Francis didn't even have any time to tell Arthur about what was happening. His father had phoned up for him to have a day of college, and announced Francis' engagement over breakfast.

He saw Arthur turn a little pale but otherwise he didn't look shocked. That was when Francis remembered his mother asking Arthur to help her with the dishes; she must have warned him.

Alfred and Matthew however were completely shocked. Matthew offered him his congratulations with a slight enquiring look, while Alfred just shook his hand coldly. The American couldn't seriously didn't think Francis wanted to do this!

The only reason Francis had even agreed to meet this Joan was because his father had threatened his lover, and and dropped a subtle hint that he knew who he was. Francis was doing all of this to protect Arthur.

In the car on the way to his father's offices in New York, all he could think about was how good Arthur's body had felt against his mere nights ago. His heart gave a tight clench as he realised, as to what he had thought when Arthur and his brother had first moved in, about there being others out there. The truth was that now he had hold of that proud, insulting, loud mouthed Brit; he didn't want any one else.

He couldn't marry Joan, but he couldn't stay here. It would put everyone at risk. They couldn't leave the country because of this flight enquiry, wherever he looked they were trapped.

"We heard about the flight enquiry," his father spoke almost at the same time Francis thought it. Could this bastard read his mind! "That means Matthew can't go anywhere for the time being, I think those friends of yours were also involved in some way; so they're stuck too."

Maybe Francis should just strangle his father. Or would that be too obvious?

"I also don't see why your friends should be staying with you; don't they have a perfectly good student apartment?"

Francis bit his lip, "like I said, they've got a job and are helping with the rent; it's easier to split it between four,"

"Well in that case me and your mother will pay half."

Francis almost found his eyes trailing to his mother, begging her to help. But he knew she wouldn't do anything.

Joan was indeed a very young looking girl. Surely his father couldn't expect her to marry him yet; she was barely of age. She was pretty admittedly with a smooth heart shaped face and wispy short blond hair. But Francis didn't want her.

"H-Hello" She murmured in a rich French accent, "M-My name is Joan, I don't know very much English though..." She shifted nervously.

Suddenly, Francis also felt sorry for this poor thing. How was he to know her father hadn't forced her into this either. She definitely didn't look comfortable.

"My name is Francis," Francis held out his hand, being sure to sound distant, so she got the message he wasn't happy with this either.

She gave him an acknowledging nod, a thankful look swimming into her eyes.

Francis looked up at the other two men still standing in the room. Were their parents intending to watch them the whole time?

"I speak good Spanish" Joan suddenly spoke up, "do you?"

"Yes..." Francis wasn't sure where they were going with this, he remembered that was how he had made friends with Antonio. He'd been talking Spanish to show off to Feliciano, and Francis had wondered up and started talking in Spanish with him instead.

"Do you Mr Bonnefry?" She suddenly looked up with an innocent expression at Francis' father. So this is what she was doing? Francis suddenly clocked on when his father shook his head. She turned playfully to Francis, "I don't believe you, speak some to me."

This was his chance, "Usted es un genio" Francis congratulated, and indeed he believed it.

"Por lo que están tratando de obligarlo a salir?" So who are they trying to force you to leave? Joan asked, keeping her tone evasive so their father's wouldn't catch on.

"mi novio" My boyfriend Francis admitted, with a slight grin; he knew that had surprised her, "¿y usted?" And you?

"Mi novio en París. No es rico por lo que mi padre no aprueba" My boyfriend in Paris. He's not rich so my father doesn't approve she told him, laughing a little to make it sound like they were talking about something else.

"¿Cómo se te amenaza?" How are they threatening you? Francis raised his eyebrows suggestively; he was kind of enjoying this little game they were playing.

"Mi padre dice que va a hacer para que mi amor no puede encontrar trabajo en cualquier lugar de Francia," My father says he'll make it so my love can't find work anywhere in France Her voice sounded pained, but it could have been mistaken for an overbearing emotion.

"Mi padre dice que va a matar a la mina," My father says he'll kill mine Francis gave a small chuckle, watching Joan trying to hide the horror on her face. "¿cómo vamos a parar esto? Estoy atrapado." How are we going to stop this? I'm trapped.

Joan looked like she was thinking, "Jugamos a lo largo de, por ahora hasta que algo sale" We'll play along for now until something comes up she suggested, snapping back into English. "Well it was very nice to meet you Francis," she forced herself to blush, "I hope I'll see you again soon..."

Francis kissed the hand that she offered, trying to make it look passionate, "I enjoyed this a lot more than I thought I would."

Despite everything, Francis could do nothing to stop his father kicking Alfred and Arthur out of the apartment. He even offered to drive them back to their student block.

Matthew was biting his lip, his usual sign that Francis had come to know when he was about to burst into tears.

Even though they still had classes together it was like his father had spoken with Professor Keen, and suddenly he was no longer able to even sit in the same side of the room as Arthur. But not only that, he'd also done something to keep Alfred and Matthew apart too.

Though it was obvious he had nothing on Alfred or Matthew because they carried on regardless at every chance they got.

Francis was driven to and from college; he was even driven to work.

Over the next few weeks it was almost painful to see how thin Arthur was getting again. He'd exchanged quick words with Alfred in the form of notes passed during lessons.

I try to get him to eat but he'd just gone right off it. I'm really worried about him now; he's just lost all the life in him – Alfred

He had to make an effort to talk to Arthur today.

It was the third week since he and Alfred had been thrown out. The Police enquiry had met a dead end and seemed to be backing away from the investigation. Though for some reason Matthew, Alfred, and Arthur were still expected to stick around.

"Arthur!" He found himself pushing through the crowd when class finished, he saw Arthur turn and look at him; then the Brit was hurrying away slipping between the gaps in the mass that only he could fit through.

Didn't Arthur want to see him?

"Master Bonnefry?" It was the voice of that infernal driver. Francis ignored him, continuing to push through the crowd. He had to get to Arthur whether the Brit wanted to see him or not.

That dammed driver was probably phoning his father now; he didn't have much time.

He chased Arthur all the way up to his student block; which didn't seem to have a lock. On the way past he almost crashed head long in Lovino who was storming away from Antonio's apartment with a deep blush on his cheeks.

"Arthur talk to me," he pushed open the door and wondered into the seemingly empty looking apartment.

He could hear the shower running so guessed where Arthur must be. He tried the door, only to find it to difficult to open; the Brit must have put something behind it.

"Please" he begged, "my father will be here in a moment; I need to know that you're eating, that you're taking care of yourself; at least let Alfred try to help."

"You shouldn't be here" was the only muffled reply he got.

"Oubliez ça!" Forget that! Francis heard himself shout, forcing all his weight against the door; feeling it begin to slide open. He stood back a little to give himself some momentum and managed to force the door open enough to slip in.

A bucket filled with cement had been holding the door shut.

Arthur was sitting under the shower head, not even having acknowledged Francis having gotten through his barrier.

Feeling tears in his eyes, Francis brushed into the shower, wrapping his arms around the Brit's small form. He was ill, Francis could just tell.

"He said he'll turn you out on the street and have me and Alfred thrown out of the college if I tried to see you" Arthur choked, clinging to Francis' neck; letting loose thick sobs of misery.

"He tried to intimidate Alfred too, but Al just told him..." Arthur made a noise that sounded between laughter and despair, "he told your father to go fuck himself and that Matthew wasn't his son anyway."

Francis gave a tearful chuckle as well; he'd have loved to see his father's face when Alfred told him that.

Unable to bare it any more, Francis pressed his mouth to Arthur's, forcing him to return the kiss.

"I don't care any more" Francis whispered, before moving in to deepen the kiss, "we're getting out of here; me, you, Alfred, and Matthew. The Police can't keep us here any longer, I'm sure it's against something in that long constitution of there's."

"Where will we go?" Arthur shook his head, "we can't go anywhere; he'll find us,"

"We'll go visit your parents; you know technically we're all citizens of the EU we don't need a visa, plus me and Matthew never became American citizens, and I'm guessing Alfred sort of became legally British?"

Arthur allowed himself to feel hopeful again. Francis was right, it was possible to get out.

"But your father, he'll cut off all the money you and Matthew get," Arthur plummeted again, trying to struggle away from Francis,

"I don't care!" Francis pulled him back, "Don't you get it. I don't care what I argued about when we were talking about Romeo and Juliet... Though this has been longer than two days... Je t'aime you stupid Brit."

With that Arthur just exploded into more tears, but it gave Francis the time to turn off the shower and carry the other out of the bathroom to his bedroom where he could change him into dry clothes.

Francis himself was soaked, but he didn't have any clothes that he could change into. He was certainly not wearing any of Alfred's stupid stuff.

Come to think of it where was Alfred?

Arthur let Francis peel off his wet clothes.

Francis was horrified; he could see Arthur's ribs quite clearly on his frame. Any doubts he'd had of running off with Arthur and the others to England left him very quickly. Not only that but there were horrid zig zag slashes all over Arthur's arms.

"Who did this to you!" Francis demanded, taking hold of Arthur's right arm where the damage was most prominent. When Arthur said nothing, it hit him, "Did you do these yourself?"

Again he got no reply, but he knew he was right.

He bundled Arthur into fresh clothes, then wondered what to do about himself.

"Catch," Francis turned round just in time to be hit in the face with an arm full of his clothes. Alfred and Matthew stood in the doorway, though Alfred was jumping off to his own room.

Matthew had his face turned in a firm little way that was quite cute. "Your mother gave me details to her bank account, she says we're free to spend where necessary on the condition that we get out of here now! There's a flight leaving for Heathrow in about two hours. We need to be on it!"

It seemed like everything was playing out for them now.

Francis changed quickly and helped Arthur to pack. Matthew already had a suitcase full of his and Francis' stuff.

"When did you have time to get all this?" Francis asked in amazement,

Matthew grinned, "your mum's been planning this for ages; she even booked us tickets. She got your dad out of the house for a few hours so we could pack and get on that plane before he even knew we were gone."

Taking in a deep breath Francis knew he'd never know how to thank his mother enough. Sure she hadn't been around a lot of the time; but now she was needed she was certainly doing everything to help.

With everything packed, they left the apartment as quickly and quietly as they could.

"What's going on?" Antonio poked his head round his own door, "you look like you're running off. No, don't tell me; you are running off," he smiled, running out to hug Francis, "I'll hold out here don't worry; but once all this has blown over write okay. I won't even tell Gilbert where you are if you don't want me to..."

Francis laughed, hugging his friend tightly, "you're a brilliant friend Toni, don't worry I will write."

"Come on" Alfred motioned, tapping his watch.