Lost Souls

Chapter Eighteen

"Arzhur...I know you're up 'ere..." Francis made his way into the attic, eyes scanning for the Brit. He found him sitting by the window, watching the cars go by.
"'Ow was your chat wizh Alfred?"
"Awkward..." Arthur answered quietly. "And yours?"
"Not bad...but it would 'ave been better if it was my body."
"True..."
Francis sat down at Arthur's side, taking his hand. He could still feel the warmth left over from Kiku's body. Maybe tonight would be their only chance...
"Arzhur?"
"Yes?"
"Zhere's somezhing I need to tell you." Francis pushed Arthur onto the floor, pinning him down. He could have easily just pulled away all ghostie-like, but Arthur wanted this. He melted into Francis's kiss.
"What did you need to tell me?" He asked when they parted.
"All in due time, mon Cher~." Francis purred. His hands danced downward as he kissed at what little warmth remained of Arthur's lips.
"Francis," Arthur begged. "Tell me."
"Je t'aime." Francis tried to unbuckle Arthur's pants, but his ghost pants were part of his ghost body. He fumbled repeatedly, trying to yank them off, but soon he was left frustrated and sobbing all over Arthur's chest.
"Why can't we 'ave nice zhings? Why do we 'ave to be dead?"
"Francis, calm down." Arthur pleaded, petting the Frenchman's hair rapidly.
"Non! I can't calm down. I love you and I don't 'ave any way to show it!"
Arthur's breath, which had been reduced to a mere social construct by then, caught in his throat.
"I love you too, Francis. And I wish we could do this...but we can't...we wasted our entire lives fighting when we could have been together!" Arthur burst into tears as well. The two wailed together, clinging on to whatever bits of each other they could grasp. They whispered soft and endearing "I love you"s until their eyes started to fall heavy and they began their first slumbers since their deaths.