Love for Two

Anxiously Awaiting His Return

Francis Bonnefoy was twenty five when his husband went into the army. 

They had been highschool sweethearts and some might say foolish to get married when Francis turned twenty. After all, Francis was still in school and he was getting a music degree. But, that didn't matter to either man. 

Francis became something of a recluse after his husband, Arthur, left for basic training. In all honesty, Francis was selfish. He wanted Arthur to stay here with him and not leave for the military or anything. He missed his husband.

Francis had kept much of his anxiety for his husband to himself, he kept to himself as well. He had a strict routine and social life. He spoke less and less, his best form of communication had become his opera career. He attended rehearsal and, on Sunday's, mass. Arthur called every Sunday and always asked to hear Francis sing. Francis never mentioned that he'd given up lead roles because they conflicted with his Sunday plans of calling Arthur and mass. 

Francis had given up a million dreams because Arthur left for the army.

Francis took up painting on the weekends when he was free. If he had late night rehearsals, he'd paint during the morning. He told Arthur about the paintings but never said why he'd taken up painting (it was because he couldn't handle being alone). Francis' mother said he ought to find a friend or two and Francis politely laughed but said he had this opera friends. 

He wasn't lonely because he had no friends, the truth was that he missed his husband and best friend every hour of every day and it was suffocating. Francis never breathed a word of this to Arthur.

A month after he talked with his mother, Arthur returned for six months.

Francis life became colorful again, aside from rehearsals and mass he spent his time with Arthur. Arthur didn't attend mass, he wasn't catholic. In fact, he wasn't religious at all, much to Frances' horror. The two left religion aside when Arthur was home for a limited amount of time. They were inseparable and Arthur saw as many of Francis' operas as he possibly could. Francis pushed aside any knowledge that Arthur wasn't home permanently. 

Arthur left as planned and expected.

Francis' social decline lessened with the second departure of Arthur.

Maybe Francis had become used to the separation anxiety (he'd recently discovered what he experienced was separation anxiety). Francis took measures to avoid the anxiety, he adopted a calico cat which he named Tuttle. Francis took regular walks and tried to keep the windows open on pleasant days. He put up Christmas lights in his bedroom where he slept with Tuttle. He'd told Arthur about the changes he was making and how he felt better (he never mentioned at night he cried and worried and was up all night).

Rehearsal was Francis' favorite part of the day, his dream payed the bills which seemed impressive to a pessimist. If Arthur never came home, Francis would have some sense of happiness with his job. Francis couldn't think about Arthur never coming home so he simply avoided the subject (it was brought up by the few, insensitive souls Francis knew).

Tuttle curled herself around Francis in the winter, the nights felt longer without Arthur and Francis was grateful for her warmth. The apartment seemed colder and darker during the winter and to some extent, it was. On a cold December night in Paris, France, Francis heard his house alarm go off. His panic was instant and he prepared to call the police. It had only been the alarm that told him a door had been opened so his panic was more curiosity. Arthur stepped into the bedroom seconds later to his husbands shock. 

"A-Arthur? Why are you here? You set off the alarm!" Francis leapt from his bed and threw himself at Arthur. "Oh, my god. It's really you! I love you so much." 

Arthur laughed softly, "I couldn't stay away, love." He murmured. 

They stood there in each other's embrace with Francis crying softly. "I'm so fucking glad you're here." 

Arthur laughed, "I couldn't leave you alone this Christmas, or ever." 

Francis kissed him softly before resting his head on the top of Arthur's. They were back together and that was all that mattered.