New places and old faces + Francis & Arthur

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

It had been just short of week. Days of meeting with prospective clients, various shops and companies. Establishing relationships and writing up agreements. Though even he knew it was a bit too soon to be counting his checkers, Antonio was hopeful. Perhaps he could stay here for a fair while. If he made a few good contacts and was received favorably.

Childish and unkempt as he may appear, Antonio had his ways when it came to business. He had been raised to be the heir of a major company, after all, whether he’d ended up in that position or not. It was unfortunate that he had been unable to attend college due to circumstances to have the degree behind his economic and business knowledge (as well as what he’d learned in biology and chemistry for his other pursuits.) But he was a charismatic fellow, he knew how to explain things both in the proper jargon and on a far simpler, friendly note. He knew how to dress when it was required of him, and could pass well enough in manners. Although that bright friendly nature was a bit hard to hide. It seemed most just passed it off as typical for Spaniards.

Between the meetings and finding himself temporary accommodations, however, Antonio had had little time to explore the city. It was usually high on his list of priorities to become familiar with wherever he was staying, both for business and personal reasons. Being able to converse on a local level could never hurt a situation. And honestly, with his curiosity, he was always eager to discover new things. Discover his favorite places to eat, shop, and spend his time. Meet and talk with some of the people at each one – make connections. All of these were beneficial in a number of ways and things that brought him excitement.

Today there weren’t any scheduled appointments, finally. Antonio had thus set out to begin his familiarization. Although… he continually seemed to underestimate the power of the Russian winter. Not near as many people as he was used to were up to walking through city as much as they were with driving. This left him with mostly only being able to meet shop owners and the like. That hadn’t turned out too bad. The elderly woman and her granddaughter working at the small bakery he’d stumbled upon were both exceedingly helpful in his trying to read over the tags of their items, explaining each one and what was in them. For that he’d promised with great assurance that he would buy from them almost exclusively once he’d gotten himself a proper kitchen. With any luck at all he could get that heavenly smell to last until he’d reached his home. Which… he really should start getting to work on finding as well.

Ah, but which should he search for, a simple little house or an apartment. There were always pros and cons to either decision, and he had done both over the course of his travels. In this sort of environment it would definitely be beneficial for him to stay long enough to have a greenhouse. But a house might put him too out of the way of things for his official business. He supposed he could try and find a place where he could have a small greenhouse on the roof of the apartment building, but that may be a bit much…

The sigh he gave produced a small white cloud in the chilled air. Hands still in his pocket, Antonio planted himself on a bench. Only then did he actually take the moment to note the details of the park he’d turned into. He could just remember reading Central Park before he’d done so, and now he saw why it deserved such a title. For being in a city like Archadia it was quite calm. Beautiful, even. With a smile he huddled down a little more into his coat. Yeah, he could definitely see himself coming here more often. Especially when the weather began to be more fitting for park going.

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[Deleted]

"All this feels strange and untrue"

It was about time Francis took Arthur out to to explore the city of Archadia. They had at least had a few conversations now; following the meeting Arthur had had with Alfred, it was obvious to Francis he needed to spend quite a bit of time with Arthur himself. Not that he had been trying to avoid him – but following the required chipping at the pet shop, Francis had angry guilt gnawing in the pit of his stomach that just couldn't be suppressed. With a stubborn impulse, he had withdrawn himself to give Arthur some time alone to revel in his (temporary) freedom. But seeing as Alfred had already given Arthur a tour and they had gotten along quite well, Francis might as well allow himself to get to know Arthur personally some more. He was a likeable fellow, once you were able to break past his spiked defenses of a dry demeanor and could ignore how absolutely hideous his eyebrows were – Francis wanted to know more about the inner workings of the Englishman.

The other day they had spent pleasantly; playing chess with Arthur had been both an enlightening and entertaining experience. He hadn't known how, which had at first surprised Francis, but he'd tasked himself with the job of teaching him. Chess was a game of clever strategy, and it was perfect for someone like Arthur – Francis knew he would enjoy it. A wonderful bonding time he thought, and now they were on at least decent terms. The day had been much more successful and endearing than Francis had originally predicted it would be.

And so, he bestowed the invitation of taking a walk. Arthur had accepted, unsuprisingly, and soon they were on their way.

They set off on the streets during late morning when the chilled sun was nearly at its zenith in the icy sky, and it was nice to see Arthur smiling. He had a very nice smile, Francis observed; he wished he had the chance to see it more often. He had already decided he would purchase Arthur again, as soon as he could – hopefully permanently. Arthur Kirkland had a charm to him that Francis couldn't claim to understand; he was rough around the edges, certainly, but he possessed such lovely green eyes. They were quick and perceptive, resourceful, and Francis had taken quite the liking to him.

As they walked through Central Park on their way to the other side of the city, Francis felt like he was happy for once. It was a blithe feeling, floating in his chest, and it served only to further his resolve to see that all the imprisoned people in the Underground would be freed and finally given the recognization of equality they deserved. The day when the “mutants” could enjoy breathing fresh air by their own will without being perpetually tracked by the government was much anticipated. He glanced over towards Arthur, pleased.

”What do you think, Arthur? It is quite nice today–“ He halted as he looked past Arthur, mid-sentence, eyes fixed on the man seated on the bench approximately ten meters away. His voice wavered uncertainly at the sight, and happy memories from childhood of being pulled ungraciously into a pool years ago came flooding back all in a horribly colorful rush that left him feeling light-headed. Francis felt his heart plummet, and it kept falling, falling, falling. The despair he had coped with for months on end and had finally suppressed, burying it away for what he had thought would be forever, was far too easily uncovered, and everything came undone. It couldn't be him. It couldn't. He had disappeared a long time ago, stopped writing, broke off contact – there was no possible way he would be in Archadia of all places.

”Antonio?” Francis called out without thinking; a desperate sound. He was still, unable to stop staring stupidly at that head of curly brown locks. ”Mon cœur,” the enstranged endearment specifically for his beloved friend he hadn't used in so long rolled off his tongue as if he had never stopped using it, ”is that you?”

electric has gangnam style

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

When his name was called Antonio looked up instantly, as was the usual reaction. However there was that curiosity in his turning his head trying to find the source of the voice. After all he wasn’t anywhere people would know him, still new as he was to the city. And business clients would have called him more formally, Mr. Carriedo, not by his first name. Who here could possibly know his first name and call it as such? However, when he heard that phrase, he knew. He’d only ever known one person that used it – and in reference to him no less. Even if he hadn’t heard it in… years.

“Francis?” He returned. The blatant surprise was obvious in his not even standing at first. But the name was unmistakable, as was the waves gold-laden hair and blue eyes. Just… so much taller now, a man.

And it hit him. Francis. All of the paused gears suddenly went into overdrive as it registered. “Francis!” Within a matter of seconds Antonio was standing from his seat and in front of Francis, the excitement so clear in his face and the way he placed a hand on Francis’ upper arm as if it was the most natural thing. Which, to Antonio, it was. Even after all of the years and the loss of contact. The guilt – everything. That and the attention span required to notice that Francis wasn’t alone were overshadowed by the joy of seeing him again.

“I can’t believe it!” It had always been more than well established that Francis was of the handsome string of people, he had been even when they met. Although then it had been a bit on the innocent side still, angelic perhaps. Now, with a dusting of mature blond stubble along his jaw. A face that had gone through its share of maturing. Which was natural of course but – all the same! Antonio would find himself occasionally thinking about what his two friends would look like older, now. Who would be the tallest or the most handsome. So far, it seemed like Francis was winning. He laughed, light. “You’ve definitely grown up well, even more of a jewel.” The old comparison fluttering to new life with the image of him now. Yeah, there was nothing else Antonio could think of when looking at him than that gorgeous yellow-gold flower, elegant as it was soft.

With his short laugh came his calmer smile, as if he’d gotten the needed bit of thrill out of him for his grin to soften along with his eyes. “It’s so good to see you, Fran. How are you?”

Along with the bit of calm came the needed time to realize that someone was standing beside Francis, not simply passing by the reunion unknowingly out of the corner of Antonio’s eye. At his realization came another laugh. “Wow, I’m so sorry!” He apologized in turning to the other man, assuming he was a friend of Francis’.

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[Arthur W. Kirkland]

WORDS 740 TAGS Antonio & Francis NOTES --

T he atmosphere was chilled—enough so that Arthur could pick out a coat. The fabric was thick and warm, the light weight across his shoulders a pleasant one. He’d never worn something so nice; that alone had managed to put him in a strangely light mood. It was silly that such a simple thing could accomplish that, but then again, perhaps being deprived from the niceties of life for the majority of his own allowed him to offer appreciation where it was truly earned. Although Arthur still had yet to form a personal opinion concerning Francis, they had had enough encounters and conversations for him to lay aside that heavy weight of distrust along with the uncertainty of his thoughts. The formation of his opinion could wait. More energy should be put into enjoying the details, like the warmth of his coat, the freedom to a simple walk about the city, and the clarity of the cold late morning, before he was to be locked away once again. He knew he shouldn’t—but he was already counting down the days that he had left, as if concentrating on the number would make them go any less slower, to allow him to savour every moment that he had left. So, of course he wasn’t about to refuse a walk when Francis had asked, even if he did desire a little distance to sort through his thoughts. He made sure not to leave the house without first bringing along some hot tea in a small disposable container with a tight lid. He’d never tried anything like it in Weeds or in the Underground, unsurprisingly, and found that he was quite fond of the hot brew. Despite wearing gloves, the heat from the cup seeped wonderfully through to his fingers. If he had the freedom to, he would drink it every day. Just like these walks. It secretly hadn’t been that long since Arthur had last visited the city, but his lips weren’t opening about that anytime soon. Still, his eyes surveyed the sights, though trying to keep his curiosity in check. A small smile may have formed once or twice, though he attempted to hide it beneath the protection of his scarf. Hopefully, Francis hadn’t caught sight, though he couldn’t be sure with the way that the man kept glancing over at him. He could feel his face starting to gather colour the longer their walk stretched amidst the chill of the atmosphere. Not that he minded, the longer they stayed out, the better. The conversation was minimal between them, but in a way, for how little they really knew each other and the strong inquisitiveness that Arthur held for parts of the city that he’d never been to, it felt somehow appropriate, even comfortable. By the time they reached the park, Arthur’s attention had wandered across the pathway, along the line of trees, and the few faces that had passed. He heard Francis say something, forcing him to pull away from secret musings. Arthur was about to answer, but Francis had yet to finish his thought, instead, stopping in his footfalls and staring at a man sitting leisurely at one of the park benches. Arthur also stopped a few steps ahead upon noticing that Francis wasn’t going to continue. What happened next seemed like an unexpected reunion of sorts—at least, that’s what it appeared to be. Arthur’s eyes passed between the two men, listening to their exchange. Judging by Antonio’s words, they must have known each other in their younger years. Arthur waited until Antonio seemed to realise that he had been standing there, followed by a laugh and a short apology. The man seemed friendly enough, a subtle ease and carelessness to his movements, if not a bit slow. ”No need to apologise,” Arthur answered, agreeable enough for the time being, probably until the man realised just what he was and why he was there. Until then, Arthur was going to enjoy the small luxury of the other’s obliviousness to needless details. Before Francis could do it himself, he took the initiative of the introduction. ”Arthur Kirkland,” he reached out his gloved hand to politely shake Antonio’s, his fingers still warmed over from the hot beverage in his hands. ”An old friend, I’m assuming?” His eyes were still on Antonio, the corners of his mouth curved, a small trace dry humour, the action barely perceivable, as the conclusion already seemed obvious.

amlin of gs

[Deleted]

"And I won't waste a minute without you"

”Francis?”

His stomach flipped about, and soon he felt the presence of small butterflies fluttering, their wings tickling from the inside when he heard his name called in that familiar voice. They sparked, electricity coursing through them, energy of pure bliss emanating. Arthur was forgotten. Oh, it had been so long – so long since they had ceased contact. Francis remembered well; the feeling of utter hopelessness that had crushed him in its unforgiving grip when he realized Antonio was never going to return his letters.

One of his first loves, it had been the first time he had ever experienced heartbreak. But he didn't dwell on that.

”Francis!” Antonio was by his side in an instant, his hand resting comfortably on his arm as it always used to be. He closed his eyes, relishing the moment. Years. Years had gone by since this. So much had changed – he had changed. Francis desperately hoped his long-lost friend hadn't surrendered his happy charm. He was so beautiful, he would surely begin to cry (something he was attempting very hard not to let himself do at the moment) if he had been tainted in any way. Antonio had always been the sweetest out of the trio he, Gilbert and Antonio had made up.

Gilbert. Oh, they had become such a tragedy, hadn't they?

”I can't believe it!” I cannot either, Francis numbly thought, this is a miracle. ”You've definitely grown up well, even more of a jewel.”

A jewel. Antonio had always called him that, and when Francis had finally grown too curious to stand it and asked for his reasoning, his response had been because of a flower. He assigned people flowers, much like Francis did endearments in French. It had been a cute revelation, surely, and he remembered laughing about it between the three of them, and he had been flattered. A jewel. No on had ever called him such a beautiful thing before.

”It's so good to see you, Fran. How are you?” But before Francis could respond coherently, Antonio turned to his companion. Ah, he had forgotten about Arthur – all in that one moment. Francis berated himself, and instantly anxiety took over his system. Antonio had cut off connections with Gilbert and him originally due their conflicting views on the “mutants”, as well as Gilbert possessing powers himself. It would not bode well for the discovery of Arthur's so-called “mutant” status. ”Wow, I'm so sorry!”

Francis glanced to Arthur, silently pleading for him not to say anything obvious, but it was unnecessary. Arthur was well aware of what to and what not to say, regarding any potential oblivious attitude to his situation. Thank God. ”No need for apologies. Arthur Kirkland,” they shook hands and Francis smiled in relief, ”An old friend, I'm assuming?”

”Ah, yes,” Francis said smoothly, having finally recovered from his initial shock, ”Arthur, this is Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo. It has been,” he chose his words carefully, now drinking in the gaze of Antonio's green eyes hungrily, ”a long time since we last saw one another. I have been well, mon cœur. I trust you have as well?”

electric has gangnam style

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

A short laugh left Antonio at the inquiry from the other. “It’s nice to meet you, Arthur.” He shook Arthur’s hand, casual until the end but still feeling the ingrained etiquette and years of business experience. It got to the point that he would occasionally misread the gestures of others and would move in for a handshake himself without even thinking about it, as he had become so used to shaking hands with lines of people without a seeming end. Usually he could at least laugh those moments of misunderstanding, or turn it into a hug if the situation appeared right for such a thing.

“That obvious, huh?” He said, ready to answer further, with the addition of his name, when Francis began speaking for him. The Spaniard stopped, stared shortly with his hand still grasping that of Arthur’s. The blank expression of listening soon morphed back into a smile, though, as if it was a feat to keep one off of his face for longer than a few seconds.

Taking one of Francis’ hands into both of his own, simply holding it, he nodded to him with the grin in place. “I’ve been alright. Work keeps me a bit of everywhere.” He shrugged back at their location. The chill nibbled at the warmth of his exterior, along his ears and his face. It made him think of a story he’d once heard, how the moisture in your nose could honestly freeze in the bad Siberian winters. Russia was one of those places in everywhere that, even the adventurous Antonio had to admit, he probably wouldn’t have ventured to for long at all if it weren’t for orders to do so. He preferred the sun and warmth far too much to sit amongst the cold bleakness for long.

Look at what such a place brought him, though. For all the chill and the scent of cold rather than that of grass and life, here was a sight he had wondered if he would ever see again. “I’ll be here for a while though,” he said, as if only just remembering it himself. The expression brightened ever more, the voice more excited. He brought Francis’ hand up then down once, an eager child’s actions under the guise of an odd almost handshake. “We should meet, catch up when you’re not busy. Once I finish with introductory meetings and find a place I should have free time.”

Another laugh, thrilled. His thumbs rubbed the top of Francis’ hand. It was an unconscious action, as were most things he did. The grown man simply enjoyed physical contact. Especially with friends, those that he hadn’t seen in such a long time. Friends that… may not have parted on the best, if any, terms. “Although even with that I could make time, definitely.” He smiled.

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