Forever Yours
By: Ezio Bonnefoy
The air was french and chilly despite the pollution and smog that constantly haunted New York. People where passing the Frenchman who was carrying an old gym bag from the 80's. It contained newly washed clothes that he since long had stopped using daily. Francis hair flew in the wind as he passed the street along with stressed New Yorkers all around him. He drew back the blonde waves and stopped next to a big building. He red the curved letters that named the modern school while picking up a cigarette from his coat pocket. Francis knew he wasn't allowed to smoke on the school grounds, so he decided to sip on one before he went inside the fence.
It's not that he needed to, he was just a bit uneasy. Francis wanted to calm his senses before approaching Matthew. He had made a cool impression on him, and he intended to keep it. It was probably what the boy felt most comfortable with anyways. The last thing Francis wanted was for Matthew to sense his stiffness and feel uneasy around him. He took a deep inhale, then slowly let the smoke leave his lungs.
What was this itching feeling he had? Was he nervous? Non, that couldn't be it. Francis chuckled for himself. He didn't know. It just felt strange. Why was he so exited about meeting this boy? Well, he was in a pretty tight and embarrassing situation. Francis felt really sorry for him but couldn't help but laugh at the other line of the phone when Matthew had called him and explained the problem. Francis remembered him excusing his existence, then forgive him for asking, then apologize for making the French help him. Matthew was almost too polite.
He was really adorable.
Francis covered his mouth for a second as if had spoken out loud. His lips curled and he finished off the cigarette. That boy had such a way of charming him. The man took a tighter grip around the bag and went to the entrance. To his surprise, there wasn't a guard or any kind of security by the gate. Since Francis had lived in France the plus part of his life, he found it odd that American schools had sometimes armed officers by the school boarders. Now that he had lived in the U.S. for quiet sometime he found it now odd of they hadn't.
The school property was humungous. Concrete stretchered hundreds of meters around the buildings that where 5 stories high each. The only thing that was in Francis mind was how much it would cost to enter one of the educational programs that where offered on posters. Them glued in carefully placed glass containers on boards next to each house. Matthew's father must really be a highly ranked officer, or he worked his ass of for his sons.
After walking for about three minutes, passing students and looking around, Francis found the red gymnastics hall which Matthew had described over the phone. The French sighed when he saw it. The boy obviously didn't understand color. It was clearly coral bricks, not just red bricks on the outside of the building. Francis then realized that Matthew might have a problem matching color on his outfits. A horrible fate played out in the fashion-sensed Frenchman's head that he would find Matthew in a horribly multicolored look when he met him. Then Francis thought again and looked at the bag he was carrying. Right, Matthew didn't have any clothes.
Matthew didn't have any clothes.
The French felt himself getting a bit red. Poor Matthew would be naked when he arrived. Alright, Francis was perverted, but he prayed to God that the boy had been smart enough to cover up in some way.
Wait...Why did he want him to cover up?Francis loved being naked and was not chocked or offended by nudity, yet he did not want to see Matthew without fabric covering his body. What was this fear? Francis felt like he was acting weird. Was he sick? He didn't have a fever for all he knew. Maybe it was from the lack of sleep?
He shook it off. Matthew was waiting for him, covered or not. With determent steps he moved towards the gymnastics hall. As he got closer, the French saw a group of youngsters sitting on the staircase leading to the building. They smoked and laughed loudly.
"How long has he been in there?"
"I don't know man! I bet he's crying or something!"
"Haha! Yea!"
As Francis drew nearer, the boys heads turned one after another and they went quiet. One of then rose from the staircase and tensed his shoulders under his jacket, making him bigger. With short spiky hair, pale skin and a band aid on his nose the youth dropped his cigarette. It was Billy.
"Oh, look! It's the Frenchman." Billy said in a sour tone as Francis got a few feet from the young men.
"Bonjour to you too, con."
"What did you say?" The boy really showed his cutting edginess towards Francis. He wanted to be seem frightening. It might have worked on Matthew, but not Francis. He knew what kind of people one should be afraid of, and Billy wasn't one of them. The Frenchman didn't answer him, but continued to walk, planning to pass him and his friends. As expected, Billy blocked his way.
"Where do you think you are going fag? To save your little Canadian princess?" The group laughed with him. Francis was actually relived that he called him fag and Matthew princess. If he'd done the other way around he would have been very upset. However, since he did not, the statement didn't leave any effect on him. Francis smiled and tried to take a step towards the hall. Billy of course made himself even bigger, and more threatening. This would never work. Billy would start a fight with Francis just so he couldn't get to Matthew, and since they where on school grounds, Francis would be the one at fault. After all, he wasn't suppose to be there. He had to figure out a way to win this battle without violence. The French knew the sharpness of his tongue didn't cut it, he'd have to use a teenage boy's worst fear.
"Canadian princess you say?" Francis smiled seductively and went closer to the tensed boy. His French accent smeared the words and made them float like liquified sugar as he approached.
"Yea! Maple is a-" Billy didn't have time to finish the sentence before Francis leaned closer to him. Fear struck the boy's eyes when the man came a breath away from him, almost making there eyelashes meet.
"I came here to see you, princess." The French tilted his head, and like he'd been shot Billy backed and fell to the ground to avoid him.
A victory for France.
-x-
The building was cool and painted in white. The chilly air was probably because the physical activities in there made the youths warm, but why the color? Francis looked at the bleached walls around him. It made him almost smell the sterility of a hospital. There was clearly no creativity in these halls. Francis never liked P.E. There where only ball games during the lessons, but where was the dance? It was the only thing Francis felt he truly mastered.
He shook his head. Why was he thinking about that? He was suppose to meet Matthew. The man walked in the empty hall, hearing his heels click in the silent space. As he passed the doors one after another, he mumbled the number he was suppose to find.
"2 0 9. 2 0 9. 2 0 9. Ah!" There was the metal numbers, screwed to the wall.
And behind that wall was Matthew. Francis saw his face in front of him. His fair skin and pale hair with matching long eyelashes, his tall and slender figure and that shy smile. Placing his hand on the door, Francis felt his heart beating in his chest. The thumps grew as he reached his hand towards the door handle. He stopped himself when he felt the cold metal on his fingers. His hand was trembling.
Why was his body acting like this?
Despite the nicotine intake and the win against Billy, Francis was extremely agitated. He told himself to calm down, after all, he was just meeting Matthew. Nothing to get worked up for.
As he reminded himself why he was actually there, Francis face redden a bit. He had to warn Matthew that he was outside the door, that he was coming in. What if he was just on the other side without clothes or anything?
A bit clueless what to do, Francis knocked three times before opening the door slowly.
"Matthew?" He smeared his name in the French accent that he possessed and spoke calmly.
"Yea, I'm here." The boy sighed deeply from inside. His voice echoed in the dressing room. The man opened the door completely and went inside. It was dark and cold. Matthew must be freezing by now.
"Where are you?" The Frenchman turned and searched with his gaze.
"Over here." Matthew's voice was low and hoarse. Francis followed the sound and saw him sitting in a corner next to an open locker. His posture was low and he leaned his face down onto is hands. Thankfully, he was wearing a towel around his waist. The Frenchman smiled kindly as he always did and approached the boy.
"Sorry I took so long. I ran into some problems along the way." Francis said and gesticulated as he walked. "Merde, you must be freezing! Here!" He sat down the gym bag onto the bench and opened it in search of a t-shirt. Only did he stop searching when he heard Matthew sigh yet again. The boy didn't look at him, he didn't even turn his head up. "Is something wrong, Matthew?"
"No, I just...I'm sorry you had to come and help me." The shy boy hid his face well, but not his expression. In a curled up position Matthew looked like a small animal. His ears where bright red and so was the little Francis could see off his cheek. The boy was exposed, cold and very ashamed.
Mon Dieu, he was adorable!
A sting of joy pierced the Frenchman's heart as he seated himself next to him and laid a sympathetic pat on Matthews left shoulder.
"Don't be, Matthew."
"I-I could have called someone else I just-"
"But you called me, non? And I am more than happy to help out a friend." Tension loosened from the boy and he looked up. Francis saw stars in his eyes. The glittery feeling inside the man grew and he gave Matthew a warm smile. "Now, get dressed or you'll catch a cold." The French rose again and put his hands in his ultramarine coat's pockets. "I'll be waiting outside." Francis took steady steps that clicked against the cold floor as he left the dressing room.
-x-
Hearing his own heartbeat, Francis closed the door behind him. He smirked and took a few steps away from the dressing room before sitting down on the floor. Placed his hands together and putting them against his lips, he whispered.
"Merci." Francis was no man of god, but this was worth thanking for.
He'd seen the most beautiful creature that ever existed. The French chuckled lightly and bit his left thumb, trying not to smile wide enough for his cheeks to ache. He closed his eyes and remembered the vivid figure of the Canadian boy. His hair was slightly damp and shined of pearl, contrasting his matte pale skin. On his back, between his shoulder blades was a few uneven lines of water that dripped down his spine, making the fair skin shimmer slightly. The bangs that hung in front of his face where dry, letting his cold, blonde locks bounce a little as he'd lifted his head and faced Francis. He'd been met with a pair of violet orbs, with pupils as big as two moons. And oh, how they shimmered as if illuminated by a thousand stars. His cheeks had glowed of crimson as he blinked, just once, letting his pale and long lashes sweep the air between them.
Matthew had completely taken Francis breath away. His body was filled with an indescribable ecstasy and satisfaction that he'd never had from watching anyone before.
Francis remembered how he saw his collarbones move when he'd turned to face the him. His round shoulders had switched his arms position and then his chest had deflated. As the air had flown out of him the muscles around his torso had been exposed along with his rib cage. A tingly sensation went through the man's spine and Francis bit his thumb a bit harder.
Non.
Opening his eyes again the Frenchman cleansed his mind.He wouldn't allow himself to think of Matthew in that way. He was to precious and innocent. It was mad that he even had imagined. Francis covered his mouth and lowered his head. How could he even have such a disgusting thought? His way of seeing Matthew could not be influenced by his dirty mind. Never. Francis was ashamed of how vulgar his speculation was. He was truly distasteful.
"I'm done." Francis removed his hand and turned his head. The boy was standing there in the door frame, carrying the now empty gym bag. His posture was low, his feet close to one another and his face hidden behind his long bangs.
"Oh, Matthew." Francis sighed and rose from the floor. He approached the boy and looked at him from top to bottom. "Do they fit?" Matthew shrugged his shoulders in response.
"They're a bit too small." His head was still down.
"Oh? How come? Are they tight?" Francis said and bushed Matthew's bangs around to sheer him up. He looked up and smiled shyly.
"No...Just small." He then drug his jacket back to show the French. Francis saw that the T-shirt he was wearing didn't cover the last few centimeters of his waist before the jeans started. In between you could see the elastic which marked the boxers with a brand. In sudden realization, Francis turned and covered his mouth not to laugh.
Matthew was wearing his underwear.
With a slight giggle to his voice and blushing cheeks, Francis turned to Matthew and smiled.
"Let's go. I'll follow you home." The boy met his eyes and took a rushed step to him before he could start walking.
"N-No that's not necessary!" Francis felt Matthew push him a little. He smiled back.
"Oh is that so? Do I not deserve a little company for my good deed?" The youngster looked troubled by his statement and searched his mind for a solution.
"Y-Yes, b-but...ah..." Francis placed a hand on the distorted boys shoulder.
"Matthew, calm down. If you don't want me to know where you live that's fine, but I wont let you go alone since you got into a fight with Billy just a few days ago. I don't want you to get hurt." Matthew shook his head in anguish.
"No, no that is fine it's just..." He sighed and looked at Francis with pleading eyes. "You can walk with me...but not...not all the way b-because..."
"Matthew, It's fine. I get it." Francis tried his best to calm the boy.
"N-No you d-don't...ah..." Matthew looked away and drugged his bangs back.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Matthew?" Francis searched for the boy's eyes but his mind was far away. It was quiet for a moment before the boy sighed and finally said.
"No." Francis smiled and took the gym bag from him.
"Bon. Then let's go." Matthew nodded and they both started walking. The French heels clicked in the silence between them. Only was it broken when they approached the exit door. "Let me go first." Francis said and walked in between Matthew and the door. He smiled towards the boy and opened the door carefully. Billy and the others where not outside. Matthew walked out and watched as Francis skipped down the stone staircase and scanned the space like a guard dog.
"What is it?" Francis turned to him with, smiling as always.
"No it's just..." He paused as he seemed to see some students far away. It wasn't them. "That con was here before with his friends. I'm sure you know who I mean." Matthew's eye widened and he started to search the grounds too.
"A-Are they still here?" Francis straighten his back and went up the stairs towards Matthew.
"Non. And don't worry, Matthew." The boy met his eyes. "I wont let them hurt you, I'll be your handsome knight in shiny armor, ma princesse canadienne." In an instant, the young boy's cheeks flared up in bloom making the other laugh. The French blinked and nodded towards the school gate. Matthew's jaw hung for a second before he spoke.
"Y-You! Did you just call me princess?!" Francis laughed even harder this time and started walking.
"Oh, Matthew."
"Did you?!" The boy skipped after him and tried to get their eyes to meet. Francis however continued walking with his hands in his coat.
"Peut être."
"Speak English!" Matthew's frustration made him almost choke.
"Matthew calm down. It was just what Billy called you."
"W-What? Billy?" Matthew seemed, despite the nickname's innocence, distressed by this.
"Oui, he did. But don't be sad, you should have heard what he called me!"
"Oh?" Matthew calmed his senses a tiny bit.
"He called me fag. But honestly, I don't mind." Francis met the violet orbs which looked in his to find an expression. They searched for a reaction in the calm man.
"Really, but...It's not true, is it?" Francis laughed.
"Non, Matthew. But there is nothing wrong with being homosexual."
"But, I wouldn't want to be called something like that."
"Why?" Francis strutted calmly next to Matthew.
"Well...I'm not one...and...well...it is a bit..."
"A bit?" Francis wanted him to say it so he could prove him wrong.
"I don't know. Wrong. If people would start to believe it...You know changing rooms would be a problem and-"
"Non, Matthew. Just because you are attracted to men does not mean you are attracted to all men."
"Yea, you are right I'm sorry." The boy sighed deeply and looked at his feet. Francis noticed a weird tension in him. Was it because of the situation before? Francis also now noticed the bags underneath his eyes. Something was up, but he didn't know what.
The two men made it out the school gate and Francis stopped, waiting for Matthew to show the way. Strangely, the boy also stopped. He stared at the concrete beneath him. His face was distorted and his hands knitted to fists.
"Matthew?" Francis drew closer to him. He did not answer.
-x-
His thoughts raced. Matthew felt himself enter a blank state of emotion. What was he suppose to do? If he went home...Memories of yesterday where screaming in his mind bringing him down like two stone gargoyles on his shoulders. His heart was not bringing oxygen to his body anymore, it was only hitting him harder and harder in his chest. Sour blood was aging in his acing veins and the pain just grew with his knowledge that he could do nothing about the situation. The fact still remained. Arthur was still going to-
"Matthew?" A gentle hand caressed his back. He looked up and met the deep blue oceans that Francis had as eyes. "Are you okay?" The words cut right through Matthew and made his heart pump oxygen again, waking him and making his feelings of despair grasp him. His eyes stung and he looked away. He mustn't let his emotions take over him. Matthew had to be in control. The sourness in his veins turned to a blazing fire as he tried to choke his tears down. Despite the pain, Matthew kept his cheeks from wetting.
"It's...nothing." He pleaded as his voice cracked.
Nothing? Why was he lying to Francis? Why was he lying to himself? Of course something was wrong! Is the truth too hard to face? People die all the time so why did he-
Matthew's thoughts stopped as he felt himself being drawn in a warm embrace. Francis strong arms pulled him in tight, bringing Matthew's face upwards, above the French shoulder. His shaking torso was held in place against the man's chest.
"Matthew, calm down. I can see that you're in pain. I know you don't want to tell me, but please don't keep it to yourself." The boy felt Francis throat rumble against his. Matthew's vision blurred as his heart beat as if it was trying to break through his ribcage. The boy closed his eyes and he lent his face down into the blonde locks of the French. The silky hair caressed his nose bridge as he felt himself shutter in his Francis melting embrace. He smelled of flowers. Roses. Just like the ones mom grew in the garden when Alfred and Matthew where small. Back during the time when she was alive. Matthew hiccuped as his tears finally left his eyes and marked his lashes with salty water as he thought that Arthur would soon join her. Francis brought him closer and caressed the back of his head.
"I'm...I'm sorry..." Matthew said with a high pitched and broken voice as he tried to pull himself together.
"Shh...Shh...It's alright, Matthew. It's alright." The Frenchman said calmly. His stubble scratched against Matthew's chin as he brought the boy's face in front of him. Francis indigo gaze looked upon Matthew as he carefully placed his hand on his wet cheek. Matthew closed his eyes and another tear fell. He felt the Frenchman's cold thumb draw the tear away and he opened his eyes again. Francis eyes looked deep into his. The slender boy sniffled and took a deep breath.
"Sorry..."
"It's fine petit." Francis scanned Matthew and drew his fair bangs back and dried his cheek once more. "Do you want to talk about it?" Taking another shuddered deep breath, Matthew shook his head and looked down, avoiding eye contact. "D'accord. Then let's get you home."
-x-
The two men had been walking side by side for about fifteen minutes without talking. The only thing that was heard was an occasional sniff from Matthew now and then. They both felt that there was no need for conversation. Francis was however very observant, checking Matthew regular to see if his eyes where still red. There wasn't a lot of people around them. Matthew had chosen the long way home, away from the big roads. When there was almost absolute silence, no cars and no people, the boy finally felt like he was able to speak again.
"Francis?" The Canadian had his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. He was kicking a pebble and watched it move along as they walk.
"Oui, Matthew?" Francis strutted casually beside him, watching him in the corner of his eyes.
"What...erm...What do you do when you are upset about something?" Matthew asked flatly, just like a child. Deep inside, he wanted Francis to answer the question with something that would make the pain stop. Like he had some tick that would make him happy again.
"Oh, hm...I smoke."
"But...smoking is bad for you." The boy said and looked at the Frenchman. He chuckled and smiled.
"I know, Matthew. But being angry and hateful is bad for your heart."
Bad for ones heart? Looking questioning at Francis, Matthew thought about all the weird stuff he actually said. Just the other night he talked about Romeo and Juliet like he knew them by heart. It was like he talked above Matthew's IG sometimes. He knew he was smart, but this was in an area he didn't master. And since Francis had quit school, why did he know so much about it?
"What do you usually do when you are upset?" Brought back to reality, the boy blinked twice before answering.
"I walk." Francis eyes where pinned on Matthew and oddly enough, he didn't mind it.
"So when I met you at the bus station, you where upset?" Matthew took a deep breath to fill his lungs with fresh air.
"Yea. I was. But..." Matthew turned to Francis who was still watching him. The deep blue orbs shimmered in the late day sun and the French's hair shined of golden as it was tossed around in the mild wind. He smiled softly. Matthew felt himself blush a bit. "W-Where you upset?" He shuddered and looked down for only a second.
"Oui. " The man chuckled and his smiled widened, stretching his lips along his stubble jaw. He closed his eyes and inhaled the crispy air.
"Why?" Matthew stopped. What could possibly make Francis upset? He was always so calm. The only time he'd seen him anything but harmonic was when he'd beat up Billy in front of his eyes.
"I can't tell you, it's a secret." Francis placed his finger in front of his lips which where still smiling.
"But..."
"No buts, Matthew. It's classified. The question is: Why did you walk all the way to the ghetto? You live far away from there, non?" Francis now stopped next to Matthew. The boy scratched the back of his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know. I just walked and I ended up there." He didn't actually know. He had been so mad that he just rushed away despite the darkness and cold during the late night.
"Next time, don't walk alone so late at night. And if you have to..." Francis took a deep breath as if he charged his speech. "...call me and I can keep you company, d'accord?" Matthew felt a spring of joy in his chest and smiled.
"Yea, okay." He turned his face away for a bit and really let the feeling in him spread.
"You live far from here?" Francis gazed upon the city from the hill they where the where standing.
"Actually..." Matthew scanned the area a bit confused. "I...don't really know where we are." He felt a laugh bubble up in him and he couldn't help but let it out. The boy almost choked on it. It wasn't funny or anything but he still chuckled. To Matthew's surprise, Francis joined in. They stood there like two idiots, bending their bodies and holding their tummies, laughing.
"Don't worry Matthew, I know where we are. Just tell me where we need to go." Francis looked up at Matthew with teary eyes and smile as wide as his lips could bend.
"Oh? You live around here?" The Frenchman laughed even harder.
"Matthew, have you seen what I'm wearing? I don't live here! I can barely afford the air I'm breathing!" At first, Matthew didn't understand the seriousness in his statement. However as Francis laugh was not of joy, but of pity the Canadian's eyes widened and scanned him from top to bottom. Now he actually saw the rags that covered the poor man's body. His coat had holes and loose seems in the edges, his red paints where bleached of age, his shoes scraps and barely being held together with the worn out soles. The only thing that seemed to be in acceptable condition was his leather gloves and small scarf loosely folded around his neck.
"But...Francis..." Matthew went up to the man and looked at his coat with a distressed face. "Why... Don't you have money?" Francis looked at him with a calm face and placed his hands on the Boy's shoulders.
"We don't all get lucky." He said with sad eyes before letting him go. "Now, where are we suppose to go?"
We don't all get lucky? What did Francis mean by that? Had something happened to him?
An unfamiliar fear grew in Matthew. He didn't want to see Francis unhappy.
"No, Francis. Why? Y-You're not homeless are you? Are you?" Matthew asked pleadingly.
"No! No, I'm not homeless Matthew. I have a place that I'm staying at, don't worry."
"Are you staying at someone else's place?" Matthew stepped closer to Francis with worried eyes.
"No, Matthew. I have an apartment. Look..." The Frenchman took a step back, distancing himself from Matthew. "I'm doing fine. Don't ask too much, okay?"
"But-" Francis interrupted without hesitation.
"Where do we need to go?" He asked calmly. Matthew sighed and wondered nervously why the French avoided the subject. Was he lying? Did he have a place to stay or not? He decided to give in for the moment.
"You know the old police station near the royal hill? About there." Francis looked at both directions and then pointed vaguely towards their destination.
"Ah, oui that way...but..." He turned to the boy.
"Yea?" Matthew waited for Francis reply. He had a faint wish he'd say it was far away from where they where so they'd be able to talk more. He wanted to know why Francis had it so poorly. There must be a reason to it.
"Did you just say a boot?" Matthew's face grew red and Francis laughed.
"N-No!"
"Yes you did!"
"Oh shut it! Let's go!" Matthew turned and hid his face, tramping the ground with his winter boots.
"As you wish princesse. " Francis said and started walking casually beside him.
"Did you just say princess?!"
-x-
Non: No
Bonjour: Good day
Con: Cunt
Merde: Damn it
Mon Dieu: My God
Merci: Thank you
Bon: Good
Ma princesse canadienne: My Canadian princess
Peut être: Maybe
Petit: Little one
D'accord: Okay
Oui: Yes