The Virtues Of Literature

Part 1

The Virtues Of Literature - Chapter 1

Arthur drags himself and his many suitcases up yet another flight of stairs, one step, two step, three step, until after what feels like a lifetime later he shoves through the landing door, labelled floor 6. He pants and wipes his brow, fatigued and breathless from carrying about a tonne of his possessions. Clothes, folders, miscellaneous appliances, and a huge range of books he could probably fill a library with.

Arthur wheezes. "God, of course the damn lift has to be broken at the beginning of term. How damn convenient." he grumbles, irritable already with being left to settle in on his own without any help after his brothers practically abandoned him on campus.

He fumbles with the door for a moment and then finally reaches his destination. His flat. Except it wouldn't be his flat for long - Arthur had chosen to share an apartment to save on rent costs but he had recently been starting to regret that decision, realising the university will have probably put him sharing with some unknown creep. He figured it would be unlikely to be anyone he knew from his first year in college, there were far too many people. Plus, a few of his friends had dropped out after one year anyway.

Arthur dumps his stuff in one of the two bedrooms and clarifies his roommate hasn't arrived yet, and begins to settle in to the flat after taking a quick rest. The flat is decent sized with some basic furniture; a slightly garish red sofa; an aged gas stove oven and microwave; a television; a desk in each bedroom; an attractive bay window. It's comfortable enough for Arthur and he sets to work arranging all of his literature on the shelves in the living room while the kettle he brought from home boils water for tea.

Arthur places himself down on the sofa with his brew, most of his belongings having found their new homes, and finds himself absorbed in a copy of Jane Eyre.

~o0O0o~

The front door is flung open and Arthur looks up in alarm from his novel, not having noticed time passing, to see a flamboyant looking man in stylish clothing and dashing shoulder-length blonde hair. His luggage sits neatly behind him and he doesn't look like he is about to keel over like Arthur was when he arrived, so he must have had some help getting to their apartment. The man's face is slightly stubbly but his eyes are a striking bright cerulean blue.

"Ah hello, Monsieur! A pleasure to meet you, my name is Francis Bonnefoy."

"Oh Jesus, I have a French pansy as a roommate."

Francis immediately irritates Arthur, his look is too pristine, his voice too optimistic. "Gosh, I have a rude Englishman as a roommate. What a shame."

Arthur scowls, and tries to return to his book. "Whatever. I've taken that bedroom over there. Try not to disturb me too much."

And so Francis sets to work moving into their flat, working around Arthur who occasionally looks up to glare at Francis whenever he touches anything that is his.

"It's not difficult to guess you're an English Literature student with the number of books you have cluttering the shelves of this apartment."

"Of course." Arthur replies, "And I'm sure you wouldn't be able to appreciate proper literature given that that it looks like you took art."

Francis smiles and fingers the various paintbrushes and canvases he is removing from a box. "Yes. Isn't it just so beautiful though? The way we can express all sorts of thoughts and feelings through art. Anything can be the canvas and all we need is a brush or pencil. I've always thought this planet would be completely drab and lifeless without an expression such as art or music, and I constantly find myself considering myself lucky I can actually see and hear these things, because many people cannot."