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

[ Francel's good cheer is undimmed this morning, confirming that Civerege had no bad news for him — Aucheforne hasn't followed through on his threat. Once, when he still feigned kindness and didn't take his apparent insecurities out on his boyfriend, Aucheforne probably saw this Francel, too, happier and at ease.

Picking up his knife and fork as Francel takes a seat, Zephirin continues to play along, keeping a completely straight face throughout. ]

Ah, Francel. You made it. Shall we begin?

Yes!

[francel responds so brightly that one might suppose zephirin had just presented him with an exceptionally large engagement ring at an appropriately romantic venue. he digs into his decadently delicious omelette, chewing thoughtfully.]

...Civerege said that Aucheforne hadn't stopped by yet. He'll bring over my things in about two hours — well, more like an hour and a half — so we can buy groceries and other things after that.

[ If cuteness could be measured, Francel has reached levels off the charts, impossibly endearing as he brims with excitement of an intensity that surely wasn't brought on solely by the prospect of having breakfast. It's the freedom to feel relief, Zephirin supposes — Francel isn't surrounded by reminders of Aucheforne. ]

That should give us some time to clean up after breakfast. [ Zephirin cuts himself a bite-sized piece of omelette, and tastes his first mouthful, savouring both flavour and texture. ] Hm... Janlenoux truly has competition.

[ At least when it comes to cookies and omelettes. ]

[francel's excitement is buzzing at a slightly lower intensity now that their game of waiter and restaurateur is over, but he remains adorable on a level far beyond even adelphel's. it doesn't help that the compliment prompts him to zephirin with dreamy contentment. he has never before had the pleasure of cooking for someone and hearing it complimented; aucheforne always wolfed down his meals without comment.]

No, no — you flatter me. He is a professional, after all, and I'm only a... a Francel.

[the francel looks around the dining room, as if hoping to see something, but nothing in the kitchen points to anything besides the fact that zephirin keeps a clean and minimalist sense of decor.]

...What do you do for fun, Zephirin? You know, um — like hobbies?

[ After the previous night's encounter with Aucheforne, Francel's choosing to refer to himself specifically as a Francel — never Joacin — seems deliberate. Zephirin lifts his gaze from his plate, but the Francel studying the room around them still looks pleased, now aglow with quieter joy.

One could argue that a Francel's particular approach to cooking his omelettes, impossible to replicate, gives him a unique edge even over a professional. ]

If you'd like, I'll show you later, on our way home. [ Zephirin answers after a moment, lowering his knife and fork. No doubt most people who meet him don't see him as someone with much exposure to having fun. ] And you?

Oooh, a surprise! Now I wonder what it is...

[smiling in a somewhat mischievous manner — his attitude seems like that of a kitten that knows full well it will get into trouble sometime soon — francel pauses to take another bite of egg before he answers.]

I like playing instruments, I guess. My mom used to be a professional violinist in an orchestra, so at home, we have this music room that's just full of all kinds of instruments. Oh, but don't worry! [he hastens to add] — I can just use the school keyboard rooms if I really get the itch to practice.

Other than that, I don't think I do much else... I play games on my phone, and I like to read books, but...

Edited 2018-01-28 01:05 (UTC)

[ For now, Zephirin divulges not a single hint that might steer Francel towards guessing the hobby he plans to show the boy. His own smile is as close to mischievous as it will ever get, which isn't discernibly mischievous at all, capturing satisfaction instead. ]

I'll admit that I know little about playing an instrument, and less about mobile games. [ With ease, Zephirin imagines Francel seated at a piano, but what he knows of video games doesn't translate to any image that fits Francel, who doesn't seem the type to shoot monsters on his phone or shuffle through stacks of cards. ] Books will be easier to come by than instruments, however.

Oh, I just... [francel trails off, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like "poke the screen and collect cute boys," but after a moment he nods and smiles in zephirin's direction again.]

You seem to have a respectable collection, yourself! Then again, I suppose you would, since you're a professor...

I can't promise that the selection will be to your liking, but I can promise you a ride to the library if need be.

[ A boy who grew up in a house with a music room full of instruments is most likely accustomed to a home with the space for a sizable private library, too.

Zephirin's omelette shrinks by another few bites. Then, pausing, he remarks: ]

I assume the boys you collect battle other teams to gain experience points?

[francel, who took up a bit of toast shortly after his last sentence, abruptly chokes on the bread and drops his slice into his plate. his coughing — which is light and not indicative of any life-threatening situation — lasts only moments; after a moment, he hides his face in his hands and answers, voice muffled, around his palms.]

...Yes. Yes, they do...

[wheezing, he reaches for a piece of egg to soothe his nerves.]

The game I like the most is a strategy game? So it's a little like chess...

[ In Zephirin's mind, Francel's game takes the form of a strange cross between training friendly monsters and a dating sim — how accurate his guess is remains to be seen. Whatever the case, Francel evidently finds it embarrassing to discuss. ]

In return for my showing you a hobby of mine, perhaps you could show me one of yours.

[ Once Francel has safely swallowed his mouthful of omelette, Zephirin makes his suggestion over the rim of his teacup, sipping from it now that its contents are cooling. ]

Do... Do you want to watch me play?

[strangely flabbergasted — as if no one has ever expressed interest in his video games before (and indeed no one has) — francel sips at some tea as well, staring reproachfully at zephirin over his teacup.]

I don't mind, but I fear you'll only be bored...

Whether you permit me to watch you play an instrument or your game is your choice. I'm certain that neither would be as boring as you claim.

[ The goal, after all, is to learn a little more about each other.

After breakfast, as announced, Zephirin excuses himself to see to the dishes while they await Civerege's arrival. He suits up with an apron and rubber gloves, armed with a bright green sponge. ]

[though the attire that zephirin wears is by most standards blatantly unappealing, francel seems strangely enamored by it, and spends a few moments unabashedly staring at what he perceives to be adorable, practical clothes for household work.

he knows full well that zephirin will probably refuse, on account of likely having only one pair of gloves, and the kitchen being made for a single occupant — but nevertheless, he asks politely:]

Do you want any help with the dishes?

[ No roommate is exempt from chores, and as Francel clearly enjoyed himself earlier, Zephirin pauses in his preparations, glancing up to meet Francel's intent gaze before considering the dishware they've used. Their plates and utensils sit waiting on the table, the frying pan and mixing bowls beside the sink.

Zephirin hands Francel a fresh dish towel from a drawer. ]

We'll take turns. Could you stack the plates on the counter?

[more delighted than he has any right to be, francel nods and eagerly begins drying the dishes as zephirin has asked. if he were a miqo'te, zephirin would no doubt be able to see his eagerly wiggling tail and ears; alas, as he is an elezen, his happiness manifests itself only as a certain perking of the ears...]

Mm-hmm. Ah... like this? And the spoons go... here?

[ Together, they make short work of this task, leaving a tidier kitchen in their wake. Francel's returning enthusiasm is oddly enjoyable to observe — not even Janlenoux appeared so excited in his domain. ]

Will Civerege be coming to the door or are you meeting him outside? You'll have a spare key.

[ Untying his apron, Zephirin hangs it away on a hook for Francel to don when his turn to wash the dishes comes. ]

He'll be coming to the door. Ah, he texted me a few minutes ago to say he'll be here soon...

[unfortunately, francel doesn't understand the point of zephirin's taking off the apron at all, and he goes on washing the dishes without the protection of an apron to safeguard his rose-pink sweater from soap and water. he hums as he washes a dish free of egg-related oils, but it isn't long before the apartment buzzer sounds out, and francel has to put the plate down.]

Oh! That must be him.

[ Civerege arrives just as Zephirin switches out the dish towel in his hands for the apron retrieved from its hook, meaning to offer it to Francel, who might not realize that he has Zephirin's permission to use it. For now, Zephirin holds onto it, and lowers his arm. ]

Let's finish this later — I'll go with you and introduce myself.

[ With that, Zephirin makes for the door to let Civerege deliver Francel's belongings. ]

[civerege, as it turns out, is a harried-looking duskwight man with steely blue eyes that rove over francel's face as soon as the door is open, searching for any sign of mistreatment — he has grown wary of francel's taste in men. after a moment, he steps aside, using his hand to indicate the large rolling trunk in which he has packed francel's requested items.

"i brought your things, joacin," the housekeeper says, gruffly, evidently still under the impression that zephirin, too, is a man he might have to scare away.]

Thank you, Civerege! And, er... forgive me, Zephirin, but might you assist...?

[ Civerege's distrust is a good sign, indicating that at least someone close to Francel knows of his relationship with Aucheforne. Zephirin doesn't take offense; unperturbed, he rounds the side of the trunk, in position to haul it into the apartment.

To Civerege, he merely says: ]

Would you like to come in? We have both tea and coffee.

[ It would be too brief a visit to convince the man that Francel is safer here than at home, but it should serve as a step in that direction. ]

[the offer seems to take civerege off-guard — for a moment, he sputters, seemingly uncertain of what he should do. "no, i should go," comes out of his mouth first — no doubt he is thinking of the housework that awaits him back at the haillenarte residence — but then he thinks about his obligation to protect francel from harm, and looks at francel's eager smile, and then the duskwight seems to relent. "i — well, maybe only for a little while..."

francel smiles broadly.]

Come now, Civerege, it won't take long! Mother and Father are away this week, so you know they can't possibly fire you for being derelict in your duties...

[civerege bristles good-naturedly, evidently still trying to put up a tough front. "they won't fire me because i'm good at what i do!" he growls, as francel laughs.]

Thank you for taking the time to come.

[ In lieu of laughter, a smile touches Zephirin's lips as he watches the exchange before leading the way inside. The trunk containing Francel's belongings finds a temporary spot in Zephirin's bedroom, put aside to unpack later. Civerege and Francel are invited to take a seat in the living room area instead of the kitchen — while Zephirin prepares the former's chosen beverage, they have the chance to talk undisturbed.

Francel has explained the situation to Civerege, he assumes. ]

[civerege's beverage of choice is, as it turns out, coffee with sugar and milk on the side, so that he can mix it himself. "no one ever gets it right," the man grumbles, ostensibly because his preferred amount of sugar and milk is, frankly, ungodly. francel hides a smile behind his hand as he makes an attempt at introductions.]

So, erm... as I said, Civerege, this is Zephirin. I'll be staying with him for a while... at least until, um... until Aucheforne stops hanging around.

["yes, but we don't know when that's going to be, now do we?" civerege quips, then sighs. he nods at zephirin, offering his hand. "civerege. nice to meet you."

his grip is deadly firm — tight, but not bone-crushing.]

[ Civerege's preference for an ungodly amount of sugar and milk stirred into his coffee contrasts almost comically with his gruff manner. But then, the man has a soft spot for his employers' youngest son, evidently a case of a hard outer shell concealing a kind heart within.

Zephirin takes Civerege's hand, matching his grip. ]

Likewise. I'm aware that this arrangement must raise questions, but we share the same goal. Francel is welcome to stay indefinitely.

[ Francel isn't a prisoner in Zephirin's apartment, however, not even for his protection. ]

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