OMG, what?! ANOTHER PRUCAN?! YES, BECAUSE I DON'T get out much...and they're my OTP...oh god i need to widen my range of writing...
Warnings: NO FLAMES, mentions of mpreg, domestic violence, implied rape, I took creative license on the ages of the Canadian Providences that are in no way accurate, grammar errors
Pairing: starts off Canadax2p!France, ends up being PruCan eventually...
"He casts the kind of glow only a city knows
Light creeping into the coffin
Of these sleepy suburban homes
He's so alive in the places everyone here has a hole
Bury myself in the front lawn
Hope he'll come dig up my bones
Streets here are cemeteries
They feel alive when they're dead
He wakes up all of the skeletons
Every time i look at him
He reminds me beautiful things
Can come from something ugly
Flowers grow amoungst the weeds
Good things have come from nothing
He casts the kind of glow only a city knows
He's so alive in the places everyone here has a hole"
~Sleepy Towns and Cemeteries by Nicole Dollanganger
Chapter One
"I'm done."
"W'at do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said," Matthew said wrapping his arms protectively around himself, "I...w'we're done. Nous sommes sur" (we're over). The Canadian licked his lips nervously, standing close to the wall and watching his long time boyfriend; his boyfriend's greasy, blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, eyes glazed over with drunkenness, hairy chest and arms -bare, feet bare and grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Francois (A/N: pronounced FRAN-SWAAAAAAH. there's a good reason why i'm pointing this out) looked up from the TV screen, a bottle of wine and a cigarette in his right hand. "Ce que vous voulez dire que 'nous sommes faits'?" (what you mean 'we are done') he snapped cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips as he looked up from the recliner.
Flinching beneath his glare, the younger male swallowed, "I-I-I mean...I don't want to be in a relationship with you a-anymore..."
"W'at makes you zhink you 'ave any right to talk to moi like zhat?!" the older male demanded slamming his wine bottle onto the coffee table -miraculously not breaking it -and rising to his feet, "Après tout ce que j'ai fait pour vous? I work my ass off to take care of you -you zlut -et zhose -zhose marmots sales!" (After all I've done for you?...filthy brats)
"They're your kids too!" Matthew snapped in a rare moment of true anger, actually raising his voice to a deafening volume, "You got me fucking knocked up, they're your fucking responsibility, too!"
"Well, you should 'ave told moi you were one of zhose fucks zhat could get pregnant-!"
"I was fifteen, being taught by nuns, I didn't have a fucking clue-!"
"Chienne! Don't you dare talk to moi like zhat!" Francois back handed the younger male across the face; his head twisted to the side, the stinging pain in his face distracting. He couldn't stop the Frenchman from grabbing his wrists in one hand -Francois' hands being larger than Matthew's -and Matthew's neck in the other. "Vous chatte, don't you ever learn?! I'm in charge around 'ere" -the hand around Matthew's neck squeezed -"Not. You." The smaller male didn't know what he did to make God, and the Universe, pissed, but at that exact moment his children walked through the front door. The four of them fell silent, standing still and staring wide eyed.
Ashton was the oldest at ten. He had pale, blonde-ish hair, cut short with a curl hanging in the front, dark blue eyes, was tall for his age and was relatively skinny. He wore jeans, worn black sneakers that were practically falling apart and his green t-shirt peaked out from beneath his puffy, grey coat. His chapped lips were parted as he saw what his Papa was doing to his "Mama". Joelle was the second oldest at eight and a half. She had bright blue eyes, wavy brown hair up in a messy bun and wore a denim, over-all dress, thick, orange, pink and red striped tights, black, ankle strap shoes and a patched up, pink coat. Joelle held the baby of the family; Nala at three, who was dressed like a big, purple puff ball with the only parts of her body visible being her eyes from through the hat, jacket hood, scarf and mittens. Joelle stared wide eyed, her sister clueless. Vincent was six, born after Joelle. He had wavy, strawberry blonde hair with a hair curl, glasses, blue-grey eyes and he was still chubby with baby fat, he wore baggy jeans, light up sneakers and a blue, long sleeve shirt sticking out from beneath his brown jacket. He looked like he was going to cry.
The vision of his children wavered, blurring, and Matthew realized he was going to cry. "G-Go to your room," he choked out, the hand at his neck and tears in his throat making it hard to breathe, "Don't c-come out, Ma-Mama will be there soon to help you with your home-homework." He felt the older man's hand shaking in anger, tightening his grip. The kids didn't move as he whimpered and Matthew had to yell, "Go!" before they ran to their room.
Immediately after the kids rounded the corner, Francois punched his stomach. He bent at the waist, hands clutching his stomach and gasping. Another punch was delivered to his shoulder and Matthew wobbled. Then he was kneed in the side, making him loose his balance and fall to the floor.
"Ugly" -he was kicked in the shoulder -"stupid" -he was kicked in the stomach -"chienne irrespectueux!" (disrespectful bitch). Matthew let tears fall from his eyes as he was continuously kicked, occasionally punched. He wondered how his life got so fucked up. How did he let things get so out of hand? Eventually, the hitting stopped and his body trembled, hot tears dripping onto the stained carpet. "Levez-vous" (stand up). His muscles, burning and aching, wouldn't work and he couldn't get up. He couldn't move. "I zaid: Get. Up!" Francois shouted grabbing the younger by the hair and jerking him to his feet.
Matthew gasped, hands shooting up and fingers wrapping around the taller male's wrist; his scalp burned and he sniffled, tears dripping down his face and into his mouth. He knew what was going to happen and his blood ran cold. "N-No, p-p-please, Francois," Matthew begged hiccuping and stuttering, "I'll be good, I'll be quiet, I-I-I pr-promise!"
A sadistic smile spread across Francois' face. "Should 'ave zhought of zhat before you opened zhat mouth of yours," he snarled using his grip on Matthew's hair to slam him into the wall, also stained, "Now, you'll pay, vous chienne!"
He whimpered digging his heel into the carpet and his hands trying to find something to grab onto. "N-Non! Stop, plea-please, sto-stop!" Matthew cried forgetting his children were there, "Please, Je'taime, je'taime! St-Stop i-i-it!"
"Be quiet, you pédé inutile," he hissed slamming the younger blonde against the wall for a second time, "You asked for zhis, you deserve it!" Matthew inhaled sharply as the door to their bedroom was pushed open and he was tossed onto the bed.
He watched in silent horror as Francois closed the door with a quiet click and approached the bed, evil grin on his face. "Non, Fr-Francois...please..." he whimpered backing up on the bed, towards the head board. He didn't want those hands to touch him, didn't want that filthy man near him.
"You. Are. Mine. Salope." A punch struck Matthew's cheek, stunning him long enough that the Frenchman was able to get some rope out of the bedside table and tie Matthew's wrists to the bed.
~oOo~
With one final thrust, semen mixed with blood and Francois collapsed in drunk, sweaty exhaustion. It was only a matter of seconds before he was laying on Matthew's legs, fast asleep. Silent tears dripped down his face as he hysterically tried to yank his wrists free; he had to get the cum out before he got pregnant. Again. He couldn't let that happen again.
The door opened and he froze. In the doorway stood his two eldest, Ashton and Joelle.
"Mama..." Joelle whimpered looking at the horrible sight before her. Sheets torn and stained with blood, the same blood that covered Papa's lap and Mama's thighs, semen on the sheets and squished between the adults. The grown ups were naked, Papa passed out with his head on Mama's stomach, Mama's hair was matted to his face by tears and almost every part of his body was bruised.
"I-I told you not to come in when your father's like this..." Matthew scolded weakly, he couldn't look at them. He was dirty, disgusting, pitiful. He was ashamed that some of the cum was his. He got hard when he was being raped! (A/N: I wanted to quickly point out that -during rapes- it's not uncommon for someone to become aroused but it doesn't necessarily mean they liked/enjoyed what happened to them)
"We know," Ashton mumbled, "We...We didn't listen...We brought towels."
Matthew chocked on a sob, hiding his face in his arm. He was an awful parent, letting his children see him like that. "Don't...Don't..." he whimpered but they didn't listen. Instead, they walked up to the bed, Ashton going to his Mama's left and Joelle going to her Mama's right, untying his wrists from the bedposts. Joelle gently rolled her father off of Matthew, blushing and covering Francois' vital regions with part of the torn sheet. Ashton tried to gently mop the fluids off his mother's stomach and the outer parts of his thighs.
"Jo, can you grab Mama's robe?" he asked and she ran to the bathroom quickly returning with an old, pink robe.
"Mama?" Joelle said watching him slide the robe on his shoulders.
"Oui, mon chéri?" Matthew said quietly, tying the sash around his waist.
"Ma-Mama," Ashton said motioning for his sister to help their 'mother' to his feet. Once they were in the hallway, bedroom door closed behind them, he continued, "...are we...are we still leaving?"
He felt foolish for not remembering. "O-Oui..." Matthew said opening the door to the bathroom; taking a deep breath, he turned leaning against the threshold for support. "D-Désolé..." he apologized running his fingers through his children's hair, "I...I didn't want...didn't want you to-."
"Mama," Joelle breathed hugging the older man tightly around the waist, "we still love you."
"Yeah..." her brother agreed as he hugged Matthew's side, "we don't think of you any different."
Tears fell in heavy droplets and Matthew quickly kneeled to hug his children close. "I love you," he said kissing their foreheads and smoothing their hair away from their faces, "Things'll get better. I promise. We won't ever have to see him again."
"We'll help the others pack," she said petting Matthew's hair.
"You just take a shower," Ashton soothed kissing his parent's cheek, "I'll grab your clothes, just shower, Mama."
Matthew smiled, making sure he kissed them on the cheek before they trotted off. Shakily, he got to his feet and tried to ignore the burning pain in his lower body; he tried not to cry every time he moved but that was hard. He did, however, have to reach beneath the bathroom sink, hidden in a box of scrub sponges was a disposable cell phone. Matthew placed it on the ugly pink counter top of the sink, turning away to twist the clear knobs of the shower. The shower head sputtered as his trembling hands removed the robe, simultaneously reaching for the cheap phone. His fingers had long ago memorized the number.
"Hallo?" The familar German voice sent relief crashing through him so hard that a fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes. He clutched at the counter, falling to his knees and sobbing. "H-Hallo?" the voice was worried and tense.
"G-Gilbert!" he cried out quietly, "He-He, mon dieu, Gi-Gil-!"
"Mattie?" the albino shouted motified, "Birdie? Mein Gott, d-did he-?"
"It hurts," Matthew whined. He couldn't bare to hear it, not that word. Rape.
"Ok, ok, Vӧgelchen," Gilbert crooned, "Just...keep me on ze line und ve'll talk as you shower. Zhat good?"
"Uh-huh," the blonde sniffled, breathing heavily as he rose to his feet, "H-H-How's the weather by you?"
"Varm," he said in that soothing way of his, "Gilbird vent vizh me to ze grocery store, today. He...he found some really good maple syrup; I...I zhink you vill like it." Matthew stepped into the hot spray and hissed as the heat hurt his skin. "Birdie...vhy...vhy did he do zhis?"
"I t-told him I was d-d-done," the blonde sobbed, "I told h-hi-him and he...he ha-had to pu-punish me-" Matthew paused, eyes widening, "G-Gil, I-I have to wash the-the cum ou-out-."
"Shhh, it's alright. Put ze phone down, I vill still be here."
"Me-Merci." Matthew put the phone down on the counter, quickly retreating back under the spray. The pain from his bruises and cuts had reduced to a dull ache; he wet his hair before biting his bottom lip and sticking two fingers inside himself. Nearly screaming, and not in pleasure, he began to clean it and watched as the fresh blood mixed with semen. He felt sick and doubled over, vomiting in disgust and hatred. I want Francois dead, I want to beat his face in! After carefully washing his hair, he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his shoulders. Matthew stuck his head out the door, seeing clean clothes and scooping them up. "G..Gil? Gilbert?" he said hesitantly into the phone, setting his clothes on the toilet lid. Don't hope, don't hope, don't-.
"Hey, Birdie~" Gilbert hummed making the blonde's heart leap into his throat with joy; he was so happy, he giggled. "Vhat's so funny?!" Gilbert demanded from the other end but the blonde could tell he wasn't angry. Teasing. He was teasing.
"You~" he giggled placing a hand over his mouth. Matthew was so glad the albino had remained friends with him; all his old high school friends had drifted away from him, thanks to Francois' brain washing and isolation, but not Gilbert. While Francis (A/N: pronounced FRAN-SISSSSSS), Francois' twin and polar opposite, had moved back to France up until very recently and Lovino had moved farther away to some unknown part of Canada to be with his boyfriend, Gilbert had stayed close. He made sure to "run into" Matthew as often as possible, to which he was grateful. It was through his friend's help that enabled Matthew to leave with his children. "I can't wait for you to meet them," he breathed. He wasn't able to trust his kids before but, now, he could. He could trust them. He would get out.
"Me too, if zhey are anyzhing like you." They stayed in comfortable silence for a few moments before it was broken by Gil. "You need to get ready for Francis," Gilbert said softly, "Make sure you zhrow zhis phone avay. Und be safe."
"I will," the younger male promised with a small smile, "Thank you, Gil. You're an awesome friend."
He could practically hear Gil's grin. "Danke, Vӧgelchen," the albino said, "I'll see you soon. Hurry." With that he hung up.
Matthew got to his feet, pulling on the black sweatpants, boxers and extra large, white t-shirt Ashton had picked out for him. He tucked the phone into his pocket before leaving the bathroom, walking down the hall and opening the door to his kids' bedroom. The walls were blue with green vertical stripes, toys on the brown carpet, bunk beds against the right wall, a toddler bed and crib against the left wall and a dresser by the door. Joelle and Ashton helped the younger kids pack. When Matthew entered, clothes were already stuffed in book bags and jackets were on. "We're ready, Mama," Ashton said grabbing Vincent's hand.
Matthew nodded, kneeling in front of the two youngest children, "Babies, come by Mama." They giggled, rushing over to wrap their chubby arms around Matthew's neck. He tried not to wince. "Babies, we're going on a trip with Uncle Francis but you can't tell Papa, ok?"
"Ok, Mama!" they said a little too loudly.
"Alright, now be very quiet," he said wincing as he placed Nala on his hip, "Vince, hold your big brother's and sister's hands." After making sure he did what he was told, Matthew walked to the front door. He saw a familiar blonde figure in a silver minivan. "There he is," Matthew sighed in relief, "Come on kids." He rushed them out of the house and into the van. "Merci, Francis," he said squeezing Francis' hand, "I know you were busy in Paris and-."
"Non, non," the nicer of the Frenchmen said waving his hand in the air as if to swat away Matthew's words, "you et ze petites are more important."
"MAMA!" Vincent interupted, "I don't got my-my blankie and Nala don't have her-her piglet!"
Matthew sighed, "Ok, I'll get it. Stay here..." He walked quickly back in the house, going towards his kids' room. Looking around the room he saw Vincent's blue blankie and Nala's piglet stuffie, but he also found Ashton's green blankie and Joelle's toy Tigger. He smiled at the blankies and stuffies before gathering them up and moving towards the front door again.
"Ah, zo you are trying to leave moi." Matthew' blood froze as he spun around, seeing Francois standing behind him in jeans and nothing else, "Wizh ze brats, too, I zee."
"Francois, I-." He was cut off by a rough smack across his cheek.
"You didn't learn your lesson zhen?" Francois sneered grabbing one of the younger blonde's arms, "You know w'at zhis means: Je dois vous punir de nouveau." (I have to punish you again)
"Non, let go!" he shrieked panicking and trying to pull away. Francois sneered, slapping him again before trying to drag him to the bedroom for a second time. With a strength neither knew he possessed, Matthew grabbed a lamp from the table next to the couch and brought the ceramic down on Francois' head, an enraged battle cry falling passed his lips. The lamp shattered and his arm was freed. Matthew took off running, jumping into the passenger's seat like a ninja. "Drive, drive, DRIVE!"
Francis stepped on the gas and they sped away from the curb. He looked out the rear view mirror and saw Francois run out of the house with a nasty cut on his forehead, hopping in his cheap, battered, puke green car. The twin swore softly, speeding up the minivan.
"...he's following, isn't he?" Matthew said bitterly, it wasn't really a question because he knew that man -could you even call him a man? -would.
"Oui, 'e iz," Francis confirmed. He reached into the pocket of his slacks and wiggled his cellphone out; it was expensive and new and the disposable one in the pocket of Matthew's sweatpants seemed inadequate. Francis quickly dialed a number and held it between his ear and shoulder. "Bonjour, mon lapin...I know, I know but...but zhis iz important...you know le petit ami de mon frère? ...oui...oui, zhat one... 'is nom iz Matthieu...yes, well, I 'ave 'im in a rental car...non, non, 'ow can you zhink zhat?! I only 'ave eyes for you-."
"Francis, he's getting closer!"
"Oui, well, ok lapin, listen! ...yes...yes, I know you always...Arzhur! Let me speak! ...mon dieu, I'm taking Matthieu to Gilbert's 'ouse to be safe...I called...I called because mon brozher iz following us...I should be driving by your police car...désolé, police cruiser, any zecond. Can you please slow 'im down? Pull 'im over for speeding? ...Merci, mon amour, au revior~!"
"Who was that?" Matthew asked hands clenching around his seat belt.
"A...man I know very well. 'e iz a police officer et 'as agreed to 'elp."
"What-?"
They passed a police car and Matthew's mouth went dry. Francois had made it clear that if he ever went to the police, not only would the older man be locked up in prison, but their kids would be taken and sent to an orphanage. His instinct was to run to Francois, for the protection Francois' insisted he would always give willingly. That, of course, was a lie, but some part of his brain was insisting that the older man loved him and would save him. Francis slowed down and blew a kiss at the officer in the car. He had messy, blonde hair, thick eyebrows, a bullet proof vest and was sipping tea from a Styrofoam cup, his acid green eyes glared in Francis' direction but he nodded. We sped passed him and it wasn't until Francois drove passed that the car's siren came on. The police car followed Francois and Francis' cars for about five minutes before the puke green car pulled to the side of the road. "HA!" Francis laughed smiling bitterly, "Didn't I tell you, Matthieu? Mon lapin, always pulls zhrough~!"
"...Your...rabbit?" Joelle questioned hugging her Tigger close to her chest.
"Ohonhonhon~! Oui, mon Angleterre iz mon lapin!"
"But...why-?"
"It's just a pet name," Matthew cut in, "Just like how I call you guys 'cher'."
"Oh...ok!"
He relaxed back in his seat, watching the inner city scenery pass by in a blur. Feeling his injuries start to catch up with him, he sighed and closed his eyes. We're finally free, he thought before falling into a much needed sleep.
But, what someone thinks and what actually happens can be totally different things.
I'M DONE
I'M TIRED
REVIEW
Characters:
Matthew (Canada)
Francois (2p!France)
Francis (France) (is the twin of 2p!France)
Arthur (cop that pulled Francois over) (England)
Vincent (Ontario) (third born) (not historically accurate)
Nala (Nunavut) (littlest) (not accurate wit history)
Joelle (British Colombia) (2nd oldest) (again not accurate historically)
Ashton (Quebec) (oldest)
Gilbert (Prussia)
that's it i think
GO TO BED
Love you
Review
I love you soo much
~KITTY