"Sir, but-"
Francis had had enough.
"Non. I am very sorry but you cannot ask for more money. You have already asked for two thousand dollars. You are asking for another two thousand dollars for your business which I frankly believe will fail. We are a business, not a charity. So unless you pay back most of your debt to the bank, then we will not loan you more money."
The man in front of him spluttered," B-but.. Thi-it'll work! I swear on it!"
Francis sighed and rubbed his temples before replying.
"That is what you believe, but you will need more than words to prove it.. Next!"
The same thing happened again and again, except instead of businesses, people needed money for houses, food, and other things.. Francis denied all of them. Sighing from his last encounter, he walked up from his seat and nodded at the half-hearted attempts from his co-workers at pity. They were all stressed out from the arguing, yelling, shouting; it was just too much. Francis walked outside of the stuffy building and sighed, looking up towards the cloudy sky.
"You needed a break too, amigo?"
Francis turned his head and saw his Spanish friend, Antonio.
"Oui."
Antonio gave Francis a look of sympathy. "Ah..I know how you feel. Today someone yelled at me and then he ranted about his family and his two children and how they would starve..Security had to drag him out..And this other time.."
Francis absentmindedly nodded, thinking back to a case that he had which ended like that too. The man had tried to break the glass, continually shouting about his kids and wife and how he hated 'selfish bastards such as you'.
"Don't you think.." Antonio started, staring into the distance, "Don't you think it isn't fair?"
Francis perked up in interest.
"What do you mean?"
"Well..don't you think it's unfair that the children suffer through it too?"
Francis slowly nodded as the thought processed in his mind. Come to think of it, why didn't he think of the children before?
"That is true.. "
"I wish I could do something about it..just something that could help the kids.." Antonio said before picking up a stone and throwing it to the ground nodding everything the stone .
Francis gave an understanding nod, but replied with," Well, what would you do anyways? We can't really do anything."
Antonio leaned against the door, staring up at the sky. "If I didn't work here...then I would have been a teacher.. maybe I could have helped kids better that way, si? I would have been able to take care of them more, instead of breaking the bad news to their parents about the...well...money problem..."
"Hm..well, that's true, but 'ow would you take care of yourself?"
Antonio shrugged. "I dunno. I would be happy with just the smiles of the kids. I'd even give up the shirt on my back for them."
Francis snorted. "That isn't a way to live..It would just make you disappointed when you find out you can't 'elp them anymore because you don't have enough money."
"Money doesn't matter," Antonio insisted, "Money is what got us into this problem in the first place. Now people are on the streets, cold and starved. Children are going to drop dead everyday because of how cold it'll get. Hardly anyone has the money to buy warmer material and last year's clothes won't fit. What do you think the parents will do? They already have to work and find money, some will make their kids work.. even in the cold.." Antonio shook his head. "I saw a child selling sticks today on my way here.. he was shivering so much, and the worst thing was that he looked like he was so sick he was going to fall over at any second.. Could you imagine seeing an innocent child, frozen and dead, in front of you? Could you?.." He let the question trail on, his eyes shadowed with sadness.
Francis shook his head. "Non.. but I know I will at least see one child die, maybe tonight.." Francis said softly, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. Jeanne had made sure he was well bundled up but he was stupid enough to refuse the gloves this morning. "There's nothing we can do to 'elp them. There's nothing you can do to help them. We don't 'ave enough money, we don't 'ave enough power. We are basically nothing."
"Francis, look at the ground around you. So what if I don't have enough money? I could grow tomatoes, beans, corn. And for water, I would just cut cacti and take out the water in them! There's always a solution to everything, you just have to think out of the box!" Antonio said as he gestured wildly, his spark back, "And.." He paused to take a breath before looking up at the sky with bright, hopeful eyes, contrasting with the gloomy, cold, gray sky, "And I could help them."
Francis tried to stop the smile that was creeping onto his lips. Antonio was always so optimistic, and he loved children, although sometimes Francis feared that children would be the downfall of Antonio. He'd care so much for them, he'd ignore his own well-being in favor of the children.. But instead of voicing his concerns, Francis instead shrugged helplessly, bringing his mood down again as he looked at the long line of people starting at the steps of their bank, "I'm sorry, mon ami. It's just very 'ard to right now.." He gestured to the line, full of short tempered people stretching from the steps of bank to as far as the eye could see. "And this isn't 'elping one bit.." He was dreading coming back inside and having to deal with them.
Antonio flashed him a look of understanding and fished something out of his pocket. "Maybe this will help you calm down a bit."
It was a packet of cigarettes.
"I know that Jeanne pressured you to stop," Antonio admitted," but I think just one is alright. Just to-"
"Antonio!"
The door was slammed open and Antonio and the pack of cigarettes went flying onto the dirt(wall for Antonio's case). The man who slammed opened the door frantically looked around and shouted Antonio's name twice, cursed in Spanish, and shouted for Antonio again before Antonio gracefully made his presence noticed..
"Dios mio! Miguel, I'm right here!" Antonio groaned, rubbing his pulsing head as he started to pull himself up.
The man, Miguel, pulled Antonio to his feet, making Antonio stumble and nearly fall into Miguel.
"You need to get in there now! People are angry, they're stressed, they are close to rioting unless someone gets in there now!" Miguel hissed, wildly waving his arms around. "Oh, and sorry for slamming the door in your face.." Then he turned to Francis. "One of you has to come in now!"
Francis chuckled softly at this sibling exchange. Yelling at each other in one second, then apologizing the next. Well, Miguel saw his little chuckle and yelled at him, the stress and exhaustion evident in his voice, "This isn't a time to laugh, do you want people to start a fucking riot in there?!"
Antonio smacked his brother on the head. "Don't say bad words, Miguel! I'll go, alright? Don't start exploding!"
Antonio gave Francis an apologetic look and was able to shout out," Remember, only one!" before Miguel dragged him into the bank one again. Francis glanced at the packet of cigarettes and dug in his pockets, wallet, and even the small bag which Jeanne had knitted for him (he was secretly embarrassed of showing it to people but was grateful that Jeanne had loved him so much to make him one in their hard times), trying to find something to light one of the cigarettes with.
It was alright. He'd do it just this once, it had been at least a few months since he had smoked his last cigarette.
Francis sighed sadly as he then remembered something.
"Jeanne took my lighter.."
"Matches! Matches for sale!"
A small, dirty boy, hardly dressed for the upcoming winter, was shouting over and over again as he walked down the streets, holding a box of matches in his hands. It was his daily routine. Get up, go to the soup kitchen and eat whatever the people there give him, and then go around the streets selling matches. Today was just like any other- bleak, hopeless, and growing continually cold each day. He, Matthew, didn't know what day it was currently, but it was sure that it was going to be winter soon. He walked onwards, shivering as he tried to become as small as possible to conserve body heat.
"Matches! Ma-"
Matthew was knocked to the ground by a grumbling man who only yelled 'Watch it!' before going on with his day. Matthew frantically tried to pick all of the matches up before anyone stepped on them, and hopefully he did, though, he always knew that at least a few would be lost to the soles of the giants looming above him, to caught up in their own business to even notice he was there, and they certainly did not attempt to help him either.
Shuffling, Matthew made his way through the city, his shouts slowly becoming quieter, and eventually became mere whispers. Matthew stopped in his place as he started to sniffle, his tears threatening to spill. Today was a flop. He should have guessed so with the declining sales recently. Even the people who he sold to almost daily had refused or pretended to not notice him over the last few days. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to buy a coat in time for the winter. The newspapers he had weren't warm enough for him to last the nights, only making them slightly more tolerable. He should be grateful for what he had though..but he probably wouldn't be able to survive the harsh winters..
Wiping his eyes, he decided to try at least one more time. Matthew started walking again. As he made his way through a clearing, he started to admire the shedding trees surrounding it. The pretty red leaves littered the area around them, kind of making a small unbreakable halo around them. He liked the shape of the leaves too, they looked like the stars in the sky, but instead of being forever out of reach, he could actually touch them. Often, when he found one, he would take a few minutes to wish on them. They were such a blessing against the gray sky, the gray stores, the gray everything around here really. He put the box of matches into a small pocket of his threadbare pants and clasped his hands together, something the people at the soup kitchens sometimes did when they got their food. Maybe they were wishing for more? The wind blew softly and Matthew rubbed his arms against his body, trying to get a bit of warmth, at least enough so he wasn't constantly shivering.
"Star light.." A tiny hushed voice whispered.
"Star bright.. first star I see tonight.."
"I wish I may.. I wish I might.." It continued, becoming shaky," I wish to have the wish I wish tonight.."
"I wish.. that I could meet.."
" Are you alright?"
A hand clamped onto Matthew's shoulder and on instinct, he jerked away, but stumbled and fell onto the ground. He looked up and saw a well-dressed man with blonde hair and..what color were his eyes? Blue? Or were they purple?
"Excuse me? I'm sorry for starling you..Are you okay?" The man spoke again.
Wait what? Why exactly was he talking to him? Matthew's eyes darted from side to side. There wasn't anyone behind him and the man did put his hand on his shoulder..
"A-are you talking t-to..me?"
Matthew pointed at himself. The man nodded and pointed to his shoulders.
"You're shaking..Are you cold? Or are you afraid of me?"
Matthew was confused. An adult was actually caring for him? And he was asking about his well-being.. That never happened. Unless he was one of those dangerous people. Should he trust him?
"Are you okay?"
The man asked again as he kneeled down and looked straight into Matthew's eyes, stretching his mouth slowly with every syllable while he said the words as if he thought that Matthew couldn't understand him. He seemed genuinely worried about Matthew, but just why?
Matthew stiffly nodded.
"I'm..okay.." He said.
The man didn't look convinced, his eyebrows slightly lifting.
"Are you sure?"
Matthew opened his mouth to answer, but a sudden gust of wind made him shake like a leaf. He continued to shiver, curling into a little ball.
The man's eyebrows furrowed as he came closer to Matthew, and in doing so blocked the wind. Then he took off his jacket and wrapped it around Matthew.
Why did he do that? But Matthew was thankful he did.
"Where are your parents? They should be taking care of you." The man asked, "Were you lost?"
Matthew shook his head. "No..I wasn't lost.." He said softly.
"Then what were you doing all the way out here?" The man seemed intent on finding out.
Matthew swallowed nervously. His stare was making him nervous. "Uh..I was..I was selling matches.."
The man's face dropped and suddenly, there was a sense of urgency in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Do you have a place to stay?"
It was weird that the man suddenly asked him this but Matthew quickly thought of the crate in the little hidden alleyway he stayed in now. "Uh, y-yes.."
"Is it warm or are you cold there?"
"I-it's..it's cold.." Matthew admitted.
"Ah..keep the sweater then.. do you want me to take you 'ome too?" The man asked.
Matthew was shocked. The man had willingly given him his sweater? There wasn't a catch?
"R-really? You're giving me the sweater?" He squeaked.
"Yes. It's almost winter. You'll need the sweater more than I will, especially because you are living in a.. crate.." The man looked unbothered by Matthew's question, almost amused at his reaction.
"T-thank you!"
Wow, now he'd be warm all through winter, and he wouldn't die from the cold! And this man was so nice.. He didn't want anything in return either.. Was he an angel or something?
"U-uh, Mister.." Matthew looked up shyly at him.
The man looked down, straight into Matthew's eyes. Wow, he had big blue eyes. They looked so blue, they looked alive. Like something could jump outta them and just start walking.
"Is there something on my face?"
Matthew immediately shook his head. "N-no sir.." There was a huge red blush growing on his face. "U-u-um, th-there's nothing on y-your face." He stammered.
The man chuckled. "What was so interesting then?"
"U-uh, well.." His blush grew. "I-it's your eyes.."
The man's eye brows shot up. "My eyes?"
"Y-yeah! I-it's just that they're so blue, they aren't like th-the city, with all its gray stores, floors, an-and.." Matthew trailed off, seemingly too embarrassed to continue.
"And?.."
"And.. the adults..?"
"Oh?"
Matthew nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. "Y-yeah.."
" 'ow so?"
"W-well..when I look at everything, it's all blurry and everything just blends together.. so it all looks gray and stuff to me.. The adults don't really look at me, not in the eye at least, it's just like I'm there so I never really see anything other than their clothes and hair. Everything else about them is blurry and looks like one big blob.." Matthew admitted, shuffling nervously. He had never told this to anyone. No one really wanted to know anyways.. Was it safe telling this man though?
The man looked a bit conflicted a bit, as if he didn't know what to say.
' But don't adults know what to say all the time?'
The man cleared his throat. Maybe to get Matthew's attention? But then he started to say something. "Well, I 'ave to tell you, you 'ave beautiful eyes. They're a very deep blue, and if you look at them close enough, you'd think they were purple. And when the light reflects off them, it looks like there are stars in your eyes."
Matthew's eyes widened. "What?" Were his eyes really like that? That was the first time someone had described him like that. Or described him at all in that matter. It made him feel.. a bit proud..
"Are they really like that?" He asked eagerly.
"Yes." The man answered. "Yes, they are."
Matthew stood there, frozen and mouth slightly gaping in awe. What should he say? Should he thank the kind man(again)? Or should he continue like the quiet child that he was and only answer to questions that he would ask him? Should he keep on calling him the man? What should he call him anyways? Wait, Matthew had been talking to someone who he had never known the name of.. He should ask, shouldn't he.
The man had said something. It sounded like a curse, a bit with its harsh tone and all and the man started talking again, in a sense of urgency this time.
"Ah, I'm sorry but I have to go. I'm late. I hope to see you again. Goodbye!" He said hurriedly as he turned and ran off in the opposite direction.
It was so fast that Matthew had no time to react. By the time the man was gone, all that had registered in his mind was that he hoped to see him again. And he was left in that clearing with a very oversized jacket over him, blocking the cold, harsh wind.
It was warm that day, and night, as he continued to sell the matches, rather unsuccessfully. He couldn't stop thinking about that man either. He started to walk back to his 'house'. He walked and walked till he saw a real house. There were people talking in there and there was a window that if he tiptoed, he could reach. So he did and he looked inside. There was that man again, but there was a woman talking to him. What were they talking about? He looked scared. Was she scaring him or something?
'The lady laughed..' And the man eventually smiled at her. Then she walked somewhere else and the man turned to the window.
Matthew ducked down and hoped that he didn't see him. He waited a few minutes before peeking back up and the man was gone, thankfully. And then he continued his walk back to his house.
"Francis, where is your coat?"
Ah, the question that Francis had been dreading the entire day.
Francis turned to the direction of that voice. It was Jeanne.
"Ah.. it flew away in a gust of wind as I was taking it off, Jeanne." The lie slipping smoothly off his lips like nothing. She might have probably kill him if he said he gave it to someone. Though he wasn't sure if she was one of those people who believed in charity, but it she was, then he would be saved. He was sure that she would see through his lie anyways. But that didn't stop him from lying.
Jeanne raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. Really, she was perfect all over-
"I know it wasn't that windy outside today, Francis." She said with a slight edge," Where is your coat?"
Francis gave her a closed eyed smile[read: needed to buy time.]
"Ah, well..there was this incident where-"
"Francis."
There were those eyes. Those bright blue eyes whose hue were like the forget-me-nots blooming in the spring at his childhood home in rural France, the eyes that could make him melt at a glance, but also the ones that could make him freeze and stop whatever he was doing in fear.
"Francis."
He snapped back to reality. Faking a smile, he hoped that he could distract Jeanne. "Yes, mon cher?" He asked, mustering up his sweetest tone of voice.
Jeanne did not look happy now. Her face darkened, her eyebrows drew together, and her eyes flashed accusingly at him.
"I don't know why you're lying to me, but I suggest that you stop it, Francis."
Well, there it was. She caught him. He'd have to tell her the truth now.
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and started to confess. He told her everything, about how he took a break from the mentally exhausting work and started to take a walk(He smartly left out that it was to find something to light his cigarette with) and found a shivering little boy praying within a grove of maple trees. When Francis approached him, the little boy started to shiver even more violently. Worrying about him, Francis started to ask him questions. The boy started answering a few of the questions, before a large gust of wind made him freeze and curl into a little ball. That was when Francis noticed the way too thin clothing on his figure. The short, thin pants that he concluded were (obviously) not warm enough. Then he gave him his sweater and realized that his break had been a little too long.
"And then I sprinted back to the bank, just in time for my boss to scream at me, but luckily Antonio saved me from certain doom- deafness!"
By the end of that, Jeanne's face had a mixture of sympathy and laughter.
"So you had a conversation with this little boy, had given your sweater to him and ran away?"
Francis nodded. "Yes I did."
"What was his name?"
Francis froze. His name. He had given a sweater to a random child on the street, had a conversation with him, and he still didn't know his name.
"Francis?"
"I.. don't know?"
Jeanne looked at him skeptically. " You don't know?"
Francis nodded a bit sheepishly.
"Yes, I really don't know."
Jeanne put her hand over her mouth and made a sound. Disbelief? But then Francis realized, as he looked at her face, that she was laughing.
"Francis... you should have at least asked his name!" Jeanne said between poorly stifled snickers.
Francis nodded sheepishly. "Yes I should have.."
Jeanne's snickers soon stopped and she looked up at Francis. "If you're afraid that I'm mad, I can tell you that I'm not."
Francis let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in.
"I'm actually proud of you."
What?
"You gave your jacket to a child in a time where everyone is in need. I find that admirable." She smiled at him. "But you still should have asked his name.. it's proper etiquette. "
Francis smiled too. "If I see him again, I will."
Personally Francis wanted to see the little boy again.
" Francis, are you going to help me with dinner?" Jeanne called from the kitchen.
"Yes, mon chérie!" He called out and went to help her. But just as he was about to, he had a feeling that urged him to look at the window. There was something blue, but then it was gone.
"Francis?"
"I'm coming!" He looked at the window again and when he saw nothing, he shrugged it off.
'It was a trick of the light..'
"Francis, Francis, Francis, Francis!" Someone was poking him, and whisper-yelling at him.
"Francis!"
He jerked up as someone slammed their hand on his desk.
"Oui?" He mumbled sleepily, desperately trying to wake up and not appear sleepy before his boss came. He glanced up at the person, stifling a yawn as he realized it was his boss, Ludwig. "Er.. hello.."
Ludwig looked very annoyed, angry even (although the majority of the employees here swear that that's what he looks like all the time, and personally, Francis agreed).
"Why were you sleeping? You are at work! Not at home!" He barked angrily.
Francis cringed at his loud volume. "Yes, yes, I apologize Monsieur.." He mumbled, "I promise it won't happen again." Ludwig was really scary.. Francis couldn't help but be intimidated by him.
Ludwig sighed and rubbed his temples. "Please do. I apologize for my brash outburst. The stress is getting to me." He mumbled before walking away. Francis breathed a sigh of relief and someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned to find that it was Antonio.
"Sorry amigo! I tried to wake you up before he came but you didn't respond. Did you get enough sleep yesterday?" Antonio whisper-shouted to him.
Francis shook his head, letting a yawn escape. "Non, I didn't.."
He didn't. He stayed up all night, worrying about the little boy as the cold even slipped into his house. If he was cold in his well protected house with a fireplace then how would the little boy feel in his crate?
"Ah, okay.. I hope you sleep well today. It was so cold last night!" Antonio shivered. "I think we're getting an early winter!"
That scared him. The only thing the little boy had was the coat, the crate and his raggedly clothing protecting him from the cold wind..
"I hope people don't start smoking.. there's a little boy out there selling matches I think.." Antonio mumbled, looking out the window.
Francis shot up. "What!?"
"Yeah.. See?" Antonio pointed to a tiny figure outside that seemed to be wandering around, holding something in front of him. People were handing him coins and he was handing tiny sticks to them. There started to be more people surrounding him as people started to realize what he had, and little groups started to bunch up.
"Hey, isn't he wearing your coat?"
He was. It was that little boy that he gave his coat to! And the one he never got the name of..
"Tell Ludwig that I'm going outside to break up the groups." He muttered to Antonio as he stood up and quickly walked out the building.
Outside, it was mayhem. People were crowding around him, shoving coins in his face. That was rather weird wasn't it. Weren't they here at the bank to ask for more money, not give away?
Francis pushed through the crowd of people, mainly men as they got rowdier.
Francis cursed as the crowd became bigger and bigger.
"Excuse me! Smoking is prohibited on the bank's grounds!" He shouted.
They didn't hear him. Or they did but didn't listen to him. Francis struggled to stay upright up it was rather hard to do when there were people pushing him left and right. There was a collective groan as something happened in front. What happened? Then shouting and terrified squeak as someone lifted the little boy up and shook him roughly.
Francis was at the front in a flash, he hated when people hurt children.
" I believe you should put him down." Francis warned, drawing himself up to his full height, towering over the man.
"Jus' a momen' 'ere " The man slurred. He was clearly intoxicated. " Why should I?"
"Because he is a child and you are clearly frightening him." Francis said evenly, glancing at the boy's face. His eyes were so wide, it looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
"An' who's gon' make me?" the man challenged.
Francis sighed. "I will call the police to come and arrest you." He said simply. He was a lover, not a fighter. He tried not to fight, opting to use words or have someone else do the fighting for him. But that didn't mean he couldn't..
"Hah!" the man sneered, dangling the boy in the air, dangerously swaying him from side to side. "If ya really wan' 'im tha' much then catch 'im!"
He threw the little boy in the air and cackled at the frightened scream that the boy let out.
Francis jumped to catch him. How the hell could he do that to the little child? Thankfully Francis did catch him. He seemed unharmed, only shaken up. He trembled violently, tears threatening to fall. Francis rushed to soothe him, cooing and mumbling that everything was alright now.
"Ha ha! He's a mother, he's a mother!" the drunk man howled, slapping his knee, laughing as if it was one of the most funniest thing he'd ever seen.
Francis just glared at him, having no more words for him. So just because he was comforting the child that he had made cry, that labeled him a mother apparently?
"Excuse me." Francis said coldly, lightly rocking the crying child in his arms as he stormed into the bank. As he walked from the chilly outside into the warm, if not stuffy, bank, Antonio leapt up from his seat and rushed over to meet him.
"Francis!" He shouted, grabbing onto his shoulders, "Are you okay?!"
" Yes, yes!" Francis hissed, "Keep your voice down!" He gestured to the little boy in his arms. Antonio looked down and his eyes widened.
"Omigod he's so cute!" Antonio cooed. Francis looked around nervously, almost everyone was staring at them or at least glanced at them once.
" Come on Antonio, hurry up. " He hissed, ushering Antonio and the child to his desk. Antonio plopped down onto his seat and he immediately began to interrogate Francis in hurried whispers.
" Who is he? Was he hurt? " Francis glanced down at the little boy, checking just in case. " He feels hot! " He looked down again and Antonio was touching the boy's forehead. Wait what? That was off. They were literally just outside in the cold, and Francis had more clothing than him but he could tell that his cheeks were freezing.
" He's supposed to be cold though.. " He murmured, brushing Antonio's hand aside and putting his hand there. It was hot. Unnaturally hot.
He looked down at the little boy in concern. " Are you sick? " He asked. Now that he paid more attention to him, he looked pale and and was shivering.
" I-"
" What's going on here, Francis? "