The Virtues Of Literature

Part 10

Chapter 10

"I'm going to band practice, I'll be back in a few hours!" Arthur calls as he walks out of the front door, pulling it shut behind him.

Francis replies with a vague, "Goodbye." and continues to contemplate the mess of their apartment. It has been a few days since Alfred and Matthew moved in, though still temporarily, and unsurprisingly their living area has become a complete mess. Most students are already studying for their fast approaching exams and so there are books, canvases, folders, textbooks, all manner of things strewn around their flat and it is becoming less and less liveable. Francis himself has six separate paintings on the go, one of which being his huge A1 canvas he's has been working on for weeks, as well as write-ups, evaluations and other drawing to complete. Not to mention studying for a theory exam. He finds himself stressing out just at the thought of the workload, but it does help to know that everyone else is going through similar ordeals.

Alfred is asleep on the floor in his makeshift bed, apparently tired from morning lectures and having stayed up too late doing work, and Francis rolls his eyes lightheartedly at his ability to sleep at any given opportunity. Matthew had gone out to the library so they'd all have more space, but Francis decides suddenly that he can't deal with all of the mess that still remains.

He figures it's worth a little time cleaning in order to get a better work environment, and so gets to work. Francis sorts everything into piles, all of his own art supplies in his little corner by the window and in his bedroom, Arthur's books and folders in the bookshelf but easily accessible, and Alfred's physics work into a hefty pile next to Matthew's far more organised maths.

Francis is just about to start some work in the now satisfyingly tidy living room when his phone starts ringing. He answers the call to hear a slightly distressed Arthur on the other side.

"Hey Francis. Um, we're not really sure what to do but I thought I would ring to tell you what's happening since we've already called the fire brigade so-"

"Fire brigade?" Francis interrupts, his voice rising slightly in mild panic.

"We're in our practice room but there's a fire somewhere downstairs and the we've been told to stay put for some-"

Francis hears a shouting but muffled voice in the background say something about "dumb rules" and "bullshit", but ignores it in favour of continuing to listen to Arthur.

"-but we don't think that's a good idea and so we're debating whether to try and jump out of the window, because the corridors are all completely filled with smoke and we don't know a safe way out especially since the fire is probably spreading closer."

"My god, Arthur. Please don't do anything reckless, you should wait until help comes! Just hold on, and don't get yourself killed."

Francis hangs up, leaps from his chair to grab a few possessions and runs out of the door, while Alfred is still sleeping on the floor. He literally bumps into Matthew who is coming home on the way in, and pulls the confused teen along with him. They hail a taxi, and the fifteen minute journey feels like hours to Francis. Matthew reaches his hand to Francis' knee and holds it still, and he only then realises he had been nervously jiggling his leg.

"They'll be fine, Francis. The firefighters are probably already helping, and it's not like Arthur is on his own."

Francis smiles at the reassuring gestures of the Canadian, but finds it is rather more of a grimace. He can't help himself from worrying about Arthur; why is it always him who gets into these dangerous situations? All this worrying Arthur causes him are going to give him forehead creases; he's probably doing to deliberately to steal Francis' youth.