"I- I- I- NO! I can't be GAY!"
"You say it like it's some sort of disease!"
"It is! Wait- No! I mean- It's not! I-"
"Please. Stop. Talking."
Francis got up from his seat, ignoring Arthur as he hastily left the living room, entering his bedroom instead. He closed the door behind him and sat on the end of his bed, shocked. Did Arthur seriously think that to be gay was some sort of illness? But Arthur was literally gay! He was his boyfriend! How did he feel so negatively about being homosexual?
Thinking about it made Francis feel sick, but he couldn't sleep, not after everything that was going on. He sighed in frustration as he questioned everything he knew about Arthur. How did Arthur feel about Francis being Pansexual? Was he an alien to Arthur because he felt attraction to people regardless of their identity!?
Thoughts were racing through his head as he felt a tear roll down his face.
Hein? Am I crying? Why am I crying?
He didn't know why he was suddenly in tears, but he chose to not question it, feeling only frustration and self-loathing. How could Arthur say that? How could he do that? What was going on? What was inside of Arthur's head?
The distressed, tall man laid down on his bed, and as he did, he heard a knock on his bedroom door.
"Francis! Are you okay!? I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"
As the voice cried out for him from the other side of the door, Francis just laid there, on his bed, tuning it out. He didn't want to look at his "boyfriend" if he could even call him that anymore.
"Francis! Please! I'm so sorry! I really am! Please!"
That voice was crying, Arthur was upset. As much as it pained Francis to leave Arthur like that as he begged helplessly outside of his door, he couldn't bring himself to look at him. Francis began to reflect for the first time in a long time, he thought about why he was doing this.
Why is everything so difficult for me constantly?
Why can't everything be easy?
I just want to be happy.
While these thoughts screamed inside of Francis' mind, Arthur was still pleading on the other side of his door. It was unbearable.
"Please! Please! Please!"
Go away.
"Look, I'm really sorry!"
Stop talking.
"I didn't mean it! I just don't know what to think right now! I feel so overwhelmed, and I need some help! Please!"
Leave me alone.
"It's just that I think that maybe I am gay, and if I am, that's scary to me! If I'm gay, what will the others think!? And the women I've dated... have I just been lying to them!? Am I in the wrong!? Please! Francis, please!"
I... he sounds... genuine...
Francis got up from his bed and opened his door. As soon as Arthur saw him, he hugged Francis. They both cried as they held each other in a warm embrace.
"Francis! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry-!"
In an attempt to calm his crying boyfriend, Francis kissed Arthur gently, shushing him.
"It's okay, it's okay! I promise you; we will be okay!"
"I'm sorry! I love you! I'm sorry!"
"I love you too! Stop apologising!"
"But I feel horrible! I shouldn't have said that! I'm just-!"
Francis kissed him again, saying, "Mon amour, it's okay! I understand! This is hard for you!"
"Yes! It is! I don't know what to do!"
"Don't worry, it will be okay."
"What do I do!? I don't want the others to find out, but I love you! And I feel horrible because I don't want to hurt you by pretending to hate you!"
"Then don't."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Why don't we just tell them?"
"But if we do that, they'll all be weird because they all think we hate each other but I don't! I don't hate you! I never did!"
"Me neither!"
"So why did we do this!?"
"I don't know, Arthur!"
"I hate it!"
"Me too."
Francis once again kissed Arthur softly, calming him down. He understood that Arthur must have been going through a lot. It would be a very odd thing to go through, never having been raised to accept same-sex attraction. In saying that, Arthur hadn't been raised not to accept people who identified as gay, rather he hadn't been taught of it.
"Arthur, what can we do?" Asked Francis, seeking to work with Arthur toward a solution.
"I don't know! I don't even know what I am!" Cried Arthur, extremely distressed.
As he held the crying brit close, Francis suggested, "Why don't we start there?"
Arthur looked confused, "What do you mean?"
"Well, do you like women?"
Francis' question was met with no response. The two simply just held each other for a number of a few minutes, before Francis let go of Arthur and returned back into his bedroom. He wanted to find some paper so that Arthur could perhaps write what he was feeling, as speaking might make him uncomfortable. After a few moments of searching, Francis found a pile of unused paper in one of his drawers, he went back to Arthur, who was standing in the doorway between his bedroom and living room.
"Why do you have paper?"
"Come, sit down." Encouraged Francis, walking to his dining table and taking a seat, motioning toward the seat beside him for Arthur to sit. Arthur sat down next to Francis, who grabbed a biro and handed it to the confused man beside him.
"What do you want me to do?" Quizzed Arthur, puzzled as to what he was supposed to be doing.
"抖阴社区."
Arthur still didn't understand.
"抖阴社区 what?"
Francis sighed, "抖阴社区 how you feel! Writing is a good way to express yourself! And, you are a very good writer."
His boyfriend blushed, "Really? Thank you!" he said, beginning to write. Wanting to give Arthur some privacy, Francis examined the room for something to do, then seeing the couch. The couch was still covered in semen.
Merde.
"You might want to clean that up, Frenchie, or just buy a new couch all-together." Advised Arthur, clearly having noticed Francis staring at his couch.
"Non, I can clean it." Assured Francis, getting up to get a sponge.
Arthur laughed, "Alright, but I'm never sitting on that couch again!"
Francis was already in the kitchen, but still succeeded to respond, "You do know that is yours, right?"
"Wasn't my fault."
"Tu n'as pas tort!" ("You are not wrong!")
As Francis returned to his couch with the appropriate cleaning supplies, beginning to scrub at the sticky, foul-smelling substance on his couch, which had also dripped onto his carpet.
He heard Arthur laughing from behind him as he hastily scrubbed his couch and carpet.
"Just shut up and write." Francis sighed.
Arthur continued writing down his feelings on the piece of paper in front of him, choking on laughter as he wrote.
It had been about half an hour since Francis had begun scrubbing and Arthur started writing. Francis was now getting mad at his couch, as its suspicious stains were persistent. Arthur had since finished writing and was now doodling on the paper. His doodles were so cute, actually, all of Arthur's art was cute, well, some of it. With Arthur, when you opened his sketchbook, it was a 50/50 chance of either finding something that is so adorable you feel your own heart melting, or you stumble upon the most mortifying horrors you've ever witnessed, things that will haunt you until your dying day.
Admitting defeat to the couch, Francis resumed his seat next to Arthur, observing the piece of paper in front of him.
"I finished writing." Stated Arthur.
"Clearly! Can I read it?" Replied Francis, gesturing for Arthur to hand over the paper, which he did, even if hesitantly.
The paper read:
I don't know how to feel, well, I do. I am aware of the undeniable truth that I have experienced romantic and sexual desires for men. However, I am not entirely sure what to make of my feelings toward women. It is true that I have been with women in the past, but I now find myself questioning whether or not my supposed "love" for them was indeed that of an impure nature.
If it is indeed a fact that I am only capable of sexual attraction to men, what does that make of me? Would I be a failure to admit to these intrusive thoughts? Does it make me less respectable? After all, I am The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, an esteemed nation. I stand to take great pride in myself. Do these desires render me less worthy of honour than I previously would have been?
And then Francis becomes a relevant factor in the torturous equation of my life. If I were to surrender to my possible sins, in what ways would he be affected? If our peers were to discover our secret relations with one another, there is the likely possibility of them not being able to immediately comprehend the situation before them. I do care truly and deeply for Francis, he is very special to me for a wide variety of reasons, but I simply do not wish to complicate his life further.
Considering my past relationships involving women, despite it being true that I found them unsatisfactory, it could be that I was utterly incompatible with these women. I have never found it an easy experience to engage in sexual activity with any woman, it always feels wrong, as if attempting to catch a fish in a polluted lake. And if you do manage to catch a fish, it contains nothing but batteries and plastic. Nothing of a good quality to be gained, nor gifted.
After Francis was done reading, he looked at Arthur in shock. His writing had been far more detailed and expressive than expected.
"Arthur, if you feel that way about women, how do you feel about men in that way?" He asked Arthur, pushing him further along the path to the inevitable realisation that he was indeed homosexual.
Arthur sat silently in thought for a moment before responding, "Well, the only man I've been with is you, as you know."
"And how do you feel dating me?"
"Dating you feels right, but I can't be gay, surely."
"Arthur, if you like having sex with men, but not women, you are gay."
"No!"
"Oh mon dieu! How are you arguing with me on this!? You literally just said that women don't satisfy you, and that men do! If that's not gay, I don't know what is!"
"I'm not gay!"
"You are gay!"
"No!"
"You are in a relationship with a man, how is that not gay!?"
"I don't know! It just isn't!"
"How!?"
"I don't know!"
"Arthur."
"No!"
"Arthur!"
"No!"
"You are gay!"
"No!"
"Arthur, look at my fucking couch! Is that not evidence of you being gay!?"
Francis was just frustrated with Arthur at this point. He was literally Francis' boyfriend! Was he delusional!?
Arthur exhaled, clearly exhausted and emotionally drained. Without speaking, he got up and went over to the stained couch. Grabbing the sponge that Francis had previously been scrubbing it desperately with and took it into the bathroom. coming back out with laundry detergent on the sponge, Arthur began scrubbing the stains off the couch. It worked! The white, sticky stains were actually being removed.
"What!? How are you doing that!?" Gasped Francis, who was not the best at cleaning.
"You didn't put any soap on the sponge, idiot."
"Oh."
How embarrassing. Francis suddenly felt very stupid. Growing up, he hadn't been taught to clean, his grandfather wasn't either, but he was taught to cook well. It seemed as if Arthur had been raised in the opposite way.
"Hey, Francis"
"Yes, mon amour?"
"Do you think that Ludwig will tell anyone about what happened?"
"I... I do not know. Let's hope he doesn't."
"Yeah, but I can't fight this terrible anxiety in my stomach."
"What are you nervous about?"
"I guess I just don't want word to get out about it."
"I understand that, but we couldn't keep this secret forever."
"Wait... 'forever'?"
"Are you okay, Arthur?"
"What do you mean 'forever'? Were you just going to keep doing this secretly?"
"I... non... maybe!"
"Well, that's ruined now."
"Ouais." ("Yep.")
Arthur finished cleaning the couch. After placing the equipment back in their original positions, he stood beside the chair next to Francis. The time was now six o'clock in the morning, Arthur looked at the clock before stating, "I should really go home, my plant is going to die if I don't water it, and I want to change into my own, clean clothing."
"Oh, okay! I guess I'll see you... soon?"
After he said this, Arthur kissed Francis' lips softly. The kiss was kind, and soft, it was loving. It made Francis blush slightly.
"Of course."
And with that, Arthur left Francis' apartment, leaving Francis alone. The exhausted man dragged himself into his bed, where he looked at his phone as the sun rose outside.