Claude lay down on Florence’s bed. "Your parents seem pretty nice," he said, lifting his head to watch Florence booting his PC up.

"I suppose," Florence mumbled and sat down on his chair. "They must've acted like that because you kept flocking over them."

"It worked, didn't it?" he grinned, rolling to his side to get a better view of Florence.

Florence narrowed his eyes at him as he opened his game. "For the most part," he replied. "I still wonder how you got my parents that quickly on your side, but it's you we're talking about."

"You mean that in a good way, right?" Claude asked. His face dropped when Florence kept silent.

"Of course," Florence chuckled, turning to his PC screen.

Claude smirked. "It seems as if no one can resist my charm~," he said proudly.

Florence shook his head and muted Claude's talk about giving himself an ego boost. "Sure," he muttered and rolled his eyes when Claude smirked smugly at him.

He got off the bed and wrapped his arm around Florence's shoulder. "I'm sorry you have such a handsome, sexy boyfriend like me. It's not my fault people fall for me," he sighed as Florence started gaming while he was half-listening to what his "boyfriend" was saying. "Even if someone starts liking me, I'll never leave you because you're the only one for me."

Florence stopped clicking his mouse and raised a brow at him. "Have you finished?" he asked as Claude’s jaw dropped out of shock. "I still have things to do."

"Wow," Claude whispered, taking his arm off of Florence and crossing them. "I'll be calling Sydney to talk about your attitude, mister!"

He paused the game and turned his chair to Claude. "How and why do you have Sydney’s number?" Florence questioned.

"That's none of your business!" Claude whipped his head away from him. When he didn't hear Florence's reply, he took a glance at him to see Florence playing again. Claude sighed loudly and dropped himself back on Florence's bed. He rolled onto his stomach and positioned himself so he could look at the screen. "What are you playing?" he spoke after a few minutes of silence.

"League," Florence replied, cursing under his breath. He slammed his mouse on his desk and put his hands on his face out of misery. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered, slowly shaking his head.

Claude sat up straight, being a little concerned by Florence's behavior. "...What happened?"

"My team threw it all," he whispered and looked with bulging eyes at Claude. "It was such an easy mission and they fucked it up. I can't do this anymore Claude. I fucking hate this game."

"Then stop."

Florence's eyebrows shot to the roof. "Wow! Why didn't I think of that?! That's such a good idea Claude!" he laughed. Claude looked at him worried as Florence forced himself to laugh louder. As the laughter quieted down, he looked defeated at his lap.

"You done?" Florence nodded, not meeting Claude’s gaze. Claude rolled on his back and tapped the free spot next to him. "Come here." Florence stood up and sat down next to him. He rested his head on Claude’s chest and groaned loudly. "Feeling better?"

"Kind of," he mumbled and his cheeks flushed as Claude let out a low chuckle.

"It's pretty nice like this, right?" Claude spoke, looking down at Florence who was listening to Claude's calm heartbeat.

"Mhm," he hummed and covered his mouth to yawn. "Very… nice…"

In a matter of seconds, Florence fell asleep and left Claude wondering why Florence was tired around this hour. After thinking of all the possibilities, he came up with the idea that Florence was gaming till early in the morning, which didn't surprise him. "He looks so peaceful," he thought, brushing Florence's hair out of his face. "I'll wake him up later."

After a while, Florence opened his eyes and saw that the sun was setting. He heard Claude walking around and sat up straight, watching him struggle to put his hair in a bun. "Claude," Florence called.

Claude turned to him, his hands covered with hair wax. "Yes, dear?" he said, smirking at Florence's small glare.

Florence glanced at Claude’s hands and his hair. "Why aren't you going with your hair loose?"

Claude shook his head and turned back to the mirror. "You have to be glad that you never had this problem," he said and smiled at Florence who had a confused expression. "People like to ask me if they can touch my hair, so I'm trying to avoid it by doing this," he explained, holding his hands full of hair wax up and putting it in his hair. "And it looks more professional."

"But I like it when it's loose," he mumbled, picking at his shirt.

Claude glanced at him and focused back on himself in the mirror. "You'll get to see it later after I wash it. Are you helping me comb my hair later?" he asked, chuckling at Florence's eagerness. "Alright. Get changed, we still have a long evening ahead."

Florence groaned out of exhaustion and forced himself to get off the bed. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, Flory. Now hurry up before I touch you with my hands full of wax," Claude ordered and Florence dragged his feet to the bathroom.

When they both were done, they left Florence's room and walked to the main hall. They heard the idle chatter coming closer with every step they took, which made Florence a little anxious.

Claude patted his shoulder, catching Florence's attention. "Tug at my shirt or something if you need an excuse to get away from someone," he whispered as they walked through the crowd of people who were neatly dressed.

"Alright," Florence whispered back.

"Is that you Florence?!" they heard someone squeal from behind. They looked behind them and saw a woman who resembled Elisa.

"Flory? Who is that?" Claude whispered as she walked up to them. "A relative?"

"She's my aunt," he sighed and forced a smile. "Good evening- WOAH!"

Florence's aunt grabbed his hand with an iron grip and pulled him into the crowd. "You won't believe what I saw yesterday, Florence!" she began and kept rambling to herself.

Florence looked back at Claude who got abandoned. "I'll be back soon!" he promised and vanished out of sight.

Claude eyed the room and the people around him. "I really don't fit in with these rich bitches," he thought and went back to the hallway where he saw a few paintings in the afternoon.

While he was walking, he admired the decor more and questioned how he managed to get here. Claude stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the sparkling chandelier. "Wow."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Claude turned to the source of the voice and slightly furrowed his eyebrows.

"And who might you be?" he smiled at the young lady who got him out of his thoughts.

She stuck her hand out. "I'm Charlotte. It's a pleasure to meet you," she smiled.