Strife

Chapter Four

Francis dismissed himself after learning one of his dearest and possibly 'oldest' friend's names after a full year of Mr. Kirklands.

That night the Frenchman went into an old pub. He remembered having a friend talk about opening a pub a while back—he didn't know how far back that was, but he remembered it.

He could always remember bits and pieces. That bothered him. It was never the full picture with Francis Bonnefoy.

"Francis?" the emerald eyed boy was amazed to see Francis sitting in the old field. He had taken a boat from Dover to try and find Francis a good twenty years after the war. He was surprised it worked. Of course he had tried before; one week every year he'd stay in an inn close to where him and his French boy would play, he was so damn near giving up this time; but there he was. "Francis?," he came closer. But still no answer.

The silence both concerned and annoyed the British teen. He chose to act on the latter though, which was anything but a wise decision.

"You're so childish Francis. It was a War! I couldn't let the one place that I belonged in lose to..."

"The place I belong to?" Francis' voice was uncharacteristically quiet. He didn't look up from his spot under the shade of his favourite tree. He couldn't look up. He longed for a day like this: after twenty years, where they'd talk about this...fix them. But now that it was happening he didn't think he wanted to go through with it.

"You bloody kno—you know what I meant," there was a quick change in heart in Arthur. He was so used to the constant insults, and teasing, and the tree climbing, the stream skipping...that some part of his brain disregarded the last hundred and thirty six years. Only for a moment though.

"There's no need to apologize Arthur. You can leave now," the French boy finally allowed his eyes to meet Arthur's. The words Francis said were rude if read, but aloud they were desperate. He didn't just want Arthur to leave, he needed Arthur to leave.

Francis just didn't understand why he had to visit every year on this day.

He still remembered the first year after the war. Arthur probably lost his voice hollering, "Francis!" As if Francis would come out to the likes of him. He continued to watch Arthur through the next 19 years. He had a feeling even Arthur would get tired of trying to find someone, so he knew he had to make himself known. For a moment Francis thought maybe it was for the best that him and Arthur should never meet again even if their prolonged existence would keep them close together they could never repair that bond they had before 116 years war.

It took Arthur a while before he could tear his gaze off of Frances' eyes. The eyes he new to be as clear as the midsummer sky were now clouded with worry and doubt. The boy finally got the courage to say what had been on his mind for the last two decades.

"I will be leaving shortly Franny, I just...I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for abandoning you; abandoning France when it's treated me better than my own home has, I'm sorry for Joan—Jeanne. But I'm more sorry that I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you the first year, or the second, or the third, or even the fifteenth... I know you wanted to stay hidden... but I know how lonely it can be when you're the only one who's...special, I am sorry that I put a stupid war before well us. I um, if it makes you feel better, happier even; he paused and took a breath before telling Francis.
"I really am a wizard...I was burnt two months ago...I was going to come some other day but I..." Francis' eyes were less clouded with disappointment and more so with sadness. Why would Arthur ever think him getting burnt was going to make him happy?

"Arthur," the green eyed boy swallowed; still no nicknames. "Your pain...it will never bring me happiness," he stood up suddenly and hugged the shorter of the two.

"So you forgive—"

"Everyone deserves a second chance. One day I hope you give me mine," he plopped back down, and the skies cleared; along with his eyes. The two chatted for the rest of the day like old old friends.

"He isn't waking up! Get a doctor!"