AN: Before you read the final chapter of Loving a Lover, I'd like to apologise from the bottom of my heart for not warning you of the last chapter. I didn't realise it was actually a 'rape' scene because I guess that's not what I intended it to be. Again, I'm really really sorry. Please forgive me

The first thing Francis does the day after his confession is a mistake. He is humiliated, heartbroken, and lost; he decides that there is no way he can go see Arthur so soon after his heart has been torn to pieces by his one and only.

"There is time. He'll come around." Francis convinces himself over a bottle of cheap wine.

This decision costs him.

A week later finds Francis at Arthur's door, incessantly knocking and calling out to the Brit. He says they need to talk; he says that Arthur must listen to him before committing to leaving the Frenchman out of his life.

No one answers the door and no one enters or leaves the house the rest of the day as Francis sits out on the steps. Not even a customer shows up and this, though it should comfort him, scares Francis most of all.

"Where is he?" Francis grabs a hold of Gilbert's coat collar, shaking him almost madly, "Where is Arthur?"

Francis had expected to find the German in the bar where he had heard of the pale man's love for Arthur. There had been doubt that he'd actually see Gilbert, though, especially after the man had disappeared for a while-not including the one night that he'd had his first fight with the Briton.

But now there was hope that he would finally find Arthur after weeks of trying. Soon, he'd know his love's whereabouts and they would be able to fix things between them and start their life together without lies and the need of money to keep them together.

Gilbert's look of pity crushes Francis' hopes before the too calm man answers. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since he called me."

"Called you?" Francis lets go of Gilbert and sits back, allowing the other to take a seat before him. "When? What did he say?"

Gilbert clears his throat and Francis swears the man before him could not be Gilbert for he is too solemn to be so. "The night that you hurt him."

Francis' heart twists painfully. Could it be possible to die from this heartbreak?

"He called me, begged me to show up at his house. Arthur told me what you did; told me about your confession and his dismissal of you and your feelings."

"And then?"

"I couldn't take his crying anymore. I," Gilbert's hand forms a fist and his jaw clenches," I told him, Francis. I finally told Arthur I loved him."

Gilbert continues to speak, imagining the night and Arthur's expression when he'd finally heard of his love. It is for naught though because Francis isn't listening anymore. If Arthur had to choose between Francis, a man who bought him night after night, or Gilbert, a friend who had taken care of him and loved him for years, there was no doubt Arthur would choose the German. Arthur did care about him a lot after all.

For months, Francis goes through the motions of living. For a brokenhearted man, he seems to be doing well to anyone who interacts with him. Inside his home, it's a different story. Francis stays in bed for most of his mornings-sometimes he doesn't leave his bedroom at all- when he has nothing to do. If he indeed still cares about something, it's his job and the money it brings him.

Would Arthur come back if I can buy him back? The desperate Frenchman wonders as he finally leaves his bed at two in the afternoon on a cloudy, quiet Saturday.

Francis puts his hair up in a messy low ponytail after brushing it and changes into a too large t-shirt and sweatpants. He eats a piece of fruit and is about to look through the rest of his kitchen in hopes of finding some wine or maybe something decent to eat.

It doesn't really matter, as long as he's doing something to distract him if even for a few seconds.

Suddenly there is a knock at his door and he is tempted to ignore it but it could be his cousin trying to help him again in any way he is capable of. Someone to speak with would be a very nice distraction every now and again.

"Coming!" Francis yells out as the person knocks again and he yawns as he walks to the door, "Yes?"

Now, had Francis found the bottle of wine and had poured himself a glass, he would have dropped it in shock and the glass would have shattered deafeningly loud in the otherwise silent house. Right in front of the Frenchman stood the only Englishman that had ever mattered to him.

"Arthur." Francis breathes out, managing to hold himself back from pulling Arthur close and never letting him go again.

Arthur gives a nod in greeting, his expression staying committed to hiding whatever he might be feeling at the moment. "May I come in?"

Francis nods and steps aside.

Once Arthur is inside, he turns to the other and speaks before the Frenchman can even close the door. In fact, his words make the other stop for a second, even his breathing stops but he composes himself.

"Gilbert loved me, and I loved him." Francis slowly lets the door close but doesn't turn to face Arthur. The words are painfully piercing his heart, his soul.

"I hurt him, Francis. All these years and I asked him to be my first. I had told him it was because he was my best friend but the truth is, I honestly loved him but I didn't think he loved me like that. I didn't believe I was good enough for true feelings of love much less when I was going to be selling myself."

"Do you still love him?" Francis finally speaks and even though his voice is barely above a whisper, it sounds like the loudest yelling in their life. Everything is too still as if the world had stopped turning in order to find them time. Time that is only breaking Francis even more than he already was.

"I am nothing but a whore, Francis. My love for Gilbert must have been nothing," Arthur pauses, taking a deep breath, "compared to the love I feel for you because," he swallows, "because I don't want to lose you."

"I want to quit selling my body. I want to belong to my soulmate." Arthur finally admits that yes, Francis had meant more to him than just a mere customer for longer than Francis would probably ever know. All along, Arthur had felt a connection with the Frenchman and he wasn't willing to lose that. It took him months to realise he it, but better late than sorry. Right?

Francis turns halfway before stopping, not daring to hope this is anything but a dream.

"I love you too." Arthur responds to Francis' confession months late and only hopes that the other still feels the same.

There is stillness-a stillness that causes Arthur's heart to clench and Francis' mind to race- until Francis finally turns to look at Arthur who has been watching him carefully, awaiting rejection as cruel as the refusal he'd given the Frenchman. Maybe Francis had figured out that he didn't want a whore after all.

It shocks Arthur to see that Francis is smiling brighter than he had ever had the pleasure to witness. The happiness that the blonde feels can be seen clearly through his eyes and Arthur can't help but smile back as his heart begins to calm down.

"You're not a whore, Arthur." Francis' smiles becomes a little sad, "You're my soulmate, my beloved, my Arthur."

Arthur's breathing hitches in his throat and tears fill his eyes for he only always wanted to be told he wasn't as dirty as he believed he was. Francis doing so is what Arthur actually needed- as he now knows.

"Never," Francis speaks as he walks closer to Arthur, wrapping his arms around him once he is close enough, "Never leave me again."

AN: It's a happy ending after all and not as vague as I had first made it in the rough draft.

Thank you for everyone who followed, reviewed, and favourited. I hope it was worth following.

Be happy, lovelies.