Une lumière dans l'obscurité

Le dimanche est pluvieux

{POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING!!}

Le dimanche est pluvieux.

Francis sighed and stared out his bedroom window. Rain poured down outside. He briefly wondered if this rain made Arthur feel at home; he had heard about the torrential downpour in England before. Of course, one thought led to another, and soon he was wondering if he should go visit his new neighbor. "But he said that he would see me at school, not the next day. And plus, what if he's at church?" Francis would probably be at church himself, if his parents weren't both currently drunk.

  He sighed and stood up, grabbing a raincoat. He quickly walked outside and dashed over to the house next door. Once there, he knocked loudly on the door, hoping that somebody would answer soon (it was cold!). The sound of a lock being turned was heard, and the door opened to reveal Arthur's mother. "Oh, Francis! Bonjour!" Francis smiled slightly and lifted up a hand. "Bonjour," he said, shivering in the cold. The woman gave a soft smile and opened the door wider. "Come inside, you must be cold," she said in (an attempt at) French.

Francis nodded and walked inside. "Merci, Madame," he thanked politely, taking off his raincoat. "Arthur, your friend is here!", the woman called down the hallway. Francis understood the words "Arthur" and "friend", so he pretty much figured out what she was saying. The sound of footsteps were heard, and Arthur walked down the hallway. "Oh, 'ello Francis. I mean, bonjour." Francis smiled. "Hello," he said, the word feeling strange in his mouth.

  Arthur tilted his head. "You know English? You didn't seem to yesterday." Francis narrowed his eyes, trying to comprehend exactly what he had said. You... English... You didn't... Yesterday? Understanding dawned on him, and Francis bobbed his head up and down. "I have been working on mon English," he said in (almost) all English, smiling widely. Arthur snorted. "And you're more talkative today, too." His mother shot a glare at her son. "Don't be rude," she hissed.

  Poor Francis was still trying to figure out what had been said. Arthur gazed at the puzzled Frenchman before gesturing down the hallway. "Want to go to my room?", he asked. "What did he just say?", Francis thought, suddenly feeling self conscious. England huffed and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Would you... Like to... Go to... My room?", he asked slowly and sarcastically. Francis stood there for a moment before nodding. "Oui!" Arthur whipped around and stomped off, with his mother glaring after him.

  Francis blinked a couple times, confused, then followed. "How are you?", he asked Arthur once they got into a nearly empty room. Arthur grunted and stared at the floor. "Angry." Francis stood there, thinking. "That means... Uhhhhhh...." Arthur sighed loudly and grabbed a book off of his bed, flipping through it as he sat down. "I'm... en colère," he translated. Francis nodded "Ohhh... Why, mon ami?", he asked. Arthur stared at him. "Does 'mon ami' translate to 'my friend?'" Francis hesitated for a moment before nodding.

  "Ah. Anyways, I'm angry- en colère, because I didn't want to move here. I wanted to stay in London. I've lived there my whole life, with my family. But just because Allistor had to go and leave us, my stupid parents decide to make things worse and move here." Francis frowned slightly. He wasn't exactly sure what Arthur had said, but he sounded sad and upset. Francis sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Everyzhing will be..." He hesitated, thinking of the word. Arthur shoved his hand away. "Are you going to say that everything will be alright? Because, news flash, it won't. This is just life, I suppose."

  He looked out the window. "My life is just a gloomy, rainy Sunday." Francis blinked a couple times. "Je suis désolé." Arthur looked up at him. "That means 'sorry', right?" Francis nodded. "I zhink." Arthur huffed. "Well, you haven't any reason to apologize. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. I'm over here ranting. Do you even know what I'm saying?" Francis pursed his lips. "Uh..." Arthur snorted. "I need to work on my French. And you on your English." Francis nodded quickly. "Oui- oops, yes."

  Suddenly Francis's phone began ringing. He cast an apologetic look in Arthur's direction and stood up, digging his phone out of his pocket. It was his father calling. He swallowed loudly, and answered. "Yes, sir?", he asked, automatically switching back to French. "Where the hell are you?", his father bellowed, his words slurring together. "I... I'm at a friends house." His father was silent for a couple seconds. "You have friends?" "Yes."

  "Well, get your ass back home. You can't just leave the damn house! And where is your sister? And your brother?" Francis stared down at the ground, fighting the impulse to just hang up and sit down next to the cute boy staring at him. "I don't know where they are, sir. And... I'll be there right away. I promise." His father muttered something that Francis couldn't understand, before barking: "You better." At that, his father hung up.

Francis silently put the phone back into his pocket. "Who was that?", Arthur asked from the bed. "Mon père." Francis heard Arthur flipping through the dictionary nearby him. "Ohh. Your father. He sounded en colère." Francis nodded. "Oui," he whispered. Arthur began to speak, but Francis quickly cut him off. "I need to... Exit." Arthur laughed slightly. "You need to leave?" "Oh, oui. I apologize." Arthur stood up. "Well, see you at school, then." Francis nodded. "Oui. Good-bye." At that, he turned around and walked away.

~~~

Sunday is rainy.

  Arthur walked out into the living room, where his parents were setting up the couches. "Oh, hello love," his mother said. "Did your friend already leave?" Arthur nodded. "Yes. His father called; he sounded upset about something." His father chuckled slightly. "Probably skipping out on chores." Arthur smiled. "Probably." He glanced out the window. The rain had been reduced to a drizzle, making the day look gloomy and miserable.

  "Can I go for a walk?", he asked. "In this weather?", his mother questioned, glancing at him curiously. Arthur shrugged. "I'll wear my coat and my rain boots. I just want to know how to get around the neighborhood." His mother shrugged. "If it's alright with your father." His father smiled at Arthur. "I'm perfectly fine with it. It'll be good for you to get out, anyways." Arthur walked over to the hook that he kept his coat on. "Thank you," he said as he pulled it on, and went to find which box his boots were in.

  About five minutes later, Arthur was outside. He began walking down the street, gazing at Francis's house. "He's a nice guy. Kind of strange, though. I feel a bit bad for being a jerk to him earlier. Doubt he knew what I was saying, though. I wonder why he came over today, anyways," he pondered. He stopped in his tracks as he heard screaming in the house. It sounded like a man, speaking French angrily. He swore he heard something crash. "Francis must've really pissed his father off," he muttered under his breath. He shook his head, and continued on the journey, hoping that he wouldn't get lost.

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