Chapter 2

The sun was in the sky high above when Matthew woke from his peaceful night's sleep. He had happily dreamt of what was to come, summer festivities and nice warm sun-filled days where he would work most of the time, but when he was free he would take the opertunity to enjoy himself for the many months to come.

He stood up from beside his bed and stretched in front of his window that contained a nice view of his lawn below. It needed mowing which would have to be done soon for he would be gone and by the time he would return the grass would be twice as thick. As he finished stretching he slowly made his way downstairs, not bothering to put on his glasses yet. He could see well enough and was normally too tired to wear them and would wait until he was fully groomed.

Matthew fixed himself a bowel of cereal of wheat-and-oats on of his favorites and a brand he got for free thanks to his line of work. Though the boxes were starting to pile up in the garage again. As he had finished his first bowl he glanced at his blurry calender on his fridge revealing the date. He couldn't quite make it out but was sure it was the 19th of May.

This week was the week of the big festival that was going to be held near the states this year and America had decided to come so now he was busy making sure that the weekend would be open for them. America may be a pain in the rear for some people but would always be considered a close brother to Matthew, even if the guy seemed to se-through him sometimes.

He finished two bowls and then drank the rest of the milk and hopped in the shower and got ready for the day. By the time he was done, it was 9:07.

The phone rang just as Matthew had finished combing his long, stubborn curls that tended to frizz at the ends and he walked quickly over to answer it. Caller ID read: Alfred F. Jo-the rest was cut off. He picked up the phone and answered with a simple, "Hello?"

"Hey man! Did you just wake up?" spoke Alfred loudly from the other end.

"A while ago, just took a shower. What's up?"

"Just getting my crap together for the week. I heard that the Eagles are going to be playing at the grammys this year and-wow" he cut off gasping a bit at the end in non-belief. Matthew chuckled a little. "Also Benedict Cumberbatch is going to be at the oscars for a nomination and if I could just get an autograph.."

"You do know he's British, right?"

"So? That's what's so freaking sweet about it! When we finally saw Sherlock I just-He's just-"

Matthew cut him off, "So are you ready for the festival this weekend?"

"Hell yeah dude. Are you sure that you want to pick me up? I mean, I am closer."

"Like it matters, I'll pick you up around 1 or 2, does that work?"

"Sure, yeah. Hey, should I bring my hats?"

"Uhh, if you want.."

"Haha I'm bringing them."

"Sweet."

"Alright, I got to get to work, talk to you later Mattie."

"Okay, later.":

Alfred hung up.

Matthew pushed down on the button to end the call and set the phone back to charge. He sighed and got his stuff together for work. He was going to head to a logging business today and help cut up some trees so it wouldn't be as thick a forest. He liked a bit of hard work here and there to go by and keep this figure in order or as Francis, his former father, used to say:"It is not always what is inside that will make them fall for you" or something like that.

He packed his lunch and then started his truck. As he drove away from his house, dust kicked up from his tires leaving a trail of dry fog behind him as he drove further down the dirt road and then onto the connecting highway.

Matthew turned up the radio once he had crossed over to highway 73 to his destination. A newscast was currently on this station and he quickly changed it to some tunes. He then check to see if he had forgotten his phone again but this time he found it in his pocket and relief spread over him.

The vehicle clicked on the pavement with the rotation of the tires and was soon to be gone as the roar of the engine slowly died away.

"... My Mother, was very different from my Father. She had radiant skin and I loved her a lot. My Father ... well, he was a bit-more of a brute. Or I thought he was. He taught me all of the traditions of his ways so I could continue to pass them on but was very forceful. That might be where I get some of his personality.."

The man across the room in his work chair scribbled down on his notepad for a few seconds while the other man on the couch stared up at the ceiling. His long, blonde hair spread upon the arm of the couch like a silky blanket down to his shoulder. He sighed at the ceiling with his legs crossed resting at the other end of the couch and waited for the other man with a very distinct, black moustache to finish writing.

The man with the notepad also sighed and looked up at the other man staring up on the couch.

"It seems that is all the time we have today. Do you have any questions?"

The man on the couch sat up, unaware of the time and glanced at the clock above the right side of the man. He fixed his frizzy hair and long sleeves.

"No, I think I am good till next week."

It was sunny outside for which you couldn't really tell because of the curtains from inside where the therapy session had taken place. Francis, the man on the sidewalk, had been taking these lessons for better use of his time and to avoid feeling like he would go insane and other countries might feel after centuries of bloodshed and their long lifespans. This was the bitter side of things but was often ignored as a frequent conversation for some took it as offensive or still had a grudge for what was now in the past.

Now Francis would walk among the tourists that would usually be wandering about and occasionally wave to which he would return the wave along with a soft smile. Inside of this rather slender figure, was a more confined spirit that would never want to hurt another person and would sometimes be tempted to shy away from crowds to explore more quiet streets that were solemnly crossed.

He headed towards the market that was made up of a large spread of freshly baked goods that varied from breads, fruits, vegetables, and meats. These were all sold from covered tents that stretched downtown and was full of buzz and mouth watering smells.

Francis calmly walked over to one that held fresh grapes and picked a bundle. He tossed one casually into his mouth and crushed it, letting the fruit burst and fill his tastebuds. Then after feeling satisfied with the taste, put the rest of them in a sack and got out his wallet.

While doing so a nearby customer caught his eye. A young boy, around the age of ten, stood close to what appeared to be his mother talking with one of the workers. He starred up at Francis after seeing him slyly take a grape and seemed to have grown with interest. Or in other words, thought that Francis was stealing.

Francis continued standing from where he was, now taking a full view of the boy. The with a smile, winked at him, giving the cashier his money, and turning away without a word.

He arrived home at dusk and quick threw in some rolls to go with his left over lasagna and sat down in his living room to watch a soap. As it grew darker and he was now finished with his meal, Francis decided to take the time to read one he had been trying to finish for a while bit could not due to his busy schedule: The Count of Monte Cristo. After a good hour's read, he checked the time and decided to call it a day and got into his night clothes and got ready for bed. He took his pills and washed his face before finally going under the covers.

As he lay awake for a few minutes, he waited for his brain to slow to a pace. It had been packed with unexpected drama and hard work but luckily it was now time to rest and close his eyes. He was finally under as his phone buzzed.

An unreceived call from England.