Apartments And Street Clothes
Sure enough Francis lived in the same apartment complex as Arthur. Arthur seemed nervous but Francis couldn't understand why. It's just a dinner date. As he entered the gentleman's apartment he was taken aback. It was so tidy and extremely British. He had British flag pillows on his black couch. An electric fireplace underneath the television which had a small bobble head that adorned some punk rocker on the shelf, that Francis had never heard of. There was a kettle by the stove and multiple candles, all of different scents, placed around the living room. The door to the hallway closet was open and it had old man jackets plus a single leather jacket in there and about five different pairs of black leather boots that all looked the same. It was dim in the room even with the lights on since the curtains were not open and also a bulb was out in the lamp by the television.
“Well don't just stand there, come in” Arthur insisted. Francis smiled at him and in return he received a scowl. Artie ~hopefully that name will stick~ stalked off to his room to put on ‘street clothes’ which frightened Francis since so far the other man's wardrobe seemed very dull. After a while of waiting and deciding to plop onto the black couch, Arthur came around the corner in stylish green pants, tan jacket, striped shirt underneath and black converse high tops. ~Not bad Artie, not bad~ But, now Francis felt overdressed. Usually he'd be fine being overdressed for a date, but he didn't want the extra attention that his pink button up shirt, white pants, tan shoes and bouncy hair would bring.
>TIME SKIP TEN MINS LATER<
The two stepped out of the lift and into the hall. Arthur had never been up here, and he could see the difference between the different floors. This hall was thinner and more cramped. Francis looked unphased by the space change, probably since he was used to it. He opened the door and Arthur walked in. Everything from the curtains to the rugs were stylish. The curtains were cream, white, brown and hung all the way to the floor. The couches were white with red and purple pillows. A fuzzy white rug greeted you when you walked into the kitchen which was covered in appliances from red pans to blue handled knives. And lastly, the kitchen table was covered in papers. Arthur helped himself and picked one up. It was covered in colour swatches and French writing, which he could read. There were a few notes on there in rushed handwriting:
~Beading on the bottom~
~changed my mind, ditch the buttons on the back~
~Eggshell white or pearl?~
~probably pearl~
~no ruffles, use tulle and lace instead~
~fuck the sleeves, don't do it~
Arthur laughed to himself as he read it
“You can read French huh?” Arthur turned around to see Francis in more casual clothes as he promised. He wore skinny jeans, black boots, a red blazer with a black shirt and his hair was pulled back into a bun with a few strands of hair hanging out in the front still. He looked great. Arthur would never admit it though.
“Yes I can...French was what I took all through college, high school and middle school...I'm not a fan of speaking it though”
“Pourquoi?”
“Cause I know I'll mess it up somehow”
“You know, in France we really appreciate when others try to speak French”
“When did you learn English?” Francis took a moment to think
“In high school and college” it came out more like a question than a sure answer
“You learned English at a fashion school?”
“I had a tutor from the States”
The two chattered along as they made their way to a bar down the road, where they would get a few drinks too many and a meal they wouldn't be able to finish