Fallacy
a disaster
2:12 am London, England.
It was a rainy night in the heart of England. Rain pattered on the windows of the Georgian house. Streetlifbrs flickered and illuminated the cobbled pathway. Various bushes swooshed in the garden of the house, merging into the sound of the wind whistling through the leaves of the red acre tree. Inside the manor lay a rich, red Victorian carpet made of wealthy materials. Red wallpaper glistened in the hallway as no sound could be heard. Lamps from abroad were switched off for the night. A neat set of cleanly polished shoes was laid beside the door. Meanwhile, a not-so-neaa pair of black dress shoes lay beside them.
"It's been a while, has it not?" an accented-laced voice came from the kitchen.
Francis leaned onto the counter of the island. Champagne glass in hand. His soft locks of hair brushed his shoulders as he gestured when speaking.
"I wouldn't say a while," Arthur said curtly, hand rested on the island. Period eyes staring into his glass, as the bubbles wondered around his drink.
Francis sighed. Downing his drinking solemnly and set it onto the island, turning his head towards the younger nation.
"So, what now?" He spoke softly.
Arthur looked at Francis, then side-eyes his drink. And putting down his own. He rubbed his face with his hands and lent back onto the island.
"I'm just as tired as you are. Why don't we go to bed, it's two am," Arthur said, not in his snappy usual tone. But in a soft worn out tone.
A smile grew on Francis' face, he chuckled to himself and stretched his back.
"I guess we could do that, we both deserve it." Francis said.
Arthur sighed, drinking the last of his drink and putting both glasses into the sink. Francis crossed his arms and took Arthur's hand. They both walked down the hallway, and to the stairs.
"I'm glad I'm not alone this winter," Arthur said looking towards Francis.
"It's not every day you let me love you, Arthur." Francis rubbed Arthur's knuckles as they tiredly walked to their bedroom.
Old floorboards creaking beneath their feet. They opened the door softly and walked in. The vintage floral lamp on each side of the bed slightly flickered, complementing the oldness of the room. Floorboards creaked as they moved their separate ways, doing their nightly routines. Francis, moving to the dressing table on the left and picking up his comb, combed his hair gracefully and gently.
He moved towards their shared wardrobe. On his side was a range of various kinds of cotton dress shirts. With many colours to choose from, he opens the small drawer and picks out a grey shirt for his slumber. Ebony trousers to go with his outfit, he carefully starts to get changed, starting with this shirt.
Arthur on the other hand was making the bed ready for sleeping. He puffed up his and Francis' pillows and folded the corners of the duvet.
He stepped back in admiration of his work and walked over to his wardrobe. He opens the door carefully, and because of its fragility, he looks to his side of the wardrobe. Woollen jumpers and over-coats took the majority of his side. Greens, browns and creams dominated the blues and reds of his share of clothes.
He picked out a green woollen jumper, with some brown trousers. He sits back on the bed and begins to take off his dress shirt. France was doing the same, only far ahead of himself. He set his dress shirt to the side and slipped on the woollen jumper. He stood up and changes his pants and looked over to his lover, again, combing his hair before bed.
The younger nation yawned and tucked himself into the bed, waiting for Francis. He lay on his side snuggled up into the cream sheets of their shared duvet cover. Once Francis was finished he sighed and got repositioned for Francis. Francis tucked himself into the covers and smiled at Arthur lovingly. He moved slightly onto Arthur's side of the bed and grabbed his side carefully. Arthur budged closer to the warmth of Francis and buried his face into the crook of Francis' neck. He offered small kisses to Francis and he gratefully accepted them. Francis cradled Arthur in his arms tightly as he rubbed his back. Arthur tangled his legs with Francis' and snuggled closer into Francis'.
"I love it when you let me love you," Francis whispers into Arthur's hair.
Arthur nuzzles his nose deeper into Francis' nape and pulls him closer. Francis pulls the duvet higher so it's just reaching Arthur's jawline.
"I love you so much," Arthur says with appreciation.
« Je t'aime, « Francis says as he plays with Arthur's ashy hair.
.
.
.
but some things don't last forever..
