#( malcolm )

You were looking for a new vinyl in the rock section and had noticed him in the corner of your eye. But as usual, you pretended not to care and focused on your search instead, your eyes traveling across the myriad of discs and artists' names.

You reached for a particularly interesting vinyl when someone's hand accidentally brushed yours. You looked up, moving your hand away from the vinyl like it was about to bite you.

It was him, his blue eyes set on you, his hand still hovering near the vinyl you had both seemingly went for. He was slightly taller. Your body froze when a smile graced his lips, his eyes still set on you before he seemed to regain composure.

“Oh, sorry” he said, voice sounding both younger and firmer than you thought it would be.

“No- it's me, sorry” you dismissed, looking shyly to the floor, heartbeat quickening.

He was cute, cute. He wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt, looking casual yet something in his demeanor — the way he stood straight, the way he moved — felt like he was older than he looked.

“You've got good taste” he said, head motioning to the vinyl that had led to your conversation.

“Thanks, so do you” you finally looked up at him to see his eyes hadn't left your figure.

He moved his hand away from the culprit to present it to you.

“I'm Francis, by the way. What's your name?”

You introduced yourself and he repeated your name with an endearing dumb expression of awe on his face.

“I've never seen you before” he noted, eager to get the conversation going. “'Are you from 'round here?”

“I've recently moved” you explained, grateful he kept the conversation going. “With my parents”, you added reluctantly. “Have you always lived here?”

He told you he had, and had recently come back from military school (that explained why he looked more mature) but he was indeed 20, just like you. When the conversation died down and you looked around, assessing the store one last time before leaving, Francis' voice piped up once more, almost desperate.

“If you're free right now, I could show you around the mall?” he suggested, half expecting you to turn him down, trying to sound casual.

But you weren't eager to go back home so soon so you jumped on the occasion, your smile widening. The sight had Francis' heart making an olympic-level jump in his chest.

“Sure!”.

The two of you left the record store, the coveted vinyl long forgotten, and walked around the mall. Spring was right around the corner, meaning the sun was out, shining strong, warming bodies but it wasn't hot enough to air-condition the mall. When you passed by a store, Francis bought the two of you cola, your fingers brushing his as you reached for the can he offered you.

“Thanks” you smiled and Francis knew he wanted to be the reason you smiled for the rest of his life. “So, is that where you usually spend your Saturdays?”

“I used to, a lot, back in high school” he explained, as his steps matched yours, the two of you taking your sweet, sweet time ambling mindlessly. “Especially with my brothers.”

You nodded. You would've asked about his brothers and family but you knew this would be the gateway for him to return the questions and inquire about yours, which was the last thing you wanted to talk about. Little did you know neither did he.

“And what do you do, now that you've come back from military school?” you peered at him over your sip of cola.

“Uh… well, I'm looking for a job.” To move out as soon as possible, he was about to add but refrained to. “How about you?”

“Yeah, I see” you nodded in agreement. “I'm actually in college, now.”

“Oh, what do you study?” he inquired, surprised.

"Law”.

His eyebrows comically shot up, an intrigued smirk tugging at his lips. Beautiful and smart, he thought to himself. He could never, ever be up to your level.

You took in his smile, your heart making a leap, grateful for the crisp coke in your hand cooling you down. You both walked straight to the mall's exit, your stroll coming to a natural end, and your heart immediately sank at the idea of having to leave.

Once outside, Francis' blond hair shined bright under the sun and you felt as though you were in summer, his blue eyes reminiscent of the sea, his smile lingering like the afterthought of a joke he hadn't said yet. If love at first sight was a thing, then this was it, because you were down bad.

“I really enjoyed that, thank you for taking pity on me and showing me around” you said honestly, eyes flickering all over his face.

His mouth went dry under your scrutiny. The sun brought out your eye color so strongly he knew he wouldn't be able to think of anything else for a long, long time. He couldn't let you go. He wouldn't.

“We should do this again. How about next Saturday? I could take you to a movie” he shrugged, like it wasn't a full-on date he was proposing.

"Yes!” you immediately accepted. Whether he was being friendly or hitting on you, you didn't want to miss the chance of making a new friend in town. He gave you his home number and you both went your separate ways.

When you arrived home, you were faced with a dilemma.

When is the right time to call when a guy gives you a number? The same day? The day after? Or the day of your date meeting?

You decided not to call, partly because you didn't want your parents eavesdropping on your conversation, partly because you didn't want to seem desperate.

For the next five days, Francis asked Lois, Hal, and his brothers whether or not someone had asked for him on the phone. They all noticed the way his head perked up from his lounging position on the living room's couch each time the phone rang. But whenever they inquired about it, he would immediately become elusive, sometimes straight up mean.

Finally the next Friday rolled around and you decided to call to ensure you were still meeting at the mall the next morning.

You dialed the phone number when the living room was empty, your parents off who knows where, and waited.

It rang once. Twice. Thre-

“Hello?” it was a young man's voice, definitely not Francis'. Probably one of his brothers, you recalled.

“Hi, could I please speak with Francis?”

“Who are you?”

Ok, rude. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“Tell him it's the girl from the ma-”

You heard a voice shout and a faint “give me that, idiot!” followed by a small "ow!” on the other side of the line and then-

“Hey!” it was Francis' voice. He said your name. “I'm glad you called, I was beginning to worry you'd lost the number”.

He immediately silently cursed himself when the words escaped his mouth. So not cool.

He sighed in relief when he heard your genuine laugh on the other side of the line.

“I didn't know when to call” you admitted, partly out of pity for his evident embarrassment. “Are we still, uh… meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure, let's say 11am at the mall?”

“Perfect, see ya.”

“See ya, bye.”

You hung up and had to hold a happy scream in. You jumped in place in excitement before finally going back to your room. Ok, now, what should you wear for tomorrow?

Back at the Wilkersons', the smile looming on Francis' face could only be seen as sly from Lois' perspective.

“What're you doing at the mall tomorrow?” Lois' voice came out sharp, judgment ready to bounce off of anything he could say.

Francis sighed and turned around to face his mother.

“I got a job interview” the lie came out naturally as he rolled his eyes.

Lois' expression turned stunned.

“Francis, really? That's amazing… !” said Lois as she went back to her room, already telling Hal the happy news, shock evident in her voice.

Once out of earshot, Francis immediately turned to Malcolm who had been the one to pick up your call in the first place.

“If you say anything to anyone I'll personally make sure everyone knows you had started a journal after bounding with mom” he glared, ready to seal his promise with an ass-beating.

Malcolm's shit-eating grin immediately faltered.

“So unfair” he whispered to himself as he went back to his own room, leaving Francis with a ridiculous smile on his face and an erratic heartbeat at the idea of seeing you again.

You noticed the blonde man leaning against the wall from a few feet away. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, and you were relieved that you hadn’t over-dressed yourself (jeans, a tank top, and your favorite jacket). He also wore sunglasses which made him look way more intimidating than he actually was.

The second he saw you getting closer, his posture changed, as he held his shoulders back, pushed himself off of the wall and waved at you. Once you were standing at arms length, unsure how to greet him, he took the chance to give you a once over, an approving twinkle in his eyes when he removed his sunglasses.

“Hey, you look great!” he said, looking at your entire figure again.

“Thanks, so do you!” you tried to make it sound friendly and not as down bad as you felt deep down.

You both walked inside the mall, letting Francis guide you to the cinema. Your shoulders occasionally brushed as you ambled side by side, allowing you to get a whiff of his cologne. The two of you fell into easy conversation as he asked you about your favorite film genre, favorite artists, and your hobbies. It felt truly refreshing and almost foreign to talk with somebody who listened, truly listened to you.

Your ex boyfriend had the attention span of a fish, almost never letting you finish your thoughts and only listening to you when the subject matter was him. You had grown accustomed to feeling like you were talking to a wall the minute you talked for, god-forbid, longer than thirty seconds about something other than his person.

Now, you had the awful habit of tracking people's face to make sure you weren't oversharing or boring them. Francis noticed how you peeked discreet glances at him between sentences like you were worried he might not be truly listening. Except he was, and your heart ached in bittersweet surprise when you saw his attention was on you, full and undivided. He nodded, engaged with and reacted to everything you said.

Being with him felt so easy not even silence made you feel uncomfortable anymore. It quickly dawned on you that there was un underlying and silent understanding between the two of you yet you couldn't pinpoint how or why that was.

That's how you discovered you had very similar music tastes and that he was overall quite in tune with the current culture of your times. The two of you had gone from talking about music and films to politics and the state of the U.S within 10 minutes. Both of you had so much to say to one another, like you were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years, that it is almost reluctantly that you piped down for the film.

Sitting so close to each other in silence felt even better than walking side by side talking. Your shoulders definitely brushed all the time now, and your fingers accidentally intertwined more than once when you both reached for the popcorn. Each time, you wished for it to happen again, and each time a jolt of electricity coursed through you.

Francis could hardly take his eyes off of you. There was a time (just a few years ago, truthfully), when he wouldn't have waited until the next date to make a move or full-on sleep with girls. But it felt different with you, not because you deserved more 'respect' or whatever, but simply because the connection felt real and… deeper. He didn't want to screw this up.

When the film was over, the two of you length fully discussed it, sharing your opinions on the ending, on the plot and on the actors. Francis' opinion differed from your own but you could understand each other's points of view.

When you passed by a video games store, Francis chuckled. Eyebrows furrowing, you sent him a questioning look.

“What is it?” you asked, a smile slowly creeping up your own face.

God, his smile was so contagious.

“Nothin', I, uh… I once got arrested in that store” he shrugged, half-ashamed, half-amused by the anecdote. He tried to gauge your reaction from the corner of his eyes. Would you think less of him for this anecdote? And if it were the case, what would be of the three hundred other ones he had in store?

You chuckled, definitely amused, and Francis released a sigh he didn't know he withheld.

“Shit, why?” you laughed.

“Stole a game” he grimaced, still scanning your features.

“My, my, have you the makings of a bad boy, Francis?” you mused jokingly.

His heart stuttered at the sound of his name coming from your beautiful lips. He knew he would do anything you asked him to just to hear you say his name again.

“Actually… I was a real brat when I was younger. 'Ts why my parents sent me to military school.” he admitted, still testing the waters.

You nodded slowly, understanding the subtext — and trying to imagine of what it exactly consisted without sounding invading.

“So… a rebel?” you guessed.

“Eh… Something like that” he bobbed his head. “I think I just enjoyed giving them shit because I didn't really feel… seen.”

When he realized how deep this sounded, he quickly dismissed it with a shrug, not wanting to ruin the mood. But your eyes were set on him and they didn't convey contempt or shock but… understanding. He felt his embarrassment melt away, a sense of calm washing over him.

“I get it. I've felt this way too, in my family” your words finally came out, voice softer than he’d heard it yet and he could tell you were saying the truth.

Five minutes later, the two of you were cracking jokes together, Francis stealing glances to watch you laugh every single time.

Over lunch, he told you a few stories about his time at the military school, most of them being so insane you didn’t know whether you had to cry or laugh about the things he had endured over there.

A little while later, you walked into random stores to crack more jokes and comment on the things you saw — games, books, movie tapes. One second you were telling him about a particularly bad movie you’d seen, the next you were talking to a stranger. You looked around, any trace of Francis gone.

“Francis?” you called, eyes darting around the store.

“Sssh!!”

Something yanked you from your sleeve until you were crouching behind a shelf next to Francis.

“What-“

He brought his hand up to cover your mouth and your heart stuttered at the contact. The softness of your lips on his hand had him making a double take to look at you, the silliness of the situation fully dawning on him. He slowly removed his hand, mouthing a silent and incredibly hot “sorry”.

“I thought I saw my mom and brothers” he explained as he helped you stand back up next to him.

He knew it was silly and that you didn’t deserve to be hidden. But it was exactly because you were the picture of perfection that he could never introduce you to them. You’d probably run off and move cities if not countries if you did.

He couldn’t tell you felt the exact same way, especially with having a father unable to be stable or save money.

So the both of you were stuck in a half-lie, half-truth about your childhood and family situation.

For those few seconds during which you stood close to Francis after he’d helped you back up, his hand lingered over yours and your eyes locked. The proximity had you basking in his blue eyes, adrenaline coursing through you. You realized that maybe, all of this was only in your head. That probably, in fact, you were imagining things and that Francis was just a friendly guy. Then, a nearby kid dropped his toy on the floor, startling you and bursting the bubble you were in.

When Francis moved his hand away, yours felt immediately cold like it didn’t know it had needed his warmth during all the years before you met.

“Well…” you broke the awkward silence. “I’m actually meeting a friend in half an hour so I should probably…” you trailed off.

“Oh, yeah, sure, no, of course” he mumbled quickly, shaking his head vigorously. “I, uh… I had an amazing time with you, uh… I’ll call you”.

Was he blushing? He seemed so panicked you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. You did an awkward wave as a goodbye and exited the store.

Ten minutes later, Francis realized he couldn’t call you because he didn’t have your number. You had his. So you were going to spend the next few days waiting for a call that would never arrive.

“Fuck!” Francis whispered. Not only did he fumble you, he also had to come up with a lie as to why he didn’t get the job he was supposedly interviewing for today at the mall.

He was so screwed.

Obviously, you didn’t hear from him again. By Friday night, as you got ready to head to a party a friend had invited you to, you’d given up on your hopes altogether. Clearly, you had misread his whole demeanor. How could you ever think he was into you?

While you were a little bummed out by the situation, you were glad you could still fend for yourself, what with you getting invited to a party so soon after you moved here. You’d been invited by James, an old high-school friend who’d moved here as well and went to the same college as you. All in all, excitement overtook your disappointment when you arrived in front of his house.

The music boomed through the walls and the floor, as a complete stranger opened the door to greet you in.

“Where’s James?” you asked, hanging onto the only familiar person there was.

The stranger, a girl with an empty cup in her hand, motioned to the kitchen. You made your way through the crowd, a mixture of faces, alcohol and laughs, until you recognized his familiar black hair and back. When you stepped close enough for him to see you, he gave you a short friendly hug before introducing you to the two boys who stood next to him.

The first one was tall, also a brunette, and had gorgeous freckles all over his face. You didn't quite register his name with all the noise but when you turned to look at the second boy, you almost blacked out.

Blonde, tall, and very cute. Your blood ran cold.

“And this is Francis” said James, his hand still hovering near your shoulders for support.

Francis' heart did a jump in his chest at your familiar face but wasn't too fond of the way James had hugged you a few seconds ago. Was he missing something there? Were you guys together?

“Uh, yeah, we- we know each other” you managed to say, eyes still locked in his.

You didn't know whether or not he was happy to see you. Your breath hitched but you managed to fake a smile.

“Really? That's cool as fuck!” said James happily before he was called by someone else from the living room. He excused himself and the other brunette left with him, leaving you alone with Francis.

An awkward silence befell the two of you, as you pretended to take a sip of your drink while looking at the other party members.

Francis, on the other hand, racked his brain to come up with something cool to say, and not sound totally hopeless but when you caught his eyes on you and held the eye-contact, his mind short-circuited and he spluttered:

“I forgot I didn't have your number but you had mine and didn't know how to reach you, I'm sorry”.

You sighed in relief under his cool blue eyes that flickered all over your face and body.

“It's fine, y'know, you didn't have to feel obligated-” you started.

“No, no, I mean it!” he said with vehemence. The hug James gave you flashed suddenly in his mind and before he knew it, the words spilled out of his mouth: “I really like you”.

The cup you held stopped midway to your lips, your body freezing for a good second. The look of desperation on his face was so endearing.

“Really?” your said, disbelieving.

Before you could register anything, his lips crashed into yours with a suddenness neither of you had expected. The kiss was brief and sweet and you barely had time to melt into it that he already pulled away, an apologetic look on his face like his confidence wavered as quickly as it had overtook him.

“Sorry, I, uh…” his eyes darted to the floor then back up to your face.

You stood on your tip toes to kiss him again, silencing him once and for all, your mind saturated by the softness of his lips, the smell of his cologne and the aftertaste of alcohol. You felt his hands instinctively wrap around your waist, his hold firm and keeping you upright like he was the lighthouse in the sea of your life. The music, the people around, the fact you weren't in your own house, it all faded away like it was a distant memory. As you kissed, one of his hands moved to your upper back, drawing soothing circles that had you weak at the knees and wanting so much more.

At last, the two of you broke apart, his eyes rendered darker by whatever consuming desire had risen in him, yours deliciously taking in the sight of his face.

You hadn't been able to talk much about the kiss afterwards, though, because Francis' old friends came by and while he tried to include you as much as possible in the conversation, amid all the embarrassment of his friends recalling his old bratty and lowkey illegal younger years, you obviously couldn't benefit from any privacy now.

Eventually, you had to leave. Needless to say, Francis was grateful for his mom's car when you accepted to get a ride home.

The city streets were empty as you watched the street lights fade in and out of your view, sat on the passenger side, still as a statue, expression unreadable. The radio played faintly and your mind couldn't stop playing your earlier kiss on loop.

And Francis? Oh, he was over the moon. His hands fidgeted on the steering wheel, his face was hot (since when was it so hot in this car?!). He kept peeking glances to read your expression, on the corner of his eyes but you looked calm, pleased… and you were quiet. And while Francis had never minded being quiet with you, this time the air felt charged with something electric, unsaid and exciting.

This was his chance. His chance to make you his. His chance to claim you and declare his love. Yet every time he opened his mouth, he thought about how perfect you were, how beautiful, how talented and smart, and how lame his family was.

“Man, James was really wasted, wasn't he?” he finally said.

Your whirlwind of thoughts stilled as you turned to look at him. You'd been waiting for him to say something, you just didn't think he would come up with that. A chuckle escaped your lips nonetheless as you recalled your brunette friend.

“Yeah, totally. Don't even know where he ended up being when we left” your voice came out lower than he’d heard it yet, your words slower too.

You were tired, and frankly done with putting a strain on your voice all the time. It felt odd not having to force your voice to be louder than it naturally was. You’d always talked louder around people out of fear they would be dismissive of your words, like your volume could compensate for their lack of listening. It always felt like this with your friends, and your parents too. But it didn’t feel this way with Francis.

Francis looked at you. Saw you. Always listened intently.

Tonight wasn’t any different. You felt your shoulders relax, and any embarrassment related to your lack of certainty about where you stood with the blonde man smoothed into the simple joy of being next to him.

Maybe this was enough. Maybe just sitting next to him was good enough. Maybe you shouldn’t be greedy.

A surge of honesty overtook you.

When he didn't say anything else, you added: “Thanks, by the way, for the ride. You really didn't have to. I might…” you thought a second before you finally let go of (almost) all pretense, “My father’s gonna give me so much shit” you sighed, covering your eyes with your hands.

His brows knitted when he recognized that expression on your face: that ultimate despair at the idea of facing a parent. His curiosity got the best of his quiet promise that he would never bring families up.

“Why?”

The question hung in the air, curious, so quiet it was soft. His voice was soft. You liked his voice.

“Because I was supposed to leave that party like, two hours ago.”

You shook your head.

“I’m so tired of him always following my every move!” you couldn’t stop your complaining now. It felt so good letting it out, even if you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“Yeah I get that. My mom still does it although I’m a fucking adult now”.

Your head snapped in his direction. That tone of his voice, the exasperation…

“Yeah, exactly!” you agreed. Did he just put words on what you’ve been feeling for the last few years?

“I went to military school, I’m trying to find a job, I stopped hanging out with my loser friends and it’s still not enough. She’s never satisfied.” he added, feeling a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“Same here! I literally did my best in school, graduated valedictorian from high school, went to law school, and they still think I can't make good decisions on my own! I'm tired of being babied by parents I had to raise!”

A heavy silence followed your last sentence, the realization hitting you both like a slap in the face. Your chest heaved slightly in anger, as you got lost in Francis' eyes. The car stopped at a red-light, allowing him to take your features in, your words echoing in his mind as much as yours.

He kissed you.

And this time, the kiss didn't feel like any other kiss. This kiss was a way to say: I see you, I hear you, I feel for you. I understand you. I love you.

The door behind which you hid your family all these years cracked open. Just a slit, barely wide enough to see anything and yet… You knew there was no coming back from this. You knew you'd have to be honest and come clean (eventually) with Francis.

The both of you pulled away when the light turned green. Francis drove again, but not before taking a good look at you, his heart fluttering with something he wasn't really familiar with.

“I really like you” he finally said, a deer-caught-in-headlights look on his face. This was the second time he said that tonight. Did he mean to say something more?

You smiled, for real this time and shifted a little closer.

“Me too.”

“Will-can you be my girlfriend?” he spluttered.

The thing about Francis is, that man might be terrible with his words but god, was he good at taking action, you thought as you recalled the kiss(es).

“Yes”.

Lois was the first to notice Francis’ newfound happy mood. Then his brothers noticed too. And eventually, Hal did. Until one dinner Lois broke the ice when she noticed how quiet her eldest son was:

“Ok, who is she?”

Francis’ eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Who?” he asked, almost cheekily, chewing his food.

“Your girlfriend. You obviously have been seeing someone, that’s the only reason why you haven’t been mistreating your brothers lately!” she shrugged her shoulders, unimpressed.

Francis rolled his eyes but his heart fluttered at the thought of you. There was no way in hell he was going to tell his family about you, though. The last thing he wanted was for them to ruin it.

And so the two of you saw each other more and more, spending evenings at the cinema, weekends at the mall, and sunny afternoons in parks. For the first time in forever, you felt loved when together, and missed when separated.

Francis never hid how pathetic he truly was for you, or at least did a terrible job at it. But you liked it. You liked him. No, scratch that, you loved him. Because you'd come clean about how fucked up your upbringing had been, how bad your father had been as head of the family, and how little privacy you'd grown to have.

And he still loved you, even related to you, and what was once a source of shame was now understood and somehow made easier to live with, almost normal. Yes, dysfunctional families do exist. Yes, it's fine to be from one of them. And yes, you can break the cycle.

But soon enough, Francis' new habit of missing dinners, spending his weekends outside, and overt happiness confirmed his family's suspicion. Was it really a surprise his brothers decided to follow him to the park one weekend and saw a beautiful young girl by his side being all cuddly and-

“Ugh, gross” Reese spat, behind the tree from which he and Malcolm hid, when the two of you kissed.

“She's pretty!” said Malcolm, disbelieving his brother had successfully found a girl like you.

“Mom was right”.

“Of course she was, it was obvious” Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“He's gonna eat shit” said Reese with an evil smile.

When Francis came back home that night, and went to his brothers' room to annoy them, he was faced with two sly younger brothers.

“We saw her” said Reese. "She's really pretty. I wonder what mom's gonna think when she finds out you've been hiding us from her.”

“Hey, do you wanna catch these hands, for old-time's sake?” warned Francis, alluding to his old days of mistreating Malcolm and Reese.

“You won't do anything because you've changed, now. For your little girlfriend” mocked Malcolm with a grin that matched Reese's.

“Aha, so you do have a girlfriend!”

The three of them turned around. Lois had overheard, standing triumphantly by the door, arms crossed over her chest.

“Bring her over for dinner, Saturday, end of discussion.” she said as she turned around, leaving no room for arguing.

When Francis turned back to face Reese and Malcolm, the both of them knew better than to rub salt into the wound and immediately fled the premises. But he didn't run after them. Because a part of him wanted to bring you over. A part of him wanted you to officially see all of him, all of his life and show you off to his family.

Because he loved you.

let me know if you guys want an epilogue of reader meeting Francis' family! it could be fun to write. hope you enjoyed this. god I love him so much. in Francis we trust 🛐🛐🛐