Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... 5/?
anonymous
October 28 2011, 22:45:22 UTC
Matthew sighed heavily; suddenly; and stood up, picked up his books, and sloped out of the kitchen.
Francis paused a moment, and Roderich seized the opportunity to edge away. “Ah - what is the matter with dear Mattieu?”
Roderich was overcome with a sudden fit of treachery. “He’s in love,” he said, and turned away, and to begin pouring himself a drink. “He’s in love, and the person he loves doesn’t know, or care about his existence.”
There was a moment of silence. Francis did not advance towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, Roderich could see the other frowning in the direction of the closed door.
“He - he is - in love?”
“Mmm.” Roderich put the bottle away, and began to sip his drink. “I believe so.”
“Ah.” Francis recovered. “That is wonderful. Ah...l’amour.” He tilted his head to one side. “And - with whom is our dear Mattieu in love?”
“That’s not my place to say,” said Roderich, stiffly.
Francis looked disappointed. “Hmmm. Ah, well. Perhaps one day he will fall for somebody who does notice him, hm?”
“Perhaps.”
Francis stepped away; leaned back against the refrigerator. “Love...she is such a beautiful mystery, non?” He cast a sly glance over Roderich. “I would like to imagine that, were some beautiful boy or girl to fall in love with me, I would realise at once. I usually do,” he added, with an air of authority. “No sooner does the sublime beauty cast lustful eyes upon me -”
“Alright, Francis,” Roderich said, quickly. This was how all Francis’ descriptions of his vile sexual exploits began. He’d heard enough of them to write a porn novelette, to be blunt; he had no need to hear of any more.
The older boy smiled again, narrowing his blue eyes. “And what of yourself, Roderich?” he said, and leaned forwards, balancing himself with one hand against the counter. “Who’s eyes have you noticed catching, holding onto your own a little too long to be called simple friendship?”
“Nobody, thank the Lord,” said Roderich, with difficulty, and attempted to edge away, because Francis certainly wasn’t beyond attempting a sober grope. “Now I’m really very busy; I must go -”
“They do care about you,” Francis said, quite suddenly. “A lot, my dear. You need not fret. Tell them how you feel...I think everything will work itself out beautifully. In fact, I know it will.” And he smiled, and stood up straight, and went to collect his bag from the kitchen table. “I suppose I should say goodbye to dear Mattieu, now. Oh...and I hope to see you on Thursday night, darling. Antonio and I are, uh, having a little get-together at our place. Everyone will be attending, of course. Au revoir, Roderich!” And with a wink, he pushed open the kitchen door, and disappeared out into the hallway.
Roderich stood stock still, his back still pressed hard against the cupboards. Was this true? How could - how could Francis know? His mind whirled rapidly - party, friendship, get-together, Elizabeta...Elizabeta...
He lingered a little longer on this last thought; and smiled, remembering the way her gaze would snag on his; and her smile; and her pinked cheeks in the library.
And he thought again of the whiff of alcohol, the flash of rainbow lights, the spin and whirl and flip of long brown hair, and the biting cold outside, and how red her lips had looked; and how clearly her eyes had shone...
Perhaps this time - perhaps this time he would be brave enough to take her hand - to hold her close - to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume - to press his mouth against hers, her cheeks, her neck...
And perhaps, he thought, slowly, perhaps this party wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Great update! I looove your Gilbert. I can't really put my finger on it, but really, I just love your characterisation of him. I like it when he's got a bit of bite to him, a little bit edgier than the awesome-loser!Prussia you always see, or something. Anyway, I love everything about this. I can't wait for more!
Re: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... 5/?
anonymous
November 7 2011, 21:23:21 UTC
Oh I feel so bad for Gilbert 0~0 Why does he have to be so bad at expressing his emotions?! I am very excited for the party and I cannot wait for more ^.^ I really love this story~
Francis paused a moment, and Roderich seized the opportunity to edge away. “Ah - what is the matter with dear Mattieu?”
Roderich was overcome with a sudden fit of treachery. “He’s in love,” he said, and turned away, and to begin pouring himself a drink. “He’s in love, and the person he loves doesn’t know, or care about his existence.”
There was a moment of silence. Francis did not advance towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, Roderich could see the other frowning in the direction of the closed door.
“He - he is - in love?”
“Mmm.” Roderich put the bottle away, and began to sip his drink. “I believe so.”
“Ah.” Francis recovered. “That is wonderful. Ah...l’amour.” He tilted his head to one side. “And - with whom is our dear Mattieu in love?”
“That’s not my place to say,” said Roderich, stiffly.
Francis looked disappointed. “Hmmm. Ah, well. Perhaps one day he will fall for somebody who does notice him, hm?”
“Perhaps.”
Francis stepped away; leaned back against the refrigerator. “Love...she is such a beautiful mystery, non?” He cast a sly glance over Roderich. “I would like to imagine that, were some beautiful boy or girl to fall in love with me, I would realise at once. I usually do,” he added, with an air of authority. “No sooner does the sublime beauty cast lustful eyes upon me -”
“Alright, Francis,” Roderich said, quickly. This was how all Francis’ descriptions of his vile sexual exploits began. He’d heard enough of them to write a porn novelette, to be blunt; he had no need to hear of any more.
The older boy smiled again, narrowing his blue eyes. “And what of yourself, Roderich?” he said, and leaned forwards, balancing himself with one hand against the counter. “Who’s eyes have you noticed catching, holding onto your own a little too long to be called simple friendship?”
“Nobody, thank the Lord,” said Roderich, with difficulty, and attempted to edge away, because Francis certainly wasn’t beyond attempting a sober grope. “Now I’m really very busy; I must go -”
“They do care about you,” Francis said, quite suddenly. “A lot, my dear. You need not fret. Tell them how you feel...I think everything will work itself out beautifully. In fact, I know it will.” And he smiled, and stood up straight, and went to collect his bag from the kitchen table. “I suppose I should say goodbye to dear Mattieu, now. Oh...and I hope to see you on Thursday night, darling. Antonio and I are, uh, having a little get-together at our place. Everyone will be attending, of course. Au revoir, Roderich!” And with a wink, he pushed open the kitchen door, and disappeared out into the hallway.
Roderich stood stock still, his back still pressed hard against the cupboards. Was this true? How could - how could Francis know? His mind whirled rapidly - party, friendship, get-together, Elizabeta...Elizabeta...
He lingered a little longer on this last thought; and smiled, remembering the way her gaze would snag on his; and her smile; and her pinked cheeks in the library.
And he thought again of the whiff of alcohol, the flash of rainbow lights, the spin and whirl and flip of long brown hair, and the biting cold outside, and how red her lips had looked; and how clearly her eyes had shone...
Perhaps this time - perhaps this time he would be brave enough to take her hand - to hold her close - to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume - to press his mouth against hers, her cheeks, her neck...
And perhaps, he thought, slowly, perhaps this party wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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And come on France, get a clue. Silly goose. /:
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