"Enemies"

Chapter 2 - The Next Day

Another day, another needless drama. Well, this time, perhaps not completely unnecessary; you see, Francis Bonnefoy was a... how shall I put this... he was an irrational type. He did what he liked, and his opinion was the only one which mattered in his world. Although the arrogant man refused to admit it, he didn't always make the wisest decisions, a prime example of this would be the previous day, when he tackled his arch nemesis to the ground and began to make inappropriate advances towards said "nemesis" in the middle of a meeting.

As Francis woke once more to the sound of his alarm clock which he despised oh so much, he checked his phone; as memories of the day before came rushing back to him, he read messages from a certain, very angry German, an extremely disgusted Swiss man, and a concerned Italian, along with many others. The tired man sat on the edge of his bed, feeling a wave of dread come over him as he noticed an olive-green coat hung over the end of his bed.

It was Arthur's.

"Do I need to return it?" Francis queried, trying his best to avoid any reason to hang Arthur's coat back in person. "How do I even know it's his!? Maybe it's mine!", despite the fact that he already knew exactly whose the coat was, Francis decided to search the coat for any evidence of it's owner like the idiot he was. When he emptied out the coat's pockets onto his bed, he discovered ten quid, five euros, a handmade figurine of a British soldier from the Second World War, and a Swiss Army Knife, along with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

Francis still refused to give into the fact that the coat was clearly Arthur's, and he should just walk to his flat and return it like a decent person, so he checked the coat's tag. On the tag, the name "Arthur Kirkland" had been scrawled on handwriting which was barely legible.

The prince of arrogant stubbornness finally went into his bathroom to prepare himself for the hell of a day he knew was in front of him. He showered, brushed his teeth, and as he was rinsing his face, his mind began to wonder back to the meeting the day before. Why did Arthur do that? Why did Francis do that? What did Arthur's actions mean? Why didn't he push Francis off of him immediately? Francis had so many questions he could barely think straight!

Once he was dressed, Francis returned everything to Arthur's coat pockets that were in there before apart from one thing: Arthur's soldier figure. The figure was so cute, it reminded him of Arthur's chivalry and bravery which Francis found to be an extremely attractive trait. He placed Arthur's soldier figure on his bedside table and headed for Arthur's flat only a couple of blocks away.

When Francis knocked on Arthurs door, the door was opened by Arthur who immediately slammed the door in his face once he saw the tall figure outside of his door. "Oh, come on, Arthur! I am only here to return your coat!" cried Francis from outside the door. Arthur responded, "Go away!". Francis chuckled, "of course! What did I expect!? I am only here to return your coat, but you only ever assume the worst of me, Arthur!".

"Me!? You stupid bloody frog, you can keep the damned coat for all I care, just leave me alone!" Arthur yelled through the door. Francis shot back "Why on earth would I want to keep your coat!? Just let me in and we can talk!". Arthur was not convinced of the man's innocence and asked, "If I let you in, frog, do you promise no funny business?". Arthur sounded sad, as if he was scared that Francis was going to hurt him. "I promise, I just want to return your coat." Promised Francis.

Arthur opened the door to let the lean Frenchman into his flat. He made a notion toward a coat rack by the door, "Place my coat on that rack and take a seat if you must.". Arthur closed the door behind Francis and grabbed his coat from the rack before inspecting it.

"Why are you inspecting the coat?" Francis asked, taking a seat on a chair in front of a coffee table. "To make sure you didn't take something or get your gross Froggie slime all over my nice coat." Responded the Englishman in a condescending tone. "Oi, frog, where's my... never mind..." Arthur trailed off mid-sentence before setting the coat back on the rack and taking a seat in a chair opposite Francis.