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Looking forward to the next chapter I am loving this series

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 14

“You… You what..?”

Arthur struggled to even get the words out, his eyes wide in shock and horror. Suddenly, Francis looked equally horrified even though he was the one who said it.

Despite the look on his face, the words, “You heard me,” still came out of Francis’s mouth.

For a moment, all Arthur could do was stare at the other man, never breaking eye contact with him even though he was so lost in his thoughts that he had already mentally left. Eventually, the silence became too much to bear. Francis’s lips parted as he went to speak again, but suddenly, the Englishman turned his back. He was walking away.

Francis wanted to call after him, but that would’ve been embarrassing and he was already embarrassed enough as it was…

But how was Arthur going to get home? He’d left Francis alone in the passenger side of his car, but then he abruptly started walking in the opposite direction. Was what the Frenchman said really so bad that the Englishman was willing to abandon his own car?

Angry, Francis got out of the car and started walking fast in the opposite direction of Arthur. The Frenchman went around the side of the courthouse and leaned on the wall in the shade, glancing across the parking lot to see what Arthur was going to do. To Francis’s dismay, when Arthur noticed that the Frenchman was no longer in the vehicle, he walked back over to it and drove away. From what Francis could see, Arthur hadn’t even looked around to see where he was at. He just left.

Francis waited for a half an hour or so, hopeful that Arthur had just gotten upset for a moment, that he wouldn’t really just abandon him, but… He never came back.

Eventually, the courthouse was closing and the worker that had been helping the two of them with their divorce came out of the building. Embarrassed, Francis hid from her. Since when was he chasing after another person, letting them belittle him this way? People were supposed to chase after him!

The Frenchman didn’t really have enough money to call a cab, so he awkwardly pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Feliciano’s number. His co-worker might’ve been a bit of an airhead, but at least he was reliable. He immediately agreed to pick him up at the courthouse.

A few minutes later, a vehicle pulled into the parking lot. It was then that Francis realized he had no idea what sort of car Feliciano even drove. It seemed like there were always different cars parked in the parking lot at their work. On second thought, sometimes there were no cars parked there at all…

Francis couldn’t quite see from where he was standing, so he walked over to the vehicle to see if it was Feliciano.

Suddenly, when Francis had almost reached the vehicle, the driver beeped at him and startled him. An angry looking man with slicked back, blonde hair rolled down the driver side window and stuck his head out.

“What’s taking you so long?! Hurry up!” The man yelled, thoroughly scaring the Frenchman and making him wonder if it was really the right car.

Then Francis heard a familiar soft voice telling the driver not to be so harsh and scare his friends.

“Francis,” Feliciano called out from the passenger side window, “this is the right car, so get in!”

The Frenchman let out a sigh of relief. He would live another day.

Francis got in the back of the car, where he was promptly introduced to the driver, a German man named Ludwig. Feliciano said that Ludwig was his best friend, a comment which made the German seem uncharacteristically flustered.

“Well, Ludwig, it’s nice to meet you. Enchanté,” Francis said awkwardly, still secretly sort of afraid of the German driver.

“You could’ve told me he was French…” Ludwig muttered to Feliciano as he started to pull out of the driveway.

“And what is that supposed to mean?!” Francis raised his voice at the German, causing the Italian to laugh nervously at the situation.

After a bumpy, both literally and metaphorically, ride home, Francis thanked Feliciano and Ludwig and waved as they pulled out of the driveway. Upon turning around to face his house, Francis noticed that the lights were on. Arthur must’ve already been home for who knows how long. Wasn’t he worried about the Frenchman?

Francis unlocked the door, a scowl on his face as he just so happened to lock eyes with a certain Englishman again. He would’ve rather bickered back and forth with the German at that point. At least he hadn’t abandoned him.

Arthur turned his back to Francis again, ready to walk away from him and let his horrendous smelling food burn in the oven.

“Oh, I don’t even get a ‘welcome home’?” Francis said sarcastically, his voice laced with malice.

“When have I ever said that to you?” Arthur spat, turning around to glare daggers at the other man. He had intended on ignoring him, but he was… angry.

“Right, I’m sure you haven’t,” Francis replied, hanging his coat on the rack by the door.

“What exactly do you want from me? You clearly hate me, so why won’t you just leave? I’ve been trying to get this divorce settled, but you’re being so difficult. You’re acting like a child,” Arthur said, a smirk starting to form on his face.

“Isn’t walking away and avoiding someone else childlike? If you think that I hate you, then you really don’t understand anything!” He’d done it again. Why did Francis keep yelling things like that? Arthur wasn’t sure if he couldn’t understand the other man, or if he wouldn’t understand him.

“You’re saying I’m childlike for walking away, but you keep saying these cryptic things that I can’t understand,” Arthur replied, starting out like he was going to raise his voice, too, but instead he ended up laughing nervously.

Francis hesitated and leaned down to untie his shoes, using it as an excuse to avert his gaze toward the ground.

“To anyone else… the meaning behind what I’ve told you would be quite clear…” Francis said, his voice low as he continued to stare at the ground, slowly untying his shoes.

Arthur gulped, his heart suddenly racing. Why was he so afraid of hearing what the other man had to say? Well, it was because it would…

Francis finished taking his shoes off and stood back up straight, making eye contact with the man across the room from him.

“Can’t you see, I… I don’t want to divorce you because I–”

“Stop,” Arthur suddenly said, the smirk on his face replaced with a terrified expression.

It was because it would change everything. If Francis said what Arthur thought he was going to say, that is.

Francis looked a combination of shocked, confused, and hurt when Arthur stopped him. Did he really know what he was going to say? And if he did, why was he stopping him? Why was he looking at him that way..?

“Arthur, I…” Francis started, stepping closer to the Englishman.

“I said stop,” Arthur reiterated, but he didn’t back away from the taller blonde.

“I love you,” Francis stated simply, a soft look in his eyes as he closed the gap between himself and the shorter blonde man in front of him. Before the Englishman could object, soft lips pressed against his and he let them. He let them there only for a short moment, before he gave the Frenchman a small shove.

“If this is supposed to be a joke, I… I don’t find it funny,” Arthur stammered, his cheeks flushed pink. He seemed out of breath even though they had barely kissed for more than a few seconds.

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but I’m telling you the truth,” Francis replied with a soft laugh, his eyes seeming to glow as he looked at the other man.

“Well, this is all the more reason for you to leave. You’ve clearly gone insane..!” Arthur replied, laughing, too, but it was more of a scoff, like he was laughing at him, not with him.

“Quoi? Arthur, you…” Francis’s soft expression contorted into an irritated one. Had he really confessed how he felt only for Arthur to… dismiss him?

“You can’t kiss me on a ferris wheel at night like that and then act like you don’t feel anything towards me!”

“I do feel something towards you and it’s hate!” Arthur yelled, turning his back on the Frenchman again so he could check on his burnt food. “You can’t keep bringing up stuff like that that doesn’t matter. I made a mistake– that’s all,” Arthur added, muttering as though it was difficult to get the words out, like he was lying to himself.

“Doesn’t matter?” Francis repeated, his eyes narrow. “Then I guess it didn’t matter when I took care of you when you were sick, or God knows how many times when you were drunk, and–”

“Oh, so I should stay married to you because you took care of me a few times? You’ve really gone mad, haven’t you?” Arthur said with another sarcastic laugh as he pulled the burnt food out of the oven.

“You’re the crazy one for not wanting to marry me!” Francis yelled, pointing his finger. “People line up asking for my hand in marriage all the time..!”

“Oh, do they now? Like that girl you invited over a few months ago? She couldn’t wait to get away from you!”

“Ouai, because of you!”

Arthur’s eye started to twitch and he turned to face the Frenchman again, an angry look in his eyes.

“Well what are you getting at then?!”

“I’ve already told you! Don’t you listen to anything?!”

Francis seemed angrier than Arthur had ever seen him, and admittedly, the Englishman was being sarcastic, even more so than usual, and he had sort of instigated this whole thing, but… He wasn’t expecting the Frenchman to get so heated that he…

“You must be the biggest fool in the world, rejecting me! It’s like I said, that girl from before was only excited to leave here because of you! You and your big bushy eyebrows must’ve creeped her out! She wouldn’t have come the whole way over to the countryside to go on a date with me if she didn’t want to be with me! But, of course, you’ve gone and messed things up for me!” Francis yelled, stepping closer to Arthur with each word. However, this time, every instinct the Englishman had told him he should back away from the angry Frenchman.

“Calm down, calm down,” Arthur laughed nervously. He reached his hand up to put it on the other man’s shoulder, but when his eyes met with uncharacteristically furious ones, he decided that it was best not to.

“And it wasn’t just that I took care of you when you were sick (or always drunk)! I did a lot of other things, too! I gave you roses in the most beautiful vase I could find (in this country with terrible taste) and you didn’t even appreciate those,” Francis continued on, picking up the glass vase from the counter beside them. “Non, you didn’t even-”

“I’m sure I mentioned that I liked those,” Arthur muttered, letting out another nervous laugh, as he had already backed up so far that he was against the kitchen counter and didn’t know where else to go. For some reason, his heart was racing, and it wasn’t in a good way.

“To who?! Because it surely wasn’t me!” Francis yelled, throwing the vase against the wall behind the Englishman.

After the crash and the sound of broken glass falling on the counter and the floor, the room fell silent.

Francis didn’t intend on throwing the vase. He had done it without thinking, but… He especially didn’t intend on throwing it so close to the other man. It didn’t directly hit Arthur’s face, but a shard of glass ended up grazing his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but the blood that started to drip down the Englishman’s cheek made it look bad.

Francis reached out to touch Arthur’s cheek, but the Englishman quickly batted his hand away. The Frenchman couldn’t help but think the way the other man was looking at him was somewhat different than before…

“Arthur, I’m sor–”

Arthur didn’t want to hear what the other man had to say. He shoved past him and left the house, the door making only a small clicking noise as it shut behind him.

The house was so quiet…

…

Arthur had sent Francis a text message, letting him know that he would be staying somewhere else for a few days. He said that he wanted some time to think about things alone, so he shouldn’t come looking for him.

Unsure of when Arthur would come back, Francis tried to pretend like everything was normal. He kept going to work at the flower shop, taking any extra shifts or tasks to keep his mind off things. When he got home, he would make dinner and watch a TV show. Anything to make the house feel less silent, less empty. As for falling asleep, he struggled with it, but a few glasses of wine seemed to do the trick.

A few days later, Arthur returned. It was while Francis was at work, so he hadn’t known it yet.

The Englishman brewed tea and ate some biscuits at the kitchen table while he awaited the other man’s return. He felt hesitant to see the Frenchman again, especially after he had witnessed such a surprising display of anger a few days prior, but Arthur was calm enough now, had thought things through well enough to know that they needed to talk.

When Francis got back from work, he was surprised to see Arthur’s car parked in the driveway. Of course, he suspected that the Englishman would return at some point, but he had no idea when that would be. The Frenchman’s curiosity peaked when he opened the front door and saw the Englishman sitting at the kitchen table. Did that mean that he wanted to…

“We need to talk,” Arthur said in a tone that Francis couldn’t quite read. The Englishman’s voice was firm, yet hesitant.

“Oui, we do,” Francis replied, hanging his coat up and slipping off his shoes before he entered the room. He couldn’t help but notice that Arthur’s cheek had a bandage on it where he had accidentally sliced him with the broken glass from the vase.

“Look, Francis, I…” Arthur started quietly, “I’ve given this a lot of thought…”

“As you should have.”

Arthur, who was still seated at the table, glared daggers at the long haired blonde man who was standing beside it.

“Would you let me finish?”

“Oui, oui. Go on,” Francis said with a sigh as he sat down across from the other man. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what he was going to hear.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… divorce is the only option that makes sense here.”

The room fell silent, as Arthur expected Francis to say something, anything, after he completed that sentence.

“It doesn’t matter how you feel about me, or how I feel about you, this marriage was founded on a lie, a lie that wasn’t even our idea. It only makes sense to end it,” Arthur continued quietly.

Silence overtook the room, no, the entire house, again as Arthur waited for Francis to say something. The Frenchman furrowed his eyebrows, his expression changing from an angry one to a distressed one in a matter of seconds.

“How could you say that? What ‘makes sense’ doesn’t even matter in this situation! This is a matter of the heart– a matter of love!” Francis eventually replied, raising his voice.

“It’s only a matter of love for you!” Arthur yelled back, but then he calmed himself down. While he was away, thinking things through, he had decided that he was going to try to stop arguing with the other man… “You can’t force me to be with you– we’re done.”

Francis left the room without another word, leaving Arthur in the kitchen alone. It was a shame, really, Arthur thought, that they couldn’t even have a simple conversation without one of them storming out of the room.

The Englishman stood up from the table, his body feeling heavier than usual, like he was trying to lift himself up while carrying several bags of heavy groceries. Really, he was just that exhausted. Glancing over at the spot on the kitchen counter where the glass vase used to sit, he couldn’t help but feel that its absence alone had created a somber feeling.

That somber feeling was reason enough for the two of them to stop whatever it was they had going on though, wasn’t it? Regardless of how they might’ve felt about one another, they weren’t happy together– that was clear.

Arthur walked over to the counter and put his hands on it, leaning all of his weight into them as he gazed out the window. His hands slid forward some and he winced, drawing his hand back towards himself. A thin red line formed on his hand and he furrowed his brows, glancing around the counter to see what could’ve caused it.

Ah, he had missed one of the shards of glass from the vase…

With furrowed eyebrows, Arthur carefully picked up the piece of glass and disposed of it, thoroughly washing the cut afterwards. Suddenly the Englishman was reminded of the last time he had accidentally cut his hand. Francis had rushed over and helped him, making sure the wound was disinfected and securely bandaged. Arthur smiled at the thought before reality hit him and he realized things like that wouldn’t happen again. They weren’t supposed to happen in the first place after all.

Something wet hit Arthur’s hand and he silently cursed to himself. Was it really still bleeding? It was just a small cut.

No, what landed on his hand was clear… it was transparent and it just kept falling… and falling…

For some reason, Arthur was crying.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Arthur left the kitchen. Pacing back and forth in the living room, at first he wasn’t sure what he should do. That was when he abruptly decided that he would go to the flower shop. The lack of flowers in the kitchen was surely what was upsetting him, after all. It was purely a coincidence that Francis had most likely headed there to work when he ran off.

Yes, it was just a coincidence. But if Arthur did happen to see a certain Frenchman there then he would act as if nothing happened. He was simply going to buy some flowers and it didn’t matter who he saw along the way there. That was what he kept telling himself at least…

Upon arriving at the flower shop, Arthur hesitated, but then went back to reminding himself, or rather lying to himself, that he didn’t care if he saw Francis there.

Arthur entered the shop and immediately glanced around, expecting to lock eyes with the Frenchman any second, but instead his eyes locked with the closed eyes of the small italian man who was working there.

“Um, can I help you with something..?” Feliciano asked Arthur, a concerned look on his face because the Englishman was, from his point of view, suspiciously looking around at everything but the flowers in the shop.

“Oh, uh, I’m here to buy some flowers!” Arthur practically yelled, surprising even himself because he wasn’t too sure why he did that. It was probably because he had hoped that if Francis was in the back room getting ready he would hear a familiar voice and come out.

Feliciano looked visibly upset, maybe even scared, by Arthur’s tone, but quickly returned to his usual cheerful self.

“I see. What kind of flowers are you shopping for?” Feliciano asked softly.

“Ummm… roses? I guess? Yes, roses,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, still glancing around the store, although he was trying to be a bit more nonchalant about it.

“Roses? Sure, they’re right over here!” Feliciano replied, leading Arthur towards a table of different colored roses with long stems.

“Ahh, thank you,” Arthur muttered, following the other man over to the table.

Still, each time Feliciano looked away from the roses to see if Arthur was paying attention, he found the Englishman staring at everything but the flowers.

“Could it be that you’re looking for something else, too..?” Feliciano asked, setting the roses back down on the table.

“Ah, um…” Arthur fumbled around with his words, wondering what he should tell the other man. He worked with Francis after all, so he couldn’t say too much to him, but… “There’s another person who works here… Um, is he…”

“Oh, do you mean Francis? He’s not working today,” Feliciano replied, a confused look on his face as his brain was suddenly working too hard thinking about why the man in front of him might be looking for his coworker.

“He’s not..?” Arthur replied, dumbfounded. If Francis wasn’t at the flower shop, then where could he have gone..?

“Nope, not today! I have his phone number though. I can call him and see where he’s at, if you’d like,” Feliciano offered innocently, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“NO! No, that’s alright!” Arthur abruptly yelled again, but this time somehow louder, and started waving his hands back and forth. “Sorry about that… He and I just, um… we can’t, uh…” Arthur apologized and then trailed off.

“O-Oh okay,” Feliciano stuttered, once again looking horrified when the other man raised his voice. It was like the italian man was walking around, working, while he was asleep.

“Sorry to bother you,” Arthur muttered and suddenly went to leave the store.

That was when it finally hit Feliciano.

“You’re his fiancé, aren’t you?” Feliciano asked, stopping Arthur dead in his tracks.

The Englishman turned around with red cheeks.

“Huh?”

“You’re Francis’s fiancé, right? The one he’s always talking about?” Feliciano pressed further, an innocent look still on his face.

“Always talking about?” Arthur repeated, his face hot with embarrassment.

“Mm, Francis has this person he’s always going on about. I think he’s really in love with him! Actually… I think they got married… Maybe I’m wrong, but… I think they did,” Feliciano mumbled, his hand on his chin as it started to sound more like he was talking to himself. “Anyway, I thought you might be him because you’re here looking for him. Am I wrong?”

“Ah, no! You’ve got the wrong person..!” Arthur retorted. “Thank you for the help! Bye now!”

Arthur ran out of the store so fast he was out of breath, his cheeks so hot they stung. Had Francis really been talking about him so much that he had convinced his coworker they were in love? The thought alone was overwhelming.

Arthur wanted to find the Frenchman and apologize for being so harsh with him, but he had no idea where he ran off to. He supposed he deserved it because he had just done the same thing, but he was still frustrated nonetheless… He could’ve just called him, or even had Feliciano call him to see where he was, but he had too much pride to do that.

The Englishman was sure Francis just left to prove a point and would come home that night, but it was a few days until he saw him again.

#hetalia #aph france #fruk #aph england #hws france #hetalia fruk #ukfr #hws england #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #love this fic

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