Do you hear that? That's me. What time is it?
FRANCIS TIME!
That's right! It's another chapter of John and Anastasia's friendship, feat. Francis Kinloch! He's not a dick in my story, I promise!
Warning(s): Google translate French
Much Love, Krissy
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sophomore Year (Still):
Considering it's a week until February, it's actually not too cold out. The snow on the ground would beg to differ, but John and I don't listen. Instead of staying inside, we're bundled up and taking a walk in our favorite park. I nuzzle my nose further into the scarf that my grandmother in France made for me. John chuckles and nudges my shoulder with his.
"So, Valentine's Day is coming up. You have anyone in mind?" he asks, grinning slyly at me. I giggle and roll my eyes.
"This is where we are in our friendship? Gossiping about the boys we like?" I ask, eyes crinkling slightly to show my smile. He laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
"Of course we are! You tell me everything and I tell you everything. That includes the boy gossip!" he says. I shake my head fondly and lean against him.
"Well, if you must know. Non, no boys I'm interested in," I respond. He hums and gives me a sideways glance.
"What about you?" I ask, nudging his side with my elbow. He groans.
"Do you even need to ask? All the guys at our school are straight as boards and a majority of them are douchebags," he says. I giggle at that, and he joins me after a moment. There's a short silence before we both get bored of it.
"Wanna race to our favorite spot?" he asks. I give him a challenging look and pull my face out of my scarf to smirk at him.
"Préparez-vous à perdre (Prepare to lose)," I say. He grins at me, and we stop, getting in position.
"On three," he says, "un deux...Trois!" We both take off running, but he's faster than me. I, however, am more agile, and I dodge around people much easier than he does. For a while, it's very close, but he quickly gets further ahead. He looks over his shoulder at me and laughs.
"John, look-" Before I can finish, he collides with another boy, and they both tumble to the ground.
"John!" I cry, catching up to him finally. He and the other boy groan, John lying on top of him. The boy is a lot bigger than John, and I'm shocked he actually had the momentum to knock him over.
"John? Chérie? Are you ok?" I ask, poking his arm. He groans and lifts his head from the other boy's chest. His eyes slowly open, and his cheeks light up in a bright red blush.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he squeaks. The other boy opens his eyes, and his own carmel cheeks darken. Oh. I smirk slightly.
"Here, let me help you both up," I say, standing up. I offer my hand down to them, and John gratefully takes it. I yank him up, then offer the same hand to the tall boy. He smiles at me, and I smile back.
"Pardon me for asking, but are you French?" he asks me as he's brushing his pants off. I nod.
"Oui. Je suis Anastasia (I'm Anastasia)," I say, keeping my hand out for him to shake. He shakes it and his smile remains warm. He's much taller than John and I. Probably over six feet.
"I'm Francis," he says. There's a short, slightly awkward silence. I kick John in the leg in an attempt to make him speak.
"Ow! Ana!" he whines. I turn and grin at him, and Francis turns his attention on him too. John immediately blushes again.
"O-Oh. Right. I'm, um. I'm John," he says, smiling shyly and sticking out his hand. I've never seen him this flustered before. It's so cute! Francis shakes his hand, smiling bashfully back at him. Oh, I am so meddling with this if Francis is gay and single. I clear my throat, bringing Francis' attention back to me.
"So, as an apology, I'd like to invite you to join us to get some hot chocolate," I say, using my sweetest smile. He looks between me and John.
"Oh, I...I wouldn't want to intrude or anything," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. I wave a dismissive hand.
"Oh, nonsense! Come on, I know a really good stand," I say, taking him by the arm and pulling him along.
"Come on, mon amie! Hot chocolate awaits!" I call over my shoulder at John. A few seconds later, he's running after me, and he falls in step on my other side. I loop my other arm around his and giggle.
"So, you look around our age. Where do you go to school, Francis?" I ask, deciding to make idle chatter myself since the other two were being far too awkward. Francis brightens right up at that.
"Oh, I go to Eton High School. I'm a senior. What about you guys?" he asks. I tug on John's arm and he clears his throat.
"We, uh...We're both sophomores at Charleston," he says. Oh, he's never living this down. Francis wrinkles his nose slightly.
"No offense, but it seems like Charleston is full of racists and homophobes," he says. I sigh and nod.
"Unfortunetly, yes. They were not very accepting of me when I first moved there, and John is still bullied for being-" I cut myself off. That's a bit of oversharing. He doesn't seem disgusted by the idea of homosexuality, but that's John's secret to tell. I tighten my grip on John's arm.
"Merde. Je suis désolé (Shit. I'm sorry), John," I say, bowing my head. John swallows.
"You don't have to say anything, but you should know, I'm actually...So, if that's why you're quiet, you don't have to be worried. I have no right to judge in the first place," Francis says. I look over at John, who looks upset. I feel bad.
"Est-ce que ça va? (Are you okay?)" I ask softly. He takes a deep breath and nods, smiling slightly at me. He looks up at Francis.
"Sorry. We're both just so used to having to guard ourselves over it. It's been a long time since we found anyone accepting of it, let alone being like me," he says timidly. Francis offers him a soft smile and a nod. The rest of the walk is in surprisingly companionable silence. I see the man at the cart, with his wife sitting in a chair beside it. She's bundled in the blanket that John and I gave her, and it makes me smile.
"Mme et monsieur (Mrs and mister)!" I call joyfully, disconnecting myself from both boys and skipping ahead. The woman looks up from the cup of hot chocolate in her hands, and she smiles. They're both on the older side, and think that John and I are dating, but they're very nice people.
"Miss Anastasia!" the man calls, smiling at me. I lift a hand in a wave as I approach the stand, already pulling out my wallet.
"Where's that nice, young boyfriend of yours?" the woman asks.
"Boyfriend?" Francis whispers.
"Just go with it," John whispers back. They're lucky these nice old people have bad hearing.
"Mr. and Mrs. Billow! How are you?" John asks in a normal tone, coming to stand beside me. He and Mrs. Billow converse while I buy three cups of hot chocolate for Francis, John and me.
"Have a nice day!" Mrs. Billow says, waving to us. We wave back, before heading off to find a place to sit. There's a picnic table that we find and clear the melting snow off.
"So, they seem nice, but why do you pretend to be dating in front of them?" Francis asks from the opposite side of the picnic table. I swallow my sip of the warm liquid and lick my lips.
"I guess it just sort of happened because we showed up together so much. They made the assumption that we were a couple and we were honestly too lazy to correct them. It's not like we don't act coupley. We definitely do. John just...Isn't straight," I say. John smacks my arm and I giggle, taking another sip. Francis watches the two of us with a soft smile on his face, before pointing at my neck.
"I really like your scarf. Did you make it?" he asks. I grin.
"Non, ma grand-mère did," I say. Francis raises an eyebrow and glances at John, who laughs.
"Her grandmother did. Specifically her French grandmother," he clarifies. Francis nods in understanding. His attention remains on John.
"So did she teach you French, or do you just sort of understand what she's saying now?" he asks. John smiles around the lip of his cup, and I lean on the table to look at him.
"Well," he begins, putting his cup on the table, "we met in sixth grade, and I could figure out what 'oui' and 'non' meant. Over the years, she's taught me more words. Maybe not all of them were on purpose-"
"The swears were," I put in. He chuckles and elbows me.
"Yes, she taught me all the French swear words. And the endearing nicknames, which she uses a lot. I still struggle to understand her sometimes, but generally, yeah, she's taught me how to speak the basics. We can hold a conversation in French," he says. Francis nods along the whole time, grin never diminishing. He really does seem like a sweet guy, and he's only two years older than us. I kind of hope he'll ask John out. Or maybe John asks him out, but he's a bit shy so I somehow doubt that will happen.
"You guys must talk in French in class. I bet that annoys the hell out of teachers," Francis says. I laugh and nod.
"They hate it with a burning passion, but usually it is during times where we're allowed to talk so they can't get us in trouble. They can't even ask me to translate because they know I can, and will, lie if I want to," I say. Francis laughs. Suddenly, a thought strikes me.
"John, what time is it?" I ask, looking over at him. He raises a confused eyebrow.
"Uh...Showtime?" he asks. I snort and cover my mouth with my hand to hide my giggling. I wave my hand at him.
"No, espèce d'idiot stupide (you stupid idiot), I want the actual time," I say, still shaking with unheard laughter. He blushes slightly, but moves his coat sleeve to check his watch. His eyes widen.
"Uh, we have about ten minutes to get to yours before your mom gets home and we get our asses kicked," he says. My eyes widen too. That's what I was afraid of.
"So, it was really, very nice to meet you, Francis, but we have to go," I say, already getting up from the bench. John follows suit, and I'm already over on the sidewalk.
"Oh, um! Hold on!" Francis says, getting up too. He runs around the table and stops in front of John. He rubs the back of his neck nervously, before taking a deep breath.
"Would you...Be willing to go out with me?" he asks. John's face erupts in a blush, and I giggle.
"Say yes, you tortue maladroite (awkward turtle)!" I cry. John peers around Francis to glare and me, and I giggle into my hand. John shifts a bit awkwardly, but finally, he nods.
"I'd like that," he says shyly. I bounce up and down, watching as Francis takes out a pen.
"This is my house's number. We can schedule something," he says, writing something on John's hand.
"Bye, Francis!" I call. John waves to the other boy and runs over to me, giddy. I high five him, before we both run off. We have to get home now. But I can't wait to see where the relationship between Francis and John goes.
Ahhh! I had so much fun writing this chapter. I really hope you all enjoyed it. So, all the school names were made up, or I based them off the colleges that the historical boys went to.
Also, also. Here's the design I used for Francis (He's so cute, I LOVE HIM).
A link to the original creator, because this is not my design: https://aminoapps.com/c/hamilton/page/blog/francis-kinloch-ref/IL4r_gYUQuD3mKZ3r2xMXQEdZR33k0LqR6
Yes, I wrote that entire thing out by hand, because it wouldn't let me copy paste the link. It's fine. I wanted to give proper credit. No ownership of this drawing or Francis Kinloch (duh).