Fingers flexed rapidly by his sides, the blonde controlling whatever anger was about to crop up; But really, was Mukuro that important? It made Bel wonder whether Fran not only ‘loved’ him, but also…
Oh, he was going to kill Mukuro.
The familiar path back to the mansion became known, and his boots were soon crunching against the gravel on the exterior of the house, digits now curled tightly so nails dug into the soft palms of his hands. Not once had he looked back at Fran or addressed him, knowing that once he did, he’d see the soul crushing sight of the younger’s expression which would most probably be one of upset.
Fran continued to walk at an agonizingly slow pace behind the prince, focusing at nothing but the ground ahead of him. The guilt was all over him, and he couldn’t bring himself to strike up any form of conversation with the blonde.
The illusionist felt sick to the stomach by the time they arrived at the HQ’s steps. But somehow, he still managed to croak out a few more lines before walking past Bel. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be in my room.” His voice didn’t quiver or shake as he spoke, in fact, there was no emotion in his voice at all. It was slow and flat, as if Fran were trying to steady himself before breaking down.
(Source: lllussionist)
