Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 5, 2012 17:33:44 GMT -5
This time, Arthur uttering his name rooted him to his spot. It did not matter that reason warned Francis that he was the only one stupid enough to yield to Arthur, that Arthur was only here because he knew it. Francis couldn't leave him, not when Arthur needed him.
"Shh." He squeezed Arthur's shoulder briefly. "I'm still here."
Francis swallowed. He knew that he was endangering his heart even more, especially after everything that happened between them. Still, Francis shifted closer to the pirate and stroked his sweat-dampened hair.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 5, 2012 18:40:45 GMT -5
It occurred to Francis right then that Arthur might only be calling for him because he was simply there to be called on. Arthur's pain was for the children he lost and nothing else. It shouldn't have surprised Francis, really.
He couldn't stand that Arthur was in pain, that the children were driven out of their only home, that some of the children might be hurt. Francis stared at Arthur in equal parts longing and sorrow.
"Yes, I know," said Francis mechanically. "I'm here. What do you need?"
Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on May 5, 2012 18:48:05 GMT -5
He could barely stand it anymore. After a moment he sniffles, shaking his head, and tries to sit up.
It hurts like hell, and he whimpers as the full effect of the burns sting through him now he's been patched up. He doesn't look at Francis, instead shaking his head, and instead tries to move off the bed to leave.
He isn't welcome here. Francis told him that the last time they had met. He was stupid for thinking he could come here and get help. Stupid.
Post by Cpt. Arthur Kirkland on May 5, 2012 19:12:30 GMT -5
He couldn't take it. He couldn't take it anymore. He breaks into sobs and crawls onto the floor, shaking.
"--d-don't---" he whimpers, in response to being called 'Captain'. A moment later, he crawls under the other's bed, curling up like a small child in a fetal position. He whimpers to himself, gazing blankly out at the world before him.
He could just hide here until he stopped bleeding. Then he could leave. It'll be fine.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 5, 2012 19:24:56 GMT -5
Francis' worry only grew when Arthur slipped out of his grasp and disappeared under the bed. He hurried to lay himself flat on the floor, looking at the space between the floor and the bed. He found himself staring into Arthur's eyes. Francis felt a cold chill down his spine. How could they be so empty?
"What are you doing?" asked Francis softly. He knew he had to coax Arthur without scaring him off. "That is no place for you. Come back onto the bed. I'll have someone fetch hot tea for you."
Francis held out his hand. He couldn't pull Arthur out. He would have to trust that Arthur would take his hand.
Post by Francis Bonnefoy on May 5, 2012 19:40:52 GMT -5
Francis shifted to lie on his side and carefully pried Arthur's hands from his face. The look in his eyes softened. He tenderly brushed away the teardrops lingering on Arthur's face.
"The fire is not your fault," said Francis firmly. "You did not ignite the inn. You did not try to burn it down, knowing there are people, children, in there. That was somebody else, somebody heartless and weak. That was not you."
Smoothing Arthur's hair from his face, Francis lowered his voice into a lulling whisper. "Come out, please. We can deal with this on the bed. We will find a way to deal with this. Please trust me."