The Virtues Of Literature

Part 4

Chapter 4

Francis snatches up his overnight bag from under the train seat and hurries onto the platform. He rubs his eyes, blinking through his exhaustion from little sleep and a slight hangover, having opting to leave early to get back to Arthur even though Antonio and Gilbert were still asleep.

Francis hurries towards his flat through the rain, and walks towards the door when he notices something strange.

The front door is slightly ajar and the lock looks forced open. Francis despairs over the situation for a moment - break-ins are horrible to deal with and are stressful - before quickly remembering Arthur should have been home the entire time Francis was out. Why wouldn't Arthur call him if something like this happened? Is he okay? A sudden rush of panic and worry lead Francis to shove open the door.

His bags drop to the floor.

The living room is trashed, objects pushed off tables and drawers emptied. There are many things missing - a radio, computer, the television, some expensive art supplies, and there are even some gaps on the previously full bookshelf. Thankfully, however, the one most important thing is not missing, rather curled up on the floor shivering. He is looking to the floor with wide eyes and there are a couple of tiny splatters of blood on the floor next to him.

Francis rushes over to Arthur who looks strangely small and vulnerable, and the Briton flinches away before looking up to Francis' face. He accepts a relieved hug from the latter man, giving a slight sob.

"It's okay, Arthur, don't worry. I'm here now, I'm sorry."

Francis sees a big lump on the back of Arthur's head while mid-embrace, accompanied by a little blood matting the hair and dyeing it an unsightly red. Francis feels something tugging inside him, something saying 'you could have helped', 'it's all your fault', 'why did you leave him?'.

Arthur pulls him in tighter, burying his face in Francis' shirt. "Are... are you okay Arthur?" Francis ventures, slightly afraid of what the answer may be. There are a few seconds of hesitation before he feels the slight nodding of a head against his chest. Francis allows himself to feel some relief - Arthur shouldn't end up completely traumatised by this incident. Though he knows that Arthur isn't really 'okay', or at least at this moment. The poor man who would usually slap anyone who touched him was not letting go of Francis, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

They sit there for a while, not giving a second thought about missing class, just holding each other.

~o0O0o~

Francis lies on the sofa sketching roughly onto a notebook while keeping an eye on Arthur in his reading chair across the room. He has a book open but it doesn't look like he's really reading it, his eyes are distant and unmoving.

They had hurried off to the local doctor's first with Francis was worrying over Arthur's head injury, after Arthur had started blushing and realising who he was hugging, breaking the embrace hesitantly. Arthur was quiet but vaguely responsive, not seeming overly panicked about his head although flinching in pain once in awhile. They saw a doctor quite quickly, who bandaged up Arthur's head and declared it was nothing too serious; a mild concussion and a little external bleeding.

Francis fussed over him, but Arthur was more concerned over the state of the flat. They called their landlord, insurance company and the police, and it was a whole day of faffing and missing classes before the two men could finally relax a bit again.

There are some missing belonging but they aren't too bothered about them at the present. They had cleaned up most of the flat and fixed another lock onto the front door, and Francis had cooked the nicest meal he could. Arthur ate it hungrily with a slight flush on his face, but was still quite quiet.