Fools Like Us

A/N: I know it's late but at least it's up!

I'm just really glad that I already had this done...I've been really busy with work lately and I'm actually exhausted and under the influence of a sleeping pill right now because I have the opening shift tomorrow and really need to sleep...

In other words, I should get on with it and let you read, no?

Fools Like Us

3-The Dreamers Get Punished Most By the Truth

Francis frowned up at the pristine white outer walls of the hospital. He wasn't particularly fond of the place, but he spent more than his fair share of time here. He might have despised it less if he didn't feel as if it was holding one of his best friends captive.

"Are you okay?" asked Antonio softly from his side. The energetic Spaniard was unusually subdued, his eyes bright and honest as he watched Francis. A tentative, reassuring hand on Francis' shoulder gave a blond an emotional boost and he finally nodded, a small smile twisting the corners of his lips.

On his other side, Gilbert was equally solemn. His pale lips were pressed together in a tight frown and there was a look of discomfort in his ruby eyes. He'd had a few medical problems as a child and had his own reasons for hating hospitals, so his presence meant more to Francis than either of them would acknowledge.

Finally, Francis took a deep breath and forced a smile. Then, with every inch of him screaming to run in the other direction, he forced himself to begin the seemingly too long path up to the double doors of the hospital.

They slid open soundlessly as the trio approached. The nurses at the desk looked up. They recognized the boys, smiled in greeting, and returned to whatever various projects they had been working on.

With Francis leading the way, the three began their familiar trek through the winding, seemingly endless hallways until they reached one of the hundreds of nondescript doors. A tiny plaque on the wall next to the door read, in pristine, clinical white letters, "Arc, Jeanne."

With only a moment's hesitation, Francis raised his fist and knocked lightly on the door. A female voice answered from the other side, granting them permission to enter. They followed through quickly, smiling at the sight of their friend sitting up in her bed, smiling brightly back at them.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," Francis greeted in perfect French, bringing a warm smile to Jeanne's pale, thin lips.

She looked worse than usual, but seeing her sitting up was a welcome change. Her short, blonde hair was dull and mussed from the pillow, but it poofed around her head like a golden halo-a suitable image for the pure-hearted teenager. Her cheeks were hollow and there was a visible clamminess to her skin, but even that couldn't take away from her simple beauty.

"Francis," she greeted simply, leaning forward as though drawn in by his presence. She nodded in greeting to the other two, and they returned the gesture. Her attention quickly returned to the young man who shared her culture, however, and his friends backed inconspicuously from the room.

"How have you been?" Francis asked softly, as if he hadn't been to see her several times in the last week and texted her constantly the rest of the time.

Jeanne laughed, a light, bell-like sound that sent a rush of warmth through her companion.

"Don't play dumb," she chided, never one to play to the whims of others in conversation, "You know the answer to that."

Francis' cheeks warmed at the spirited retort, but he let it slide and perched on the edge of the narrow, pristine bed.

"What about you?" she asked when a comfortable silence had reigned for a few long moments.