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

[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.

[ On the way out, Zephirin manages to unhook his coat to retrieve from the stand in the foyer, but with Francel currently attached to him, it stays draped over his free arm. Pressed against Zephirin, Francel makes a soft, warm barrier between the cold breeze and that side of Zephirin's body — Zephirin's exposed side feels the chill more keenly for it, and even Francel isn't unaffected. ]

Which house is yours?

[ A quick sweep of Zephirin's gaze from building to building accompanies the question before Zephirin turns back to Francel. ]

[francel blinks up at zephirin, slow and unhurried. the strange stillness of his expression belies his understanding. a flicker in the boy's eyes suggests he knows precisely what is being asked of him; his flushed and innocent face implies otherwise.

he smiles.]

We're going home together.

[ Francel himself has become an obstacle to taking him home safely to let him sleep off the night there, and Zephirin has no choice but to adjust his modified plans. In the morning, perhaps, the boy will be in better shape to notify his family of his whereabouts. ]

...Yes. This way.

[ Zephirin guides Francel as far as the locked gates, which pose another obstacle. ]

Do you have an access card, Francel?

Mm-hmm! It's me. I'm the access card.

[what francel means by this, apparently, is that the card slot to the gate is also equipped with a fingerprint reader — which doesn't always work, on account of its fussiness in bad weather conditions, but fortunately it spares francel the effort of fumbling for his wallet (which is just in his sweater pocket anyway). he presses his hand to the scanner; it takes a moment, but eventually it beeps and allows the gates to slide open.]

We're fancy here.

[ The "fancy" security gates behind them, without the need for another change of plans to interrupt the party and approach one of Francel's siblings for help, the rest of the way is clear. Thankfully, Zephirin's car is where he parked it earlier in the evening, still intact. One-handed, he unlocks and opens the passenger side door, waiting there until Francel is comfortably seated, his seatbelt fastened. ]

We don't have far to travel, but if you feel tired, go ahead and sleep.

[francel giggles as he slides into the passenger's seat and obediently pulls his seatbelt on. this isn't his first time riding in zephirin's car, by now, but he seems oddly overjoyed, as if this is some fun new adventure and he cannot wait to see more of the city streets.]

I'm going home with Zephinyan...!

[at least he's happy...]

[ If Zephirin finds it strange to be given a cutesy nickname, he masks it, starting the car and setting out on their journey. Every so often, when stopping at traffic lights permits it, he checks on Francel — it's unlikely that the boy is in any danger, but Zephirin can't be certain that Francel's body takes no issue with the amount of alcohol he has consumed.

Naturally, too, there are other consequences to drinking juice and water on top of several glasses of wine.

The trip home ends before long, just past Saint Reinette's Park, though they have one final leg to cross between the underground parking lot and the apartment complex proper, between them and the front door. Zephirin stands ready to help Francel out of the car, to the elevator and beyond. ]

[fortunately (or unfortunately?) for zephirin, francel's excitement seems to wind down by the third or fourth time they are stuck at an absurdly long red light, and by the time zephirin comes around the passenger side to help him out of the car, the boy has, indeed, fallen asleep. or passed out. it's hard to tell which.

his expression is placidly content. he seems as though he'll remain fairly well-behaved, at any rate... perhaps zephirin will simply have to carry the boy, either in his arms or upon his shoulders.]

[ Francel's breaths are warm puffs of air tickling Zephirin's palm when Zephirin checks his breathing, and the boy looks too peaceful to disturb. It would be much easier for Zephirin to carry him on his back, if Francel were awake and able to hold on to his shoulders; as it is, Zephirin's best option is to gather Francel into his arms. Leaving his coat in the car, he locks the doors with a press of a button on his keychain, and carefully navigates the path to his apartment on the fourth floor, privately hoping for few neighbours out and about.

Mercifully, the elevator is empty, as is the hallway outside. A small light set on a timer illuminates enough of the apartment's interior that the very last steps left to take don't end in painful collisions with pieces of furniture in the dark.

Zephirin places Francel upon his bed, moving onto selecting clean pajamas and a fresh toothbrush for the boy to use. ]

[francel's impromptu nap does not last the duration of the entire night. he wakes after an hour, mostly on account of the fact that the belt loops of his jeans feel uncomfortably tight around his hips, and he decides that he would like to use the restroom — but when he opens his eyes the scenery is unfamiliar. the bed he is lying on is also unfamiliar, though strangely more comfortable than his real bed at home.

francel sits up properly and rubs his eyes.]

...Where...?

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