Beyond Our Sight
By Ryukansen
Chapter Fourteen: In Between
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Author's Note: A slightly more important chapter than the previous one. Sorry about that, I'm trying to make so many relationships work, so that it doesn't seem like I'm just skipping over everyone's feelings. Thank you for all the sudden boom of reviews I got lately, I'm promising myself I won't disappoint you guys! Until the end, please read & review!
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It was a steel colored sky that loomed over the city that day. The clouds were heavy, saturated, and filled to the brim with silver blue droplets that splattered on every corner of the town and every crevice of each paved sidewalk.
He was walking, was what he remembered, towards a new coffee store that had opened a few days ago.
He wore a nice gray coat that fell to his knees, and a nicely woven sweater along with an emerald striped scarf to match his dark skinny jeans. If he could remember well, he was carrying a raven colored umbrella patterned in plaid with a red design, his shoes were dark leather, and he wore a golden necklace tucked underneath his gray lace shirt while he smiled to himself in the rain's presence.
He absolutely loved the rain. It was like a moment of reprieve for him.
Taking a deep intake of fresh rain, the young Frenchman sighed as he thought of the one person who would hate this kind of weather.
He remembered how much he loved the rain, because he knew that Arthur hated it.
Laughing, Francis found the place where he should have been. His amethyst eyes twinkled as he rubbed his gruff chin with interest.
The new place certainly did seem appropriate for him to enter. It was all red brick, but there were these beautiful black barred windows, and an old fashioned sign that loosely hung around a leaf patterned handle. Up on the sign read the shop's title, Rococo.
Ah, now this interested him. It further lured him in as the name and definition itself came from a French art style. Francis smirked as he took one more glance at the store before walking straight ahead to it.
He had been told the coffee store had been rated very highly by even the most notorious judges. He had been told so much of the wonderful coffee, the charming owner, and even more on the owner's cute brother. And so, being a "well known" figure in the town, he believed that maybe checking out the new place would benefit him, despite everyone's warning on the older brother's attitude.
He never really knew how much everything would change after he opened that door to hear his first, heartwarming greeting.
"Nice to meet you," a voice so soft spoke to him as the golden bells rung a pretty song.
A fragile boy stood behind the counter while wearing the shop's red and white uniform, obviously embarrassed.
He was absolutely beautiful, was what Francis thought when both their eyes locked.
"What can I get you?" The boy leaned over, his golden hair flopping against the side of his pink pearl cheeks and Amethyst eyes glowing dimly behind clear glasses, despite the bright smile the man was trying to express. "Sir, is there anything you would like?" He asked again, even louder, as he felt himself being ignored.
A smile approached Francis' face as he came towards the counter to catch a glimpse of the man's golden plated tag. It read "Matthew" in black inked letters, and Francis' couldn't help but smile wider as he leaned against the counter and propped an elbow on the surface, to support his chin with his free palm.
"Nice to meet you too, Mathieu." He replied with a slur of French accent as he chose a random number on the menu behind the young man, all the while gazing at his purple pools.
"Erm, nice to meet you took," replied the American with unease as he squirmed in his position and decided to get to work on making the man's order.
He was clumsy in movement, it was pretty funny, but at the same time he held a certain grace whenever he held onto something. His grasp was hard on all the equipment he used; as if he was afraid to let go of them, and his purple eyes were focused on everything he did up until he finished the process.
Francis found the man alluring as he continued to breathe while staring at the creature near him.
He swore, the angle he was in made the poor boy look like an earth-bound angel; all the white light was floating around the American, and with a blink, he could tell that Matthew really was an angel…a very, beautiful one.
"Matthew, can you come here for a sec?" A voice, groggy and sad came from the other side of the room, and the Frenchman's thoughts were interrupted as he couldn't help but turn his head around to find a tall, slender man of the same face but different physique and style enter with a rugged look. "Something's wrong with the sink, I don't know what I did." Replied, what Francis assumed, the elder twin while ushering the younger one into the bathroom.
There were a few crashes going on, and a sudden frenzy of mumbled words, but once the younger one came out looking a bit teary – Francis knew something was going on between the two.
"Thanks." Replied the elder twin as he went back towards where the office was being held while taking one sluggish glance at him. Nodding slowly, the owner of the shop headed towards the second floor.
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"You know, he's not always like that." Matthew smiles while they share a table while sipping a nice cup of green tea. "He's actually rather nice," he adds as he cushions the base of the cup with the tip of his pinky.
The conversation had begun when the Frenchman had spontaneously asked the youth to come with him and have a small break from his diligent work. It had been all very quiet until he introduced Alfred as a subject, and kind of, well, asked if his brother was always so grumpy.
Francis didn't know what to say, as he crossed one leg over the other while raising one perfect eye brow up with suspicion. Matthew didn't look at all fazed or uneasy with his sudden expression, but a flare of purple emerged out of those dim eyes as if he had been insulted.
"Honestly, Alfred is very sweet, kind and loving…" He drawled on while smiling rather dreamily. A small, honest grin formed on his plump limps, and as he lifted the cup back to taste the herbal beverage, he could sense Francis' eyes gazing up at him; following his every movement with protection.
"What about your brother?" Francis replied softly, "what is he really like?" He adds.
Matthew's eyes widen and with a small grin speaks about the man and how his brother was made to be an inventor. He had made so many new flavors, new technology not even in stores, even, and keeps talking about how his brother loved making things. Alfred was so intelligent despite his education, and yet his brother always had trouble conforming to other people; obeying to the higher ups and respecting the "good for nothing" coworkers.
That was his elder twin though; powerful and rebellious – that was Alfred.
"He's strong too, and his smile always makes my heart flutter whenever he has the time to grin it at me." He whispers, daydreaming.
"Do you…" The Frenchman seemed hesitant as he embraced both his hands with a tight grasp, "do you by chance love your brother?" He replied softly, gazing at the American with some sort of jealousy.
It had become so quiet, and he, for once, seemed to regret asking such a blunt question at such a time.
"Yes. Yes I do." He could hear the soft whisper coming out from the young man's lips. "Wow, this tea tastes really good! And this place is so small, and everything is so very clean…" Matthew replied all too soon, as he stared at his empty cup with bewilderment while blushing scarlet as he tried to get the waiter's attention to order a slice of strawberry cake.
"From now on let's meet here instead." He smiles while battering his eyes with a little timid joy lurking about him.
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"You're such a bad kisser, Mathieu." Francis laughed as he pulled away from an embrace, and kissed the young man's forehead. "Someone ought to teach you how to kiss…" He whispered with a kind seduction, as he pressed both their foreheads together.
Staring into one another's eyes, the American smiled bashfully while holding onto his hands with a fragile grasp. "Who is going to teach me how to kiss?" He teased while pressing the Frenchman's cheek delicately with his index finger.
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"Where did you come from, again?" Francis questioned as they lay on top of a bare hill, gazing at the blue filled sky with silence.
It was a late afternoon, so the sky was slowly fading into a deep red and people were already heading back home, carrying groceries and laughing while making jokes and perverted thoughts.
The city was growing a lot quieter, and the two found it almost peaceful to fall asleep alongside the hilly area, but there was some intense atmosphere around them, something keeping them awake – as they gazed at the sky pulling unto a cobalt shade.
"Three towns over in a place called Dale," Answered the boy while coughing up a little, probably due to the cold he was ready to get.
"Is it a big town?" Francis asked, gazing at those amethyst pools glimmer with thought.
"Not really – well, it was a lot bigger than this…but everyone still knew each other." He responded, reaching one hand up as if he were to touch the sky, while having the other arm lazily behind his head.
"What made you choose to move here, may I ask?" He continued asking so many questions, wanting to know every bit of the American's life to recover everything he wasn't part of in Matthew's world while at the same time his eyes roamed around the sky to distract himself from the breathing body next to him.
"Business," was the last response he got, as the boy feigned his sleep to end the conversation.
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"Who is Arthur Kirkland?" Matthew asked him one day as they enjoyed a banana split; whilst they sat outside on his patio.
His patio was a bright, perfect white designed with various cross and floral patterns. Various styles ranging from French art to new modern day cuts were present in the garden looming beyond their view.
A range of blue to red flowers faded into a nice shade as they made their own natural pattern all the while making every view beautiful.
The young boy had been getting a lot of days off lately despite his brother's demands, and Francis was rather glad to have let the boy into his home instead of watch him work all day; in fact, he was filled with joy to see the young man at his place other than the tea shop or coffee store.
But this question…it was rather abrupt, and it made him nearly spit out the strawberry and banana contents of the ice cream.
"W-why do you want to know who he is?" His face turned red as he began to take a napkin from a holder while patting the soft fabric unto the silk cloth lying on the table.
A chuckle escaped from the American's lips as he stared softly into his eyes.
"I've been hearing lots of things about him lately from Alfred." He retorted while biting his lower lip as he began to tell of all of the jokes his brother was able to make about the strange, "heavy brow" man.
Honestly, Francis laughed so hard, his eyes were tearing up quickly at Alfred's descriptions and fantasy stories about the "legendary man."
The one with the stupid unicorn almost made his heart knot up as he held his stomach while uncharacteristically howling in response to Matthew's imitated jokes.
"But, that's not how I see Arthur Kirkland, though." The timid voice suddenly bloomed out of thin air, and the Frenchman had to look up at the young man while wiping the tears in wonder. "To me, he has something I've always wanted…" Matthew replied as he blushed a bright pink.
"And what would that be?" Was Francis' curious tone, as he clenched his fist into a tight ball while leaning forward to listen to Matthew's soft response.
"That magical quality he has with him…" He replied turning a deep red, while he tried laughing his sentence off.
"And why is that?"
The American turned to face him with a direct gaze, and a composed mouth.
"At least he has someone with him until forever." He whispered, gazing far into the distance of the flower field.
Francis remained silent while he tried keeping himself from frowning.
He could tell whenever Matthew was sad; he had been so long with the man, a record 5 months, and yet…he never could understand why Matthew was so depressed.
It made him hurt inside.
"You know, when my brother and I were small, we believed in magic." Matthew replied while turning a further shade of red; ignoring Francis' figure.
"I still believe in it."
Francis didn't know what to say. He was always making fun of Arthur about magic, and yet here was the one person he loved, cherished, the most who spoke of magic as fond of as Arthur Kirkland, himself.
The French gazed at the boy with no words escaping his mouth, earning a chuckle from the American as he pressed their foreheads together, again.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Matthew whispered, his breath softly tickling Francis' face as he laughed kindly at him.
The Frenchman nodded absentmindedly as he felt the warm breath touch his face.
"Can you introduce him to me?" The boy smiled gently while kissing the tip of his nose.
"Of course, I know him quite well…" Francis couldn't help but smile as they both gave each other one more kiss before it rung noon.
"Can I ask you one more favor?" The boy asked once more, while biting his lower lip to prevent from laughing too hard.
A manicured eyebrow rose in interest, "yes?"
"Will you promise to stop making fun of him?" He asked, gazing at him with a stubborn look. "I heard from Alfred you were one of them making fun of that poor man." He whispered, before kissing him on the forehead – finally leaving the Frenchman as one minute passes.
"Sure…"
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"You're brother is hurting you, isn't he?!" Francis hollered as he pushed the fragile American against the sturdy wall of his home; gazing at the boy with an equally intense stare as the smaller one tried to glare back.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?" The Frenchman hissed as he pushed the younger one farther into the wall; swearing that if the boy wouldn't answer soon he would make a hole in the house and literally crush the boy's bones himself it they weren't already badly bruised.
He pulled one of Matthew's sleeves away from the boy's hands, staring at the bare arm with hatred as he gazed at a blotch of purple and red on his pale flesh. "You should have told me what was going on." He whispered darkly, gazing back into the man's trembling purple eyes. "You're brother is a good for nothing, piece of trash – why don't you report him already?! It's been going on TOO LONG!" He hollered, screaming all his might at the boy before feeling a stinging sensation ringing across his face.
He remembered first laying eyes on a bruise that Alfred had given Matthew; he was unsteady with it despite Matthew's pleading to ignore it. He remembered how the second time, anger was swelling deep within his chest – and yet Matthew still asked him to be peaceful. He remembered how the third time Matthew was crying on the floor, and yet he still asked him to remain quiet.
But now….this time…it was just too much for his heart to bear.
"You," pointed the blond with a fury he had never seen before light up in those kind eyes. "Never speak of my brother that way, never, do you hear me?" Matthew unrolled his sleeve, and gazed back at him with a temporary glance. "A piece of trash….? He is none of the sort!" He defended his brother with a dying will as he began crying hot tears.
"Alfred is a kind, charming, intelligent man that you will never become!"
Those words crushed him, and Francis could feel a swirl of feelings ring through his head, and most importantly against his heart.
And with that, Matthew slammed the door shut in front of him.
They never spoke again, and never saw each other again until the crash.
"Come back, come back…" He whispered while staring at the closed door in front of him.
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"Come back!!!" Francis shouted, staring at the running figures of Kiku and Arthur flee back to the village area of the apartment complex. "Come back…" He whispered, eyes staring up at the wide sky; looking almost defeated before he trudged on.
"Mathieu…I can feel it…it's going to rain, won't it?" He whispered awfully quiet despite his loud nature.