Ch. 13:
Franada
Francis was trying.
Matthew stayed in the guest room given to him, the Frenchman brining him his meals and giving him fresh sets of clothes. He had told the boy he had no servants when Matthew had given him strange looks when Francis had brought him food.
But except for meal times Francis tried to stay away, he couldn't stand the fear in the boy's eyes.
Not the fear from what Francis had done to him, that was his sin and while he was disgusted by himself he could own up to it. Matthew feared him for a reason he couldn't control.
That he was an Immortal.
He should've known the dramatic knife scene was a bad idea.
Matthew wouldn't ever be able to relax near him. Which begged the question, why did Francis scare so much? Was it simply guilt? Or was he just tired of being alone…had he just become desperate for company?
Then I should buy a tortoise, he thought to himself angrily as he took Matthew's lunch up to him. The boy hadn't moved from his spot on the bed in days, but at least he was eating.
Francis gave him a small nod and placed the tray down, picking up the breakfast tray he quietly turned to leave when Matthew spoke: "You said you'd help."
Francis turned his head sharply to look at him, Matthew quickly looked down. He didn't even want to meet his eye. "You said you'd help me get home."
"I'm trying," Francis replied just as quietly. Unfortunately none of his connections were with an air ship captains…and the ones he trusted were either poor or homeless like the harlots.
"I have a friend," Matthew said, his voice barely above a murmur. "He was kidnapped too but escaped…he's coming for me…he knows I'm in France."
Francis's eyes widened ever so slightly. This was news to him.
"Is he traveling by air ship? Maybe I can get word, tell him where you are."
A damp spot on the bed and Francis saw the boy was crying. The sight made his chest do an uncomfortable twist.
"He's coming," Matthew breathed brokenly. "He is." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Francis.
"Why wouldn't he," Francis asked.
"He's not dead," Matthew snapped like his host had been taunting him with the words.
Francis narrowed his eyes, "Who said he was?"
"He escaped with a life boat," Matthew moaned, "He didn't fall overboard…he wasn't pushed…"
Matthew looked at him then, with a glare so fierce it made Francis cringe. "Alfred's coming for me!"
An hour or so after nightfall Matthew found himself leaving the guest room for the first time since he was given it.
Francis had not brought him dinner. And frankly it scared him; he couldn't help but rely on the Immortal while he was here.
After taking a few wrong turns in the gigantic mansion (he never did get a tour), he finally made it to the kitchen. No one was there. He grabbed some French bread and after a few bites decided to see if Francis was in the house. He had gotten used to the man hovering around, eager to please.
Using bread crumbs so he could find his way back, Matthew headed back upstairs.
He couldn't help admiring the statues and portraits he passed on his way. Whether they were relatives or friends of Francis's, the boy didn't know. But he could tell they were well-maintained, and incredibly old.
An unwanted and uncalled for stab of pity hit Matthew. How awful it had to be, to live forever, to love people whose life spans were just a blink of the eye.
Matthew quickly shook his head; this was not the time and place to pity the man who bought him.
He peeked through a cracked door and realized it was Francis's room. A torrent of conflicting emotions washed over him when his eyes rested on the bed, the empty bed.
Forcing himself to walk in Matthew called out softly for the Frenchman. He hoped him being in this room, close to his bed, wouldn't give him any ideas.
But the room remained quiet. Francis wasn't here either.
Not wanting to return to his room to wait, Matthew finished off what remained of the bread and walked to a door in the room. H expected to see a large closet, but instead he walked into a finely polished bathroom. He wasn't too surprised, his guest room had an adjoining bathroom; however this one was much larger, with an underground tub at that for whatever reason.
Matthew turned to the mirror and winced. He looked awful. His hair was mated and tangled, his skin ashy and there was bags under his eyes. He probably smelled too, he hadn't used his own bathroom for anything other than relieving himself.
Matthew slowly turned to look at the large, rectangular bath that could easily fit three people, looked at the impressive display of colorful and expensive body wash and shampoo next to it, at the fluffy looking towels on the rack… After all the traumatizing things that had happened to him, Matthew figured the least he deserved was a relaxing bath.
A few minutes later the boy was in neck deep, hot water, bubbles overflowing mixed with a bath salt that soothed him to his bones.
He let out a heavenly sigh and laid his head back against the edge, eyes closed, for the last time in days completely at ease.
And he had time to think.
He wasn't so sure about his outbreak earlier. Maybe the waiting was getting to him; maybe staying cooped up in this mansion was the problem. But he felt guilt for even thinking something had happened to Alfred, the young man was a solider and a wild animal. He wouldn't just die not when he had stuff like rescuing to do; it's what heroes were for.
He'd patiently wait here until he arrived and then… Francis would let him go…right?
Matthew sat up, he hadn't thought of that. But the Immortal wouldn't expect him to stay would he? He had been helping Matthew; at least trying to…at least that's what he'd been told.
"Calm down," he sternly ordered himself. "That's not going to happen." And even if it did, Alfred would be here and he would help. Matthew was back to relaxing when the bathroom door suddenly opened and there stood Francis.
There was a long silent moment where they just stood there, staring at each other.
Then Francis closed the door and Matthew's face caught on fire.
"Um…" Francis began awkwardly from the other side of the door. It was the first time he ever sounded flustered. "You're…in my bath."
"Y-yes," Matthew buried his flaming face in his hands.
"… Was there something wrong with yours?"
"N-no, I just, I liked it…it was big and you had all this body wash…and, and I really wanted to relax, I'm all stressed out." As he spoke he crawled out of the tub and wrapped himself in one of the towels. He was right, it felt like a cloud.
"I'm sorry," he finished lamely.
"It's no problem," Francis replied quickly. "But I was looking forward to a bath…"
The man nearly jumped as Matthew ripped the door open, still wrapped in a towel and holding his dirty clothes, Matthew was prepared to leave with his eyes on the floor but then he looked at the man.
Francis's hair, which was usually silky and bound in a pony tail, was now in tangles, his clothes wrinkled and unkempt, he looked unnaturally tired.
"Sorry," Matthew repeated.
But Francis shook his head, "Its fine. But I have good news."
"Oh," Matthew picked up the other man's excitement.
"I have a friend who knows a man who knows a friend to the daughter of the captain of the Wind Cutter. She knows every ship that comes in and out, and what are on them. She'll let us know when Alfred arrives."
Matthew's eyes widened, "R-Really-just like that?"
"Well, I'd be lying if I said she agreed for free." He winced and Matthew's brain clicked and a new blush formed on his cheeks. "Y-You didn't have to do that."
Now Francis looked confused.
"Didn't I? You wanted to find your friend when he arrives, this is the best way."
"Yes, but…" Matthew didn't finish. He had no idea why but he was incredibly uncomfortable with the thought of Francis prostituting himself, especially for Matthew's sake.
"I appreciate it but… Don't do something like that again, please. It makes me uneasy."
Francis looked like he had many questions but only said one: "Why are there bread crumbs everywhere?"
Matthew looked away, shame-faced. "So I didn't get lost…"
Francis burst into laughter, startling the boy. "Merci, Mathieu, I needed that. Go back to your room, I'll bring you dinner as soon as I finish cleaning myself up."
"Take your time," the words escaped Matthew before he could stop them and he quickly exited the room.
