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neufhistoires · 11 months

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Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 9

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 9

Word Count: 4,327

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Seychelles was a beautiful country, so any couple would be happy to have their honeymoon there together… That is, if the couple was truly a couple.

It was rather awkward for Francis and Arthur to go to such a lovey dovey place together alone. Their parents had booked them separate rooms, instructing that they just had to be careful not to post pictures that alluded to them being in two different rooms. They told them that it was their treat to them for following through with the whole publicity stunt so well. Francis was hurt by the wedding ceremony, but the thought of essentially just hanging out with Arthur on an island where they didn’t have to put on a show anymore didn’t sound so bad… Actually, it sounded kind of fun.

Francis wanted to hit up the different nightclubs on the islands, go shopping, see the botanical gardens– that sort of thing. On the other hand, Arthur wanted to go to the island that was supposedly haunted. What they were interested in on the island did differ some, but they were both excited to go nonetheless.

Checking into the hotel felt normal because they didn’t have to pretend they were in love or anything, and they were both registered under their own last names. It was sure to be a whole argument when they had to figure out what to do about their last names now that they were technically married, but they would deal with that when the time came…

They brought their luggage to their hotel rooms and then met back up in the hallway afterwards. They didn’t have to spend time with one another, and they did want to do different things, but… they didn’t know anyone in Seychelles, so it made sense to stay together, right? Surely that was the only reason they did.

“I guess I’ll spend time with you because you’re terrible at socializing,” Francis said with a smug look on his face as he leaned over Arthur’s shoulder to look at the tourist map they had been given in the hotel lobby.

“Hmph, a haunted island would be more fun alone anyway. Go off and hook up with random people you’ll never see again if that’s what your idea of fun is,” Arthur said dismissively, as though he was too caught up in looking at the map to care about the Frenchman’s jabs at him.

“Are you really looking for ghosts on an all expenses paid vacation? I thought you were joking,” Francis said, surprise apparent on his face.

“I’ve already heard all the ghost stories in England. Not to mention the ghost that I keep seeing in our neighbor’s window…” Arthur muttered the last part, but it sent chills up Francis’s spine.

“Stop reminding me,” Francis retorted. He hated that sort of thing. Especially because he was pretty sure he had seen it a few times, too…

“How about we make a compromise?” Arthur said, lowering the map and locking eyes with the taller blonde beside him. “We’ll go to the haunted island today and then I’ll go out drinking with you afterwards.”

“That’s not fair– you like to go out drinking, too!” Francis complained, narrowing his eyes at the Englishman.

“Fine– what do you want to do then?” Arthur asked, sounding as though he was forced to ask him that question.

“We’ll go out drinking tonight, because we both want to, and then tomorrow will be my day to choose what we do… Which will most likely be…” Francis pulled the map out of Arthur’s hands so he could look at it again. On the right hand side of the map different attractions and events were listed. “We should go sunbathing and swimming at the Côte d’Or!”

Arthur looked like someone had stabbed him when he heard that Francis wanted to go sunbathing and swimming on some crowded tourist beach. However… the truth was that he didn’t actually want to go to the haunted island by himself… and the people in Seychelles did speak French, so it would make sense for Francis to come along with him… so…

“Alright, fine– we’ll go there tomorrow,” Arthur agreed reluctantly, making Francis smirk victoriously. Arthur cursed himself for thinking that Francis looked kind of handsome with that smug look on his face.

“It’s settled then– off to Moyenne Island!” Arthur said, pointing his finger at the island on the map with such enthusiasm that he made himself blush with embarrassment afterwards.

They took a ferry from the main island to Moyenne Island, which was supposedly haunted by ghosts, some of which just so happened to be British, and others which happened to be pirates. Arthur had always been interested in both ghosts and pirates, and he was British, so it was like it was practically made for him.

When the ferry finally arrived on the island, it left to return other tourists to the main island and pick up more people who were interested in going on the haunted tour. Francis was a bit unsettled by the whole thing, but it was still rather early in the day, so he figured he didn’t have to worry too much about seeing any ghosts. After all, they only came out during the day, right?

The tour guide started by explaining some of the history of the island while they were still standing at the shore. Then, after adding in some details about how the last man who owned the island died there (great), the tour guide began leading them through the wooded part of the island and it started to seem darker due to the shade from the trees.

They passed a sign that said the Moyenne Island National Park closed at four o’clock, but it was already four thirty. Francis had been reassured by daylight, but it was most likely going to get dark for part of their tour.

“Arthur– how long is this tour?” Francis asked, nudging the Englishman out of the trance he was in as he listened to the tour guide.

“It’s going to be a few more hours, but don’t worry so much– I checked and some of the bars around here don’t even open until midnight,” Arthur said dismissively, putting his hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder to urge him to continue up the trail with the other tourists.

It wasn’t exactly that Francis was thinking about drinking, but more so that he didn’t want to be on an island that was allegedly haunted in the dark… It was too embarrassing to admit that though, so he just accepted that Arthur apparently thought he was an alcoholic and continued to tread up the trail.

Eventually, they made it further up the hill and reached an area where mounds of cement with iron crosses atop them donned metal plaques which read “Unhappily Unknown.” They were tombstones.

Unfortunately, the sun had started to set when the tour guide stopped in front of the tombstones and started to explain who built them and when. The nameless ones were supposedly pirates who had visited the islands in the 1800s. The previous owner of the island was buried there himself along with his father. The thought alone sent chills down Francis’s spine. He wanted to leave.

“Do you think I’ll be able to capture a photo of a ghost?” Arthur whispered, leaning in towards Francis so he didn’t interrupt the tour guide who was still speaking. The Englishman had his phone out every once and awhile, making sure to take a photo of anything the tour guide mentioned being haunted or belonging to someone long dead.

“I don’t know– maybe,” Francis replied nonchalantly, but on the inside he was going against Arthur, hoping he didn’t see any ghosts.

The tour continued and they had finally made their way past the ominous tombstones. Francis had been impatiently waiting for that moment, but then his own paranoid thoughts caught up to him and he started to think about how unsettling it was that the graves were behind them now.

Francis and Arthur were at the back of the tour group, which was most likely due to a combination of Arthur stopping to take photos of everything and Francis being reluctant to be there in the first place. At the beginning of the tour, Francis thought being in the back was the thing to do. After all, he didn’t want to be there so why get in the way of those who did? However, he was starting to regret it because he felt rather vulnerable with no one else following behind them.

Nonchalantly– at least he hoped it was nonchalant– Francis grabbed Arthur’s hand and then acted like nothing happened when the Englishman turned to him with a confused expression on his face.

“You got my hopes up– I thought you were a ghost,” Arthur joked. The sun had finished setting and it was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything other than the light that the tour guide was carrying and the occasional light from the other tourists’ cell phones.

“You were hoping to hold hands with a ghost?” Francis asked dumbfoundedly.

“Why are you holding my hand anyway?” Arthur asked, ignoring the Frenchman’s question. Of course he wanted to hold hands with a ghost.

Francis contemplated what he should say for a moment before a smirk formed on his face and he cleaned in closer to the Englishman. “You’re my husband– why shouldn’t I hold your hand?”

Arthur’s face flushed and he gave Francis a light shove, making their hands detach from one another. “Don’t say things like that..!”

The two of them walked in silence through the dark woods for a few before Francis casually reached out and took Arthur’s hand again, causing him to let out a sigh. Arthur would’ve just accepted it, but then a thought crossed his mind…

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

“What? What’s there to be afraid of?” Francis retorted, but his offended tone made the truth easy to reveal.”If anything, the ghosts would come after you– you’ve been taking their pictures all day, after all..!”

Arthur’s expression was enough to make Francis even more annoyed, because the smirk on his face just kept growing.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to come because you were scared– you didn’t have to lie and tell me you just thought it was boring,” Arthur continued to tease Francis until they reached another spot in the tour, so they had to quiet down if they wanted to hear what the tour guide had to say.

However, there was quite a distance between Francis and Arthur and the tour guide. That was why the noise that Francis heard behind himself was so distinct. He had definitely heard something. It sounded like some sort of rustling in the trees.

Francis still had Arthur’s hand in his because regardless of how much the other man had teased him, he still secretly liked holding him close like that, especially in public… So, in the most aloof way possible, he turned around to look at the clearing behind him to see if anything was there. There didn’t appear to be anything, but then he heard it again and he suddenly went from feeling a little suspicious to feeling terrified.

“Arthur– did you hear something?” Francis whispered.

“Huh? No, did you?” Arthur asked, feeling a bit empathetic towards the other man when he felt how tight he was squeezing his hand.

“Oui, it sounded like there was something behind us just now,” Francis replied, glancing at the path behind them again.

“You know what– it was probably just a–” Arthur started, but he was cut off by Francis suddenly jumping and clinging to his arm. The Frenchman’s actions were enough to catch him off guard and scare him, too, in the process.

The culprit that had followed and terrified Francis turned out to be a giant tortoise, which slowly crept out of the bushes after Francis’s sudden movements. Upon seeing what it was, the Frenchman released Arthur and let out a sheepish laugh.

“What I was going to say was that it was probably a giant tortoise,” Arthur said in a somewhat annoyed tone because Francis had scared him, too. “Weren’t you listening? The tour guide mentioned that the man who bought the island brought giant tortoises here, so we might see them roaming about during our tour.”

“Yeah, and he also mentioned how this island is haunted about five million times! How was I supposed to know it was a tortoise and not a ghost?!” Francis yelled in a hushed tone, hoping Arthur was the only person that witnessed his embarrassing reaction.

“So you do admit that you’re scared..!” Arthur said with a smirk, pointing his finger at Francis accusatively.

“Non! I was trying to protect you from the…” Francis stopped speaking and his cheeks turned pink as he became more and more aware of how embarrassing the whole thing was.

“From the tortoise?” Arthur pushed further, a smug grin on his face.

Francis didn’t answer him, letting out a “hmph” as he turned back around to face the tour guide. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. Then, the tour guide and the group of people in front of them started to walk further up the hill, so Francis and Arthur followed after them, still holding hands. It was pitch black outside, so it made sense for them to keep holding hands like that. You know— for safety reasons…

Eventually, the tour came to an end and they took the ferry back to the main island. Francis was spooked the entire way back to the island, thinking some sort of mysterious sea monster or vengeful spirit might attack them while they were drifting through the water. Meanwhile, Arthur was kind of hoping something like that would happen. For some reason, he would have loved to have seen it. Not to mention that he thought the way Francis had tried to pretend he wasn’t scared the entire time even though he kept latching onto the Englishman was rather endearing.

“Bien, c’est fini. Now let’s go to the bar,” Francis said, letting out a sigh of relief as they stepped off the ferry. “I need a drink after that,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I need one, too,” Arthur replied, a small smile on his face as he reflected on their time at the haunted island. It was actually a lot of fun.

Just like Arthur had mentioned, the bars didn’t actually open until around eleven thirty or midnight, so they had to wait a few until they could get in. Once they did, they drank much more than they should have and then headed back to the hotel.

The next morning, Francis woke up feeling like he had gotten the short end of the stick. It was his day to choose what they did, but since his day came after a night of way too much drinking, it was also plagued by a terrible hangover. Since Francis and Arthur were in separate rooms, the Frenchman couldn’t even bother the Englishman for medicine and water. He would have to get up and get it himself…

Reluctantly, Francis moved off the bed and stumbled into a standing position. He could barely remember the night before. Due to the fact that most of the night involved talking about ghosts, he couldn’t keep straight what was from the tour and what was from some sort of fever dream.

Francis fumbled around in his suitcase, trying to find medicine. Eventually he found it, took it, and then stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He looked like a mess, but he should be able to fix it within a few minutes. He just needed to take a shower and that would probably be enough to wake him up and freshen up his appearance.

Meanwhile, Arthur hadn’t even woken up until Francis was already in the shower, getting ready for the day. He was suffering from a hangover, too, but it was even more difficult for him to have motivation to get up and get ready because he absolutely didn’t want to go sunbathing and swimming at a crowded beach.

There was a selfish voice in the back of Arthur’s head that urged him to fall back asleep and forget about the plans he had made with Francis. After all, the Frenchman didn’t have a key, so all he could do was knock for a bit and then give up. Then, Arthur would have the day to himself and he wouldn’t have to do something he didn’t want to… Arthur smirked at the thought and closed his eyes again.

Just as Arthur was about to fall asleep, he realized that he couldn’t. He had a guilty conscience, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t have been able to fall back asleep knowing that he lied to Francis and made him spend the day alone, especially after he had gone to a haunted island that he was clearly afraid of.

Arthur let out a groan and sat up, stretching his arms in the air as his head pounded with a terrible headache. Then, he went to take medicine and get a shower, too.

As soon as Arthur got out of the shower, he received a text from Francis, asking if he was ready to go. He had to rush a little bit, but the truth was that it didn’t take him very long to get dressed. He envied that Francis could get dressed in the same amount of time, but he still always ended up looking more fashionable. Actually, sometimes they wore similar things, or he took the Frenchman’s fashion advice, but he still looked better.

It had been just a normal morning and Arthur didn’t usually contemplate what he was going to wear too much, but his own thoughts suddenly overwhelmed him and he started to feel insecure at the thought that they were going to a popular tourist spot and Francis would be dressed so much better than him. He started frantically sifting through the clothing that he had brought with him, hoping to find something to pull on before Francis stopped waiting for a response and just came over himself. However, that time came quicker than the Englishman anticipated, as only a few minutes later he heard a knock on his door.

Arthur ignored the knock and continued to go through his clothing, but then he realized that nothing he packed would make him look as good as Francis. No, maybe nothing he owned would make him look as good as Francis. Or, maybe it was just him, and he couldn’t pull off anything as good as the Frenchman. Francis would look good even if he was wearing a trash bag, but Arthur felt like he struggled to put a decent outfit together.

“Arthur, bonne matin– are you awake?”

The Frenchman’s voice was easy to hear through the door, but Arthur really didn’t want to answer the door in his underwear, or, even worse, admit that he was terribly insecure and felt inferior to the Frenchman, so he was sifting through his clothes at the last minute and questioning all of his life choices that led up to this moment.

Arthur chose to ignore Francis again and continued to look through his suitcase to find an outfit. Then, the knocking started again, and in a stressed panic Arthur just pulled on a random pair of shorts and a shirt before he ran over and swung the door open.

Francis’s eyes widened upon seeing that Arthur was indeed awake and he looked stressed rather than hungover.

“Arthur– what are you–”

“I know, I look terrible– go ahead and laugh,” Arthur said, cutting the Frenchman off before he could even finish his sentence. Also, he sort of looked like he was going to cry, like his eyes were glassy and the tears just hadn’t poured out yet.

Francis just stared at Arthur for a moment in confusion, trying to understand what could’ve made the other man so upset. He really had no idea, but he could see that the Englishman’s clothing was mismatched, so he decided to take it from there and tread carefully.

“I was just going to ask what you were doing– I could hear you rustling around in here…” Francis mumbled. “Anyway, didn’t you pack a white button up shirt with you? Why don’t you wear that? It will look nice with those shorts,” Francis said, pushing past Arthur and entering his room. He noticed the messy piles of clothing throughout the Englishman’s room and then he started to understand.

“Are you sure it will… look nice..?” Arthur murmured, shutting the door behind them as he walked back over to the piles of clothing Francis was standing in front of. He was embarrassed that the other man was looking at the mess he made– he had intended on cleaning it up when he got back later.

Francis found the white button up shirt in one of the piles of clothing and picked it up, turning to face Arthur. His heart ached at the thought that the other man felt so insecure. He felt sort of guilty, too, because he knew that he could tease him about the way he dressed sometimes. He was usually just joking and he didn’t have any malicious intentions, but he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was probably hurting the other man without realizing it.

“Oui, of course it will. I’ve always thought that you look nice in button ups– they suit you,” Francis said softly, a gentle smile on his face as he started to undo the buttons on the shirt.

Arthur felt inexplicably relieved, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He turned his back to Francis as he took off his shirt, but it wasn’t really because he was changing– he finally gave his eyes permission to release his tears and the pressure in his head went away some.

Arthur nonchalantly dried his cheeks when he pulled the shirt over his head and then he turned back to face Francis, who lightly tossed the shirt he had unbuttoned at him.

“Thanks,” Arthur murmured, pulling the shirt on and hastily buttoning it back up. “I’m ready then, if you are.” “Wait– you didn’t forget this did you?” Francis asked, picking a bottle of sunscreen up from Arthur’s bed.

“Oh, actually I did,” Arthur said, letting out a small laugh. He had been so concerned with his appearance and yet he had almost set himself up to get burnt to a crisp.

“I figured,” Francis said in a matter of fact tone as he opened the lid.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m going to put sunscreen on you,” Francis replied in a voice so innocent that Arthur almost obliged.

“No. You’re not.”

“Oh, come on. There are places you can’t reach,” Francis said, taking a step towards Arthur with a smirk on his face.

Arthur’s face paled and he took a step back, moving away from the Frenchman.

“I’m not going to get naked on the beach, so I think it’s just fine if sunscreen isn’t applied to those places,” Arthur hissed, continuing to back up as Francis neared closer.

“Arthur, you’re no fun,” Francis commented, the smirk on his face growing even larger as he lunged at the Englishman and tackled him onto the bed.

The whole thing happened so fast that Arthur felt as though his life had flashed before his eyes. The two of them ended up wrestling and laughing, accidentally getting some sunscreen on the bed and their clothes during their fight, if it could even be called that. It all felt light hearted and fun until they landed in a position where Francis was on top of Arthur and the two of them were panting from laughing and rolling around– that was when it started to feel a tad too intimate and they both abruptly pulled away from each other and got up from the bed as if a deafeningly awkward tension hadn’t just erupted.

Francis cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “anyway, you should put that on before we go to the beach.”

The two of them headed off to Côte d’Or and it basically turned out the way they both expected it would– Arthur set up a beach towel and an umbrella, hoping to fully stay out of the sun, but then Francis urged him to come get in the water, essentially guilt tripping the Englishman by saying that he did what he wanted the previous day, so now it was Arthur’s turn.

Reluctantly, Arthur did end up joining Francis in the water, but the beach turned out to be a lot less crowded than he had originally thought it would be, so it was also much less awkward than he had predicted, too. It actually wasn’t so bad. Although, to the Englishman’s dismay, because he hadn’t listened and didn’t keep reapplying sunscreen like Francis because it was too awkward to lather himself with lotion in front of a group of other tourists, he did end up getting burnt. It was mainly on his pale cheeks and his shoulders. It was sort of cute though, like he was in a constant state of blushing, Francis defended. And now he wouldn’t know if Arthur had actually blushed at that comment or not.

The day came to an end similarly to the previous one, but this time they vowed not to drink as much so they could wake up with ease and enjoy the next day properly. The plans for the following day were arranged according to Francis’s suggestion, too, but it was something that Arthur supposed he could get behind– the Victoria Botanical Gardens.

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