Forever Yours
By: Ezio Bonnefoy
Francis caressed his jaw as he watched Matthew pull up his school bag. The French was actually a bit surprised that he brought the assignment. Well, he didn't think Matthew would show up in the first place to be honest. But despite his believes, the young Canadian had arrived.
"Ah, I-It's...um" Matthew fondled with his papers and books, trying to find the notes he needed.
"No worries. Don't stress yourself." Francis said smiling. He felt his cheeks starting to get numb and relaxed his face a bit. The man was just so happy that Matthew had actually come to see him. He couldn't help himself, but kept smiling even thought he tried not to.
"Ah, okay..." The boy placed a handout on the table along with some scribbled notes, among them ones that Francis recognized. His hand moved swiftly over the table and fetched the paper on top. He placed it in front of his nose and read a few lines. It was the notes he had saved a few days ago.
"Give me that!" Matthew snatched the papers out of his hand and rearranged it with the rest looking at Francis from the corner of his eyes.
"Those are-" Francis didn't even to finish the sentence before Matthew answered him.
"Yes. They are the ones..." The boy met Francis eyes for a second before he hid under his bangs again. "...that you gave back to me." He cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee. Francis saw how clearly he was embarrassed and couldn't help but laugh. It was so adorable.
"What?" Matthew finally looked up again and stared bitterly at him, red faced, placing the cup down as violently as he could manage without creating too much turbulence.
"Oh, nothing Matthew." Francis tried his best, but couldn't get his lips to uncurl. Merde. Matthew must think that he mocked him. The French knew he didn't need that. He believed that Matthew got enough of that elsewhere.
Finally, Francis smile ceased from his lips. He felt so bad for Matthew. He knew something fishy was going on with Billy, but he hoped, dependently, it wasn't as grim as it had turned out. He cursed the ones who had hurt Matthew, it had made him this sharp as he was. Francis knew he was afraid. Afraid to relax, to get hurt, to get close, to let anyone in. And that would damage him even more in the long term.
But he had to focus on the present. Francis swallowed his worries and continued in his jolly tone. "How far have you come?" The boy toned down his edgy aura and looked at his papers.
"Ah...Well...Not that far." He said worryingly and blinked behind his glasses.
"I see. What is the problem then?" Francis ate another piece of his bun and watched the boy carefully.
"I don't know. I just-" Matthew sighed deeply and caressed his forehead. He drug his blonde bangs back and exposed his light skin. "I just don't get certain things."
"Oh, is that so?" Francis felt even more sorry for the boy. He looked really disturbed. His eyes ran along the notes and his brows furrowed the longer he looked at the papers. "Then try me." Matthew looked up and smiled at Francis.
"I don't think-"
"Come on. How hard can it be?" Francis leaned back with a confidence. Truth be told, he didn't really know what he had gotten himself into, but he wanted to help Matthew in every way that he could.
"Alright. Um...you see this here?" Matthew turned his paper around and showed Francis a paragraph out of the play.
O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name?
Or, if thou will not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
"Ah, a very beautiful speech, don't you think?" Francis said dreaming. He let the words really fill him up. The French could almost taste Juliette's love for Romeo, innocent and sweet. Shakespeare did sure know how to describe a young lover's feelings. This made Francis almost fall in love himself. He was not easily moved by text, but this was beautiful, just like the perfume he wore.
"I think it is plain stupid." Matthew snorted.
"Matthew! You do not call a Shakespeare work stupid!" Francis hit the boy on the head with the paper. A bit surprised, and embarrassed, Matthew apologized halfheartedly.
"Yea right...sorry...sorry..." He took the paper back. And stared at the quote. "But...Hm..." The boy sighed yet again.
"Quoi?" Francis leaned forward and studied the boy closer. He saw his eyes scan the text, shifted from right to left. He loved how Matthew's long and pale eyelashes rapidly moved in the same pace as his gaze. The French lowered his head even more and saw his deep blue iris, it was pale and almost violet in it's unusual shade. Francis lips drew back yet again. Matthew was truly beautiful, there was no doubt. He was a feast for his eyes. As the boy slowly blinked behind his glasses, Francis restrained himself from his sharp impulse. He wanted to touch Matthew's fair skin, that blonde hair. Clenching his right fist he sat silent. He wanted to feel it all, especially those soft lips. But, Francis knew that if he did attempt to, he would ruin him, therefore he held back.
"I just...What are you doing?" Matthew met Francis eyes, only then did the French realize that he leaned so much foreword on the table that he almost laid flat under the boy's paper.
"Oh, I was just looking at your eyes." Francis said honestly and dreamy with lowered lashes.
"W-What? W-Why? Francis-" Matthew leaned back to avoid straight eye contact. But, Francis gaze didn't let go of his as he rose from the tabletop.
"They look violet, non?" The man tilted his head slightly, still looking at the boy with an intensity.
"Ah...Well, I guess they do." Matthew said and cleared his throat a little nervously, adjusting his glasses. Matthew blushed in a soft shade of pink. Mon dieu, he was cute. It made the French almost shudder. Francis' eyes glimmered as they watched him. It made him start to wonder.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" The vulgar question just slipped out of him like water onto the table. The boy on the other side stiffed up, he didn't answer but simply stared at the Frenchman with an even more flushed face. "Or, boyfriend, that's fine too."
"What?! NO!" Matthew was bright red at this point and his eyes glistened behind his glasses.
"Oh. Alright." Francis smirked charmingly. So he was available after all. Smoothly he changed the subject. "Anyways, you where saying?" Francis rolled on the R and finished the last of his bun to act casual, and to kind of hide the fact that he had checked Matthew out and confirmed that he was single.
"Yes, um..." The boy was still blushing, making Francis warm in his chest. The sweetness really made his torso curl in a loving manner. The Frenchman had to focus on his breathing not to make shriek from his adorableness. "The thing about the names." Matthew adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't really get why she'd stop being a Capulet. I mean, she is born in that family. Doesn't she like them? Would she really just abandon them like that for a guy?" Francis frowned his brows and looked strangely at Matthew.
"Oui?" He didn't really know what to say, because to him the answer was obvious.
"Really? But, they barely know each other!" Matthew shook his head in distress and looked at his notes. Francis chuckled.
"Well, Matthew. In the beginning of a relationship you always barely know each other." The boy met his eyes and began speaking with an unsteady breath.
"But-"
"Non. Listen to me." The French leaned forward, closer to Matthew who held his notes like a barrier between them. "Imagine yourself in her situation. What would you do?" Francis rested his elbows on the table and gesticulated with his big hands.
"If?" Matthew lowered his papers. He didn't fully understand him, but listened eagerly. Francis sighed.
"Alright. Imagine this: You are in love with someone, and this person is not accepted by your family, what do you do?"
"Ah well, I don't think that would happen." Matthew said and scratched the back of his neck and looked away shyly.
"But if ,Matthew. Who would you choose? Family or this special someone?" Francis smiled charmingly, eyes half open.
"Family of course." Matthew said innocently. Francis jaw dropped. He didn't believe the words that fell out of the young boys mouth.
"Really?" Chocked by Matthew's statement, Francis almost shouted in the cafe.
"Y-Yea. I mean, my family will always be there but partners can just come and go."
"But Matthew, if this is the one?" Francis held his hands out and gesticulated desperately.
"Yea, but I could still find someone new." Matthew shrugged his shoulders, but tensed as soon as the French opened his mouth.
"Matthew!" Francis smashed his hand on the table. "You can't just find someone new! If that is your true love and you are meant for each other-GAH!" He just stopped speaking and made a pause in his upset speech. "How dare you say such a disgusting thing? Love is holy!" The French was obliviously melodramatic, rolling his R's and not pronouncing his H's. Despite his strong accent, he managed to make Matthew understand that he had said something terribly wrong.
"Um...I-I'm sorry..." Matthew looked distressed. Francis sighed deeply and lowered his head. The boy didn't even know why he had upset him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"Ah, no...It's just so crystal clear to me. I just thought..." The man lifted his head again and calmed his senses. "You don't believe in true love?" He asked worryingly. Matthew relaxed a bit and gave a polite smile.
"Yes, I-I do. I do. I'm sorry..." The boy drug his bangs back ans looked down t his papers to avoid eye contact.
"Don't apologize. You have the right to have your own opinion, Matthew." Francis muttered and waved with his hand. "You don't seem to see it the same way as I do. How do you feel about it anyways?" Matthew raised his head.
"About what?"
"Love of course." Francis said calmly and leaned on his left hand.
"Ah...Well. I-I'm not really sure...I-I don't have like... a l-lot of experience..." Matthew smiled with his brows tilted back, playing with his hands, giving him an innocent look.
"As long as you had a crush or two you could still have a feel of what your opinions on rights and wrongs." Francis said and shrugged his shoulders. Matthew swallowed hard and looked out the window.
"Uh...Yea..." Francis noticed something in the boys eyes. Some kind of uncertainty laid behind it. Maybe he had a bad relationship once, and that was why he looked at love like it was just an ordinary thing? Without really thinking, Francis just asked Matthew what he wanted to know.
"What kind of relationships have you had, Matthew?" This question seemed quite normal to the French, but the sudden reaction he got said told otherwise. Like a firework, Matthew's eyes fluttered and his face sparked of fire. Nothing but stuttered words escaped his lips before Francis finally realized. "You've never had a partner, Matthew?" Francis eyes where wide and wondering. The boy just looked away shyly.
How the hell could a guy like Matthew not have had a partner at some point? It was unbelievable! Francis thought he was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen!
Wait, did Francis really think that? The man scanned the embarrassed boy. His fair hair, those pink cheeks, that pale skin, soft lips, piercing eyes and that soft smile he had. Beauty, innocence, kindness, all in one. A chock went through Francis spine as Matthew let out a nervous laugh. He was adorable, irresistibly cute. Even his laughter was charming. Yes, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Francis has never received so much pleasure from watching someone like he had from Matthew.
"I...uhm..." Matthew chuckled lightly, almost making Francis go mad of adorableness. "I have never actually been in love." Those words struck Francis, teared him up and spread through him like wildfire.
"Que?" He didn't know why, but Francis heart started to leap. Beating uncontrollably from the statement. "You have never been in love?" Matthew drew his left lip back and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, mon deui..." Francis leaned back in the sofa and covered his eyes. His chest deflated and heat spread to his neck. The kid had never ever fallen for someone. How was that even possible? Matthew was almost a grown man, so how? Had he avoided the strong emotion that long? What had happened to Matthew that made him not being able to love? Could he love?
A nervous fear bit it's way into Francis torso as his mind twisted to an awful thought. He searched his mind but only one explanation could be found to this unusual.
Has Matthew ever been loved?
Francis finally looked at the boy with a distressed smile. "Well, mon amie. You've been missing out." The both laughed and looked at each other. Suddenly, the air was thicker around the small table.
The thought screamed in the back of his mind. He praised that it was just a thought and not reality. If it was the truth, it would have been to much to bear for the sensitive Frenchman.
Has he ever been loved?
Francis sighed and let out a nevus laughter. In a weird way, they where equally awkward and relaxed for once. Matthew finally let his eyes slip from Francis'. He hid behind his coffee cup that had been emptied without his realization. Giggling and smiling widely he lowered the cup and drug his hair back.
"Look's like you need a refill, mon amie." Francis said teasingly and smirked at the boy who was already blushing.
-x-
Matthew didn't know for how long they'd been seated in the small cafe. Minutes, hours, days, it didn't seem to matter. He was just so happy, and surprised that he could enjoy someones company for this long. Matthew was used to be alone all the time, so this was a breakthrough. Writing and discussing the ancient play had made the young Canadian wonder. Francis portrayed love in such a beautiful way. He spoke as if he himself had written Shakespeare's work. All the loose ends and questions that made Matthew's stomach turn all vanished with the French strongly accented words.
"Francis?" The boy stopped writing down the other man's thoughts for just a moment. Francis stopped mid sentence and met his eyes.
"Oui?" His blonde hair brushed his wide shoulders as he turned his head.
"I just-" Matthew couldn't help his smile and laughter. He held the pen under his jaw and spoke honest words to Francis. "I don't know how you manage to quote everything so perfectly. I-I mean...It's like you've done this kind of assignment before." The French smiled widely, caressing his stubble jaw.
"Merci beaucoup, Matthew. But, as you might have figured out, love is my kind of thing." Francis winked and chuckled charmingly, his deep blue eyes looking into Matthew's.
"How?" The boy was in an euphoric state of happiness and relief. He felt that he would turn in the assignment and make it after all. He wanted to know what ability Francis had to make the most difficult feeling that the human possessed, seem to be so easily explained.
"Well, Matthew. I am older than you, and therefore wiser. I've had my experiences." He waved with his hand and leaned against the table. Suddenly two heavy feet stopped next to the young men's table.
"You two."The stiff cafe owner had, despite his long and clumsy steps, manage to approach their them without Matthew noticing. He stood straight, head tilted to the boys level and stared into his eyes. "We're closing in a while. If you need any assistant, me and Tino will be in the kitchen preparing the bread for tomorrow." He spoke in a deep tone and tripped over some words, making his accent clearer. Only then did Matthew notice the empty cafe around them. All the costumers had left and only Francis and Matthew where still in there.
"Berewald! There you are honey!" A shorter man, barely reaching up, flung his arms around the tall mans neck and kissed him on the cheek. He then turned to see Francis and Matthew. "Oh, you're still here how wonderful!" He spoke in a jolly tone that fitted his round crystal blue eyes and bright smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Oui, merci. The coffee and cinnamon bun where amazing. Right Matthew?" Francis was still looking at the boy from across the table.
"Y-Yea!" The Canadian smiled nervously at the tall owner, realizing he hadn't eaten the treat he'd been offered.
"Now come on honey! Let's bake some cupcakes too!" The young man spoke in a rounded tongue as he drug in Berewald's arm. Matthew finally felt the owners eyes leave his gaze as he turned to his co-worker.
"Ja. Let's do that." He then bent down and gave Tino a kiss before he grasped his waste as they left Francis and Matthew in the cafe for themselves.
This made Matthew wonder. Was Francis in a relationship? He didn't dare to ask, but he knew that they'd must be happy if so. It seemed as if the French could solve any problem that had the topic of love.
"Aw. L'amour." Francis said and sighed joyfully as he still looked in the direction that the couple went. The French almost looked like he was in love himself.
Matthew lowered his head and placed the pencil on his lips, going back to the thought he had earlier. Yes, he probably had a girlfriend. Heck, even the scum Billy had one so why shouldn't Francis?
"Matthew? What are you thinking about?" The boy looked up and saw the man leaning against his left hand, stirring his coffee with his spoon in his right. He looked at Matthew with a calm expression, eyes half opened and lips slightly curved. His bangs softly laid on the side of his relaxed face. He was just carefully gazing, but still made Matthew nervous for some reason. Just his eyes on him.
"Um...No, nothing. I just..." Matthew didn't ask him though he wanted to. "You seem to have such a relaxed way of looking at things. How come?" The French looked at his coffee and softly smiled.
"Well, I've seen things you haven't, and probably never will. But I know what's important and what to lay focus on. I don't want to waste my energy on something that is not worth it in the end. Like those two, I want to lie focus on the good things in life." Francis looked up again and nodded to the cafe kitchen, eyes glimmering from the light of the cars passing by outside the cafe.
"But, you can't be calm all the time. Aren't you afraid of anything? Fear always makes me tense." Mathew shifted in his seat. His thoughts brought back memories of Billy teasing and his father scolding him. He met the French eyes again shrugged it off. Right now, no Billy would hurt him, and no Arthur could scar him. He was with Francis, and he was different.
"I'm not as afraid as I was before, I still am of certain things." He sighed deeply. "Today, I know how to handle these things. I believed I've become braver over the years."
"Oh. Then...What are you afraid of?" Matthew looked at Francis with like child with his big pale violet eyes. The French chuckled and brought his hand to his head. Brushing his blonde locks back he smiled.
"I'm actually afraid of thunder." He said and switched his eyes to the table a bit embarrassed.
"Really?" Matthew couldn't believe it. A man who had without hesitation joined a fight to protect him, a mere stranger, was afraid of a natural phenomenons such as thunder? Francis nodded and looked out the window, lips still curled.
"You seem to be afraid of a lot of things." The French shifted his eyes back to Matthew, still facing the dark streets. This was true. The young Canadian had always something on his mind, bugging him and making him uneasy.
"Y-Yea." Matthew looked down, blinked and let his pen meet the paper. He scanned all of the notes he had made from Francis glorious speeches of love and hate, rights and wrongs. All of this knowledge he possessed, and the calmness that constantly surrounded him, was all thanks to experience? "Then, Francis, what is your thoughts on love?" Matthew dropped his pen and leaned against his knuckles, eager to hear what the French had to say.
"Oh, well." Francis sat up properly and stared outside the window for a brief second. "I've seen it all. The the good and the bad." He switched his eyes to Matthew. "I've seen too much I believe." Clearing his throat, Francis shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he spoke. His voice was low, serious, but still not uncomfortable to hear."Love is holy, love should not be misused. Love can hurt you bad, Matthew. But it can likewise heal you. It can make you need something you never knew you wanted. At the same time as it builds you up, it can tear you apart. Love is two sides of the same coin. You can't live with only one of them. The lack of it can make you hate as well as too much of it. It makes you laugh, it makes you cry."
Matthew lowered his eyes and reflected on the man's words. Love could hurt him?
Francis continued. "Love is not between flesh. Love is between bonds. Bonds that anyone can make. Not only with a partner, pet, family or place. It is not only in our hearts, but everywhere." Francis smiled widely and reached over the table. "Even thought you might believe the world is cold, there is always love to be seen." Matthew felt a warm finger on his jaw and raised his head when it pushed upwards. "You just have to open your eyes, Matthew." Two pair of deep blue eyes looked into his. Francis moved his hand back, slowly, lingering the moment.
Matthew looked back and smiled. Francis was honest. The boy thought.
"Yea. I guess you're right. Francis, can I ask you something...a bit personal?" The French eyes widened a bit but remained calm.
"Oui, Matthew. You can ask me anything." His lips curled even more.
"Well...do you think every kind of love is beautiful?" Matthew kind of regretted what he asked, Francis seemed tensed by it. He had straightened his back and sighed,
"That depends on what you count as love." He avoided Matthew's gaze for a second.
"Like...Well I don't know. Same-sex marriage?" Francis sighed almost out of relief.
"Oui, of course that is love, Matthew. It's just between two men or two women. There is no shame in that." Matthew nodded and played with his pen.
"Then what about..." Matthew bit his tongue. No, he shouldn't ask. But, he wanted to. He wanted to badly, because he wanted to know badly. Francis seemed to know everything about love. Maybe...he knew?
"Matthew?" Francis lent down and met the boy's eyes with a worried face. "Is something wrong?" Matthew raised his head and leaned back, one question echoing in the back of his mind.
Did Arthur love him or...did he hate him?
With his lips twitching nervelessly, Matthew manege to pull of a faint smile. "No, no it's fine." The French deeply sighed.
"Lying gives you bad karma, Matthew." There he said it again, his name. Mattheu. Why didn't he say it property? A nerve started to twitch on the boy's forehead. Why didn't anyone say his name correct? All the time, something was off. The first name or the last name. There was always something. Even Arthur had called him Alfred sometimes. An eery, uneasy feeling grasped Matthew and he answered Francis with a sharp tone.
"Why do you say Mattheu?"
"Don't change the subject-"
"Why?" Matthew didn't deny his impulses, but let his word out as soon as it popped up in his head. Francis was silent for a brief moment. Then he sighed took a sip of his coffee, and leaned on the table.
"It's the French way of saying it."
"Well it's wrong." Matthew said coldly and stared into Francis eyes.
"Non. It's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Then what do you prefer?" The French said mockingly. Matthew clenched his jaw and was about to say something he might have regretted when Tino stepped up to their table.
"Excuse me!" He smiled widely, his face was covered in flour and pink sprinkles. On his apron was what seemed like every ingredient in a cupcake. "I'm very sorry but we have to close now." He smiled widely and took both Francis and Matthew's coffee cups.
"Oh! R-Right." Matthew felt a bit shameful for sitting there til after closing time. But what he did wonder was why Tino was covered in all those ingredients. Just as Francis rose from the table you could hear Berewald shout from inside the kitchen.
"Tino come back here! I'll teach you about putting frosting in my oven gloves and sprinkles in my hair!" The young man smiled at both Francis and Matthew.
"Have a nice evening!" He turned his heel and ruched back to the kitchen. A loud bang followed by a screech of fear was heard. "NO! NOT MY VODKA BEREWALD!" Both Francis and Matthew smiled widely at each other, holding back their laughter, forgetting the tense situation before.
-x-
"So...This is it?" Matthew said a bit nervously as he'd stepped out the cafe and met Francis dark eyes. The shimmered from the numerous streetlights that illuminated the frosty sidewalks.
"Oh non, Matthew. I'm not leaving you at this hour. I'll walk you home." He started walking towards the boy and smiled deviously.
"No!" Matthew held his hands in front of him to stop Francis. "T-That's not necessary. I'll take the bus." He smiled back halfheartedly and scratched the back of his head. "The bus stop is just over there." Matthew nodded to the other side of the street and shuddered from the cold.
"Oh. Then I guess this is farewell then?" Francis smiled widely.
"Y-Yea." Matthew felt somehow uneasy. For some reason, he didn't want to leave Francis. He had a fear if he did, he'd never see him again. But he couldn't ask him when they'd meet again, if they'd meet again. Maybe, Francis didn't find Matthew's company pleasant? What if he did not want to meet again? Panic rose in the Canadians chest as his breath got more unsteady.
"Til next time, mon amie?" Francis blinked with his hands in his ultramarine coat's pockets. But...how does he know there will be a next time? Matthew felt a flush of anxiety burn his lungs. No, he didn't want this to be it. What where the chances that he'd bump in to him? He was about to turn when Matthew stopped him.
"When...W-When is next time?" Francis raised his brows and the young Canadian felt his cheeks flush. "I-If I-I h-have more questions a-about..." Matthew could barely speak. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he nervous? Francis chuckled lightly and went a step closer to Matthew.
"Do you have a marker?" He held out his hand in font of the embarrassed Canadian.
"Yes!" Matthew dove into his school bag with unsteady hand and searched desperately for some kind of colored pen that he had and finally got a waterproof black one. He handed it over to Francis who took it with a smile.
"Give me your hand." He bit the tip cork of. Matthew handed him his bare hand and Francis took it. The Frenchman's gloves where cold but his grip was soft. Matthew's jacket sleeve was lightly removed and Francis wrote down some numbers.
"What are you-" The man wrote the last digit and placed the pen in Matthew's hand.
"There. When you feel the need to: call moi." The French let go of him, smiled widely and finally said his final goodbye. "Au revoir, Matthew. Have a nice evening."
"Bye." Matthew waved slightly with the pen in hand as Francis turned and started walking. Shaking his head slightly, the Canadian smiled widely and looked down at his wrist.
Merde: Damn it
Quoi: What
Mon dieu: My God
Non: No
Mon amie: My friend
Merci: Thank you
Ja: Yes
L'amour: Love
Merci beaucoup: Thank you very much