-he’s going to be treated like a kid nooooowwwwwww-
-yeeeesssssss that’s what happens when you’re a kiiiiiiidddddd-
… [He brings his hand to his forehead, sliding it down to cover his eyes]
Send a goddamn email next time. [
Also read: I’m sorry]
[He sighs, eyes still hidden behind his hand.]
…Is this really what you want?
-a bit quiet, but sincere-
-goes along with it-
-tug tug to his place-
-until he gets him in-
Putain. *wipes his forehead*
You said it was “walking” not, “get away from France.” *pouts*
So’s your mother.
And I see no issue in leaving you in my dust. I’ve done it before, after all.
-just looks up at him-
-tugs him a little (gently)-
Come on. I’ll fix you something to eat as well.
[Act like you don’t care is what he wants to say, and it’s not just about them, it’s about Francis’ effort. He doesn’t try. Doesn’t give people chances, doesn’t actually do things (things that put him in an uncomfortable position) for others. Don’t even try.
Watch from aside as I leave my comfort zone and you stay in yours. And he’s a hypocrite for thinking that, he knows, but it’s partly true, isn’t it?]
[He clenches his jaw even tighter for a moment or two, and he tries to even his breath as he looks at Arthur, trying his best to not let tears actually fall from his eyes]
[The back of his throat hurts, but he doesn’t pay it much thought. He takes a deep breath and exhales, licking his lips. Slowly, he lets go of Arthur’s jaw, then shirt, taking a step backwards. Retreating. He’s French, after all]
Act like an idiot.
[And isn’t that why he’s so
obsessedin love with him in the first place.]
I’m trying to be realistic, trying to be mature about this. You’re the one that’s decided it’s not worth the effort, that I’m not worth the effort. And if you’re going to act like this is a chore, well… I’m not going to make life more difficult for the both of us.
… -huffs, pouty arms crossed thing-
Come along, you need to be clean and presentable if you’re going to be in my company.