La Vie en Rose // FrUs

Live a Little

"Welcome to Paris, je m'appelle Francis."

"Uh- hi! You speak English?" Alfred asked, feeling like the man standing in front of him was his last ray of hope. Alfred was certain there were tons of people who spoke English in the area considering how touristy it was, but he had ultimately given up on trying to approach people. He was almost teary-eyed that this man had chosen to spoke to him first.

"I do. Are you okay?" Francis asked, looking the American up and down before locking his violet eyes with Alfred's.

"I'm lost and uh- locked out of my apartment." Alfred replied, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as the Frenchman stared at him intensely.

"I could tell. You look foreign." Francis stated, chuckling a bit at the red-faced American. Alfred couldn't help but blush. The man was intimidatingly handsome.

"I'm from America." Alfred responded, not knowing what to say to the man.

"I could tell by the khakis." Francis muttered, shooting a disgusted look at the American's choice of shorts. Alfred didn't even have the time to feel offended as Francis sat down next to him. "What is your name, mon ami?"

"Alfred."

"Cute. Well Alfred, how about we get you out of those khakis and into something a bit less... American-tourist-on-his-first-trip-to-Paris" Francis suggested, his expression shifting from disgust to a sort of flirtatious smile.

"What do you mean?!" Alfred blurted, shifting away from the Frenchman on the bench. His face was bright red at this point, and Francis could tell he was flustered. Chuckling, Francis placed a hand on the American's thigh.

"What I mean is that you're sleeping over my place. I'm not letting you go homeless. I have an extra set of pajamas waiting at home if you're willing to follow me" Francis explained.

"You're a stranger!" Alfred shot back. Alfred's parents had consistently told him not to talk to strangers as a child, but here he was, being offered a sleepover by an unfamiliar man in the middle of Paris.

"I'm not a stranger! I'm Francis!" Francis replied, laughing at the American's skittishness. Alfred was simply baffled. The man was suspiciously friendly, but for some reason, he trusted him.

"I-I barely know you!" Alfred spoke, eliciting a laugh from Francis.

"You're acting like I'm a serial killer. I'm just offering you a place to stay for the night. Learn to live a little, Alfred" the Frenchman said, sounding disappointed in Alfred's lack of adventurous spirit. Alfred immediately furrowed his brows at Francis's disappointment. Alfred was fun! Alfred was adventurous! How dare he?!

"Fine" Alfred muttered, a hint of anger in his voice as he accepted the Frenchman's offer. Francis beamed at his respond and shot up from the bench, happy that his plan had worked. He always knew how to manipulate people into getting what he wanted.

"My apartment is a few blocks away from here. You can call your mom when we get there if you still think I'm going to murder you" Francis said sarcastically, causing Alfred to get even more flustered than he had been before. That is exactly what Alfred was planning on doing.

As Alfred cautiously walked beside Francis, he noticed a few things about the handsome man. First of all, he was wearing all pink. Second of all, the roses in his hand were pink. And third of all, his lips were a nice shade of pink. Alfred couldn't stop staring at those lips. Francis seemed to notice his staring after a while and teased Alfred with a wink. Alfred immediately turned bright red and shot his eyes to the ground, embarrassed that he had been caught staring.

The two continued walking for a few blocks, Francis occassionaly muttering something to himself in French, seeming to forget the American was walking directly beside him. Alfred continued observing the man's mannerisms out of the corner of his eye and smirked a bit when he noticed a hickey on the man's neck. He must've attracted a lot of women, being so handsome.

"His girlfriend must be a model..." Alfred accidentally muttered out loud. The boy immediately shot his hand to his mouth as Francis's head turned to look at him.

"What did you say?" Francis asked, not seeming to hear the American.

"Uh- I- uh- um- Is that a hickey on your neck?!" Alfred blurted, not knowing what to say. Francis furrowed his brow in confusion before reaching up and feeling the portion of his neck that Alfred had been staring at. The man ran his fingers over his skin and immediately chuckled, leaving a very embarrassed Alfred very confused.

"It's not a hickey, mon ami. I was curling an annoying strand of hair and I burnt myself" Francis explained, smirking a bit at the red-faced American.

"Oh" Alfred responded, his lips curling into a smile. Knowing Francis didn't have a girlfriend made him embarrassingly happy.

The two continued walking for a few more blocks before Francis paused. "This is where I live" he explained, gesturing towards the building in front of them. Alfred looked up at the building and ogled at the beautiful Parisian architecture. Everything in Paris was so old. It was nice compared to Alfred's modern American city upbringing. Alfred followed Francis up the stairs to the front door and through the entrance. The two walked up a few flights of stairs before reaching Francis's hallway.

Alfred followed until they reached a pink door, labelled "appartement 714". Francis pulled a pink keychain out from his pocket and unlocked the door to reveal a pitch black apartment. Alfred followed as Francis flicked the lightswitch and revealed the craziest apartment he had ever seen.

The entire apartment was pink. Pink curtains, a pink rug, pink furniture. Everything was pink. Francis chuckled at the American's agape expression and set down the bouquet of flowers on his marble countertop. Alfred's eyes continued wandering around the lavishly decorated apartment. It was certaintly the fanciest one he had ever been in, and definitely the most pink.

"Can I guess your favorite color?" Alfred suddenly spoke, eliciting a laugh from the Frenchman.

"It's blue, of course" Francis shot back. Francis always loved seeing people's reactions to his pink apartment. Pink was the color of romance, the color of love. Francis loved the deepness behind the meaning of the color pink.

The color of universal love of oneself and others.

"Oh, look how late it is. Let's get you some pajamas." Francis exclaimed, motioning for Alfred to follow him to his bedroom. Alfred followed him and continued to gaze at the pink decorations and casual pink accents everywhere in the apartment. Alfred couldn't help but notice the only thing in the apartment that wasn't pink were the walls. They were surprisingly white.

Francis led Alfred into his bedroom, which immediately made Alfred uncomfortable. It looked like some sort of parisian love-den. Francis's bed was king-sized, and there were candles and rose petals littered throughout the place. It was classily decorated and looked incredibly nice for the bedroom of a twenty-something man living alone in the middle of a big, expensive city. His apartment made Alfred's apartment look like a crawl space under some basement stairs.

Alfred awkwardly stood in the doorway, watching as Francis rummaged through his closet. It was a few seconds of frustrated grunts from Francis before he finally found what he was looking for. Francis looked Alfred up and down and then looked back at the pajamas he had found, scrunching his nose up when he realized they probably wouldn't fit. Throwing the clothes back into the closet, he let out a sigh. After running out of ideas for pajamas, Francis turned back towards the American and looked him up and down again, making Alfred feel very self-concious.

"Strip." Francis commanded.

"Excuse me?!"