Jack snorted. "Because I act on it. Because I kiss other boys and I take them into bed with me. Because…" he raked a hand through his hair again, his blue eyes dead and lifeless and so, so cold. "Because I am. Because if enough people have said it than they must be right."
Francis’ gaze fell, and he shook his head. He let his hand fall from his hair to his knee again. It felt like they had gone full circle. “Alright,” he murmured with a sigh, retreating back into silence. He let his head hang down, resting his chin on his chest. He wasn’t going to try and counsel someone who didn’t want to be counseled.
Jack closed his eyes again. He just wanted someone to hold him and love him and want him and god, he knew that that would never happen again, because being loved like that, for someone like him? That could only happen once in a lifetime, and it was already over. It was already over, and he would do anything just to get it back.
Francis had never had that type of close, intimate, romantic love with anyone, but he missed it. He missed having the close, confidant type of relationship with his brother. But he remembered his brother had a girl he courted, and they would stay out late taking walks in the snow, or laying in the grass in springtime looking up at the stars. She made him dandelion flower crowns, and he would wear them all day just for her. Oh, lord, he had wanted that type of closeness for forever, but he was committed to meeting the right person. He just hadn’t met him… no, her yet. He missed a feeling he never even had.
Jack sniffed, sounding like he might start crying in a minute. He took a deep breath. "Can I…can you…" he didn't know how to say what he wanted. "CanyouholdmejustforaminuteandthenyoucanleaveandhatemeagainjustpleaseIneedsomeonetoholdme…" the words came out in a nearly indecipherable jumble, rushed and difficult to make out.
“Pardon?” Francis looked up and raised an eyebrow, trying to translate what Jack just said. He was quiet for some time while he processed, “Are you…asking me to hug you?” He guessed from the few words he deciphered hold me, and minute. Either that or he misunderstood that statement very badly. He didn’t really show affection or comfort through physical touch, but if it would help him feel better…
Jack nodded a little bit, eyes shying away from Francis, afraid to make eye contact. "Please?" he asked softly. "You can go back to hating me or whatever right afterwards. Just for a minute." he swallowed, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, almost scared to hear what Francis would say.
Francis wasn’t sure what to say. He let a long breath out of his nose. Could he trust him? Especially after the carriage ride this morning? This situation felt very different from the carriage ride, and Francis had needed a hug for a long time. But the smell of the alcohol, and he hated the idea of Jack later going out to get even more drunk and… He scrunched up his expression with uncertainty, pushing his doubts out of his mind, “Alright, yes. But it doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friendly acquaintances— oh, and it never happened after it’s over.”
Jack nodded quickly. "Okay." he agreed, eyes flicking up to Francis for just a moment, then away again. "Agreed." he raked a hand through his hair again, the golden strands messy and sticking up haphazardly all over his head. Curled up like he was, he looked so vulnerable and young and small, nothing like the brazen flirt from the carriage ride.
Francis inched closer to Jack, hesitant and unsure, until he was right in front of him. He tensed at the light smell of alcohol, but it was nothing he couldn’t dismiss for now—as long as it wasn’t near him. “Could you push the alcohol away?” He asked quieter, feeling another minuscule wave of sickness rise in his throat. “That’s the only thing I really hate, and I can’t be near it without feeling ill… I don’t think you want me getting sick on your back when I hug you,” he awkwardly laughed.
Jack let out a soft laugh, and tossed the closed flask onto his bed. "There." he said softly, glancing at Francis for a moment. He shifted slightly, fidgeting with his hands for a moment. He really did look so vulnerable like this. So needy and desperate to be held and loved and wanted. And god, that was what he wanted.
Francis watched Jack through the flask into the bed, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” he looked Jack over for a moment. He really did look so small. It was so unlike the Jack he first met that morning, and the Jack on the boat to France. His heart was pounding, his hand shaking while leaned forward. He first gingerly touched Jack on the shoulder, flinching away as if he touched a fire. It’s just a hug, why am I so awkward about this? he scolded himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Maybe he just had to go for it.
Jack nodded a little. At the flinch, he seemed to shrink into himself again, as if he thought the flinch was his fault. See? He doesn't even want to touch you. "It's okay. You…you don't have to if you don't want to." he said softly, not looking at Francis. He swallowed, taking a deep, slightly shaky breath.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just…odd.” He admitted, wondering how he should approach this. Eventually, he convinced himself to not even think about it. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders. The hug was tense, and he stared open-eyed at the wall behind Jack for the short duration. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was nice.
Jack leaned against him a little bit without quite meaning to. He let out a breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head on Francis' shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to care that the hug was stilted and forced and awkward. He was being held, even if he wasn't loved or wanted or needed.
(I gotta go to sleep now, goodnight!)
Francis hovered his hands over Jack’s upper back, barely grazing the fabric of his shirt. He stayed like that for a few moments, then slowly leaned into the hug. It didn’t mean anything, but he was surprised how nice it felt to hug someone again. It felt like it had been years. Silently, he began to count the seconds to make it a true minute like Jack had asked.
(alright. Goodnight!)
Jack was trembling a little bit, as if afraid that Francis would just suddenly push him away. He swallowed hard, still leaning into Francis' body. His own body fit neatly in the circumference of Francis' arms like a puzzle piece, and his eyes flickered open for a moment, then closed again.
This was so perfect, and he was so nice to hold. His hair, and how he looked curled up, how small. He felt his stomach lurch with a sudden swarm of butterflies— No, no! he couldn’t do this or think about him that way, he couldn’t couldn’t, not when Jack was going off to get drunk and sleep with someone else. Francis counted faster in his head until he finally reached sixty. A minute couldn’t have felt any longer than that moment. At the final second, he abruptly pulled away from Jack, unable to look him in the eyes anymore, “I have to leave,” he croaked.
Jack nodded a little bit, unable to meet Francis' eyes. "Alright. Uhm…thank you." he said quietly, glancing up at the other boy for a moment, then away again. "For…for that." he knew that Francis had no idea how much that had meant to him. To just be held, without the expectation that then they would get on the bed and he would spread his legs. Without the expectation of anything more. Just a hug.
“You’re welcome.” Franck’s said curtly and stood up. He straightened his undershirt, thoroughly flustered. He cleared his throat again. “I’ll see you at dinner.” Per their agreement, the hug never happened. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt nice, and that for the first time in a long time, a normally chaotic part of his mind was at peace. Francis didn’t know how much Jack had needed it, but he knew that he had needed it.
Jack nodded. "Right. See you." he replied. Once Francis had gone, he let out a long breath, leaning his head against the wall with a dull thump. He ran his hands through his golden hair. The voices in his mind had quieted, for now. The ones that had been whispering how useless he was. How unloved and hated. They had quieted down again, and for that he was thankful.
Francis closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. He let out a long, exasperated breath. He started to doubt his previous thoughts about Jack, but he was conflicted. Which version of Jack he saw was only a fluke? He might just go back to his brash nature, and that was the part of Jack he didn’t like. But now…he liked him very much, indeed. He shook his head free of the thought and returned to his own bedroom to wait for dinner.
(gonna do a little timeskip~)
Jack got up, taking a deep breath and adjusting his shirt carefully. He didn't know what to do. Or say. Especially not around Francis– no, they were pretending it had never happened. Easy enough. Right? He groaned softly, raking his hands through his hair. Yes. He would pretend it had never happened. He had done it before.
(Okeydokey!)
When he returned to his room, Francis put on his coat again and pulled his messy hair back with the string again. Without a comb on the ready, he couldn’t make his hair as neat as it was this morning. He planned to do a little bit of writing, some note taking, done before dinner. Taking note of the weather always seemed to help take his mind off things. Like everything, it wasn’t perfect, but it helped.
Dinner arrived, servants knocking on their doors to let them know, and to guide them to the dining room. Once there, they were each seated at the table. Jack was seated on Pierre's left, with Elizabeth beside him. Francis was across the table from Elizabeth, beside Jules.
Jack, directly across the table from Jules, smirked slightly. This would be fun. Jules seemed like just the sort of shy, quiet boy that would be quite fun to flirt with.
Francis did his best to try and ignore Jack, refusing to maintain eye contact with him. He kept his eyes on his plate, mostly, and resigned to his usual self during dinner time. At home, even when his parents had guests (especially when his parents had guests), he responded in short answers, refraining from speaking unless directly spoken to. He assumed this dinner would be no different. However, every once in a while, he would glance up and see what Elizabeth was doing.
Jules was indeed a softspoken, shy boy, who fidgeted a little bit as he ate and kept his eyes downcast, only occasionally peeking up through his lashes at Jack or his father, sometimes Elizabeth and Francis.
Elizabeth ate carefully. She had freshened up, her hair pinned back in a neat bun and a fresh dress on, along with a little make-up. She paid attention to Pierre as the French Gentleman described different places that Francis, Jack, and herself could perhaps visit while they were in the city.
Jack listened to Pierre, occasionally shooting Jules flirtatious glances, a faint smirk everpresent on his face.
Francis listened with occasional nods, taking slow and methodical bites of his food. His gaze flickered intermittently from his plate, to Pierre, and then to Elizabeth. His glances at Elizabeth lingered linger than they did at Pierre. He looked over her her appearance, her intelligent expression, her golden hair, her face, and dress. He felt his heart flutter, but not in the same way as he felt with Jack.
(are we developing a love triangle between the siblings and Francis, now? Not that I mind if you want to, it would be great for drama lol)
Jack shifted in his seat, listening to Pierre and occasionally participating in the conversation. The boy was surprisingly intelligent and good at conversation when he wanted to be, able to behave like the mature adult he was supposed to be.
Elizabeth caught her lower lip between her teeth for just a moment. Her eyes flicked to Francis for a moment, and caught his look. She blinked, and gave him a quick little smile.
(Lol! I was just thinking Francis would have a little bit of a crush on Elizabeth, but a love triangle would be great drama. I’m up for it if you are!)
Francis raised his eyebrows with interest as his glance was met. He returned the close-lipped smile. His fork wavered over his plate for a moment until he broke eye contact to take another bite of his dinner. He looked back almost immediately after, setting his fork back down on the plate with a soft clank. He hadn’t spoken a word yet, only returning Pierre’s comments with cordial nods.