gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[ Fortunately, Francel's laughter only seems to be a pleasant surprise for Janlenoux until Adelphel talks over it.

Zephirin's macaroon shrinks by another chunk before he wipes his fingertips on his napkin. He shrugs gracefully, sitting back. Francel's stomach has a limited capacity, of course, and no one insists that the boy should accept the offered macaroon half, whether now or after finishing his sandwich. ]

Next time, perhaps, I'll follow your example. Assuming that Janlenoux baked it, it's worth eating to the last crumb.

[next time. the words sink into francel's core and make his heart flutter. they have promised each other several next times now, it seems. shaking his head and pursing his lips, francel ultimately succumbs to temptation, taking up the last bit of macaroon.]

I'm sorry. Next time, I'll save you some of my dessert, too.

[though it bears worth repeating that francel ate his cake before his sandwich...]

I'm a bad child...

[ As Francel's sweet tooth triumphs over his politeness, he leaves himself open to comments on his choosing to eat his dessert first — but any such comment goes unsaid. On the heels of his remark, the bakery is oddly silent. Adelphel's perfect eyebrows arch, disappearing behind the fringe of his perfect hair. Janlenoux adjusts the placement of a stack of plates.

Zephirin, thankfully, isn't the sort of person to joke about disciplining bad children, least of all in public and with a student. His reply nevertheless rivals Francel's declaration in its strangeness. Evenly, he retorts: ]

...As I recall, you warned me ahead of time. Enabling it, I suppose I should be considered the equivalent of a bad father.

[adelphel's eyebrows only seem to rise further at this remark, and the way he opens his mouth suggests that he is on the verge of saying something wholly (or perhaps only mildly) inappropriate — fortunately, janlenoux intervenes, and pulls him to a back room.

francel pays the bakery owner and his friend no mind. he smiles at zephirin's silliness.]

Between this and driving me home? I'll be spoiled before long. What's that saying — "spare the rod, spoil the child"?

Edited 2017-10-30 03:03 (UTC)

[ Now the quiet bakery offers the illusion of privacy, and they've re-entered the place where yesterday's talk of abducting Francel came from, joking like friends. Once again, Francel shows a surprising mischievous streak — he teases Zephirin almost too comfortably, with a playfulness that approaches flirting.

Zephirin counters, deadpan: ]

I'm afraid I'm not a proponent of corporal punishment. I'll hold you to your promise instead.

I did promise cookies, didn't I? And now a split dessert...

[francel is flirting, he is aware — he is also aware that all their promises go well beyond the obligations proposed by their tutor-tutee relationship. and yet, he doesn't entirely want to stop. being with zephirin is too easy and relaxed to want to stop.

they have finished eating now, and the question now emerges of where they will go next, what they will do.]

...Are you going home after this, Zephirin?

[ For now, Zephirin takes a sip of lukewarm cocoa, smiling slightly into his napkin then before he folds it together and leaves it on his plate. Next time is not an unwelcome thought. ]

I was planning to go back to my office first. [ He throws his watch a glance. ] Do you need a ride home?

[ It isn't raining today, and the roads won't be as busy — Francel's bus would arrive on time. In other words, Francel doesn't need a ride. ]

[the young student seems to be thinking similarly — or, at least, he is honest when he says:]

I don't need one, but...

[he fiddles nervously with the collar of his shirt, staring at the closed door to the kitchens where adelphel and janlenoux disappeared to. he is looking for an excuse; he settles on one within heartbeats, turning his deep blue eyes back toward zephirin with a faintly pleading expression.]

I... was hoping to listen to the rest of that CD? [a flimsy excuse. if that were the case, he could simply ask zephirin to lend it to him.] I meant to look it up when I got home, but I'd forgotten the artist by then.

[ It is a tissue paper-thin excuse, but Zephirin plays along. Francel's unusual company is refreshing, and they both have nowhere to be in a hurry, no one expecting them at home. ]

Certainly. [ Rising, Zephirin buttons up the front of his coat. Janlenoux and Adelphel haven't come back, so he predicts a text message later. ] It's a favourite of mine.

[ The door's wind-chime jingles again on their way out into the fading late-afternoon light. The street lamps are starting to light up, and the air is cooler, crisp and dry today. Though Zephirin keeps his strides even, letting Francel fall into step with him, he notes the boy's seeming resistance to the cold — or rather, that Francel has a tendency not to dress for the weather, it seems. ]

[clad in only a thin collared shirt, francel is both somewhat cold and generally cold-resistant — most people in his shoes would be freezing, but francel feels only mildly chilly as a cold autumn breeze sweeps over his slender frame. he isn't so cold that he's uncomfortable by any means, but he shivers, unconsciously leaning a little closer to zephirin...]

...It's a bit nicer today, huh? I only like the rain when I don't have to be in it.

[ By contrast, Zephirin's long coat is excessive, but he feels the bite of the breeze where it touches his neck and ears, his face, and he assumes that Francel would appreciate escaping from it as soon as possible. The boy's shirt does little to shield him, evident when Francel draws closer, with a telltale quivering of his shoulders. ]

It helps to carry an umbrella — or make friends who will do it for you.

[are we friends, then? francel desperately wants to ask, but that would be a little too much, and it would put zephirin in the unenviable position of having to assure them that the friendship is mutual. one thought spirals into another, however, and a small frown soon tugs at the corners of francel’s soft lips.]

What if my friends grow tired of me...?

[ Zephirin's attempt at humour falls flat. Suddenly, Francel sounds very young and vulnerable, somehow forlorn, a boy who expects to be discarded and forgotten. They've stopped to wait before crossing the road, and Zephirin's gaze comes to rest on Francel. ]

Then I would rethink calling them friends and go back to carrying an umbrella.

[ On the other side of the road, as they take the path to the liberal arts center, Zephirin deftly undoes his coat's buttons and shrugs out of it, offering Francel the garment. The shirt he wears underneath won't keep out the chilly breeze, but he wasn't drenched yesterday, unlike Francel. ]

[zephirin's advice — if it was intended as advice — is sound, though it doesn't quite take the sting out of francel's current situation. he nearly begins wallowing in his own sadness when zephirin's coat suddenly offers its warmth to his back. francel blinks, his hands reflexively drawing the coat around his shoulders, though his arms aren't through the sleeves, and zephirin could still take his coat back if he wanted to.]

...Zephirin? You — You aren't cold?

I could ask you the same.

[ They'll be out of the cold soon, and it isn't unbearable in the meantime, minor discomfort until Zephirin's body acclimatizes itself to losing the warmth of his coat. Near the building, Zephirin makes for his car instead of the entrance — there's nothing in his office that he needs to collect and take home with him — but before they reach it, a dark-haired young man walking towards them stops in his tracks with a comical double-take and calls out to Francel. "Francel? Fancy meeting you here, old boy!" Blatantly curious, he looks Zephirin up and down. ]

[francel feels his heart sink into his stomach. it isn't that he dislikes emmanellain — but emmanellain is a very poor example of what kind of company he keeps, and francel wants very badly for zephirin to think that he keeps good (or at least decent) company. he draws zephirin's coat even more tightly around himself, though somehow this only calls attention to the fact that he is not wearing his own coat.]

...Hi, Emm. Are you going to class?

[please let him say yes, he thinks, and be on his way.]

[ Emmanellain's attention returns to Francel, something that might be embarrassment colouring his expression. The next moment, he bursts into laughter, as if Francel has shared some exceptionally hilarious joke. "I'm getting the feeling that you're trying to tell me something... Anyway, are you going to class?" He holds his hand out for Zephirin to shake. "Emmanellain de Fortemps! Francel and I go way back — don't we?" ]

Zephirin. [ The handshake is firm and reserved on Zephirin's end, grandiose pumping on Emmanellain's. ] Francel and I met yesterday.

[francel groans internally, and is not sure which is worse — the fact that emmanellain appears to be settling in for a long conversation, or the fact that zephirin has rather unfortunately reinforced the idea that they have only just met. (which is true, but still!)]

We... I don't have class. I'm done for the day.

[that's all he'll admit to in regards to emmanellain's going way back remark.]

[ "Ah, an early weekend, I see!" Setting Zephirin's hand free from his grip, Emmanellain descends upon Francel, seemingly oblivious to the younger boy's inner despair. "Exciting plans on the horizon? Speaking of which, it's been too long since Fortemps and Haillenarte had any kind of get-together... We really need to fix that — think of Lani, if nothing else, deprived of my company all this time!"

Although Emmanellain's one-sided prattling is harmless, to Zephirin, Francel's desire to shake off his lively friend is plain. ]

[francel's desire to escape is written in the plain line of his mouth — he is keeping his expression far too neutral for him to be feeling truly neutral.]

We should absolutely have a get-together. [he says, in the tone of someone who plans to board the next flight to costa del sol as soon as is humanly possible.] Why don't we hash out the details by text?

[it's a desperate gamble, and one born of his desire to be doing this anyway — but francel takes zephirin's hand, rather pointedly, and directs a frosty smile in emmanellain's direction.]

I'll be free to plan something later tonight.

[ Emmanellain's eyes widen; he seems stunned into temporary speechlessness, gaping openly at the sight of Francel boldly holding hands with someone he's known for a day. Finally, he collects himself to remark, "That's... rather pessimistic, old boy. Text me when you're done, you're both invited." Already turning to go, Emmanellain waves over his shoulder. "Well, have fun, break a leg, and so forth!"

Zephirin leaves his goodbye at a nod, his hand still clasped in Francel's, his own expression deliberately neutral. ]

...What the hell was pessimistic about that?!

[as frustrated with emmanellain as ever, francel buries his face in his hands, which necessitates breaking the hand-holding with zephirin. after a moment, he realizes what he's done, and looks up with an expression of sudden panic.]

...Oh! Er —

[he pauses and blanches.]

I — I'm so sorry, that was terribly rude of me, I just, er, I wanted him to go away, so I —

[ Thankfully, Emmanellain is no longer within earshot to explain whatever conclusion he jumped to about Francel's plans for the night, and Zephirin keeps any guesses to himself. Francel's composure makes a swift exit, too, however. ]

Improvised. [ Now Zephirin's expression changes, a small smile on his lips. He resumes leading the way to his car. ] It was effective — but is he likely to contact you later?

Er... he most likely will, yes. And he'll most likely have more than just a few questions... but he's easier to deal with over the phone.

[sighing with relief over the fact that zephirin does not seem angry over the gesture, francel settles into pace beside him once more. he is warmer now for having zehpirin's coat around him, but he is afraid that zephirin is growing cold.]

His family lives across the road from mine, so we were close in our youth. And I think he's got a thing for my sister, which makes everything really awkward.

Ah. You "go way back", as he put it.

[ Francel's tactics to drive off Emmanellain are treated as nothing that disrupts the flow of his interactions with Zephirin, but Zephirin's thoughtful silence might compete with the awkwardness that Francel mentions. He breaks it when he unlocks his car. ]

Perhaps I should have thought to provide you with an escape route before you were forced to resort to drastic measures.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject