Till there was you (Fruk)

5

I had begun setting up the projector after Arthur chose a movie of mine. It was an odd choice, but I decided to humor him. He was getting the cigarettes ready. He insisted that I smoked to "let loose," but really, I think he wanted to see me get high as a kite.

"So, Why do you want to watch this movie?" I asked. I finished setting everything up, turning to face him. He crossed his legs as he sat. He had this trap on his lap where here was fixing the pot in a slab of paper. He held the roll between his fingers, licking the edges to wrap it closed. "Hmm? That's a silly question, innit?"

"Pfft, A simple question," I laughed. I walked back to him, sitting beside him as the movie began to play. He smiled slightly at what I said, and it was contagious. I smiled in return, watching him. He held the cig between his lips, lighting it with his lighter.

He had tried to hide his smile, but I could only stare in awe. "Why are you trying to hide your face?" I laughed. I nudged him a bit, and he looked at me in shock. "What? I'm only thinking! It is actually funny," he laughed. His eyes squinted as he smiled, and I couldn't help but tilt my head as I stared.

"I remember how you told me, a long time ago, how you would read anything beautiful coming out of my country. Well, it was made into a film, and I have yet to hear your thoughts..."

My smile faded at what he said. I do remember saying something like that...a long time ago to Arthur. However, it was the Arthur that wasn't so condescending now. I don't need to get to know this new version of him; I already knew it.

I wasn't going to lose to his smile. To his 'charm.'

"Well, I wouldn't have it if I didn't enjoy it."

"Ah, must you sound sarcastic?"

"I mean it! I thought of you the entire time I watched it," I smiled. I reached my hand to his pathetic excuse for a haircut and brushed some of his hair back. He tilted his head, smiling at me, coming closer. I knew it; he still had feelings for me.

"Tell me more."

He placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer. He stared at me with this dreamy expression, and it was charming, to say the least. "Francis?" He hummed. I nodded, coming closer. "Yes? You want me to woo you?" I asked. I held onto his messy hair longer, and he laughed. "Francis, I doubt that. I'm a tough nut to crack," he laughed.

"Hardly; I think I can be very persuasive..." I whispered. I was going in for the kill! He will confess to me, and I will shut him down! It was perfect. "Francis, I seriously doubt it," he giggled.

I came closer to him, and he rubbed my shoulder, where his hand had been resting. "I think I could change that quickly; why so doubtful?"

"Because...You are...."

He paused for a moment, tilting his head at me. He smiled so brightly, just as he did back then. He was lighting up the room around us. He was so chaotic in more ways than one. Even the way he composed himself now was messy.

His eyebrows would make him grumpy if he didn't smile. He was such an old man, and so was I, but I felt young in many ways because of him.

The cigarette he had, was still between his lips. He took a deep inhale, blowing smoke in my face. I hate him so much.

"I am what?" I asked. I continued to hold up my smile, but his once sweet smile quickly turned condescending. "Full of yourself. I can tell when you aren't being genuine. Honestly, you are only insulting both of us. Get over yourself and stop trying to do whatever you are doing. Talk to me like you mean it," he spoke.

He looked at me with so much annoyance and anger, and I was honestly shocked. How was it that he could tell I wasn't being serious about it? "Don't be surprised! I've known you long enough to know when you are being genuine. If you don't like me or want me around, then say it. I won't be mad..."

He paused, taking out the cigarette from his mouth. As he paused, I could hear a bit of sadness in his voice. "I don't want you to force yourself to want to be around me. I can...I can even leave if you want me to."

He began to stand up, and I was still silent. I didn't try denying it because I knew he was right. That would only mean I have lost feelings for him completely. I think I knew why too.

It was because I was jealous of how well he was doing.

I suppose I thought...

Despite what I was trying to do...

I still cared for him, but I suppose I didn't anymore. There was nothing there. When I look at him, all I want is the old him—the socially awkward nation who did what he was told.

The sheep.

Does that mean I was in love with him for the wrong reasons? Does it mean I was only attracted to him because I knew he'd do anything I asked?

Even now...

I don't think I care enough about it. I don't care that I felt that way. What does this mean for me? Have I never actually loved HIM? Was I only in love with the idea I had of him? The one where I could control him.

"You are leaving?"

"Yes...you don't seem against it...and I have a feeling I know why. You don't hide your emotions well. After all these years, I'm the only one who understands the other. Shocking, especially coming from someone as heartless as me."

My eyes widened at what he said, and he threw his cigarette on the floor of my home, putting it out. "Here, a gift; I'm sure you will enjoy it," he hissed. I was still silent as I watched him walk away. "Oh yeah, one more thing!"

I turned my head, still too stunned to speak. "Yes?" I asked softly. "It isn't very cute when you fake flirt; it is repulsive and makes me sick. Do both of us a favor and quit the pathetic act. Then maybe I'd consider being your friend again! Keep that in mind," he spat.

He glared at me momentarily before storming out of my home, leaving me alone and In shock. "How the hell did he..."