Airplanes
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the song Airplanes.
Rage, fury, anger, were all the emotions that Francis felt as he slammed the door to his room knocking down a couple of pictures that had hung on the wall near the door. It wasn't Antonio's fault, he was just the bearer of bad news, so then why did Francis really want to beat his face in? Well actually beating just about anyone's face in would be really good. It was a good thing they lived far away from his and Lovino's fathers cause he might not be able to stop himself from looking for them if they did. He wanted to beat the bastards faces in that took his sister's innocent and practically raped her. She was still under eighteen if he could find them he would put them in jail for statutory rape. He would make sure that no one could touch his petite souer ever again.
But seeing as there was no one in his bedroom to smash in faces with Francis resorted to using the mirror in the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, he had the master bedroom in the apartment, Antonio had drawn the short straw and to have the normal bedroom. Smash. The glass of the mirror cracked and pieces broke off and embedded themselves into his fist which had smashed a huge hole into said mirror. Smash. Another crack in the mirror diagonal from the one he had already made, more glass embedded in his skin. He could hear Antonio outside of the room asking if everything was alright. How could everything be alright? His sister was a prostitute and it was all his fault, if he had only walked her home that day like he always had done instead of staying after school and helping Gilbert and Antonio on a prank that had required time after school to get it right. If only, if only, he had played the what if over in his mind again and again many times. It would change nothing now; all that mattered was letting her know that it would soon be all right. That he would always be there for her and that no one would ever hurt her again.
"Francis," Antonio said coming into the bathroom and kneeling beside the Frenchman, "Francis, do you always need to be so overdramatic, sending shards of a mirror into your palm is not going to change the past." The normally cheerful Spaniard was no longer smiling as he inspected Francis' left hand. "Come on; let's run this under some water to wash the blood away before pulling out the shards. Jeesh can't you think about how hard this is going to be explaining to everybody?" The three of them, Antonio, Gilbert and Francis had agreed to keep Lovino's location a secret so that the others wouldn't freak out so much until after Lovino was back and safe among friends again.
"I want to kill every man that has ever touched my sister." Francis said quietly,
"I understand mi amigo; I feel the same way about the men who have touched my Lovino. But breaking mirrors won't help you with that, in fact that'll give you seven years of bad luck." The smile returned to Antonio's face as he turned the tap on the sink that would allow cold water to flow from the faucet. Francis let out a half chuckle and allowed Antonio to play nurse on him. He had been a bit overdramatic breaking the mirror, but then theatre hadn't been his greatest passion for nothing.
"Sorry," Francis muttered as he sat on the toilet, Antonio sat on the edge of the tub and was quietly and efficiently pulling out the shards of the broken mirror.
"You're paying for that you know." Antonio said,
"Fine," Francis agreed, "I broke it, I'll pay for it."
"Good, you're lucky that I hadn't left or this could be seriously infected." Francis raised an eyebrow, why would Antonio be leaving anytime soon? He hadn't said anything about having to go anywhere today. "Alfred called, Matthew and Gilbert are fighting again and it's turned really dangerous I guess. You know how they can get when they fight. I was about to head out to the apartment when I heard the mirror break."
"Oh," was all Francis could say and wondered to himself what his cousin and his best friend were fighting about now. Gilbert was always doing something to annoy Matthew, and though the blond had a lot of patience with the obnoxious Prussian, there was only so much patience someone could have with another.
"Yeah, so let's get you patched up and then head over to Matthew's." Antonio said walking over to the drawers to pull out the gazes and the medical tape. It had been a while since they'd had to use that sort of stuff. Antonio had stabbed himself with scissors last time.
"Are you sure that's a fight we want to break up?"
"Alfred sounded desperate." Francis raised an eyebrow; the American born usually could break up his brother's fights with one of his hero smiles and a few words. If he was sounding desperate that meant Matthew wasn't listening to him or anybody for that matter and this could be a dangerous battle field they were walking into. But Antonio must already know that.
"What did Gilbert do now?" Francis grumbled looking down at his newly bandaged hand.
"Dunno. Are you going to want some Motrin?" Antonio asked rummaging through the medicine cabinet for the medication he had just mentioned.
"No, I think I'll be okay." Francis said standing up off the toilet and put his hand on Antonio's shoulder. "Let's go rescue Gilbert, I don't want Matthew charged with murder." Antonio chuckled and nodded and the two vacated the bathroom.
Matthew and Alfred's apartment was only a few blocks from Francis and Antonio's. Gilbert didn't technically live with the brothers, but he often spent the night to give as he put it Feliciano and Ludwig privacy. Francis shook his head as he stepped out of the elevator on the third floor of the apartment building, he could hear the yelling already, Matthew had a pair of lungs on him.
"Oh Francis, Antonio, thank goodness you're here." Matthew and Alfred's neighbor, Mrs. Delour, said. "I don't know what Gilbert did, but Matthew is greatly upset with him." The elderly lady looked frazzled. "I don't know what to do. Should I call the police?"
"No," Antonio said with one of his dazzling smiles that he used to charm all manner of people, "Frannie and I will take care of it. I'm sure Gilbie just pushed one to many of Matthew's buttons." Francis rolled his eyes as Antonio sweet talked the elderly woman.
"Oh, okay, well then I'll just go out and come back later when the fighting has stopped." Mrs. Delour said and walked down the hall with her very ugly green hand bag that reminded Francis of lizard's skin.
"Get out, get out!" Matthew was shouting when Francis and Antonio opened the door to the apartment. The blond, normally quiet, Canadian stood with his hockey stick in hand; trembling with rage in the middle of a living room that looked like it was a warzone. And in a way it had been. Terracotta pieces of a broken lamp were scattered around the living room, all the cushion of the couch had been torn out, a painting hung sideways on its hinges. Glass from a broken glass was also scattered around the room. Gilbert stood behind the kitchen counter which was seeable from the doorway because the wall had been cut out from it. "I won't have a adulterous bastard staying in my house!"
"Adulterous!" Gilbert shouted in rage picking up the remote to throw at the Canadian, who in turn changed the hockey stick's position as if he was going to deflect it like he would a hockey puck. Alfred was nowhere in sight. "Adulterous! We're not eve married! You're just jealous of the awesome me!"
"Get out, now." Matthew's voice had suddenly taken on a tone Francis had only ever heard once. A bully had cornered Lovino after school one time and taunted the Italian about being gay. Unfortunately for said bully, Matthew and Francis had come upon them as the Canadian was coming home from hockey practice, Francis had been his ride. Francis had never felt sorry for anyone in his life more than the terrified boy after Matthew was through with him.
"Make me," Gilbert said with the cocky smile that would make anybody get riled up and smack it off of him, including at the moment an already riled up Matthew.
"Enough," Francis shouted making his and Antonio's presence noted. "Both of you." Matthew turned and glared at his cousin.
"What are you two doing here?" He demanded,
"Making sure you don't end up in jail for murdering him." Antonio said,
"Hey!" Gilbert protested, but one look from his two best friends silenced anything he was about to protest.
"Look, Matthew, we swear Gilbert didn't sleep with anyone last night." Francis said, "He went home. He was faithful."
"So you admit you went to a strip club." Matthew accused,
"It wasn't the most pleasurable experience." Gilbert muttered.
"You went to a strip club last night and you expect me to believe you didn't enjoy it!" Matthew yelled, his grip tightening on the hockey stick in his hands making the albino he was already threatening tremble slightly.
"Well technically it's not a strip club. The Russian Sunflower is considered a-" the look on Matthew's faced silenced the talkative Spaniard, "Lovino didn't strip until we got to the back room."
"I don't care that wherever you went- hold on did you just say Lovino?" Matthew said, Antonio nodded eyeing the hockey stick still in the Canadian's hands. That was a dangerous weapon in the silent blonde's hands. It was something he had seen the boy use plenty of times on the ice and even on some kids that had dared to make fun of Gilbert for looking different. "You found him?" Antonio nodded again.
"He's at the Russian Sunflower; we're working on a way for him to escape." Antonio said,
"Matthew, he's not the only one there either." Francis said quietly, the Canadian's purple eyes softened as he saw the distress in his cousin's eyes. "Monique is there as well."
"What? But Monique, she's, she's dead. She's been dead for- for five years." Matthew said quietly the hockey stick dropping from his hands as Francis shook his head.
"You know they never were able to confirm it." Francis whispered,
"But the funeral and your mother. Francis, does Monique know?"
"I- I don't know," Francis felt his legs tremble has he remembered the night after the funeral for the little girl who would never be encased in her casket. His mother had taken a gun from the gun safe the night after the funeral and spattered her brains all over the wall in his parents' bedroom, a room he'd never been able to go into again.
He didn't stay too long afterwards at the apartment, he went for a drive around Montreal wasting gas and money just trying to clear his head. It had taken him years to stop blaming himself for what had happened to Monique, years. It was Jeanne his high school sweet heart who had finally convinced him that he wasn't the one to blame for her disappearance or his family issues afterwards. She'd been the one to make him whole again, at least until her death.
It wasn't until later that Francis even realized that he had driven back to the Russian Sunflower. He had to face her, his past, his guilt. What would he do if she hated him? He couldn't blame her, he'd hate himself if he was in her position. What if she wanted nothing to do with him? Was she still the same little girl he remembered? No, he told himself almost as the thought entered him, no there was no way she'd still be the same little girl who loved to read and dream about far off places, she would be different.
Francis was by no means poor, or even really middle class, his parents had been very well off before everything went to hell and Francis had inherited his mother's life insurance once he turned eighteen, plus his grandparents back in France were quite well off and often sent him money, they were also the ones paying for college. So entering the high end brothel was no hard sweat for him. Neither would be the fee for getting a night with Monique, he was sure that he could out bid any man for his sister, and he would.
Back and forth he paced along the back wall of the room near the bed that wouldn't be in use that night. It was a bare white room that reminded Francis of a mental ward only without the observation windows, not that Francis had ever been in a mental ward, he had only seen them on tv. Soon she would enter and he would have to face the music of what happened five year prior.
The door handle turned and Francis froze like a child who had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. The door opened and a beautiful blond girl with dully sparkling blue eyes, dressed in a Catholic school girl outfit, her hair done in braids to only extenuate the fact that she was a minor and supposedly forbidden. There was no doubt in Francis' mind anymore that his little sister was alive as she stood in front of him, apparently oblivious as to who he was. Had he really changed that much? He had grown stubble on his chin, it made him look manlier, and grown out his blond hair, but if you had blond hair like his wouldn't you want everyone to notice it too?
She shut the door behind her and then turned to look at Francis and raised an eyebrow, probably at his very dumfounded look on his face. "Well, shall we get to it tonight or not?" she asked, very much comfortable in the situation, something that didn't make Francis any less guilty.
"Non, I do not wish to have sex with ma petite souer." He said barely auditable, her blue eyes widened and filled with tears and she ran over to him crying his name as she did so.
"Francis, Francis," she said over and over again into his chest. "You've come, you've come for me." Francis smiled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head, glad she was back in his arms where he could hopefully protect her from the dangers of life again.
"Monique, I- I" he said pulling away from her, "There is no excuse for what I did, I left you to fend for yourself so that I could plan some meaningless prank with Gilbert and Antonio, I- I'm such a horrible person." Monique frowned as he spoke and shook her head when he was finished.
"Its not your fault, Francis. I could have called Mom to pick me up or walked home with some friends. But I didn't because I wanted to prove that I wasn't a little girl anymore. Besides if you had been with me Mom and Dad would have lost another child. They were after both of us." Monique said, there was a fire in her eyes that had been absent before, a fire that told Francis that Monique hadn't lost herself in all the tragedy she had faced.
"Both of us?" Francis said weakly, reaching for the wall behind him to grasp for support. He had come so close to being in the same position as Monique, as Lovino. If he had been taken that day five years ago he'd never have met Jeanne or helped Antonio and Lovino get together or even Matthew and Gilbert. He had helped orchestrate all of his friend's relationships.
"Yeah, Toris admitted to overhearing it a few years ago. In ways I'm grateful that Gilbert and Antonio held you back because now you don't have to live with the fact that you're a slut." Francis let out a hollow bark as she spoke. He was a slut, even more then she was, at least she didn't sleep around by choice. Francis couldn't count how many men and women he had slept with since Jeanne died, sometimes he slept with more than one.
"Monique, I swear you won't spend another year here. By the time of your eighteenth birthday you'll never see this place again, I swear this to you." Francis said his flair for the dramatic bursting out again.
"You've changed so much, Frannie. You've got the eyes of an old man now." Monique whispered her palm brushing his cheek.
"I've experienced the loss of three people that I dearly loved. I am a broken man, Monique. I fear at times that I will never be put back together again." He smiled to himself as he uttered his last sentence.
There was a knock at the door that made the siblings jump. "Monique, I heard voices is everything okay?" asked the familiar voice of Arthur Kirkland. Monique hurried over to the door to inform the Britt that everything was okay when he spotted Francis.
"You," The Britt pointed at Francis, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Frog, what the hell are you doing with Monique. I knew you were a sick man, but this is just twisted. I never suspected you were a pervert." Francis let out a sardonic laugh that confused the other two occupants in the room.
"Arthur," Monique said quietly, "Francis is my brother. He wasn't doing anything to me; we were talking because we haven't seen each other in five years." Arthur frowned and then turned back to the still laughing Frenchman.
"I'll never understand the French." He said shaking his head, "They're so melodramatic."
"Francis, what's wrong?" Monique said with a desperate sigh.
"I am sick and twisted, while my sister sleeps with people because she is forced too, I sleep around like a whore by choice. I vowed to kill anyone who has ever touched you, but I have to wonder if anyone has made that vow with someone that I've slept with. And God, do I want a cigarette right now." Francis said, Monique and Arthur looked down at the ground suddenly uncomfortable.
"Smoking's not allowed here." Arthur said and Francis shrugged.
"Francis, is something wrong?" Monique asked, Francis slid down the wall till he sat on the floor before answering. He hid his face from the other's eyes, but his voice cracked as he spoke.
"You were supposed to hate me, supposed to tell me that I was some God awful person for not walking you home that day. That it was all my fault that Dad became a drunk and Mom killed herself, that it was my fault you were forced to sleep with a total stranger because he couldn't find a real person to warm his bed at night so he resorted to child prostitution instead. But you didn't, you did exactly what she said you would do, you weren't angry with me and you accepted me without even knowing who I was anymore. You even told me you were glad I wasn't with you because then I would be in the same position you are in. I rather I be in it, Monique then you. For the past five years I believed my baby sister was dead and that it was all my fault."
"It'll be okay Frannie, you promised to get me out. I know you'll get me out, Frannie, cause you never break your word." Monique said bending down next to him and giving him a hug.
Can we pretend that airplanes,
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now,
Wish right now,
Wish right now.
Can we pretend that airplanes,
In the night sky,
Are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now,
Wish right now,
Wish right now.
Author's Note (The part of the story where the Author comes out and write a silly note): So I'm back after a very long hiatus and for those of you who read my author's note you'll know that I had medical issues that popped up only days after my last posting, literally. Then during that whole debacle marching band started and that as some may know can take up your life as you know it till it ends. So I'm just saying that if it takes another seven weeks to publish my next chapter, that is why. Anyway so yeah decided to focus on Francis this time because I adore Francis. I think he's very funny and tries to express himself only he does in all the wrong ways and he's so melodramatic, I thought that him being a theatre major just fit him. And I love FrUk and so I'm working on back story that will become more elaborated later on in Russian Sunflower and in the prequel I'm working on. But I'll keep taking in requests for either prequel or a sequel. Oh yeah, this is my longest chapter I have written for this story. It just got way out of hand. That's part of the reason it took so long to write.
