Apples and Oranges

Ch. 1

Alfred lightly thumbed at the advance lever on his camera. The soft click it made every time it fell back into place almost boomed in the still classroom, empty except for him and his professor. She was perched on the front of her desk, hands casually rested to her side, but her gaze focused and knowing as she patiently waited for him to speak. He had dreaded this moment, for it was a long time coming. The final portfolio for the class had been looming in his mind since he read the class syllabus, and that the teacher made biweekly checkups on them only made him even more distraught. She had been fine when he was in his planning stages at the beginning, he'd turn in a few concept photos for her and she seemed to really like them. Today, though, was the half semester mark, and planning stages wasn't good enough anymore. She needed to see some of his work, and what he gave her was essentially nothing.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed, fingers moving to twist at his camera's neck strap. She only cocked her head to the side and waited for him to continue.

Taking a deep breath, like the ones he would take when he was going to jump off the high diving board when he was little, he plunged into his explanation, "I know I should be way further than I am, and you've been more than lenient with me so far. It's just… Well, I'm lost. I have all these ideas of where I want to go, but none of them seem to work out when I actually try to do them. Some days I think I have it, but I end up trying too hard or it doesn't look anywhere near it did in my head. I'm sorry, I really am, and I promise I'll have something for you to really look at next time." He hadn't meant to say it all at once, but it whooshed out of him before he could stop and collect himself.

"Alfred," his professor began in a tone disturbingly gentle and weary, "I understand that it might be difficult for you to come up with something, a rut like is difficult to overcome. I get artist's block a lot myself. But this is for a grade, and you're just going to have to pick something and go with it."

He could only nod his understanding, too embarrassed of himself to say anything else. She didn't seem to notice his response as she continued, "Of course, you're not going to get any points this week. But, considering your grade in the class, that shouldn't be too much trouble. Just take a day to think about what you want to do and just go with your gut, okay?"

"Thank you professor," he said, unable to mask his misery. He left the classroom, head down and trying not to meet the gaze of any students milling out in the hallway. He was afraid that if he looked up, his face would give away what a failure he was at that moment. He should have known better than to think he could make it as a photographer. His work was mediocre, he couldn't see things artistically like his classmates and even his camera wasn't up to snuff. He felt like an idiot the first day he walked into that room and saw he was the only student present without a digital camera. The school had even gotten rid of the darkroom to save money, so he was left to figure out how to develop his pictures on his own.

"Why does everyone have to use computers for everything?" he muttered, his breath puffing white in the chilly evening air as he stepped outside. The more the school tried to be technologically savvy, the more he felt obsolete. As if it weren't enough that he was beginning to drown in his own uncertainty, the world had to keep reminding him that he was nothing but some farm boy who thought he could make something of himself.

Snow crunched obnoxiously under foot as he made his way to the main road. If he was lucky he would make his bus, assuming he walked fast enough, which became unlikely once he saw how crowded the main ways were. As much as Alfred liked a more urban life style compared to the endless fields of wheat he had grown up in, he really hated the crowds. If it wasn't like slogging through a heard of testy cows, then it was a game of dodging, most other people not willing to slow their pace for something as silly as a person in their way. He managed to slip through a few key gaps, but immediately found himself stuck behind a group of young women who chose to walk abreast and at a snail's pace. Fighting the urge to bulldoze through them, he lightly tapped his nose in irritation. Well there went any hope of making his bus. Predictably, when he arrived at the stop, he got there just in time to see it pulling away and zooming off down the street.

"Now that's just spiteful," he said to himself, keenly aware of the looks passerby gave him. He supposed he'd have to end up begging for a ride once again. Hopefully Kiku hadn't left for work yet, else it was a ten mile walk on the side of a sleet covered highway for him.

He had just punched in his roommate's number when something bright had caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder and found that it was a shiny head of wavy blond hair. The way the ridiculously luxurious locks bounced and moved as the man it all belonged to walked away in an all too familiar strut and-

"Francis?"

The man immediately whipped around, and Alfred found himself confronted with eyes blue enough to match the summer sky over Kansas. Francis' face, virtually untouched by the years since he last saw the older man, looked him over in polite confusion. His thin lips pulled briefly down into a frown before his whole face lit up in surprised delight.

"Alfred? My God is that you?"

He was on Alfred before he had the time to process that Francis was there, standing before him, in the flesh. Not even the pain of the overenthusiastically tight hug forcing the air out of his lungs could bring him back to earth. Blinking stupidly when he was finally released, he found his earlier estimation wrong. He did seem older, or it was the thicket of stubble on his chin throwing off his perception.

"My dear boy, how have you been? Where have you been? Really, the chances of us running into each other…" Alfred immediately tuned out Francis's babbling. The man went on and on, as was his way. He'd randomly ruffle Alfred's hair, or clap his shoulder as he looked the boy up and down. Alfred felt his gut twist with the reminder that he's lived through this type of greeting many times before. Not all of them given by Francis.

"How've you been, Francis?" he asked as soon as there was a slight pause.

"Mon trognon! What a way to greet me! You could at least pretend to be a little pleased," Francis said in his usual good natured way. Alfred tried not to balk at his old pet name.

"Uh, sorry. You caught me at a bad time," Alfred lied through a halfhearted smile. He couldn't tell him that he would rather get an F and hike a hundred miles than be where he was right then. That would just be rude. He was about to employ his 'Pretend to not be feeling well' tactic, when he heard an odd noise come from somewhere below him.

"-phone again? Hello?" his cell phone was speaking in Kiku's voice. Alfred started with the realization that he had pressed the send button at some point during his little reunion.

He slapped the phone to his ear, and ignoring the amused expression Francis was giving him. "Sorry Kiku, I didn't know you were there. Hey, can you give me a ride?" He barely managed to finish his sentence when Francis plucked the phone right out of his hand.

"My apologies, Mr. Alfred's friend, there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. No need to worry though, I'll have him home and safe in due time." Without waiting for a reply, he promptly ended the call.

"What do you mean by that?" Alfred asked, snatching his phone back. Francis had the gall to look confused.

"I meant what I said, mon-,"

"Don't call me that," he snapped, losing what little energy he had for playing nice. Francis held his hands up in mock surrender, his mouth widening into an even more infuriating grin. Alfred would have given anything to be able to push him out into the street at that moment.

"Oh, fine, I'll agree to your terms. But before you go storming off, at least do me the favor of allowing me a little chat with you. I really have missed you, Alfred. Also, I have car," he added at the end, seeing Alfred scowl when he asked to talk. Alfred stood there, weighing his options and trying not to shiver. The sun was starting to set, and it was only going to get colder. Then again, would he really rather talk to Francis than freeze?

Alfred sighed in defeat and gave a sulky glare. "Fine. But you only have an hour."

"That's more than enough, mon-Alfred. You still like tea?"

Francis turned and headed toward the parking lot, Alfred trailing behind him in a pout. Maybe he should have checked his horoscope before he left that morning. He suspected it would have said that divine intervention had designed for him to meet with someone surprising today. Out of all the people he knew, he was least expecting to see Francis again. Especially considering that last he heard, the man was off somewhere in Aquitaine taking care of family business. It didn't matter what Alfred had thought he knew, though, especially with Francis more than insisting they have a proper conversation. Climbing in what was clearly a rental car, Alfred looked in the back seat to see a duffle bag with clothes spilling out of the mouth. He must have driven a ways if his things were uncharacteristically bunched like that. Eyeing Francis warily as the engine began to rev, he held in any accusations he wanted to make. It could wait until they got where ever they were going, and he needed to think up a way to both appease Francis but keep anyone else from thinking they could get back in touch with him. Slumping in the seat and silently cursing his portfolio, they sped off toward the setting sun.

A/N: Well hello! Welcome to my first attempt at writing a story and not some dry school paper. There are a few things that I hadn't fully decided on before I started writing this, so if there's anything wrong or inconsistent that I may have missed, feel free to point it out. Thank you for reading!