Arthur stood on his tippy toes, bracing himself for impact if he were to fall to the ground, or most likely Francis’s eager stomach. He held the boxes and bags of food, “Y-you’ll get what I can find, alright?” There were cakes, but he didn’t need to know.
He hopped of the chair and grabbed Francis by the wrist, rushing upstairs before any of the nannies slap their hands and take away their treats. Supper was a while a way and they are growing boys! It should be excused every once in a while, but of course Arthur and Francis were not raised to be normal boys.
They were raised with sources and intellect about society that they could easily depict meters away who was a investor and who was a prick with a debt. The boys already had a name for themselves, all they had to do was follow it; but Arthur didn’t want to follow it. He enjoyed fairy cakes, he liked the feeling of going to a flower shop and wasting his time in a book store rather than his mom packaging books for him. God, he just wanted to explore life a little before it was set in stone for him. This is why the party would be good for him, as abrupt and brash they could be, he just wanted some freedom! Freedom to eat sweets and to slack off wouldn’t hurt at all.
Before francis could protest he was being pulled up the stairs, “Arzzhur! slow down! no one saw us!” he scolded, trying to slow the boy down and see what food he carried at the same time.
Francis had always been good at running, but he didn’t see the point if there was nothing to run from. He didn’t run into danger in seek of adventure like other boys did, he was glad for the safety he had in his life. Everything was there when he asked (or rather kicked and screamed until he was appeased). In lower years he had ran from lessons because he didn’t like them, or because the teachers hadn’t liked him, and his mother had never made him go back. His life was laid out before him and it felt safe, he had no desire to run from the security he had. Unless romance pulled him away, that was a different story altogether.
“T-they see everything, but you don’t see them! That’s where they get you.” He assured, closing the door behind them. He came towards the bed and dropped all the packets of sugar filled sweets on the neatly made bed.
“Grab what you like,” Arthur grabbed a little fairy cake and nibbled softly on the sweet thing. Getting some frosting on his nose in the process.
Francis giggled and jumped onto the bed, quickly grabbing a bag of toffees.
“we should hide all of this, Arzzhur, and have a secret stash for when we get hungry, and no one will ever know.” his voice was distorted as he chewed the toffee, “like pirate treasure!”
Arthur swallowed, “And where do you suggest we put them? Underground?”
Francis rolled his eyes, “non, silly” he tried to get a bit of toffee out of his teeth, “maybe under you bed?”
Arthur stood on his tippy toes, bracing himself for impact if he were to fall to the ground, or most likely Francis’s eager stomach. He held the boxes and bags of food, “Y-you’ll get what I can find, alright?” There were cakes, but he didn’t need to know.
He hopped of the chair and grabbed Francis by the wrist, rushing upstairs before any of the nannies slap their hands and take away their treats. Supper was a while a way and they are growing boys! It should be excused every once in a while, but of course Arthur and Francis were not raised to be normal boys.
They were raised with sources and intellect about society that they could easily depict meters away who was a investor and who was a prick with a debt. The boys already had a name for themselves, all they had to do was follow it; but Arthur didn’t want to follow it. He enjoyed fairy cakes, he liked the feeling of going to a flower shop and wasting his time in a book store rather than his mom packaging books for him. God, he just wanted to explore life a little before it was set in stone for him. This is why the party would be good for him, as abrupt and brash they could be, he just wanted some freedom! Freedom to eat sweets and to slack off wouldn’t hurt at all.
Before francis could protest he was being pulled up the stairs, “Arzzhur! slow down! no one saw us!” he scolded, trying to slow the boy down and see what food he carried at the same time.
Francis had always been good at running, but he didn’t see the point if there was nothing to run from. He didn’t run into danger in seek of adventure like other boys did, he was glad for the safety he had in his life. Everything was there when he asked (or rather kicked and screamed until he was appeased). In lower years he had ran from lessons because he didn’t like them, or because the teachers hadn’t liked him, and his mother had never made him go back. His life was laid out before him and it felt safe, he had no desire to run from the security he had. Unless romance pulled him away, that was a different story altogether.
“T-they see everything, but you don’t see them! That’s where they get you.” He assured, closing the door behind them. He came towards the bed and dropped all the packets of sugar filled sweets on the neatly made bed.
“Grab what you like,” Arthur grabbed a little fairy cake and nibbled softly on the sweet thing. Getting some frosting on his nose in the process.
Francis giggled and jumped onto the bed, quickly grabbing a bag of toffees.
“we should hide all of this, Arzzhur, and have a secret stash for when we get hungry, and no one will ever know.” his voice was distorted as he chewed the toffee, “like pirate treasure!”
“oui!” francis chimed, thankful for the swift change of subject. “but…ca depend….what do you have to eat? its not some of those weird muffins again is it?” The last time when Arthur had offered him a muffin Francis had been expecting something completely different to the flat rubbery substance he was given and he sincerely hoped he wouldnt be forced to eat anything like that again, it was vile no matter how much jam he put on it.
Arthur raised a brow, unaware of Francis’s worriment. “I don’t know. Whatever they cooked up for today.” He craved a muffin if anything. Arthur motioned for Francis’s to follow him down the hallway and turning left to the kitchen corridors. It was empty and spotless. No cooks in sight.
Francis followed; fingers crossed that it was something edible. He hated eating at The Kirklands’. There was always something about the meal that was horrible, they could never get the whole thing right. there would either be a good main and a terrible desert or vice versa. Even worse was when Arthur’s mother decided to cook herself, Francis remember very vividly the taste of a horrible custardy dish with tinned cherries. His mother had forced him to eat it, saying it was only polit but the hypocrite had eaten none of her own.
Francis scanned the empty kitchen.
“alors…. what are we allowed to eat?”
Arthur hummed along, making sure to avoid anything sharp. He always ended up cutting himself or even Francis when ever he remotely holds a knife. They ran out of plasters just the other day which was no good.
He scratched the back of his head, “Anything we can find I guess, they haven’t gone out shopping yet so hopefully we find something edible.”
He grabbed a chair, hoping on to look through the cabinets. It was a bit wobbly. “Francis, look out alright? Make sure I don’t fall!” Arthur reached for boxes of sweets, some gourmet and some common. Grabbing his brother’s extra stash of Jelly Babies.
anything edible. that was not a very hopeful phrase in Francis’ eyes, if Arthur thought it was only edible then it would probably kill them, the english boy did not have good taste when it came to cuisine.
Francis held the chair still, bracing himself and hoping desperately that he wouldn’t be fallen on for the second time today, the floor in here looked a lot harder and less friendly than it had in Arthur’s room.
“hurry up! what have you found? are there any cakes?” he questioned, peering up at the cupboards.
Arthur stood on his tippy toes, bracing himself for impact if he were to fall to the ground, or most likely Francis’s eager stomach. He held the boxes and bags of food, “Y-you’ll get what I can find, alright?” There were cakes, but he didn’t need to know.
He hopped of the chair and grabbed Francis by the wrist, rushing upstairs before any of the nannies slap their hands and take away their treats. Supper was a while a way and they are growing boys! It should be excused every once in a while, but of course Arthur and Francis were not raised to be normal boys.
They were raised with sources and intellect about society that they could easily depict meters away who was a investor and who was a prick with a debt. The boys already had a name for themselves, all they had to do was follow it; but Arthur didn’t want to follow it. He enjoyed fairy cakes, he liked the feeling of going to a flower shop and wasting his time in a book store rather than his mom packaging books for him. God, he just wanted to explore life a little before it was set in stone for him. This is why the party would be good for him, as abrupt and brash they could be, he just wanted some freedom! Freedom to eat sweets and to slack off wouldn’t hurt at all.
Before francis could protest he was being pulled up the stairs, “Arzzhur! slow down! no one saw us!” he scolded, trying to slow the boy down and see what food he carried at the same time.
Francis had always been good at running, but he didn’t see the point if there was nothing to run from. He didn’t run into danger in seek of adventure like other boys did, he was glad for the safety he had in his life. Everything was there when he asked (or rather kicked and screamed until he was appeased). In lower years he had ran from lessons because he didn’t like them, or because the teachers hadn’t liked him, and his mother had never made him go back. His life was laid out before him and it felt safe, he had no desire to run from the security he had. Unless romance pulled him away, that was a different story altogether.
“oui!” francis chimed, thankful for the swift change of subject. “but…ca depend….what do you have to eat? its not some of those weird muffins again is it?” The last time when Arthur had offered him a muffin Francis had been expecting something completely different to the flat rubbery substance he was given and he sincerely hoped he wouldnt be forced to eat anything like that again, it was vile no matter how much jam he put on it.
Arthur raised a brow, unaware of Francis’s worriment. “I don’t know. Whatever they cooked up for today.” He craved a muffin if anything. Arthur motioned for Francis’s to follow him down the hallway and turning left to the kitchen corridors. It was empty and spotless. No cooks in sight.
Francis followed; fingers crossed that it was something edible. He hated eating at The Kirklands’. There was always something about the meal that was horrible, they could never get the whole thing right. there would either be a good main and a terrible desert or vice versa. Even worse was when Arthur’s mother decided to cook herself, Francis remember very vividly the taste of a horrible custardy dish with tinned cherries. His mother had forced him to eat it, saying it was only polit but the hypocrite had eaten none of her own.
Francis scanned the empty kitchen.
“alors…. what are we allowed to eat?”
Arthur hummed along, making sure to avoid anything sharp. He always ended up cutting himself or even Francis when ever he remotely holds a knife. They ran out of plasters just the other day which was no good.
He scratched the back of his head, “Anything we can find I guess, they haven’t gone out shopping yet so hopefully we find something edible.”
He grabbed a chair, hoping on to look through the cabinets. It was a big wobbly. “Francis, look out alright? Make sure I don’t fall!” Arthur reached for boxes of sweets, some gourmet and some common. Grabbing his brother’s extra stash of Jelly Babies.
anything edible. that was not a very hopeful phrase in Francis’ eyes, if Arthur thought it was only edible then it would probably kill them, the english boy did not have good taste when it came to cuisine.
Francis held the chair still, bracing himself and hoping desperately that he wouldn’t be fallen on for the second time today, the floor in here looked a lot harder and less friendly than it had in Arthur’s room.
“hurry up! what have you found? are there any cakes?” he questioned, peering up at the cupboards.
“oui!” francis chimed, thankful for the swift change of subject. “but…ca depend….what do you have to eat? its not some of those weird muffins again is it?” The last time when Arthur had offered him a muffin Francis had been expecting something completely different to the flat rubbery substance he was given and he sincerely hoped he wouldnt be forced to eat anything like that again, it was vile no matter how much jam he put on it.
Arthur raised a brow, unaware of Francis’s worriment. “I don’t know. Whatever they cooked up for today.” He craved a muffin if anything. Arthur motioned for Francis’s to follow him down the hallway and turning left to the kitchen corridors. It was empty and spotless. No cooks in sight.
Francis followed; fingers crossed that it was something edible. He hated eating at The Kirklands’. There was always something about the meal that was horrible, they could never get the whole thing right. there would either be a good main and a terrible desert or vice versa. Even worse was when Arthur’s mother decided to cook herself, Francis remember very vividly the taste of a horrible custardy dish with tinned cherries. His mother had forced him to eat it, saying it was only polit but the hypocrite had eaten none of her own.
Francis scanned the empty kitchen.
“alors…. what are we allowed to eat?”
“And I’m the testy one?” he mocked, laughing joyously.
Arthur’s laughter subsided, looking at his shoes as if they were the most interesting in the world. His cheeks wee a bit red, from embarrassment. “Well, you’re my best friend too. Don’t rub it in.”
Francis tried to conceal his smile, but wasn’t very successful.
“uh…thank you. and i was joking about you not having any friends…I mean.. you have a few. not that you need any.”
“A-ah, it’s alright. I suppose I should apologize about the “using your friends”, because….it wasn’t very nice. It’s not my fault they like you so much.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
Arthur thought they should change the subject, it was so quiet for the both of them. “You hungry?” Lame default.
“oui!” francis chimed, thankful for the swift change of subject. “but…ca depend….what do you have to eat? its not some of those weird muffins again is it?” The last time when Arthur had offered him a muffin Francis had been expecting something completely different to the flat rubbery substance he was given and he sincerely hoped he wouldnt be forced to eat anything like that again, it was vile no matter how much jam he put on it.
“NOT TRUE! If anyone only gets a dance out of pity it would be you! you don’t even have any other friends!” Francis snapped.
How dare Arthur say he was clingy, he wasn’t! He was just loyal was all, fine. it Arthur didn’t want him anymore then so be it.
“the only person that will dance with you is your maman! and I bet she’d ask me first!”
Arthur scowled, he didn’t need any friends to support him and pay attention like Francis. The friends he did have didn’t come and go as they pleased, they talked to Arthur because they found interest in him, not because he was some pretty boy.
“At least I don’t rely on my “friends” for entertainment! Admit it, Francis! You use them to make yourself feel better!”
“I don’t use them! they’re my friends! if you actually had any then you might understand!” Francis’ voice was raised now, almost to a shout.
In truth, Arthur was right, but Francis was not about to tell him that. His friends were there for him for all the things Arthur wasn’t; the compliments, the making fun. But they were nothing to his best friend.
“So you are implying that I have no friends? You’re not my friend, Francis?” He whispered, stepping back from the bed. Taking a better look at Francis.
Francis was always there. He wasn’t his friend. Francis didn’t think of him as a friend. He pitied him. That was it. Arthur was a fool to think so.
“No!” Arthur looked so sad all of a sudden, Francis hadn’t expected him to take it all to heart, he’d meant it a little bit but not that much. “no! I mean yes! I mean…” He tried to work out what the correct answer to that question was and was struggling.
“you’re not my friend,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard, “you’re my best friend”
Arthur wasn’t giddy about the truth. Not at all. He didn’t consider Francis a friend, nor a best friend. He wasn’t a assured at all. Than why did he smile softly, remaining silent.
“Oh, what was that?”
It was wrong to tease, but this was Francis. His best friend. He should be use to it now. Arthur wouldn’t expect it any other way, and that’s what makes him smile when Francis leaves for the day. Knowing he will always be back.
“you heard me, Arzzhur.” Francis looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, “I said you’re my best friend.” he averted his gaze again.
“now shut up about it or I’ll tell all the girls at the party about how sweaty your hand gets when you dance”
“And I’m the testy one?” he mocked, laughing joyously.
Arthur’s laughter subsided, looking at his shoes as if they were the most interesting in the world. His cheeks wee a bit red, from embarrassment. “Well, you’re my best friend too. Don’t rub it in.”
Francis tried to conceal his smile, but wasn’t very successful.
“uh…thank you. and i was joking about you not having any friends…I mean.. you have a few. not that you need any.”
“NOT TRUE! If anyone only gets a dance out of pity it would be you! you don’t even have any other friends!” Francis snapped.
How dare Arthur say he was clingy, he wasn’t! He was just loyal was all, fine. it Arthur didn’t want him anymore then so be it.
“the only person that will dance with you is your maman! and I bet she’d ask me first!”
Arthur scowled, he didn’t need any friends to support him and pay attention like Francis. The friends he did have didn’t come and go as they pleased, they talked to Arthur because they found interest in him, not because he was some pretty boy.
“At least I don’t rely on my “friends” for entertainment! Admit it, Francis! You use them to make yourself feel better!”
“I don’t use them! they’re my friends! if you actually had any then you might understand!” Francis’ voice was raised now, almost to a shout.
In truth, Arthur was right, but Francis was not about to tell him that. His friends were there for him for all the things Arthur wasn’t; the compliments, the making fun. But they were nothing to his best friend.
“So you are implying that I have no friends? You’re not my friend, Francis?” He whispered, stepping back from the bed. Taking a better look at Francis.
Francis was always there. He wasn’t his friend. Francis didn’t think of him as a friend. He pitied him. That was it. Arthur was a fool to think so.
“No!” Arthur looked so sad all of a sudden, Francis hadn’t expected him to take it all to heart, he’d meant it a little bit but not that much. “no! I mean yes! I mean…” He tried to work out what the correct answer to that question was and was struggling.
“you’re not my friend,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard, “you’re my best friend”
Arthur wasn’t giddy about the truth. Not at all. He didn’t consider Francis a friend, nor a best friend. He wasn’t a assured at all. Than why did he smile softly, remaining silent.
“Oh, what was that?”
It was wrong to tease, but this was Francis. His best friend. He should be use to it now. Arthur wouldn’t expect it any other way, and that’s what makes him smile when Francis leaves for the day. Knowing he will always be back.
“you heard me, Arzzhur.” Francis looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, “I said you’re my best friend.” he averted his gaze again.
“now shut up about it or I’ll tell all the girls at the party about how sweaty your hand gets when you dance”
“NOT TRUE! If anyone only gets a dance out of pity it would be you! you don’t even have any other friends!” Francis snapped.
How dare Arthur say he was clingy, he wasn’t! He was just loyal was all, fine. it Arthur didn’t want him anymore then so be it.
“the only person that will dance with you is your maman! and I bet she’d ask me first!”
Arthur scowled, he didn’t need any friends to support him and pay attention like Francis. The friends he did have didn’t come and go as they pleased, they talked to Arthur because they found interest in him, not because he was some pretty boy.
“At least I don’t rely on my “friends” for entertainment! Admit it, Francis! You use them to make yourself feel better!”
“I don’t use them! they’re my friends! if you actually had any then you might understand!” Francis’ voice was raised now, almost to a shout.
In truth, Arthur was right, but Francis was not about to tell him that. His friends were there for him for all the things Arthur wasn’t; the compliments, the making fun. But they were nothing to his best friend.
“So you are implying that I have no friends? You’re not my friend, Francis?” He whispered, stepping back from the bed. Taking a better look at Francis.
Francis was always there. He wasn’t his friend. Francis didn’t think of him as a friend. He pitied him. That was it. Arthur was a fool to think so.
“No!” Arthur looked so sad all of a sudden, Francis hadn’t expected him to take it all to heart, he’d meant it a little bit but not that much. “no! I mean yes! I mean…” He tried to work out what the correct answer to that question was and was struggling.
“you’re not my friend,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard, “you’re my best friend”
“NOT TRUE! If anyone only gets a dance out of pity it would be you! you don’t even have any other friends!” Francis snapped.
How dare Arthur say he was clingy, he wasn’t! He was just loyal was all, fine. it Arthur didn’t want him anymore then so be it.
“the only person that will dance with you is your maman! and I bet she’d ask me first!”
Arthur scowled, he didn’t need any friends to support him and pay attention like Francis. The friends he did have didn’t come and go as they pleased, they talked to Arthur because they found interest in him, not because he was some pretty boy.
“At least I don’t rely on my “friends” for entertainment! Admit it, Francis! You use them to make yourself feel better!”
“I don’t use them! they’re my friends! if you actually had any then you might understand!” Francis’ voice was raised now, almost to a shout.
In truth, Arthur was right, but Francis was not about to tell him that. His friends were there for him for all the things Arthur wasn’t; the compliments, the making fun. But they were nothing to his best friend.
