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

[at that, francel's eyes blow wide; he blinks, and then an entire world of possibilities seems to lie in the deep blue ring of his pupils. he wants this badly, that much is clear — he wants to go home with zephirin more than he has wanted anything else zephirin has offered him.]

C-Can I? I — I'll be good, I promise! I'll do anything you want...

[these passionate entreaties are hard to enjoy, given that they seem to be the product of aucheforne's influence...]

[ Francel's eagerness to please could be endearing, if it didn't call forth images of Aucheforne training him to behave as desired, punishing any misstep. Someone like Aucheforne would take advantage of the boy's promises, holding them over his head.

Once more, Zephirin's brow furrows — suddenly, he is reminded of Francel's fears that his friends might discard him. ]

...Should I think of something, you'll hear it. For the time being, enjoying the rest of your evening will suffice.

[ Zephirin extends his hand to help Francel to his feet. ]

[francel hesitates a moment, then takes zephirin's hand, rising to his feet. he seems unwilling to let go. though his eyes do not rise to meet zephirin's gaze again, francel seems to smile at the sight of their entwined hands. he squeezes gently, as if fascinated by the idea of someone else's warmth in his palms.

...but a light shining upon their shoulders prompts francel to let go of zephirin's hands at once. the bright white headlights of a sleek black sports car cut through the night air — someone is driving up the road, presumably meaning to park in the fortemps family's generous stretch of driveway. the driver slides the car into reverse and parks smoothly, then silences the radio, turns off the lights, and cuts the engine. he gets out of the car.

it is haurchefant, though zephirin might be forgiven for thinking that aucheforne has come back with a vehicle to spirit francel away in. first of all, haurchefant is wearing different clothing — a warm sweater not unlike francel's, though his is brown, and he wears it over a cream turtleneck — and second of all, haurchefant's nose is visibly hooked. he looks up at francel and waves.

"francel!" he calls, in a jovial voice. "and who's that with you?"]

Oh... Haurchefant?

...Zephirin.

[ Haurchefant seems undaunted by the reserved reception, and oblivious to Zephirin's wary glance cast his way as he makes for the door, stopping to thrust out his hand and clasp Zephirin's, giving it an enthusiastic shake. "Zephirin! Good, good, a dear friend's friend is always a pleasure to meet! Come on in — it's too cold to be standing out here."

With a parting squeeze of Zephirin's hand, Haurchefant releases him, freeing his own hands for his keys and the door. "Didn't anyone hear the doorbell?" ]

Oh — no, we — we stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. We didn't ring the doorbell.

[perhaps there is something about this haurchefant that makes it easier for francel, but it's impressive, really, how quickly the boy pulls together a mask of normalcy when he was crying hysterically only a few minutes prior. there's still some redness at the corners of his eyes, but even francel's siblings wouldn't notice it unless it was pointed out to them.

francel turns and smiles at zephirin.]

Shall we go back inside? Everyone's waiting.

[ Inside, Emmanellain's party is in full swing at last, and aside from his remark that Aucheforne and Haurchefant no longer need to avoid running into each other, no one asks any particularly uncomfortable questions. No one seems to take note of the fading traces of Francel's misery. Soon, Haurchefant explains his late arrival, recounting the tale of the horse on the road, while Emmanellain devotes most of his energy to fluttering around Laniaitte and surrounding himself with his friends.

Zephirin's juice box sits on the counter, untouched. ]

[despite francel's pivotal (?) role in getting the party set up, he doesn't seem terribly interested in socializing now that more than ten people have arrived. he flits from conversation to conversation for a little while, mostly to catch up with his siblings — from the way they speak, it seems that they have little reason to converse with one another outside of emmanellain's get-togethers — but in the end, francel winds up in a corner talking to honoroit about a few things (the boy's relation to the family goes unexplained), sipping delicately at his wine. strangely, despite his intimacy with haurchefant, francel does not lure haurchefant into a one-on-one conversation.

eventually, francel happens upon the space where zephirin left his juice box behind, and brings it back to the professor.]

Zephirin? Were you going to finish this?

[ From the fringes of the gathering, Zephirin takes part now and again, accustomed to the usual polite small-talk to reciprocate after numerous faculty events, but the fact that most of the party's attendees are related or long-time friends, and stay within their comfort zone, affords him ample opportunity to learn names and bits and pieces of information to go with them, simply through overhearing the chatter around him. Haurchefant, whose friendly manner appears sincere, approaches him a few times — as Emmanellain's half-brother, he must be another childhood friend of Francel's, perhaps more, perhaps something now complicated.

His presence, however, unlike Aucheforne's, has apparently had a positive effect on Francel. When the boy reappears before Zephirin, his eyes are neither puffy nor red-rimmed. Nothing gives away what took place just outside the house. ]

...Ah. [ Zephirin's eyes lower to the juice box. His mouth curves slightly as he takes it, and finally unwraps the straw, sliding it partway into the carton. ] Thank you.

[ The juice box is comically small, enveloped in Zephirin's long fingers, and it's unclear why Emmanellain has them on hand — for Honoroit? — but Zephirin sets the top of the straw against his lips, taking a careful sip. ]

[the sight is every bit as... well, adorable as francel thought it would be when emmanellain first offered zephirin the juice box. the boy sidles comfortably into the space by the professor's side. zephirin is a comforting presence — tall and handsome and built without being intimidating — and as francel watches the man's mouth curve, his own plush lips turn upward, too.]

Do you like juice? ...Or... no, you probably just wanted to avoid drinking and driving?

[ The carton contains plain apple juice, but Zephirin seems to like it well enough — even if juice isn't necessarily a beverage that he would buy at the grocery store to stock up on at home. His slight smile remains in place when he pauses between sips, albeit less because of the juice than Francel's interest in watching him drink it. ]

I prefer not to drink before driving.

[ Zephirin nods, confirming Francel's guess. It may be excessively cautious, considering that Francel has finished two glasses of wine with no ill effects, contrary to Aucheforne's claims, and the party won't end just yet, but driving safely will become all the more important with a passenger on board. ]

I don't regret my choice...

[ Holding his juice box in one hand, the straw gripped between his other hand's index finger and thumb, Zephirin could have stepped out of some strange advertisement. ]

[only a very strange advertising campaign would put a nearly expressionless adult elezen man in charge of selling apple juice, even if zephirin's fleeting smile might convince francel to buy a crateful. the boy stares at zephirin a moment longer, taking another long sip of his glass of wine. he's nearly through with his third glass, it seems, and by all rights he really should not have another...]

...Zephirin, you seem like you would make an excellent father...

[something about the boy's stare is a little glassy-eyed, a little dreamy, and he seems to be envisioning zephirin as a smug cat fussing over a litter of kittens. there is a slightly pink flush to his cheeks — perhaps he is rather more inebriated than initially thought.]

Edited 2018-01-02 20:32 (UTC)

[ Upon closer inspection, Francel is probably a ways past mildly tipsy by this point, and his compliment inadvertently echoes their conversation at the Forgotten Baguette. One wonders whether the boy has in fact begun to view Zephirin as a responsible father figure, someone watching over him to step in and drive off the Chariberts and Auchefornes of the world.

Perhaps someone to keep him from being pressured into drinking too much through Emmanellain's and Aucheforne's combined efforts. ]

Provided I don't spoil my children? [ Zephirin raises the juice box between them, contemplative, seeming to test its weight to ascertain how full the carton is. ] ...Hm. Let me ask Emmanellain for a second carton, if you'd like to try this.

Noooooo...

[even tipsy, francel knows better than to latch on to zephirin's arm. still, he tugs weakly at zephirin's elbow, still smiling in dopey fashion. he has enough presence of mind to drain his glass before he sets it aside.]

I have my own drink! I'm fine.

[ The apple juice advertising campaign seems a failed venture, but Zephirin perseveres, brows arched at Francel's emptied glass. Zephirin's juice box is within Francel's reach. ]

Are you certain? You've finished ahead of me.

[ Inviting Francel to his apartment while the boy isn't sober is likely to look questionable, despite Zephirin's true intentions... ]

Mmm... yes! I'm fine. See?

[what, exactly, francel expects zephirin to see is left unclear. the boy simply smiles even more broadly and tilts his head (in reality, he is imagining that there are flowers blooming around his head, like in a cartoon, and expects zephirin to be able to see these flowers). the boy doesn't seem as though he's going to collapse or have trouble walking, though, and no one is likely to step in and stop zephirin from leaving the party with him...]

...If you want me to drink juice, you have to give me your juice.

[ Zephirin sees nothing but Francel's beaming at him — the boy is in high spirits, at least. The remainder of the contents of his juice box won't make any difference, but after a moment, Zephirin brings the carton closer to Francel to hand it over as per the boy's demand. ]

Very well.

[ Even a second serving of juice or a glass of water will do little, and Zephirin rethinks his idea and prepares to change his plans to walking Francel across the grounds to his own house. With Francel's family at home for the weekend, the boy should be safe until the next morning, giving him some time to pack a few of his belongings before he leaves for Zephirin's apartment. ]

Yay!

[apparently delighted just by the prospect of sharing an indirect kiss with zephirin, francel leans forward and unhesitatingly takes a long sip out of the juice box, not even bothering to hold it himself — he has put zephirin in the precarious position of feeding him.

it would be a horrible moment for someone like emmanellain to come along, but mercifully, no one notices them in the corner of the room, and francel draws back as soon as he hits the bottom of the juice box. yay, indeed.]

...Tastes like apple juice!

[it is apple juice, francel.]

[ If Francel were a child, they might be taken for father and son, but Francel is an adult himself, though capable of sudden childlike excitement over some shared juice. Zephirin waits for the boy to take the carton into his hands, of course, only to resign himself to acting as Francel's drink holder.

It's not some terrible fate to suffer, and a tipsy Francel doesn't seem prone to anything more than slight silliness. ]

...I would hope so. [ This, Zephirin says drily, lowering the empty juice box once Francel has drained it of every drop. He points out the information printed on the carton. ] "Apple juice, 100%."

[strangely, francel cradles his face between his hands, keeping his eyes closed (he is savoring the imagined lingering effects of his "kiss" with zephirin). this leads to an apparent fascination with his own cheeks — relentlessly, he pokes at his own face, delighted by the mochi-like consistency of his plump round cheeks.]

I'm made of 100% Francel juice...

[ Zephirin's first thought is that Francel feels dizzy, if full of bliss to have tasted this brand of apple juice — then the words Francel juice leave the boy's mouth, and his delicate fingers prod at his flushed cheeks, and Zephirin's brows rise upward once more. A strange expression crosses his face.

Fortunately, his amusement doesn't manifest as a fit of laughter, successfully stifled before it develops into something truly discernible. ]

Would you object to diluting yourself with a glass of water?

Water sounds good.

[if only because the apple juice has whetted his throat for more, and cold water sounds immensely refreshing right about now. francel remembers that there was water at the beverage bar, but right now, he wants to be spoiled and guided there. he stares expectantly at zephirin, stretching out his hand...

please... take his hand... and guide him there...]

[ Not dizzy after all, Francel looks fine to walk to the beverage bar and get himself some water unassisted, but he stands there with his hand outstretched, as if Zephirin has a glass ready to give him, and although Zephirin could ask the boy to wait where he is, he chooses instead to acquiesce to Francel's unspoken request — it saves them both some time. Taking Francel by the hand, his other hand on the small of Francel's back, poised to steady him if he should stumble, Zephirin leads him to their destination.

Once there, filling a glass with water necessitates letting go of Francel, who needs his own hands to hold it while he drinks. ]

[francel doesn’t seem to mind having his hand dropped so that zephirin can fix him a glass of water, but he holds it with both hands, as if he has suddenly found himself with a child’s fragile fingers, and he requires the assistance of his palms to keep the glass steady.

after a few successive swallows, he has the glass half-drained, but he doesn’t seem to want to drink any more. he lowers the glass to his chest and smiles.]

...Are we going home yet?

Edited 2018-01-03 22:08 (UTC)

[ To lessen the impression that he is hovering near Francel like a bodyguard or an overprotective parent, Zephirin fills a second glass with water, sipping from it as he observes the goings-on around them, rather than staring at Francel's manner of drinking his water, charming though it is. Francel's question pulls his gaze away from Haurchefant's performing an odd gesture with both arms raised in the air, in time to catch Francel's smile.

The party is Emmanellain's idea of fun, Zephirin supposes — it isn't Francel's. ]

...If you're ready to leave, then yes.

[ Setting his glass aside, Zephirin offers Francel his arm for support. It would be polite to thank their host for the evening, to say goodbye to the other guests, but Emmanellain seems preoccupied, and Francel's siblings will head home themselves eventually. ]

Good night, everyone! G'night, g'night, g'night...

[francel mumbles unheard farewells to his friends and family, clutching zephirin's wrist against his chest as if his professor's arm is his most beloved childhood toy. he leans on zephirin as he walks, not heavily, but just enough to maximize the contact between their bodies.

(of all of the guests at the party, it is only aurvael who notices that zephirin and francel have chosen to leave early. he half-turns in their direction as they make their way toward the door, but his face is expressionless, and he doesn't seem to approve or disapprove either way. after a moment, he loses interest, and turns back toward the acquaintance he is speaking with.)

once outside, francel lets out a sigh, disappointed by the cold air lashing at his warm cheeks. he pulls zephirin's blazer tighter around himself, though it's already a snug fit on account of his thick sweater.]

Nnnn.

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