The FrUK Chronicles

Francis pushed the doors of his store open. It was currently eight o'clock in the morning and the shoppe would not open for another two and a half hours. He flicked the lights on and headed to the back to begin putting dresses away. This big, stunning boutique was like a child of his. Sure he owned others throughout the US and Europe, but he really had outdone himself on this one (The store stationed in Paris was still better). The Frenchman quickly unstacked boxes and hung up the new additions to his stock in the back room. The showroom was quite large and there was a mannequin who needed to be put in a different dress since she had been stripped of a beaded ball gown the day before. As Francis pulled the plastic woman from the stand, the bell rang as the front doors were pushed open. His staff should not be here…
“Bonjour!” He called anyway and a man's voice answered
“Um-Uh...Hello?” Shocked, Francis went to the lobby to see for himself. He was about Francis’s height, which was not tall, and he had messy blond hair. He stared at Francis with gorgeous green eyes however, he wore clothes that an old man would be embarrassed to be seen in.
“Do you sell suits here?” He asked
“Why yes we do! We have a very limited amount though, but I bet we will find one that suits you” Francis mentally congratulated himself for the pun as he led the man past the showroom to a walk in closet by the dressing rooms.
“Well, here we are!” The man looked around, seemingly lost.
“Do you need any help?”
“Possibly...Sizes run different here I think…”
“Different from where?” The Frenchman asked, a bit excited to know more about the handsome stranger.
“The U.K.” He answered simply
“Where in the U.K.? You sound like you're from England”
“And you're from France”
Francis chuckled “Yes I am”
“A lot can be found out about a person from their speech” The Brit said, pushing another suit to the side and examining the next one “I moved so often, first I lived in Scotland with my oldest brother and the twins who were the second youngest children and the second oldest who was also a boy, then the four of us moved to Ireland. From there we went to North Ireland for two years and then to Wales, which was very nice. Then, as everyone began to pack for Ireland again I turned eighteen and moved to London. Then I got a job and had to move here. Very dreadful job by the way”
“Oh you must be tired of moving then”
“Of course”
“So did you meet your fiancé/fiancée here?”
“Excuse me?” The man asked, clearly confused by the question
“Well I mean, when's the wedding?”
“There is no wedding” He muttered, looking at the tag of one of the more casual looking suits
“Then why are you here!?” Francis exclaimed, seeing the man smirk a bit
“I'm presenting at work today but I only have two nice suits, the rest are not very fancy. I live right by here so instead of going into the heart of the Fashion District, I decided to come here” It was flattering to hear that his store was convenient for the businessman but, this was quite odd.
“Well since you need a business suit not a marriage suit, You can help yourself a moment while I check on the front desk-”
“Wait-I mean please don't leave. I'm not the master of fashion, and by looking at you I can tell you have experience…” The Brit seemed reluctant to speak “I need your help” it was quiet but loud enough to hear. Francis beamed and put a hand on the other man's shoulder.
“I think I do have a piece that will look very nice on you! Also you are very correct about the experience. I graduated from ‘École de la chambre syndicale de la couture’ It's a very high ranked fashion school. Then I started designing dresses and selling them, quite a few of these are mine, and opened a store on the outskirts of Paris!”
“Hmm...Don't think I've heard of you”
“Francis Bonnefoy”
“Pardon?”
“That's my name mon ami”
“Oh. Well I'm Arthur Kirkland if you must know”
“Well I really should know the names of my customers so thank you!”
Francis helped the gentleman pick out a stylish black and blue striped coat with black slacks. He already owned shoes and a dress shirt so he was good to go.
“Do you mind if I change here?”
“Not at all” Francis was finally able to go to the front desk and check his email for new deliveries. Sure enough, some dresses were being shipped from Germany on a plane and on a truck from California. His staff began coming in, saying hello and heading to the staff lounge to get coffee. Arthur came from the showroom and looked amazing. Francis told himself that he must impress this man. The Bri-Arthur approached the desk and asked if he looked okay.
“Okay? You look amazingly handsome!” Arthur blushed
“Sure...Do you mind if I just rent this? It's only one presentation and I don't feel like spending two hundred dollars, tax included, on a suit I'll wear once”
“Of course. You pay the rental fee when you return it” Francis lied
“Thank you very much” And with that Arthur The Very Good-Looking Brit was gone
•••
*Ding Ding*
Francis turned from the secretary, who he was speaking to, to see a group of eight women at the door. They stared at him with heart eyes as he approached them...He was used to it, it was one of the perks of being beautiful.
“Bonjour! Oh you all look so beautiful, which one of you is the bride? Is it you?” He asked the smallest girl who could not have been more than nine. She blushed and hid behind one of the other women.
“That would me” The woman who responded had very sharp features, deep brown eyes and blonde-almost-white hair that hung past her hips.
“My my, I already have a dress in kind for you! But before we head off to the showroom, is there anything in particular that you were looking for?”
“Uh-yeah! It's the most beautiful dress ever and that's the only one I want” the bride said through her thick Jersey accent. Francis sighed internally, bratty customers were the worst customers. Even worse than the indecisive ones.
“May I see it?” The woman handed him her phone, the blindingly white dress on the screen. It was hideous. It had feathers around the collar and sleeves that hung to the floor. The dress itself was knee length with lace train. It didn't look like a wedding dress, it looked like a sick science experiment.
“Okay then. Well I'll see if we have this in stock”~we don't~he thought “And I'll be back in a moment” ~and when I do I'll have many pretty dresses for you~
The first one he presented to the bride was one of his own dresses, it had a feathery bottom that puffed out like a ball gown and it had a lace up back like a corset. The top was a sweetheart neckline with no straps. The bride looked at the dress as if he had presented her a garbage bag.
“What's that?”
“Well since we don't have the dress you were looking for, I thought we could show you a few like it!”
“Yeah Barrie you bitch! Try that one on” one of the bridesmaids shouted
“Shut up Rica!”
“Don't talk to your Ma like that asshole!”
“Guys please don't fight in here-”
“It's my wedding and she's ruining it!”
“You're ruining your own wedding by trying to find this ugly, shitty, made up, contagious, gown that looks like a bird died on the shoulders and got stretched out to the size of your ass on a Thursday!”
“Take that back!”
Francis stood holding seven dresses as the whole family began yelling. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to get punched in the face but then again, it was his store and they were embarrassing him. Finally he just walked away. Then, he heard a small voice calling.
“Sir! French guy! Hey!”
He turned around to see the nine year old smiling at him.
“Can you show me some dresses?” Francis sighed, he had a weakness for kids
“Of course dear” he took her to the back room, shouts still audible, and showed the girl the glittery dresses she was wishing to see.
“Hey this is you!” She girl said pointing to the sign above his dresses. The sign read ‘Beautiful Bonnefoy’.
“Yes it is, how did you know?”
“I saw your name tag!”
“You're very smart”
“I know. So that dress you tried to give my aunt was made by you?”
“Oui”
“Cool!”
She seemed really into fashion, she looked at every dress as if it was a diamond. Francis took her to the front desk and handed her a magazine. He was on the cover with a dress he made and it was full of his dresses.
“Woah!” She yelled “This is so cool! This is you! You're famous!”
“Not really…”
“Don't deny it!” She flipped open the booklet and frowned “I can't read French”
“Well I can! I can help if you want”
“Okay! But first we should check on my asshole aunt”
“Language dear” she laughed at him and ran off to find her family. This surely would be a long day.
>TIME SKIP TO 10:45 PM<
After finding out that every dress he owned was an ‘unworthy piece of shit’ he asked the Irvine family to leave. He let the girl keep the magazine though. Now, it was three hours after closing. His staff were all gone, and he was left. He insisted on putting everything away and unloading the delivery truck from Canada. There were ten huge boxes full of dresses. Seven boxes full of his designs and the rest were other brands. He spent the next six hours hanging dresses, unpackaging dresses, repackaging old dresses to be shipped away, cleaning the lobby and showroom and lastly fixing the speakers in the lobby so music would actually play. He passed out for a few minutes before jerking awake, wiping drool from the side of his mouth, realizing he was still at work. He stumbled to the door and out to the crosswalk before making it to the apartment complex where he lived. The Frenchman pressed the fifth floor button on the elevator and off it went. He had never been so happy to finally get to his apartment. He went to his room, kicked off his shoes and face planted into the mattress, falling asleep in his dress clothes while his face sunk into the bed.