The land was bleak and desolate. Barren, with spots of yellow, brittle grass, cans, trash, and the occasional plastic bag rolling like a tumbleweed. That's what happens when you fight with nuclear warfare. Nothing is ever the same.
The scene looks like something out of an apocalypse movie. The sky is gray and overcast, but no rain falls. Buildings are crumbling, falling apart brick by brick. A woman peeks out from one of the broken windows of these buildings, holding a crying baby.
She tries to calm her baby as she looks around for any signs of life. There's nothing... Just dead bodies on the ground. Quickly, she dashes from the building, holding the small infant to her chest. Nothing moves, there's no sound except her feet hitting packed dirt and then they stop. She has reached the next building.
She pauses and catches her breath, looking around again before running to the next dilapidated building. She does this repeatedly, slowly making her way across the open landscape, hopping over debris.
The baby cries more, sensing its mother's distress. This isn't any way a baby should be treated. But she has no choice at the moment. It takes hours before he sees the first signs of life. There's a fence, but no security.
People can come and go as they please. But people rarely ever go out this side of the fence. She runs up to the gate with her baby, no doubt being monitored by security cameras. She runs in through the open space and into town.
The buildings here were saved from the destruction. The landscape is still barren, but with tender care, green grass is attempting to grow. She keeps running though, even though it is safer here. The baby wails louder but the mother has no time to stop for food.
She slows to a walk when she arrives in the nicer part of this safe haven. The people with slightly more money and luck live here. Who could properly care for a child.
She hates the idea of doing this. Of leaving her child with a stranger that could very well kill the baby as accept it. She can only hope the baby will have a better life here. She sets the child swaddled in a blanket on a doormat. It stops crying and stares with big, hurt eyes. She knows this is a goodbye. She will never see her baby again. She bends over to kiss its forehead and the baby whimpers.
"I love you," she whispers, "Please never try to find me."
She stands up and the baby starts crying again. She knocks on the door then runs once more. She runs a few houses down and crouches behind a row of bushes. She just has to see if the child will be accepted or rejected.
A man opens the door. He has messy blonde hair and thick eyebrows, she notices. He looks down at the child and bends to carefully pick it up. She can tell her baby stops crying when the man holds it. She wipes a few tears away as the man readily accepts the child and turns to go back inside. She whispers a silent thank you then runs back down the street. She runs out of the town and out of the gate. She is one of the few to go this way. And she hopes to never come back.
It's just a few days short of 15 years since the day a child was left on a doorstep. The man had taken the child in, raised it, cared for it, taught it everything it knew. That man is Arthur Kirkland, proud father of a child who isn't his.
He named the baby Alfred, because it seemed to suit him and sounded dignified like his own name. Alfred was currently running around the lush backyard with his friends. They were laughing and pushing and daring. Alfred was knocked into the pool and went under mid laugh.
Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement as his son came up coughing water. His friends laughed and he splashed water at them as payback.
When he had found the baby, it only seemed to be a week old. So that's what he did. He gave Alfred the birthday of a week before their meeting. After he had taken him in, he moved them across the pond, where things were better.
He had his own terrors and scars from those days, but he'd rather not relive those memories if he could help it.
Here, in England, where he rightfully belonged, he raised the boy. He was very inquisitive, always asking about his mom and his history.
"I found you on my doorstep," Arthur would say and Alfred would sigh.
"Stop lying to me. I'm not six."
"I'm not lying. It's true," he would say. It took many years to get him to understand that that's all there really was to it.
Alfred made up stories about how he was from a different planet, like Krypton, so he was a superhero in training. And Arthur let him make up those stories to fill the void in his heart.
"Arthur, I brought the cake!" a French voice said behind him. Arthur was leaning against the island in the kitchen, watching the boys through the sliding glass doors. He turned now to look as Francis set a container down on the island and lifted the lid.
'Happy 15th Birthday Alfred' was inscribed in blue icing on the homemade cake. "Not too shabby looking," Arthur said and swiped his finger over the icing trim at the bottom, then putting the finger in his mouth. "Maybe a bit sweet."
"Don't touch the cake with your dirty fingers," Francis gasped and put the cover back on, "And it's not for you anyways."
Arthur laughed a little and rolled his eyes. "Alright. Make me my own cake then."
"When it is your birthday, I will make you a cake," Francis smiled. He leaned over and kissed Arthur, licking the bit of frosting from his bottom lip. Arthur blushed slightly and stepped back.
"I look forward to it," he said after a moment. Francis was his long- term 'boyfriend' as the kids put it, although he was actually his fiancé. They'd been together for over 6 years at this point and Francis was practically a second dad to Alfred. They were planning to get married this coming fall because Francis claimed Arthur was an 'Autumn', whatever the hell that meant, and would look great in the wedding pictures with the colorful leaves.
The doorbell rang and he looked over, "Must be the pizza."
"Or another baby," Francis teased as he often did. Arthur rolled his eyes at the old joke and went to the door. He paid, took the stack of pizza boxes in his hands, and set it down on the dining room table. Paper plates and napkins were already set out so he walked to the sliding doors and called out to them.
"Boys, the pizza is here!" They all looked up like hungry animals and stampeded inside to the dining room, "Please, use plates and napkins!"
"They're young boys, Mon cher. They don't have time for plates," Francis laughed as he watched, the ones that did use a plate stacking 3 or 4 pieces onto it.
"Let's just keep them out of the family room," Arthur said, practically having a heart attack just thinking about pizza stains on his white couch.
"I'm sure we can manage that," Francis said.
Arthur nodded and watched the boys inhale the greasy food. He couldn't believe it had been so long. Francis had helped a great deal, even if he annoyed him quite often. He kept Alfred busy while he was working in the home office.
After he had left with many other survivors to England, he had gotten a small apartment. Then, after a few months, he landed a job in a corporate building. He'd had to send Alfred to daycare and couldn't spend as much time with him as he would have liked. For the first 6 years of his life anyways. After he had saved enough money, they moved to the house they lived in now. He soon received a promotion and was now able to work less hours at his own home. Which in hindsight wasn't a very good idea. Alfred annoyed him endlessly. Vying for attention, making messes, the works.
This went on for 2 years, and then he met Francis, who when he introduced to Alfred, immediately wanted to be there for him. So while Arthur worked, Francis would keep him busy. He couldn't have been more grateful. Speaking of that, there was something he'd been meaning to ask the man.
"Francis, I have a proposal for you," Arthur started.
"But I already proposed," Francis joked, "remember?"
"Yes, I very well do," he said and his face heated up at the memory, "I just meant, well, since we're getting married soon, and you spend so much time here, that it would be... uh, rather nice if you moved in?"
He felt nervous asking about this. He didn't know why, they would have to live together at some point if they would be married.
Francis smiled. "I was beginning to think that you would never ask."
"Sod off," Arthur said and elbowed him in the side.
Francis laughed and elbowed him back, which cause Arthur to do again and it quickly turned into them kissing. Don't ask him how, but this always happened.
"Ugh, dad, gross," Alfred said with pizza stuffed in his mouth.
"Don't speak with food in your mouth," Arthur said, his face flushed, as he stepped back.
"Don't talk with another tongue in your mouth," Alfred said and went back outside with his friends.
Francis laughed. "He got you there."
"Little nuisance," Arthur muttered.
"Little? He's as tall as you," Francis said.
"Shove it," Arthur rolled his eyes and went to put the empty pizza boxes near the trash, to be taken out later, "my stature has nothing to do with anything else proportionally wise on me."
"Ah, that's true," Francis grinned and winked.
"Don't you have something to do other than bother me?"
"I could do you," Francis said and grabbed Arthur's hand, making him stumble into him.
Arthur's face turned a light shade of red. "Um, other than that..."
"Nothing I have planned," Francis smiled and twined their fingers together.
"Very well," Arthur gave an exaggerated sigh and pressed close to Francis, kissing him lightly on to the lips, "but for now we should really be making sure no one gets hurt."
Francis smiled and nodded. "I know how rough boys can be," he laughed and squeezed Arthur's ass.
"Why you-!" He didn't even get to finish his sentence as Francis walked outside with a flourish. That damned Frog. Sometimes he wanted to get rid of him. But, he knew he loved the man more than he could ever hate him. And that's why he trusted Francis with his life.
The day went off without a hitch- almost. They ate cake and ice cream, played video games, and acted like regular teenage boys.
Then, near the time the last few people were leaving, Alfred decided to something stupid.
Arthur didn't so much see it as hear it. The "vroom" of an engine, loud laughing, and then the engine revving as it faded away. Then the tires squealed against the road to stop. He never heard the sick thud, but he could certainly imagine it as he ran over to investigate the incident.
"What happened?" he asked one of the two boys, glaring death at them.
One looked at the ground defiantly while the other squirmed under his gaze and broke. "We saw this thing on TV where the guy hung onto the back of the car as someone drove and he fell off and it was hilarious. And then Al wanted to try it, saying that he totally wouldn't fall off. So we were like, yeah, sounds sweet. So we did it and he kinda fell off..."
"I'm fine! Totally fine," Alfred said as he shakily stood with the ever- present grin.
"You idiots," Arthur sighed and looked over his son. His knees and elbows were scraped and his nose was bleeding. "Where are your glasses?"
"Uh..." Alfred felt his face in a mild panic and scanned over the ground, "right there!" He said and stepped over to grab them but he misjudged the distance and stepped on them, the frame crunching beneath his feet. "Oh shit..."
"Shit is right," Arthur sighed and Alfred bent to pick up the pieces. He turned to the other two, "You boys best be getting home before I tell your parents what you did. Honestly, endangering a person's life from something you saw on TV." He shook his head.
They nodded and got in the car, driving away. He grabbed Alfred's wrist and led him out of the street and down the block. "I thought I raised you better."
"Guess you didn't," Alfred said cheekily.
"Use that tone with me again and I'll make you pay for your new glasses."
"Sorry," Alfred muttered.
"Apology accepted. We'll go in the morning to see what we can do, now go get washed up for bed."
"Okay," Alfred said and dashed inside.
Hello dear readers! I'm back with a new multi-chapter, just as promised! Yes, it's another FACE family (minus Matthew), because I can't get enough of them! This story is set in the year 2031 and it's a post war setting, which you will find out the war next chapter. The view points are from Arthur (lots of backstory from him) and Alfred, although I may throw another person in at some point. There is a plot, but it doesn't really start until next chapter, so please stick around for it! This was just character development, I swear.
On a side note, finals for me are in 2 weeks and then it's summer, so I'm definitely not going to say I'll update on a certain day because I'll most likely break it. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this!