Chapter ten

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~Arthur POV ~
I did not finish grading papers at school, so I had to bring them home. I sat at my desk, taping my chin, tired. I stood up for a second to do some stretches until I started getting distracted. I began flicking papers and spinning myself on my chair. That is when I realized I was hungry. I looked at the time, and it was seven o'five. "Well, maybe I should get some food; I don't feel like cooking," I thought as I looked through my fridge. I walked towards my door and peeked both ways. I wonder if Francis is home; he seems like he could whip up something from my stuff. I walk to his door but soon regret it. I am so stupid for acting like this. He has been nice to me several times, and I am opening myself up to him. I am a silly git.

 
"Arthur?" I froze in place, hearing him say my name. I turn around behind me and see him shocked to see me. "What is wrong?" He asked, getting closer. "Nothing! I am fine!" I shouted, starting to walk away. "No! Wait!" He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me towards him. My eyes widened, and I felt my face have a look of annoyance. "What?.." I asked, pulling myself away. Francis smiled at me and held up a bag. I looked at it, confused. Taking the bag, I continued to stare at him to see his reaction. "How about we go to your apartment this time" Francis smiled.

 I looked in the bag, and the beautiful smell of food hit my nose. "Fine," I said bluntly before going towards my door but stopping to look at him. "You should go home and change to be more comfortable," I suggested as I pointed to his chef uniform. He nodded to me and hurried to his apartment to go and change. Francis has incredible timing, and I could not just turn down the food he was offering me or anything; that would not be very gentlemanly of me.

 
I placed the bag of food on the counter and ran to my room to change out of my work clothes. I can't look like a mess while he is here; it would be rude of me and nasty hospitality. I finished and looked around my apartment to see it was messy. "This will not do" I held my fist up and started running around fast to clean up. "It is not like I care, but I do not want to seem like a slob" I smiled and looked back at the clean room. "Perfect" was all I could think of to describe the clean room. There was a knock at the door, and I straightened myself out. Answering it, I saw Francis wearing shorts and a baggy v-neck shirt. I smiled at him and stepped aside for him to enter.

 
"Ah! Here are your clothes from this morning. You left them at my place" he handed me a bag of clothes, and I nodded gratefully. I took the bag from his hands and set it aside. I did not realize how awkward it was for him to get my clothes; I mentally slapped myself while closing the door and tried keeping a smile so he would not see my annoyance. He sat at the seats by the counter and started to unwrap the bag to hand us both food. "What would you like to drink?" I asked as I walked to the kitchen, taking out two cups. "Whatever you will be drinking," he smiled at me as he continued to take out the food for us. I walked to the fridge and poured some lemonade into the cups, bringing it back to where we were sitting.

 
"Francis, why are you so nice to me? I have been nothing but an asshole," I asked, sliding his cup to him and studying his reaction. "Ahhh, That is Because you are an interesting man," he pointed his finger up and pointed out. "Well, you have been a pretty good friend to me lately; I honestly needed one" I looked away, so he did not see my face. However, it grew silent, I looked over at him, and his face was as if someone had stabbed him in the back. I lifted a brow at this, and he shook himself out of that reaction. "are you okay!" I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder to pat him. "Ye...Yes, Arthur, those words just stung a bit" He laughed, defeated. I had no idea what he meant by this, but I shook it off and started to eat the food he had brought me.

 I do care for him. I had never met anyone so straightforwardly nice. Although we do fight quite frequently.....Yao was right; he does mean well. I guess you could say that our "fighting" is more of playful or causal friendship talk. I did not mind the fighting. It was funny and always made me laugh thinking back to it. I smiled at my thoughts until Francis shook me out of them.

 
"That is my bad, and I seem to get spacey sometimes," I laughed.
"I could tell" Francis smiled back and continued to eat.
Once we were finished, I cleaned the table, and Francis offered to do the dishes, which I protested at first, but he would not take no for an answer.
"Say, Arthur?"
"Yes...Francis?"
"I ....uhhh... we should hang out more often..."
"Oh, okay"
"Really!?"
"Yes, I do not see why not, and if you keep bringing me your food, I would not mind."
"Of course, then, Arthur! How about from now on I make you dinner?"
"Oh....sure"

 
"Great!!!!" He turned to me and smiled happily. I wonder why he is so happy about it. It is just dinner with a friend.
"Be careful; I might make you into my husband if you keep acting this way" I laughed at him. His face grew solemn. "I am joking," I added, laughing awkwardly. He looked down, sad for some reason. "Oh, Arthur, a man could dream" he looked at me close to my face. "Oh?" I lifted a brow and turned away. Francis is always so energetic, which could be good sometimes.



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Thank you for reading so far.

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