Francis watched as the man fell onto his hood and go up and over his windshield. Francis slammed on the breaks and the car came to an immediate stop. He looked at Feliciano who just stared at him wide eyed. Francis turned, and got out of the car, not caring enough to close the door behind him. He saw the car behind him with a dent in the hood and the man lying in front of the car motionless. Francis began to run towards the man, panic engulfing his mind. He had to remind himself to remain calm, and to think clearly. He turned to Feliciano, who was just a step behind him, "Call an ambulance!"
Feliciano stopped in his tracks. He apparently was panicking worse than Francis because he responded in full Italian, "Non conosco il numero di emergenza!"
Francis couldn't understand a word that his brother had said, and did not care, he just yelled over his shoulder, "Just call nine-nine-nine!" He bent down to the motionless man and added, "And speak English!" Francis looked back down at the man, he was pale and his head was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but he was panting. "Oh thank God you're breathing!" Francis muttered under his breath. He had never felt so relieved in his life.
"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry!" Francis looked up to see a man with longish brown hair running up to him as he continued his apology, which with Matthew around, he was sick of hearing, "I honked at you to go though the light, and I pressured you, and you hit this poor man, and oh, God, this is all my fault!"
Francis was irritated. He had expected to reassure the victim, but this man wasn't even hurt, and Francis had to calm him? Didn't seem to make sense at all. Regardless of his frustration, Francis managed to look at the man with a kind expression, "No, it's okay, I wasn't paying attention."
The other driver ran his fingers through his hair, thinking and looking at the sky. He looked back down at Francis, "Is there anything I can do?"
Francis thought for a moment. He could handle the victim, calm him if he woke up, and perform CPR if he stopped breathing, and Feliciano was talking to emergency services. What else was there to do? Francis noticed a car drive past him, they weren't that far from the other lane, and the passing cars were a bit too close for comfort. He looked at the brown haired man, "Do you think you can block that lane with your car and move out of the way when the ambulance gets here?" The man only nodded and hopped back into the dented car.
"Is he breathing?" Feliciano said, his accent thicker than usual.
"Oui." Francis responded. Feliciano repeated the answer into the phone and Francis looked back down at the man to make sure he was still breathing. When he did, he noticed that the man was trying to sit up. He put a soft hand on the man's chest and gently pushed him back onto the ground, "No, stay down, you might be very hurt." He tried to sound reassuring, but his voice came out panicked. The man clumsily laid back down, still panting.
Feliciano knelt down next to Francis, "The ambulance is on it's way."
Francis only nodded, not taking his focus off the poor man, "Can you hear me, sir?"
The man nodded weakly, "Yes... I..."
Francis tried his best to lighten his accent, there was no use to talking to the man if he couldn't understand him, "What is your name?"
"...Ar'urKirkl'n..." The man slurred.
Francis leaned forward and brushed his hair behind his ear so he could hear better, "Say that again. What is your name?"
The man's eyes shut tight and his large eyebrows pulled together as if he was trying to concentrate, "Ar... Arthur Kirkland."
Francis nodded, and tried to sound cheerful and reassuring, "Okay, Arthur, I'm Francis. I am so sorry for what had happened, but I promise, you will be just fine."
Arthur's eyes opened and wandered up to the sky, "What happened?" he groaned
Francis suddenly felt a stab of guilt. "I... Uh... I hit you with my car."
"Wanker."
Feliciano made a snort that could have been a laugh. Francis glared at his brother with a side glance. He let the insult go, besides, he probably deserved it. Francis could hear sirens in the distance, and the other driver crept forward, getting ready to move out of the way. He had to ask more questions, the more he knew, and the more he could tell the paramedics, the better they could help poor Arthur. "Are you in pain? What hurts?"
Arthur groaned again, "Everything."
Francis felt relieved to see Arthur awake and talking but panic settled back in his chest when Arthur said that. Francis ignored the tight feeling in his chest and moved on to the next question. He reached down and lightly patted Arthur's knee, "Can you feel your legs?"
Arthur's eyes closed and his voice became weak, "... Yes."
Arthur was fading back into unconsciousness, so Francis patted Arthur lightly on the chest, his accent becoming thicker in his panic, "Stay awake, Arthur! Can you hear me?"
"...I... Hear..." Arthur only mumbled his words, and the dazed look on his face faded into an expressionless one.
Francis searched his brain for another question, he tried his best to sound reassuring but his voice came out frantic, "Who is your emergency contact? A family member? A wife or girlfriend perhaps?"
Arthur's body relaxed as he spoke, "... Emer... Wife?... Kate..."
Francis couldn't panic, he had to remain calm, he had to think clearly, unfortunately, it wasn't working well. "Kate? Is she your wife? She has a pretty name! How can I contact her?" Arthur didn't respond and Francis' chest tightened so much he could hardly breathe. "Arthur? Stay awake! Can you hear me? How do I contact Kate?"
Before Francis lost his sanity, Feliciano did, "Oh, mio dio! You killed him!"
Terror struck into Francis' heart and he couldn't breathe anymore. He felt dizzy and black spots blocked his peripheral vision. He looked back down at poor Arthur to see him still breathing. His chest loosened just enough to wheeze in a breath of air through the relief. He took a staggering sigh, "No, Feli, he's breathing." he wasn't sure if his words were audible or not, but he was too breathless to repeat himself.
The sirens were close now, good thing, too, because Francis felt like he was going to pass out from the panic and stress. He reminded himself that just because Arthur was breathing now, didn't mean he was going to be okay. He was breathing unevenly, ghostly pale, and in much pain, in fact, he had said that everything hurt. Francis put his head in his hand. He felt so stupid, so guilty. Arthur probably didn't deserve the pain he was in. The poor man probably had a family at home, and Francis hit him with his car. What if Arthur died? Then he had just taken away somebody's husband, and somebody's father just because he didn't look before taking that damn right.
...
...
Arthur woke with his head pounding. With every heartbeat, pain pulsed through his skull. He squinted at the bright light above him that pained his head worse, and it seemed to take too long for his eyes to adjust. He groaned as he came to the realization of his aching neck and the horrible pain in his back.
"Hey."
He tried to place the voice he heard with a face he knew, but he couldn't. When he turned his head to see who it was, the world moved too fast and a wave nausea hit him so hard that he thought he was going to throw up, but the feeling died just slightly enough so he wouldn't. His vision was blurry, but he could make out Lain, who was sitting at his bedside. Anger rose through him, Lain was the last person he wanted to see.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He tried to speak clearly, but he could hear his own words slur. He thought about repeating himself, but he figured Lain wasn't worth the trouble.
Lain sat up in his chair, "I could be asking you that same question."
What was that supposed to mean? In fact, It took Arthur a long time to even comprehend what his brother had said to him, and even longer to realize that he wasn't in his own bed. He looked around the plain room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but he couldn't. Nothing made sense. Finally, he looked back at Lain, "Where are we?"
Lain didn't hesitate his answer, "Well, you're in the hospital. I'm just visiting you."
Lain's words were so hard to understand, it was like he was speaking a different language, but slowly, they began to make sense. He was in the hospital... That had to be wrong, he was just running errands... How dangerous was the office supply store?... Did someone attack him?... Whatever happened, he couldn't remember. So he turned to Lain again, "What happened?"
"You jumped in front of a car."
Once again, it took Arthur longer to understand what Lain had said, but something was different, he sounded angry. Why was Lain angry at him this time? Something else was out of place, but what? Arthur ran the words through his head again. If he jumped in front of a car, then he was probably hit by the car. Well, that made sense, he was in a lot of pain, so it wasn't that. Then he realized that Lain didn't say he was hit by a car, but that he jumped in front of the car. If that was true, then he had gotten hit by the car on purpose, that was the part that didn't make sense. "What do you mean by that?"
Lain sounded angrier, "What part don't you understand? You jumped in front of a moving vehicle."
Arthur took a moment to understand before speaking, "Why would I do that? That could have killed me!"
"Wasn't that the point?"
Why was it so hard to understand? Why was Lain talking so fast? What did he mean by "the point"? A point, like on the tip of a pencil? No, that didn't make sense. What had he said before Lain spoke? The possibility of dying. If dying was "the point"... Pieces began fitting together, and his words slurred more as he spoke again, "You think this was a suicide attempt? Did someone tell you that I did this on purpose?"
Lain looked a bit guilty, "Well, no, but-"
Arthur didn't care about the other words that he may or may not have understood, he heard "no", which answered his question, so he interrupted, "So, why would you think that?"
Lain's voice rose slightly, "Because I, or anyone else, hasn't heard a word from you since the funeral..."
Funeral? What funeral? Kate. Kate's funeral. Pieces began to fit a bit faster than before, and understanding was becoming easier, "So? I rarely spoke to you beforehand! And why do you think I'm social? Kate was the one who talked to people, not me! I'm a hermit!"
Lain's eye's softened, "Good point... Regardless, I know you're going through a difficult time... I completely understand that..."
Understand? How could anyone possibly understand? They all say that. Don't worry, I completely understand. How could they? Unless Lain, or any of the others, were somehow widowers, then that was impossible. Arthur thought about lashing out, but instead, he let his brother continue, "... But, I swear, if you are stupid enough to try, or be reckless enough for this to happen again, I don't know what I'll do to you."
Arthur looked away and closed his eyes in frustration, "Why? It's not like you care about me."
"True. But you're not leaving my nephew parent-less. Understand me?"
Arthur's anger made his head pound harder, and made his stomach feel worse, so instead of answering the question, he put a hand to his mouth and asked for a bowl to throw up in.
...
...
Lovino turned on his small reading light that clipped onto his book. He was tired and full of spaghetti, but the story was just beginning to get interesting, but he had to get through this one boring chapter sometime. He re-positioned himself on the couch, and he started reading.
He got lost in the story, as usual, and things were getting more interesting. Unexpected plot twist. Lovino loved those, he craved the suspense. As things got more intense, he slowly moved the book closer to his face so he wouldn't miss a word. He was so sucked in that he had a mini heart attack when he heard a door open. He looked over the back of the couch to see Matthew walking further down the hallway. Lovino went back to his book, the boy was just heading to the restroom.
But before he could get back into the story, he heard light sniffling. He looked back down the hallway and saw Matthew standing at Francis' bedroom door crying. Panic rose in Lovino's chest. Shit. He wasn't good with kids... Antonio was though. Lovino but the bookmark in his book, got up and walked over to the recliner where Antonio was sleeping.
"Antonio," He whispered, "Antonio, wake up!"
Antonio didn't move. He was too much of a heavy sleeper, there was no way he was waking up. Lovino looked to Feliciano, who was fast asleep in the love seat. Lovino considered waking him up, but, even though kids liked Feliciano, he didn't really know what to do besides entertain them. Lovino sighed and started down the hallway. He stopped a few steps away from Matthew and stood there awkwardly, not really sure what to say. Matthew clutched his polar bear to his chest and stayed silent. Finally, Lovino softly cleared his throat and whispered, "Hey, uh... Are you okay?"
Matthew tensed up and panicked, "I'm sorry I woke you, I'm fine!"
Lovino shifted his weight uncomfortably, "If you're fine, then why are you crying?"
Matthew seemed to cry even more, "I'm sorry!"
Lovino closed his eyes. He didn't hate kids, he just didn't really know what to do or say around them, it was always so awkward, but The poor boy was apologizing over nothing, so Lovino figured he should reassure him, "Um, no, it''s okay. I was already awake." Matthew didn't calm down, so Lovino continued, "Why are you crying?" Matthew only froze and said nothing. Lovino looked at the ceiling, trying to think of what to say next. "Are you hungry?"
Matthew shook his head, at least it was an answer. Lovino sighed, "Are you thirsty?" Every time the boy shook his head, Lovino got more frustrated, he wanted a straight answer, but Matthew wouldn't say anything. How did Francis deal with this? "Do you hurt? Are you sick?"
Another head shake. What else could be wrong? Lovino searched his memory and looked back at Matthew, "Did you have a nightmare?"
Matthew stayed still for a moment then slowly nodded. Finally, Lovino knew what was wrong, but now what? He tried to think of what his grandfather did to comfort him when he had nightmares when he was young.
"Come on, let's get you calmed down a bit." He said as he turned down the hallway.
Lovino led Matthew through the living and dining rooms and into the kitchen. He grabbed the chair from the corner and set it by the sink. "Go ahead and sit," He said, "Would you like some milk? That always calmed me down when I had nightmares."
Matthew cautiously climbed into the chair and nodded. Lovino walked to the refrigerator and got out the milk, "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" He asked as he poured some milk into a small plastic cup. Matthew said nothing, and the constant silence was beginning to irritate Lovino. "I can't hear you shake your head." He said while putting the milk back.
"I'm sorry! No, I don't want to talk about it!" Matthew panicked.
Lovino turned and handed the cup to Matthew. "Are you sure? It seems to be bothering you."
"I'm sure."
Lovino leaned against the counter and tried to keep the conversation going to avoid awkwardness, "So, what were you doing in front of Francis' door?"
"I'm sorry!"
Lovino was already sick of hearing that. How could Francis live with this boy? Sure, he's sweet, but it was so hard to communicate. Though he was irritated, he forced himself to speak kindly, "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. Just answer the question."
Matthew took a tiny sip of his milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Francis told me if I needed anything, I could wake him."
"So why didn't you?"
Matthew looked at his feet and took his time to answer, "I was scared to."
Lovino raised his eyebrows, "Why? Has Francis done anything that would make you think he would hurt you?" Anger washed over him as he said the sentence, just the thought of Francis doing that made him furious.
Matthew sniffed, "No."
"Then why would you be scared? Doesn't make much sense."
Matthew just shrugged. The boy was impossible. How could anyone be good with kids? They make no sense. Lovino sighed and lifted his hand to scratch his forehead, when he did, Matthew flinched and dropped the cup onto the floor. Matthew immediately covered his face with his hands and raised his voice, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Lovino didn't know what to do, Matthew was crying again, and there was milk all over the floor. Finally he turned to Matthew, "Shh, it's okay. It's just milk. Just quiet down, you'll wake up the others."
Matthew did what he was asked and Lovino began cleaning up the mess. When he was done, looked at Matthew, "See? It wasn't that bad." Matthew just stared at the floor, still getting over what had happened. Lovino was beginning to feel tired, so he figured he should try to get Matthew back into bed. But after the incident, he couldn't just send the kid to bed alone.
"Do you want me to wake Francis up for you? Maybe it wouldn't be so scary."
Matthew nodded.
...
...
"Francis! Francis wake up!"
Francis rolled over and turned on his lamp to see Lovino. He propped himself up on his elbow and readjusted the oxygen tube under his nose, "What? What is it, Lovino?"
"Matthew had a nightmare and he wants to sleep with you,"
Francis looked over at the doorway and saw little Matthew standing there with his polar bear and pillow. Francis smiled, after months, Matthew trusted him enough to wake him up in the middle of the might. "That's fine. Thank you, Lovino."
Lovino turned to leave, "Good night, Matthew, sleep well." Then he closed the door behind him.
Matthew walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed up. "I'm sorry to wake you." he said as he laid down.
Francis smiled at him, "It's okay, I've told you many times that if you needed anything, you could wake me up."
Matthew didn't respond, but he looked so upset, Francis had to say something, "What was your nightmare about?"
Matthew looked as if he was going to cry, but he answered anyway, "My father."
Anger flooded Francis' mind. Matthew would have to face these kinds of problems for huge part of his childhood, and maybe well into his adolescence. How could anyone do that to a young, sweet boy?
Francis couldn't keep his hatred for Matthew's father in, "You know, I don't even know why you call him your father! He sure didn't act like one!"
Matthew tensed at the anger in Francis' voice, but didn't seem to panic, "Well, what should a father be like?"
Francis knew he was ranting, but he didn't care, "A father should take care of you! Make you feel better when you're sick, wipe your tears when you cry, comfort you when you're sad, give you food when you're hungry, and teach lessons about life, for starters!"
Matthew petted the fur on his polar bear nervously, "But... You do all those things..."
Francis felt himself begin to calm, "Well, any caretaker should be like that." He explained.
There was a long silence, and Francis began to drift off into sleep, but Matthew spoke again, "Francis?"
"Oui?"
Matthew hesitated, "How do you say 'Dad' in French?"
"Papa." Francis answered, still half asleep.
"Francis?"
"Oui, Matthew?"
Matthew stayed quiet so long, Francis almost fell back asleep, "Can I call you 'Papa'?"
Francis wasn't sure he heard that right. He looked over at Matthew in surprise, "What?"
Matthew squeezed his polar bear, "Nevermind! I'm sorry!"
Francis shook his head, "No, no, it's okay, I just didn't hear you."
"... Can I... Call you 'Papa'? I mean... You do all those nice things..."
Francis smiled and ran his fingers through his son's dirty-blonde hair with joyful tears in his eyes, "Oui, Matthew. You can call me Papa if you would like."
Matthew tensed under Francis' hand, "Okay, good night, Papa."
Francis turned and clicked off his lamp, "Good night, my little Matthew."
...
Days Later...
...
Arthur carefully removed the bandage around his head. He brushed his bangs back and leaned closer to the mirror so he could get a better view of the stitches on his forehead. The gash and it's stitches looked better, not nearly as ugly as it had before. Alfred thought it looked cool though, and he found even more amazement that Arthur was hit by a car and had lived through it. Arthur had told Alfred that his survival did not mean he shouldn't be careful, and that the stitches were not "cool" or "awesome", but punishment for being reckless. Arthur sighed, placed cotton lightly on the stitches, wrapped the bandage around it, and pinned it in place. He had to do this twice a day to avoid infection, but it was so hard to keep up with the schedule, just like everything else.
Due to a possible concussion, Arthur was not allowed more than a half hour a sleep at a time for the past two days, so he figured that falling asleep would come easy, but it didn't. He laid in bed that night, silent tears streaming down his face and into his pillow. He felt nothing but his own shattered heart and how much he missed Kate.
If only that car had killed me...
Arthur could not let his mind wander to those dark thoughts. He got out of bed, left his room, marched down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He opened his liquor cabinet high above the stove, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, went to the cupboard next to it, and grabbed a glass. He walked over to the table, sat down, and poured himself a glass. He drank it swiftly, despite the burning in his throat, and poured himself another, and another, and more after that. Arthur needed to sleep, he hadn't been able to since Kate was diagnosed, and that was just over two years ago. He tried everything, listening to music, or calming sounds, reading before bed, sleeping pills, which he stayed away from due to the temptation of... Arthur could not let his mind wander to those dark thoughts, he poured himself another, and just before the glass touched his lips he heard a small voice say his name, "Daddy?" He put down the glass before he tasted the whiskey in it. Bollocks. Really? Right now? Arthur looked at the brown liquid and wondered how much he had already drank. Perhaps it was best that his son interrupted him.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"I can't sleep." Alfred whined.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair and looked at Alfred, "And?"
Alfred's face twisted in confusion, "Uhh..."
Perhaps that wasn't the best response, rather, it was pretty rude. He had told Alfred everyday that he loved him, and cared about him, and he meant it, but sometimes, it didn't sound like it. In the same flat, emotionless voice he tried to recover himself from his cold reply, "Go out into the living room, I'll be there in a minute." Alfred only nodded wearily and walked away. Arthur sighed, finished his last drink, and followed his son, not caring enough to put the bottle or his glass away.
The room tilted slightly as Arthur walked into the living room. He grabbed onto the door frame and waited for the room to straighten. It seems he went a bit past his limit, but his head was still clear for the most part. He walked cautiously over to the couch and sat next to Alfred, "Now, why can't you sleep?" He forced himself to sound warmer, and to put a slight smile on his lips.
"I don't know, I just can't." Alfred was lying, Arthur wasn't completely sober, but he could still tell.
Arthur sighed, Alfred was a chatty, little boy, but if he didn't want to talk, it was nearly impossible to make him, "What's on your mind?"
Alfred looked down, "Can I skip school tomorrow?"
What a strange question, Alfred had never complained about school, in fact, he talked nonstop about Jett, Matthew, his teacher, and the activities they did in class. So, why so suddenly did he not want to go to school? Arthur's warm voice shifted into worry, "What? Why? You love school!" Alfred just shrugged. No, that wasn't an exceptional answer, "Do you feel ill?" Alfred only shook his head. Arthur continued venturing for possible explanations, "Are you being bullied or teased there?" Another head shake. Arthur could hear the irritation in his voice, "Then why, Alfred? If you love school so much, why don't you want to go?"
"Because you pick me up."
Arthur rolled his eyes. This was just because cool kids didn't get picked up by their parents? Arthur closed his eyes and tried his best not to sound angry and insulted, "If you rather ride the school bus, that's fine."
Alfred looked as though he was about to cry, "I don't want to ride the bus."
Arthur spoke smoother with concern, "That's the only way to get to and from school. You could walk, but it's a bit far. What else is there?"
Alfred broke in tears and yelled, "I want Mama to pick me up like she used to!"
Arthur felt his heart break into pieces. This was the first break-down since the world shattering phone call. Alfred was only six years old, and he didn't seem to understand it, but after six months, it hit him, he wasn't going to see his mother again. Arthur reached over, pulled Alfred onto his lap, and held him. Arthur said nothing. He couldn't make things better, he couldn't promise that life would return to normal, there wasn't a way to comfort his son. All he could do is let Alfred know that his father was there, and his father wouldn't leave him.
Arthur expected it to get better someday, but it seemed like that day was never going to come. To those he barely knew, Arthur flat-out lied, responding with a "I'm doing well," or "Good, how are you?" But, there where others who Arthur was closer to like Tino, Berwald, and his co-workers, Lukas and Drac, that would get something along the lines of, "I'm okay," or "Better."
It was frustrating. Whenever Arthur said those half hearted lies to his friends, they always told him "Don't worry," and "It'll get better," or sometimes they would say the worst thing Arthur could imagine, "Just be patient." Those words made Arthur angry beyond belief, especially that last one, every time he heard it he wanted to punch them in the mouth. He couldn't be mad at all his friends though, because even if Tino, Berwald, and Drac said these things, Lukas never did. Lukas seemed to have a few hardships in his life, and would usually just give a small, reassuring smile, and switch subjects like he had earlier that day. But, it did not matter what his friends say or didn't say, it was never going to get better. He was going to grow old alone and depressed. There was no way he was getting out of it.
...
One Week Later...
...
"I think I can read faster than you."
The static that Arthur's mind had been in was broken by his son's voice. He wondered how long he had been staring at the bag of rice he held in his hand. He tore his eyes away from it, trying to prevent himself from going back into the nothingness his mind had been in. "Hmm?"
Alfred tilted his head, "You've been reading that for a long time. I think I could read it faster."
Arthur forced himself to smile and play along, "Is that so?" he handed the bag to Alfred, "Then you try reading it."
Alfred took a moment as he examined it, "Nu... Nutr..."
"Nutritional." Arthur said slowly.
Alfred's head snapped back up and his voice grew louder in frustration, "How do you read these big words?"
"Well, I'm a teacher. I have to be pretty smart, don't I?" Arthur said playfully as he took the rice back and put it in the shopping basket.
Alfred began playing with a price tag on the shelf, "Yeah, I guess so."
Arthur turned back to the shelf, making sure he didn't need anything else from it. He was about to head out of the aisle when Alfred suddenly ran off, "Look, Daddy! It's Matthew!" Before Arthur could respond, Alfred was already on the other side of the aisle, blabbing to another young boy who was holding his father's hand. The look of surprise and confusion on the man's face gave Arthur a stab of guilt and embarrassment. He quickly paced down the aisle, as he approached, Alfred pointed at him, not taking his eye off of the other boy, "Oh, and Matthew! This is my daddy!"
Arthur looked from Alfred to the father, who stared at him as if he was pondering something. Their eyes locked for a moment until Arthur realized that he was just standing there, staring without a word. He cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly to break himself out of the trance, "I really do apologize for-"
"Arthur?" The man interrupted.
Arthur stopped his apology short, and his eyebrows narrowed, although the man looked familiar, Arthur couldn't quite place it. "I beg your pardon, but how do you know my name? I do not believe I know you."
"Oh, I..." The man trailed off as a guilty expression crossed his face. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously and continued his explanation awkwardly, "Uh... I was the one who... Almost killed you last week..."
Arthur did not meet the man that he decided not to press charges on, but Lain had. Some French guy... Doesn't matter... Lain's only description of the man was vague, but it matched. The man spoke in an iconic French accent, which bothered Arthur more than he thought it would. He didn't know how to respond and found himself just staring again. Suddenly, Alfred broke the silence with a gasp, "Your daddy hit my daddy with a car? Why didn't you tell me?"
The boy, who must have been Matthew, hugged the polar bear in his arms tighter, "I'm sorry."
Alfred shook his head, "Hey, I was just wondering."
The man sighed, "I am sincerely and deeply sorry, Arthur, but I'm glad I'm I ran into you-" The man cut himself off and gave a light, stereotypical French laugh, "I mean, I'm glad I ran into you here, at the grocery store." The man continued to laugh nervously until he cleared his throat and smiled, "I was wondering how were doing? Perhaps it would put my guilt at ease."
Arthur didn't say anything, it was like he had forgotten how to speak.
The man asked you a bloody question, answer it, damn it!
"Oh, I'm fine, and no worries, I wasn't supposed to be crossing anyway."
The man's smile faded a bit, "You weren't hurt too badly were you?"
Arthur shook his head, "I was feeling pretty bad for the first few days, but I'm good as new now."
The man sighed again, "Oh, what a relief! I was worried!" There was an awkward silence and Arthur noticed that he was staring at the man again. Why the hell did he keep doing that? Well, to give the man some credit, he is quite handsome... What? Arthur's heart rate increased when that thought crossed his mind. He hadn't thought that about another man since he fell in love with Kate. Perhaps it was time to go. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but the man continued, "Well, mon ami, do you remember my name?"
Arthur only had blurry glimpses of being hit, and he certainly didn't remember any of the conversation he may have had. "No, I'm afraid not."
The man smiled again and leaned a little closer, "I'm Francis."
Arthur couldn't help but smile and chuckle, "A man from France named Francis?" he teased.
Francis teased back, "And I'm sure you're named after King Arthur?"
Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, "Oh, how did you ever figure it out? You certainly got me!"
Francis looked down at Alfred, who was chatting away to Matthew, he looked back up, his grin wider, "It looks like they're getting along."
Arthur nodded, not quite sure why Francis was smiling so big at the small talk, "Yes, Alfred talks about Matthew quite often, as his friend."
"Friend?" Francis looked back down at his son, "Matthew, why didn't you tell me you were making friends at school?" When Matthew only shrugged, Francis shook his head in exasperation, and lifted his sight back to Arthur, "Well, maybe the four of us should get together sometime. In fact, we could get someone to watch over them and we could go out to dinner."
"That would be..." Arthur trailed off when he realized what Francis had asked. His heart picked up speed again as he noticed the slight urge to agree. Why not? Francis was a very attractive man, his smile was bright and full of life, his hair was long and looked soft to the touch, and his eyes were deep and blue as the ocean. No. Just because Kate is gone, doesn't mean he's free. He is morning. This would not be a logical step. Right? But, why not? Perhaps it was best. Just because Kate is dead doesn't mean he should be alone and depressed forever, he deserved more than that. He deserved much more than that. Arthur picked up his sentence, "That would be brilliant. My brother Lain doesn't live far from here, he could take care of Alfred and Matthew while we are gone. When is the best time for you?"
Francis looked a tad surprised, but his eyes glew with happiness, "Well, we could meet at their school on Friday, and I can just follow you to your house? Then, I can drive you to this nice, Italian restaurant on Victoria Street?"
Arthur wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, "Sounds all good to me."
Francis reached down and took Matthew's hand, "Well, I'll see you then, mon ami, I'm afraid that's all the time I have for now." Francis winked as he walked off, "Au revoir!"
"Good bye, Matthew!" Alfred exclaimed. Matthew turned in his direction and waved.
"Good bye." Arthur was left there staring at the shelf that Francis had been standing in front of.
"Daddy?"
"Hmm?"
"How long is it going to take for you to read the price tag?"
...
...
...
Translations:
Non conosco il numero di emergenza: (Italian)- I do not know the emergency number
Mio Dio: (Italian)- My God
Mon Ami: (French)- My Friend
Other Notes:
Nine-Nine-Nine: Emergency number hotline in England
Drac and Lukas are Romania and Norway. They will be seen in later chapters.
