Antoine looked positively alarmed. “I called for you,” he chided. “You could at least tell me what was going on so I wouldn’t have to be worried.”
Francis chewed on his bottom lip, willing Antoine to leave (even if it was the other’s house). Everything boiled down to the insignificant piece of plastic sitting behind Antoine’s green toothbrush and cup and the crumpled up piece of paper in his back pocket. His heart was slamming up and down his throat and he could scarcely hear anything else over the sound, except for the imploring thoughts running through his mind begging Antoine to leave him alone.
Antoine, seeing the look in his friend’s eyes, for once, read the atmosphere correctly and left without another word, although he continuously cast furtive glances back. His face read, you don’t tell me anything anymore.
Francis would apologize to the Spaniard later. One day.
Now that he had all the time in the world, he retrieved the card and placed it carefully next to the sink. He didn’t even bother shutting the door, because he knew Antoine wouldn’t be returning.
Carefully, he unfolded the instruction sheet and placed it next to the card, even though the sink counter was wet and the paper was beginning to get soggy. “One line means HIV negative,” he murmured, “Two lines means positive.”
Then he looked back at the card. There was still nothing showing, so he took it gently with his damaged fingers, praying to the God he had forsaken that He would come through for him now, and sat himself on the seat of the toilet.
Slowly, the first blue line began to show, and Francis’ blood pressure skyrocketed.
“One in seven billion,” he whispered to himself, as though he truly believed that to be the statistical chance one could contract the virus. One man in a world of seven billion, a tiny fish in a great ocean — because those were the hopes of a man with none.
He was smelling seawater, for some reason. In a panicked sort of delusion Francis wondered if he was hallucinating out of fear, and even as he tried to push that thought away the smell kept entering his nostrils and clouding his mind. He was suddenly hearing gulls and water, and the laugh of distant children somewhere far, far away.
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse, mused his wandering reflections as he watched the waves of water roll into the edge of France, country of his soul, his heart, his genius, and the sea clashed with land.
And then something else began to show on the card, as blue as the Mediterranean he so missed.
It eased its way slowly into Francis’ perception the way the disease in his body was now, familiarizing itself with its surroundings, spreading, mutating, dividing, growing — like the why of his affair and the why of his decision to pursue a sad ending to a happy story with a man he would try to tear apart using their cyanide love.
“One in seven billion,” he repeated to himself, although it was futile now.
His fingers felt weak and drained without warning, like he had lost all control of them, and the card slipped and fell to the ground. His blood, thinned with the diluent, went flying across the cold floor tiles; it was a colour Francis would never be able to get over, no matter the number of times he would see it, for it was tainted with solvent and sickness and Chel and now, HIV.
I think you chose that one-in-seven-billion, said Matthew in his beautiful voice.
Again, hopefully not too anticlimactic. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Hi. I just found this fic. You know, I really shouldn't have read this but I couldn't help myself... it's too good... and too horrible...
A!A, I love you and I hate you. And I'm still shaking. I almost couldn't read the last part because I felt so sick. And yet I still want more. I'm such a masochist.
You made me cry and hug my mom. I was just lucky my mom didn't notice I was crying. This is the most elaborate reaction I've had to fanfic, honestly. Francis' situation is really upsetting and you've written that out so perfectly with the right amount of drama and pacing that we're shown a very clear picture of what Francis is going through.
I'm sorry about the incoherent babble. I'm still upset, but in a good way. Your writing is very effective and beautiful. Please say you'll deanon after this? :)
This just reaffirms yet again that FRUK is my OTP. Like, forever and always, thanks for portraying them so wonderfully to everyone and in such a great story too!
I've only ever had the need to comment on your fill on this website, my first comment went to you before, my second one just now and probably my third, fourth and fifth too. Thanks so much! Please don't discontinue this! x
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The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-07 01:56 am (UTC)(link)Francis chewed on his bottom lip, willing Antoine to leave (even if it was the other’s house). Everything boiled down to the insignificant piece of plastic sitting behind Antoine’s green toothbrush and cup and the crumpled up piece of paper in his back pocket. His heart was slamming up and down his throat and he could scarcely hear anything else over the sound, except for the imploring thoughts running through his mind begging Antoine to leave him alone.
Antoine, seeing the look in his friend’s eyes, for once, read the atmosphere correctly and left without another word, although he continuously cast furtive glances back. His face read, you don’t tell me anything anymore.
Francis would apologize to the Spaniard later. One day.
Now that he had all the time in the world, he retrieved the card and placed it carefully next to the sink. He didn’t even bother shutting the door, because he knew Antoine wouldn’t be returning.
Carefully, he unfolded the instruction sheet and placed it next to the card, even though the sink counter was wet and the paper was beginning to get soggy. “One line means HIV negative,” he murmured, “Two lines means positive.”
Then he looked back at the card. There was still nothing showing, so he took it gently with his damaged fingers, praying to the God he had forsaken that He would come through for him now, and sat himself on the seat of the toilet.
Slowly, the first blue line began to show, and Francis’ blood pressure skyrocketed.
“One in seven billion,” he whispered to himself, as though he truly believed that to be the statistical chance one could contract the virus. One man in a world of seven billion, a tiny fish in a great ocean — because those were the hopes of a man with none.
He was smelling seawater, for some reason. In a panicked sort of delusion Francis wondered if he was hallucinating out of fear, and even as he tried to push that thought away the smell kept entering his nostrils and clouding his mind. He was suddenly hearing gulls and water, and the laugh of distant children somewhere far, far away.
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse, mused his wandering reflections as he watched the waves of water roll into the edge of France, country of his soul, his heart, his genius, and the sea clashed with land.
And then something else began to show on the card, as blue as the Mediterranean he so missed.
It eased its way slowly into Francis’ perception the way the disease in his body was now, familiarizing itself with its surroundings, spreading, mutating, dividing, growing — like the why of his affair and the why of his decision to pursue a sad ending to a happy story with a man he would try to tear apart using their cyanide love.
“One in seven billion,” he repeated to himself, although it was futile now.
His fingers felt weak and drained without warning, like he had lost all control of them, and the card slipped and fell to the ground. His blood, thinned with the diluent, went flying across the cold floor tiles; it was a colour Francis would never be able to get over, no matter the number of times he would see it, for it was tainted with solvent and sickness and Chel and now, HIV.
I think you chose that one-in-seven-billion, said Matthew in his beautiful voice.
Again, hopefully not too anticlimactic. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated!
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-07 07:35 am (UTC)(link)Hi. I just found this fic. You know, I really shouldn't have read this but I couldn't help myself... it's too good... and too horrible...
A!A, I love you and I hate you. And I'm still shaking. I almost couldn't read the last part because I felt so sick. And yet I still want more. I'm such a masochist.
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-07 02:22 pm (UTC)(link)I'm sorry about the incoherent babble. I'm still upset, but in a good way. Your writing is very effective and beautiful. Please say you'll deanon after this? :)
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-07 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-09 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)Damn it, I have fucking tears in my eyes.
You've got serious talent, keep it coming.
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-15 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)I've only ever had the need to comment on your fill on this website, my first comment went to you before, my second one just now and probably my third, fourth and fifth too.
Thanks so much! Please don't discontinue this! x
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-01-17 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)I CAN'T DEAL WITH THE CLIFFHANGER AGFKGBBGUEIBIBAG D: D: D:
I LOVE YOU LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS!
Re: The Genius Next Door [3l/7]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-02 07:20 am (UTC)(link)I just soooo need more Dx