Jealous and Forsaken

"Where're you off to?" I folded my arms and looked suspiciously at my lo- friend. I had returned from my desk to find him standing by the door, coat on and hand on the knob.

"Oh, moi?" Francis looked back at me mildly. "I'm going over to Amerique's house. He said he wanted to show me his new hot tub."

I blinked in surprise. "Oh, well- have a good time."

"Merci." Francis walked over to me and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "I'll be home late, but please go to sleep, mon cher- okay?"

"Alright." I nodded, but I'm sure he knew as well as I did that I'd wait up for him. Aside from it being a courtesy, I didn't want to be asleep when he wasn't because who knew what he'd do.

Well, actually, that's not it. I want to fall asleep with him, not without him.

Although I definitely don't know what he'd do if he came home to find me asleep. Probably some perverted frog thing.

I looked up. "See you soon."

"Au revoir." The door closed, and suddenly I was home alone.

It's not that I'm not used to being alone- not that at all. I spent most of the years in my dreadfully long life in "splendid islotation". So that's nothing new.

I just don't like to be alone when there's someone that can keep me from being alone.

Like Francis.

He's always there, when I want him and when I don't. He'll wake me up in the morning with a kiss and breakfast, he'll surprise me with a bouquet of flowers outside of my boss' office. He's always there.

And him leaving, even if only for a few hours, made me feel very alone.

I checked the stairway clock as I walked up to our bedroom- 7:45. He'd probably be home by twelve- he doesn't stay out late unless he's with Antonio and Gilbert. I hate them.

Although, I mused, flopping on the bed with a heavy sigh, I don't really have anything against them. I just hate them because Francis likes them.

"Funny." I sighed again. "I hate how he's so possesive like that, but when you get right down to it I'm the same damn way." I pushed my head into Francis' pillow- certainly not because it smelled like him, that would be absurd- and groaned.

"I hate them, because they take you away from me." I picked my head up and rolled onto my back, clutching the pillow to my chest. Okay, fine, I had it with me because it smelled like him.

I sighed again, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan. It was sort of soothing- the consistent, never changing speed of the blades was somehow a bit calming.

I checked my watch again. 8:00. Somehow fifteen minutes had passed... how on Earth had time gone by that quickly?

He starts to get snuggly around now- Francis, I mean. We'll sit down and start watching television, Doctor Who (my personal favorite) or the news or whatever horrible film is on, and he'll kind of get close. He'll do the whole arm-on-the-shoulders thing and inch a little closer, and suddenly I'll find my head on his shoulder and his fingers wrapped with mine. It's kind of weird how he does it almost stealthily- I don't notice until we're in that position.

I looked at my empty hand, eyeing it miserably. It felt blank, like a beautiful drawing that had suddenly been erased and abandoned.

Abandoned. A scenario I'm far too familiar with. I've been abandoned too much- my brothers, Alfred, my other colonies...

And now Francis had abandoned me too.

"He's not abandoning you," I told myself sternly, looking into the shiny plexiglass on my watch as a sort of mirror. "He's just out with a friend, you idiot. He'll be back soon."

But... what if he wasn't? I wondered if Matthew was at Alfred's house too- Francis had had the same kind of connection with Matthew as I had had with Alfred. Maybe he wants to leave.

The Entente couldn't possibly be used as a reason against it- after all, Ivan's involved in it as well, though I certainly don't consider myself romantically involved with him. I shuddered.

"But then..." I sighed. "But... we think of the Entente as our "wedding anniversary". How could he...?"

You can't just throw that away. You can't.

"You can't," I repeated aloud. "You can't, you can't, you simply can't..."

I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling the coldness of my wristwatch up against my skin. It felt nice.

I checked my watch again, lifting my hand from my face and dropping it down on the bed. 8:45. By now we'd have finished with the television and retired for the night, getting changed into nightclothes and doing whatever. Sometimes I liked to pick up a new novel from the library and curl up next to him, just be quiet and read to myself and be next to him. Reading is a lonely thing indeed- the only way to share it is to speak aloud the story. But... if I can lie with Francis and read, it's a bit happier of a thing.

Sometimes we lie in bed and go to sleep- a long day of work and stress and Ludwig's screaming can really take it out of you. So he'll pull me close and I'll rest my head on his arm, and he'll kiss me good night and we'll sleep.

And sometimes, of course, we'll fall into bed and try to talk, kiss, feel, and take off all our clothes at the same time. Not very easy, but we're getting better at it.

I stood up, throwing the damned pillow back to where it'd come from and wandering downstairs. Perhaps it was time for a cup of tea. Tea is soothing, particularly when it's boiling hot. It feels nice to drink.

I put the kettle on and leaned against the counter to wait, staring up at the ceiling to think. (I wonder what he's doing right now.)

And suddenly, it was two o'clock in the morning and Francis wasn't home.

I ran upstairs and dove onto the bed again, my face shamelessly buried in his pillow.

"Where are you?" I groaned into the pillow. "I thought you'd be home by now! You never stay out this late!" I picked my head up and leaned against the headboard, sighing miserably. "Come home... please. I miss you. I'm afraid that..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. "Please, just.... come home. I'm lonely." I sighed. "You're such a git! Always tricking me and making me think things that aren't true and worrying me like this..."

"Je suis désolé." I heard footsteps and felt a weight settle on the bed. "Arthur, I thought I told you not to wait up for me."

My ears perked up. When did he get home? More importantly, did he hear me talking to myself? Oh, if he did I'll never hear the end of it...

"I heard voices." I felt a hand fall on my shoulder and go down my back, coming back up to nuzzle into my hair. "Were you talking to yourself about me, mon chère?"

"No."

"You're a horrible liar." Francis pulled me away from the headboard and into a sitting position. He wrapped a finger underneath my chin and looked me over. "Oh, Arthur- you were. And you were crying, too."

Now, THAT I hadn't done. At least, not hysterically. A few tears, but that's it.

"What happened?" He pressed a kiss to my lips. "Arthur, did you miss me?"

"I just need to sleep." I held his gaze. "So let's-"

"I told you to go to bed without me." Francis looked me over. "You're still fully dressed, imbécile. Did you plan on sleeping in slacks and a tie?"

"No."

"So you waited for me." His voice was soft and almost... begnin. He got up and took of his coat, tossing it over one of the bedposts and kicking off his shoes. He undid his belt and stripped down to his shorts, climbing into bed and matching my attire to his.

"Arthur..." Francis stroked my cheek with two fingers, pulling me into his chest and holding me there. "I hope you weren't terribly upset."

I didn't know what to say.

"I heard you say you were lonely."

I swallowed anxiously and gave a small nod.

"Oh, oh..." Francis pressed his lips to mine for a much-too-brief moment and looked gently at me. "Please don't be lonely. I love you."

"When you're not home at night..." I pushed my face into his chest, feeling tears come on. I forced them back. No crying. "I feel... lost. Forsaken."

"Don't feel that way." Francis brushed his lips against my ear. "I'll always be here for you, Arthur. You're the only person I want to be around, understand?"

I nodded. Maybe now I could sleep. Now that I had my everything back.

"Bon." He kissed my forehead. "Bon nuit."