Welcome to Paradise
Matthew (Canada) and Francis (France)
There was never a time that Matthew could recall feeling so lousy. Not once. He clicked off the television and slumped down in the couch. Thinking that maybe if he did it long enough … just maybe, he would sink into the cushions and fall into an alternate universe where his country was not so immensely disgraceful. Or, if he was lucky, did not exist.
Even with all of the attention being received because of the 2010 G20 Summit, everyone was still able to overlook the reality of his situation. He was broke, his deficit was in a terrible state and even when things seemed to get better, they got horribly, horribly worse. And his people were lazy! Too busy with their own problems to deal with political issues!
The front door creaked open and Matthew panicked, quickly shoving aside his problems and focusing on the beer, vodka, cigarette butts and overflowing astray that were sprawled along the coffee table.
With the speed of a rampaging moose he swiped the waste into a garbage bag that was lying on the floor next to mess, tossed the bag into the kitchen and ducked into his bedroom.
_ Boy Does Life Suck. As Our Precious Matthew Would Say: FML _
"Mathieu? Mattie are you home? Sacrebleu! It smells awful!"
Francis's eyes trailed along the floor until they crossed paths with an empty vodka bottle on the carpet. He gasped and shuffled over to it, pinching the bottle between his index finger and thumb and lifting it off the floor. He examined it, not a single drop left.
"Mattie? He called, a little worried.
_ Boy Does Life Suck. As Our Precious Matthew Would Say: FML _
It was Francis. Of all the days that the horny ass nation had to visit why did he have to choose such a bad one? Matthew tugged his shirt over his head and slipped his arms through. The pressure in his chest from all the cigarette smoke was killing him, he needed to cough, but if he did that-
"Mattie?"
He was getting closer.
Matthew dashed into the bathroom and rushed for his toothbrush. In two swift movments he drew a line of toothpaste on the brush and mutliated his tongue. Trying desperately to remove any traces of his morning binge. Just as his hand began descending to the hot water knob, Francis walked into the room. Matthew smiled and the toothbrush fell onto the counter.
"Mathieu! Mon amis … pourquoi?" Francis asked, clearly disappointed.
Shit! He must have seen something. Matthew wiped away the white foam ring from his mouth and tried to look innocent. He blinked distraitly.
"Quelle?"
Francis quirked an eyebrow and pulled an emtpy vodka bottle from behind his back.
Shit!
Busted.
There was no lie that could save him then, not with the proof so blatently rubbing itself in his face. If he was disappointed in him then, Matthew could only imagine his reaction to the thirteen other bottles and four empty cigarette packs. Was it four? Okay, so five. He could practically see the French man collapse from the over exposure of learning about Matthew's ways of dealing with emotional stress. There was only one thing to do.
"It's not mine," Matthew said, though it sounded more like a question than exculpation.
Francis shook his head and raised a hand. He beckoned to Matthew with a wiggle of his index finger and the lowly boy drifted over. Eyes averted. Kumajiro plopped down next to Francis's leg and rubbed his head against the older man's leg.
"Salut, ours blanc. Commentçava?"
"Ça va bien, et toi?" Kumajiro replied.
Francis shrugged. "Eh … Comme ci, comme ça."
Kumajiro got back on his hind legs and trotted away blithely. He was happy that come one had come to take the drunken fool out of his home. Now he and Ca- Ca? Who? 'Ca' who? The bear huffed; it didn't matter. The weird blonde who smelt so badly of alcohol and suicide was going to be kicked out by Mr. France.
Kumajiro froze for a moment, a brilliant idea manifested into his mind. He would thank Mr. France with a fish; a big ol' trout from up the river. Kumajiro started up again and made his way towards the back door.
_ Boy Does Life Suck. As Our Precious Matthew Would Say: FML _
Francis simply stared at Matthew, waiting for him to state his reason, but Matthew said nothing, he was too enveloped in shame.
"You better explain to me, Mathieu, why you would do something so … stupid."
He couldn't quite explain it; it was like a flare was lit inside of him. Matthew glared up at Francis and the taller man took a step back.
"Mathieu-" he began.
"Don't you call my name!" he shouted, "I did nothing wrong! You- you drink all the time and because I do this I am stupid? If anything, maybe you should look at yourself and see what a fucking drunk you are!"
Francis growled, "fermer la bouche! This-" Francis shook the bottle in front of Matthew's face, "is dirty Russian vodka! Do you dare compare wine to vodka? Wine is the drink of gods and goddesses! Wine is an eloquent and illustrious drink! Vodka is for dirty mongrels … it is a piss drink!"
Matthew struck Francis on cheek. His violet eyes were narrowed to angry slits as he glared at his elder. He had no clue why he hit Francis, but the frustration bubbled and bubbled until it could no longer contain itself and overflowed.
Francis felt his muscles stiffen; he was shocked. Did his cute, little Mattie just hit him? Francis slid the bottle onto the counter and went over to embrace Matthew. His arms held the boy firmly and, despite his thoughts, Matthew did not fight back – he accepted it and returned the gesture.
"Mathieu what is the matter?" he lulled.
Matthew buried his face deeper into Francis's shirt. His voice was muffled as he replied, "it's a long story."
Francis put his arms on Matthew's shoulders and pushed him back, he did not let go. Matthew looked up at him, and away, to the floor.
"Tell me," Francis ordered, his voice gentle.
Matthew nodded, no longer resisting.
_ Boy Does Life Suck. As Our Precious Matthew Would Say: FML _
A blush worked its way up Matthew's face, the room smelled disgusting. It was like he stepped into one of Author's pubs after a football (soccer) game. Vodka and smoke burned his lungs and he coughed. Hard.
Francis gaped. "Dear goodness, Mattie! What have you done to yourself?"
"I didn't do anything! It's my stupid people!" He snapped. Francis frowned and Matthew apologized, his voice was barely audible.
"Let us go outside. You can explain to me what is the matter in the clean Summer air."
_ Boy Does Life Suck. As Our Precious Matthew Would Say: FML _
Francis leaned forward in the patio chair and urged Matthew to tell his story. The boy nodded and took a breath.
"Okay. The reason why I've been … overdosing, I guess that is what one would call it, on alcohol and cigarettes, is because my country sucks. It fucking sucks, Francis! Do you know what it feels like to have a country that sucks so badly that it makes you sick – literally? Those damn Olympics and the G20 Summit have taken up so much money! And do you know what else? My Prime Minister thought it would impress other world leaders by creating a giant, expensive indoor lake! A lake! Do you know what one of the things, Canada is famous for? One of the things that is hard not to find here: lakes, Francis! They're everywhere! Yet the bullshiter fuck lord – pardon my language – is building a lake! What the fuck is that?
"More and more of my greenery and forests are getting ploughed down so that malls and houses can be built but why? Why do I need any more of those? There are already too many! The government is spending money on bullshit and not necessities!"
Matthew didn't know he was crying until Francis dabbed his cheek with his handkerchief and it came back wet. Francis smiled at him.
"You have all the reason to be upset, Mattie, and you still have me and my wonderful people-"
"No I don't!" Matthew interrupted. "Your damn people are trying to leave me! They want to become an independent nation! Of all of my provinces, Quebec is the most annoying!"
Francis sat silently, pondering what to say, when Kumajiro hopped up the patio stairs, a large trout locked between his jaws. He hissed at Matthew for a split second and presented the fish to Francis triumphantly.
The French man petted the bear and took the aquatic creature from him. Kumajiro sat in place, he locked eyes with Francis. Francis looked away awkwardly and Kumajiro responded by climbing onto his laps and nuzzling his nose into the man's crotch. The French man froze and Matthew watched bug-eyed.
Kumajiro licked Francis's neck.
"I love you. Breed with me," he murmured.
Francis's eye twitched. "Q-q-q-q-quelle?" he croaked.
"Breed with me you sexy man beast!"
Neither Kumajiro nor Francis noticed Matthew leave. They did not know he returned either – that is, until a hockey stick launched into the bear's side and he shot into the air, over the fence, into the forest.
Francis craned his neck to face Matthew. "Merce."
"I don't know what has gotten into him. I'm sorry, eh."
But Francis shook his head and answered, "it is fine. … Mattie?"
"Yes?"
"I want to make you happy!"
The smaller blonde's eyes darted from right to left before settling back on Francis. He gave him a quizzical look and the French man further explained.
"I want to pamper you! We will visit a spa and buy you clothing and make you beau, qui, qui! You will be truly irresistible! Like moi!"
Once Francis snapped out of his dream world, he noticed Matthew pulling back the screen door to his house.
"Mattie are you listening to me?" Francis hollered.
Matthew spun around and gave his senior a sceptical look.
"I am serious!"
"That is ridiculous, Francis. There is no amount of treatment that could make me look … pretty."
Francis shot up from the patio chair and snatched Matthew by the wrist. His free hand went skyward, he jerked Matthew forwards.
"Look up!" The French man barked. And Matthew did so.
"Do you see that?"
Matthew focused in on the empty blue sky; nothing but clouds and the occasional bird. He shook his head and replied in French, "Non." Hoping it would somehow calm Francis down but Francis shook him violently.
"A-arrêt!" Matthew wailed.
"Do not look at the sky!" He stopped shaking him. "Look beyond the sky!"
Matthew pressed his free hand to his forehead. Trying to seize the spinning. When it slowed down he looked back at the sky. Still nothing. Beyond it? Well … more sky.
"I don't get what you want me to see," he whimpered.
Francis broke his eyes away from the sky and put them on Matthew, a little annoyed. He bit his lip and huffed.
"Mattie, beyond the sky is the stars, the beholders of dreams. My dream is for you to be happy and I believe that if you look good you will feel good as well. I also believe that you wish to feel good. Let us do this together. It will be fun!" He was practically begging.
Matthew's shoulders slumped. He knew that Francis wasn't going to drop the subject, and the more he refused the more Francis would pry. It might stretch on for so long that Francis would go to the lengths of tying him up like rodeo cattle, flinging him into the backseat of his own car and forcibly making him over – Francis style.
"Fine," Matthew grunted.
Francis's face lit up and he tightened his grip on Matthew's wrist.
"Let us go!" he squealed and hauled Matthew to his car.
Sacrebleu - Dammit
Mon amis … pourquoi – My friend … why
Quelle – What
Salut, ours blanc. Commentçava – Hello, white bear. How are you
Ça va bien, et toi – I am good, and you
Comme ci, comme ça – I am okay (not exactly but it means the person is neither goor nor bad)
fermer la bouche – Close your mouth/Shut our mouth
Merce – Thank you
Beau – Beautiful (Masculine, meaning only used for boys)
Qui – Yes
Moi – Me
Non – No
Arrêt – Stop
End of Part I!
My French classes are finally coming in handy! Woot! XD
Thanks so much for reading this! I'm not really good with authors notes so again … Merce!