk- 4 Final
A man was walking across the park, the hem of his long coat flapping about his ankles. You frowned, he looked familiar some how.
He turned his head slightly, flicking a cigarette into the snow. He froze, looking at you. You stared back. Even though his hair was slightly shorter and shaggy, and stubble covered his cheeks you knew who it was. His emotionless violet eyes stared back at you.
You shivered, wrapping your arms around your torso.
It was Francis.
The scruffy remnant of a man you used to know stood silent.
"Francis? Is that really you?"
He nodded slightly, lifting the cigarette to his lips. You stared, still astonished at how changed your friend had become.
"Take a picture _____. It'll last longer." Francis's voice was hoarse and his tone uncaring.
Your jaw dropped. Before you had left, Francis would have laughed, asking if you were enjoying the view. But this Francis, the NEW Francis, seemed to have lost all his flirtatiousness manner.
He sighed, pursing his lips. "I suppose you want to talk?"
You nodded, shivering in the cold winter air. A few weeks ago, Francis would have offered you his coat, not this man though.
"Do Arzer and Ivan know you are 'ere?"
Francis nodded, holding a hand out towards you. "We can go to my place."
You hesitated for a moment, not sure that you wanted to be alone in a private place with this man. He noticed your hesitation, but his expression didn't change.
"Alright." You slowly placed your hand in his, "Let's go."
The moment you stepped into his house, you wondered briefly if the real Francis had been abducted by Aliens and the man in front of you was their sore attempt at a replacement.
Francis house was an utter mess. Clothing was strewn about the small apartment carelessly. Books and papers were piled haphazardly in the mess.
"Looks like you need to do some spring cleaning Francis." You laughed nervously, stepping over the precarious piles.
The Frenchman didn't laugh, just glowered over his shoulder.
Right, no commenting on the state of his house.
You sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, never taking your eyes off Francis. He rolled his violet eyes, rubbing the stubble on his cheek.
"Stop staring at me like I'm going to molest you."
You blushed and looked down at your hands.
"What happened Francis?"
"Life." The answer was more a grunt than than a word. He lit another cigarette, blowing a plume of silver smoke into the air.
"You're different Francis."
"No shit Sherlock."
You scowled, the new Francis's tough boy act was growing old.
"Where is the old Francis that I love?"
Francis froze, eyes wide, the cigarette halfway to his lips. Then the emotion was gone.
"Don't mess wiz my feelings more zan you already 'ave." Even though his face was void of his emotion, his tone was bitter.
Your eyelid twitched. Messing with his feelings? How many years had you put up with him messing with your feelings?
The dam of your emotions burst.
"I'M MESSING WITH YOUR FEELINGS?!" You stood up, fist clenched. Francis flinched, his eyes going wide.
You had been told often that when pissed of, you were the most intimidating force on the planet. That skill seemed to come in handy at the moment.
You wrapped your fingers around the Frenchman's collar. His face had drained of all color.
"Do you have any idea how horrible I felt watching you go off with countless other women?!" You shook his shirt to emphasize your anger.
"I had to keep all my feelings inside, while you gallivanted around!"
You inhaled deeply, letting his collar go and straightening to your full height.
"Do you know how many times I felt like my heart was being torn to shreds?"
Francis's mouth fell open, giving him the look of a fish out of water. You glared down at him, resisting the urge to smack him across the face.
---Arthur's Point of view-----
I stood in front of _____ house, panic slowly sinking in. A car sped around the corner, nearly taking out a lamp post. Ivan jumped out, his face grim.
"I can't find her."
I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She wasn't home and she wasn't at her usual haunts.
There was only one other place _____ could be.
"I am koink to kill him." Ivan's voice was deadly calm, but his eyes showed the outright hate and fury burning within him.
"When I get done with him, he'll wish he was dead." My voice shook slightly.
Had he come and taken ______ away? Or had she broken her promise and gone after him?
"Arser. Let us ko." Ivan placed a hand on my shoulder, gently shoving me towards the car.
"Ve von't do ______ any kood standink around like fools."
I nodded numbly, my heart hurt to think that _____ might still love Francis.
-----Reader's point of view----
You stared down at Francis and felt something inside break. Your anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by pity.
Sighing, your shoulders slumped. "Do you have any trash bags?"
"What?" His brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Just answer the question." Your voice sounded tired.
"Oui." Francis stared at you warily.
"Relax." You surveyed the dirty surroundings doubtfully, "We have a lot of cleaning to do."
The next twenty minutes were spent in utter silence as you and Francis went abut the house, picking up trash and dirty clothing.
You held back many squeaks of disgust. He was going to need a new wardrobe, none of his clothing seemed salvageable.
"Why are you 'elping me?"
You looked over at the Frenchman, he was stacking books back on the shelf.
"I've always helped you." You tied another garbage back shut and looked around. The apartment looked fairly decent.
"But I've never done anyzing in return." He pointed out, his violet eyes following your every move.
Sighing you looked over at him.
"What made you like this Francis?" You sat on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and staring at him.
Francis sighed, rubbing his eye tiredly.
"After I found out zat my girlfriend, whats'er name, wasn't pregnant I was devastated." He sighed, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.
"I went to your place, only to find it deserted. Zen I went to Arzers. 'E and I fought."
"You what?!" Your eyes widened slightly. Francis let out a harsh bark of a laugh.
"We exchanged some nasty words, and zhen 'e punched me."
You raised an eyebrow, Arthur wasn't the violent type. "What were you fighting about?"
"You." Francis shrugged again at your shock.
"So then what happened?"
The Frenchman sighed again, the cigerette dangling off his bottom lip.
"I stopped caring."
---Ivan's point of view----
"He's an uncaring asshole!" I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Arthur was shaking with fury, his green eyes blazing.
"You need to calm down comrade. Vait until ve are at Francis's, Sen you can kick his ass."
"CALM DOWN?! CALM DOWN?!" Arthur slapped a hand on the dash board, "I AM PERFECTLY CALM!!"
Rolling my eyes I made a sharp turn, we were nearly at Francis's. But of course, something had to happen.
A loud siren started up and red and blue flashing lights, sped into sight behind us. The police.
"Oh bugger this!!" Arthur growled as I pulled over. His large eyebrows resembled large storm clouds over his eyes.
Rolling down the window, I glare out at the policeman who sauntered over. Alfred, a man I hated almost as much as my father.
"Soooooo, you guys have any idea how fast you were going?" He grinned cockily. I smirked, he had doughnut crumbs down his front.
"Ve hafe somevere ve need to be." I smiled, although it was clearly forced.
"Do ya' now? Well, you might just have to take a detour past the police station."
I felt my eyelid twitch, the American was doing this on purpose. Before I could retaliate with a nasty comment (or punch), Arthur leaned over and glared out the window.
"If you don't let us go RIGHT NOW. I will post your baby pictures on every Dating website available."
Alfred paled slightly, his blue eyes going wide.
"Try me." Arthur growled.
Alfred stood for a moment, clearly weighing the options.
"Right, I didn't see you speeding." Glaring at us, he hurried back to his car. I stepped on the gas.
----Reader's point of view-----
Francis had gone silent, most likely brooding. You stared at him, fighting an internal battle.
"Do you think." You paused, wondering how to frame the question. "Do you think, that maybe you could care again?"
The Frenchman looked at you, his expression unreadable. You waited, not realizing that you were holding your breath until he spoke.
"I could, for you." You noticed a hint of the cerulean blue his eyes used to be, seeping into the swirling violet of his eyes.
Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his. Francis stiffened, then relaxed, deepening the kiss. You reached out, twining your fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer.
Francis, wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing you against the couch.
You pulled away for air and smiled at him. Francis smiled back, rubbing his face against your neck.
That's when all hell broke loose.
There was a loud splintering crack. Francis shoved you behind him, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a switch blade.
Ivan and Arthur burst into the room. Ivan looking wary and Arthur looking like a crazed maniac.
"Are you alright Arthur?" You walked over to him. He glared at Francis, shaking with rage.
"Ivan what's wrong?"
The tall Russian opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Arthur spoke up.
"What's wrong? You broke your promise ______." His glare shifted from Francis, to you. You flinched, Arthur never glared at you.
"Not really." You whispered, backing away from him and towards Francis.
"I just." Arthur's entire body was shaking and to your surprise, tears were glistening in his eyes. Ivan looked unsure, not wanting to approach the irate Englishman.
"Why him?" You flinched again at his words. They were no more than a whisper, but they still cut deep.
"He's done nothing but hurt you ______. So why him?"
Your eyes widened as you realized the real reason Arthur was upset. There was an unspoken question that lingered in the air, one Arthur wouldn't say, yet you knew.
Why not him? Why not Arthur, the man you had always gone to with your broken heart.
"Because I love Francis." And not you, because you are more like a brother to me.
You added the last part silently, and Arthur seemed to know this.
"Alright, sorry for bothering you." He turned to leave. You noticed that his eyes looked different. More blue than green.
But that was probably a trick of the light.
Ivan nodded to you, apologized to Francis about breaking down his door and left.
"Arzer is going to change." Francis wrapped an arm around your waist, staring after the duo.
You shuddered, knowing this to be true.
----Arthur's point of view-----
I stared out my window, a cup of tea brewing in front of me. I drummed my finger against the table.
A grin spread across my face, slowly growing to that like the Cheshire cat's.
"Cupcakes." My voice reverberated through the house, bouncing of the walls and broken furniture.
Outside a woman walked past my house. The drumming of my fingers matched the dripping from the kitchen faucet.
"Cupcakes for the pretty poppets." My grin grew even wider. Yes, none of the women I approached would be _______. But sooner or later Francis would forget me, and then I would strike.
______ Would be mine, it was only a matter of time.