It fucking hurts : Chapter 1

"Alasdair Kirkland, I will kill you !"

Alasdair burst out in laughter at the sight of his girlfriend cursing at him as she tried to get her soaked hair out of her eyes. His laugh didn't last long as an absolutely unmanly shriek escaped his lips when he felt two hands against his back, pushing him in the pool with Francine.

"Ah ! Who's laughing, now ?!"

"Gilbert, ye asshole ! Get yer ass over here so I can spank it !"

"No way, the water will wash away the sunscreen. And do you know what happens when a poor albino like me is left defenceless under the summer sun ? The same thing that happened to your back !"

The redhead frowned and pouted childishly when reminded about the freaking huge sunburn he got at the beginning of the season. He may have more resistance to the sun than his albino friend but his skin was still extremely sensible and easy to burn.

"I will have ye know that it's hard tae apply sunscreen on yer own back !"

"You should have asked for help !" Antonio giggled.

Alasdair looked daggers at the Spaniard. Of course it was easy for him to talk, his skin was already naturally tanned and he never got any sunburns !

"I know ye, I'm pretty sure ye would have drawn a dick on my back with the sunscreen and I would have ended up with a cock-shaped sunburnt, thanks but no thanks !"

"Oh my, is that really what you think about us ?"

"Of course, ye're all a bunch of assholes."

"Even me ?" cooed a voice behind him.

Two arms wrapped themselves around the Scotsman's waist and he relaxed in the embrace as he felt Francine's bust pressed against his back. The four friends met during their first year of University and lived in Paris in spite of coming from different countries. Now their third year just ended and they were enjoying the hot summer weather in Antonio's garden. He was the only one who didn't live in a tiny apartment so they always ended up here. On top of that, he had a pool, which was much appreciated during stifling hot days like today.

"Especially ye."

The blond girl laughed and pressed a kiss in the crook of his neck.

"No fucking in my pool, you two !"

"What ? Are ye afraid yer pool might get more action than ye ever did ?"

"Francine, please, drown him."

"I don't know, fucking in your pool sounds like a tempting idea."

"Gilbert !" the Spaniard cried out. "Tell them something !"

"Something."

"Fuck you !"

Laughters filled the garden once again as Antonio decided to jump in the pool to drown Alasdair himself. The redhead winced when he heard a loud ringing noise and looked around, trying to find what caused it. But none of his friends seemed to notice it. He frowned and turned his face towards Francine to ask her about it.

But she was gone.

And he woke up.

Alasdair blinked, confused as to where he was. The pictures of his dream soon faded away as he recognized his London apartment. He groaned and propped his weight up on his elbows to sit up. It seemed he fell asleep on the couch again. The annoying ringing noise was still here and his fogged emerald green eyes located its source easily. His phone was buzzing like mad on the coffee table, the screen glowing brightly as it showed who was calling.

"Franny".

This nickname started as a joke because he was unable to pronounce her name correctly. He never managed to say "Fran-" correctly and kept on saying "Frann-" instead. One thing leading to another, her official nickname ended up being Franny. A tender smile stretched his lips at the memory as he stared at his phone. He wasn't going to pick it up. He lowered the volume so it wouldn't disturb the neighbours. And waited.

Finally, the ringing stopped.

"You have one voice mail."

Alasdair ordered himself to not listen to it. But he never had been one to follow orders and reached for the phone, bringing it to his ear.

His heart clenched painfully as that sweet voice echoed through the phone.

"Hello, Alasdair... It's me again..."

She sounded so sad. He tightened his grip on the phone, trying to restrain himself from calling her.

"I hope you and Arthur are doing well. Please, call me when you have time...I love you."

A loud beep hurt his ear, informing him that it was the end of the voice mail. At the beginning, she would leave longer messages, asking why he was ignoring her calls, worrying that something went wrong. And she would send texts every so often in hope that he would text back. In the morning to wish him a good day. In the evening to wish him a good night. Telling him she loved him.

The phone rang again.

"Gil"

That was the third time since the beginning Gilbert called him. It was always right after one of Francine's call. He never left any voice mails but Alasdair could guess what he wanted to say. He was probably angry at him, asking what the hell was wrong with him.

A sigh escaped his lips and he stood up, leaving the phone on the coffee table to wander in the apartment. He silently opened Arthur's bedroom's door, taking a peek inside. He wasn't moving. He entered and approached the bed, knowing that it didn't mean his little brother was sleeping. But his emerald green eyes were closed and he breathed evenly. Asleep. He got out of the room, closing the door behind him, and went back on the couch. His hand searched blindly for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. A fag between the lips, his eyes wandered on the flickering flame of the lighter for a second before lighting his cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling in an exhausted sigh. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

He had left Paris, his love and his friends only three months ago but it already felt like an eternity.