Red Wine (ScotFra)

Skinnylove

F R A N C I S

He is the most beautiful man I've ever seen. And something in the air around him made me believe that id meet him again. What struck me about him was that our first meeting had to do with flowers. Peonies. It would've been predictable if it were roses; yes, Fate, I have discovered your game, poorly masked behind a flower other than the one of love. Im playing right into your game, aren't I, Fate? I am none but putty for you to mold with the hands of tragedy and experience.
I just hope I don't regret playing this game.

Walking home from the market was a blur, not much on my mind other than the red-haired boy I met and his wonderful eyes and the beautiful way he carried himself. He walked with a purpose, though I could tell he didn't know what it was. He walked as if he lived by the idea that every step he took he accomplished a goal. That each breath, every beat of his heart was a success. I loved it.

Perhaps you are my love?
I forgot to get your name.
I need to find you, though. I must. Somehow.

I reached my home and kissed my mother's cheek, grabbed a small plate of food and ate in my room, not feeling incredibly social at the moment. Too lost in heartbreak.
Once I finished that I took a shower, taking careful time on my hair as always, and then climbed into bed, desperate for tomorrow to come, desperate for a chance to see him again.

T I M E S K I P

There was a new boy in our Advanced Literature class first period. He was small and blonde, very cute. Though he looked as if he lived with a stick of some sort shoved up his rear.
What about you? Could you be my love maybe? Someone new in your life is always a good sign.
He introduced himself to our entire class, standing up near the board.
"Hi I'm Arthur, I'm from England. I got into this school on an English scholarship and-"
"Whoa dude are you like an author or something?" Alfred interrupted him. Alfred was a friend of mine. Where he lacked in manners he made up for in good attitude and positive energy.
Arthur, the new boy, looked irate. "Well no, I mostly write essays on the social and economic-"
"You should write stories or something, I bet they'd be great if you got in here on an English scholarship," Alfred added.
Arthur's face was beat red from the front of the class. I was shocked at how much anger such a small body could contain.
"Well thank you, but if I wanted an unintelligent opinion, I would've asked," Arthur replied.
So much sarcasm, my my. But Alfred deserved it, I suppose, being so rude to him while he was introducing himself.
The class let out an "ooh" at Arthur's words and Alfred went wild with laughter. I watched Arthur glance around at the packed room, looking desperately for a seat.
He finally picked one in the back of the classroom, next to the lonely pink haired boy named Oliver. Oliver was the poor victim of the rumor mill. It was said that he was strange and dangerous, and that at a young age Oliver had killed a boy. Now, If anyone had any sense they'd immediately recognize this as a stupid lie, but most people believed the rumor. As a result everyone, including teachers and staff, didn't speak to him. I had never seen someone so alone in my entire life, and it made me very sad for him. He was a sweet boy. I worked with him in this class whenever we had to do partner projects, knowing that no one else would work with him and not wanting him to work alone. I was happy that Arthur decided to sit next to him.
"Oh, dios mio, remind me to save him a seat tomorrow, Francis," my dear Spanish friend, Antonio, said to me. Antonio was a good friend, and very kind and intelligent, yet he was also superstitious and believed in Oliver's rumor wholeheartedly.
"Why?" I said. "It's good that someone is sitting with the poor boy-"
"Arthur is putting himself in danger. I've met him, he seems a bit standoffish but very polite. He is a good person. I don't want to see that loco boy hurt him,"
I sighed. "Oliver is not going to hurt him, but I'm not going to stop you if you want to save Arthur a seat."
Antonio nodded and then turned around to talk to Lovino, his long-time Italian friend. Just by looking at the two of them, you could tell that they loved eachother, even though neither of them could admit it. Lovino was too proud to do it, and Antonio... I just don't think he even realized it. He was a bit oblivious to some things. I eyed them jealously, desire for their mutual love, though unspoken, filling up my insides.
All through class I kept looking at the new boy, something drawing me to him. Something was very familiar to me about him, I just couldn't place it. At the end of class, Antonio, Gilbert, and I walked over to Arthur as Oliver scurried away and the rest of class filed out of the room.
"So, amigo, you see what I meant when I said be careful around that one?" Antonio said as we walked up. Arthur's demeanor said he believed otherwise.
"He is very strange, non?" I asked, wanting to see what he thought.
Arthur nodded as he packed his bags. "Yes he was a bit odd, but I don't see why you told me to be careful around him. He seems perfectly-"
"Oh mon dieu, I forgot to introduce myself, how rude of me," I said. "I am Francis and this," I pointed to my other friend. "Is Gilbert, and you've already met Antonio." I glanced at Antonio as he waved to Arthur and I threw my scarf over my shoulder.
"Antonio, how could you not introduce me to such a cute new friend of yours?" I asked him.
"Well, Rapunzel, for your information I just met him an hour ago, I could hardly call us friends and if you call me cute again I might just choke you with that scarf," Arthur piped in, face red and angry.
Gilbert laughed at that, and Antonio struggled not to. I was incredibly offended.
I complimented him and he insults me? That is so rude.
Well two can play at that game.
"My my, quite an English temper you have. It makes sense now why you're so grumpy and uptight. And maybe I will call you cute again. Some people enjoy the sensation of being choked. It can be quite erotic-" I said, throwing him a wink. Just as I did that however, he pulled me by shoulders and grabbed the ends of my scarf, pulling it taught against my throat.
"Think this is cute, Frog?" He asked, pulling it even tighter.
So much anger for such a small person, I hope you find someone to release a little of that, mon dieu.
I managed to pull in a little air and speak, desperate for release. "No I'm sorry!"
He finally let me go and I took in a sharp breath and coughed as Gilbert turned to Antonio and said he liked the new kid.
Arthur left the room in a huff, Antonio patted my back as I coughed, and we started to walk to our next class.
"I'm sorry, amigo, maybe he was just in a grumpy mood?" He said.
I shook my head, finally gaining back my breath. "Non... I was out of line. I shouldn't have said those things," I said, rubbing my neck.
"Hey I thought it was awesome!" Gilbert's sharp German accent cut into my ears as usual.
I waved him off as we walked into our Trigonometry class, the teacher having coincidentally been Gilbert's incredibly handsome older brother, Ludwig.
((For the purpose of the story Luddy is the older one here))
But in class we called him Mr. Beilschmidt.
Walking in, I waved to him. "Bonjour, Ludwig," I said, Gilbert and Antonio saying it too.
He sighed. "I've told you, it's Mr. Beilschmidt when we're in school," I said.
"I know, I know, Luddy, I'm sorry," I said. He rolled his eyes and turned to the board, writing on it with chalk something about today's lesson.
Once again, my mind wandered back to Arthur.
What is so familiar about him? There is something there, just beyond my eyes, I can't tell what it is exactly, but I know it's there. Something... Something about him draws me to him. But not in a romantic way, it's like there's a disconnect somewhere. Like he is a link to something I can't see.
I was lost in thought for the entire class, and I didn't even realize when the bell rang until Gilbert shook my shoulder.
"Cmon, Frannie, wake up!" I blinked, his voice drawing me out of my haze. I grabbed my bag as we began to walk to our next class, Tonio going a different way than we were. He was headed to his Naval studies elective whereas Gilbert and I were going to home economics.
"Hey, Frannie," Gilbert asked me.
"Hm? Yes mon cher?"
"Can I borrow some change? I really need a drink," He said as we walked by a vending machine.
I sighed. "I'm sorry, I've got no money," I said, honestly. I spent my whole paycheck at the market yesterday.
"That's okay, I'll just steal some from my brother," Gilbert said, his voice dropping to a pout.
I patted his back as we walked into our class, the familiar scent of beignets drilling my nostrils.
"What smells so awesome?" Gilbert said, sniffing the air of the room excitedly.
Our teacher, Amelia (who insisted on us using her first name), stood in front the class stuffing her face.
"Beignets!" She said excitedly, powdered sugar dotting her cheek. "Welcome back to Home Ec, class, I hope you're all excited because I sure as hell am. What we're cooking today is a French dessert-type food thats super popular in The south called beignets," Her ever-excited voice bounced while she spoke to us, a big smile on her face.
Someone raised their hand.
Kiku, the normally quiet and polite Japanese boy spoke. "Are we going to learn how to make them today and then do it tomorrow, or are we-"
"What? No! We are cooking right now.
Everyone grab your partners, aprons, and head into the kitchen," She said, pointing to the other half of the room.
As we all did as we were told, she spoke again.
"Lemme get a show of hands, how many of you have had beignets before?"
I raised my hand.
I was the only one.
"Cmon Francis, you're actually French that doesn't count," She said.
"Cmon, anyone? Hasn't anyone tried them?"
In the back I noticed Oliver nodding to himself while looking at our teacher. I forgot he was in this class. And it seems like he's tried beignets before. He mustve felt me staring, because he looked up at me suddenly. I shot him a smile, and he gave me a small one back, before blushing darkly and then staring at the counter top.
"Alright well, since nobody has ever tasted these before, Francis, would you mind being our student teacher today?" Amelia asked.
I nodded. "Not at all," putting my hair back into a pony tail, I walked to the front of the class, smiling brightly, putting on my best happy face as I looked at the class.
"So," I said. "Get out the things you need, the recipe books are in the usual drawers,"
There was the sound of pots and cupboards opening and closing, and people shifting around.
After twenty minutes of agonizingly having to explain each and every detail on how to cook, elaborating on every simple thing, I was exhausted. Amelia sat on a table with one leg over the other, happily eating her own beignets and not paying attention to the rest of us.
She is beautiful and kind, but damn she loves food. I've seen her completely ignore fire drills because she was eating.
I shook my head at her and then continued to lead the class on cooking the dish, the focus I had on the act momentarily making me forget about Arthur and the boy from the market with the peonies.

A/N:
If you're interested in Oliver and Arthur's story, you can read the whole thing in "Something About Him" (book one) and "Something about Us" (book two). You should definitely check em out bc they're pretty friggin cute and well-written with a satisfactory ending that covers all the bases without leaving the reader with a sense of confusion or want for more of a "real ending" if you ask me and I have a totally unbiased opinion about them heheh *nervous laughter bc I wrote the damn things just please read them they're really cute ily*

WARNING:
there are spoilers for this story in the second book of Arthur and Oliver's story.
•JUST FOREWARNING YOU BC I LOVE YOU 😛•