He's my son
A family torn apart by the tragedy of some devastating news. This is from the view of Francis (France) and about his prayers to the lord as time goes on.
Francis was a religious man, he said his prayers every night, went to church and celebrated Christian holidays with pride.
He was a married man, he had his husband, Arthur Kirkland, an old ally that grew to be much more and his son, Alfred who was still so young and innocent.
Recently the family was given some devastating news from which they could not recover. Their little boy, Alfred, had a rare form of cancer. The doctors said there was no cure. Young Alfred had only a few more months to live.
Francis had spent every night in prayer. 'I'm down on my knees again tonight… I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right…' he thought, looking up to the ceiling.
"Lord, there is a boy that needs your help" he started, looking at a photograph of his beautiful son on the nightstand and sighing "I've done… all that I can do myself".
He looks across the room and we see Arthur sitting on the floor beside his sons bed, rubbing his head gently as he slept and holding his hand. Francis looked on with sadness "His mother is tired… I'm sure you can understand. Each night as he sleeps, he goes in to hold his hand...".
Francis looked back and saw the same scene as usual. Arthur's tries not to cry, watching his beautiful little boy fade away day by day, as the tears fill his eyes.
"Can you hear me?" Francis asked desperately, looking out the window to the blanket of stars for the lord to respond, wondering if he was getting through tonight. "Can you see him? Can you make him feel alright?" he begged, knowing his poor young son was suffering more and more everyday.
"Lord, if you can hear me, let me take his place somehow…" he then looked back at his sons room and continued "see… he's not just anyone… he's my son…".
France stood up and walked over to his sons room, meeting his lover who was just leaving there at the door and holding him close, telling him everything would be alright.
He walked into the room and stood next to his sons bed. Sometimes late at night, Francis would watch him sleep, dreaming of the boy Alfred would like to be.
A tear escapes his eye and he rubs it away and looks to the ceiling, continuing his prayer "I try to be strong and see him through… but lord… who he needs right now is you".
He kneels down beside his sons bed and kisses him on the forehead. He then holds his delicate little hand and prays.
"Please, Let him grow old, leave life without this fear…".
He then runs a hand through his young ones hair and said quietly "What would I be… living without him here".
Three months passed and Alfred was fading quickly, he was now lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and barely conscious.
Arthur had finally fallen asleep in the chair next to his little boys bed and Francis looked out the window, spotting the north star shining bright, he prayed to it.
"lord, he's so tired… and he's scared… please, let him know that your there…".
Francis looked back at his sons bed and looked at his pain expression, he knew his baby wasn't long for this world.
"Can you hear me? Am I getting through tonight?". The machines start to beep loudly and Arthur wakes quickly as Francis runs across the room to his sons bedside, doctors and nurses everywhere.
"Please lord can you see him? Please, can you make him feel alright?". Alfreds tiny body began to shake and Arthur grabbed his hand, whispering soothing words and hugging him close.
"Lord, If you can hear me!, please!, let me take his place somehow! He's now just anyone!-".
An hour passed and the doctors and nurses started leaving the room, warning they did all they could, but they could do no more, saying that they should say goodbye now.
Arthur cried silent tears as he held his son, Francis sitting on the other side of the bed and wrapping his arms around the two of them.
"Can you hear me?" he asked in a quaking voice, looking to the sky once more.
"… can you see him" He said quietly, tears running down his face as he watched his little boys chest rise and fall slower and slower.
"Please don't leave him" He cried as his son took one last shuddering breath, leaving the world in the arms of his parents who love him.
"… he's my… son…".
So yeah, the song this came about from was "He's my son" by 'Mark Schultz', one of the few songs on this planet that brings a tear to my eye every time I hear it… it's heart wrenching…
So, as a fan of this beautiful song I had to use it in a fic to share it with the world a bit more, as a lover of FrUk I needed something with them in it and as a girl having an off week I felt like writing something sad and heartbreaking.
So yes, please R&R and I hope it didn't suck too much… as my song fics tend to (according to friends…).