A/N: Okay so... It was brought to my attention that Inverness is NOT in England. Imagine that? I had like... the longest staring contest with the screen before facepalming. Google said Inverness was in the UK and I was like 'Oh, so that must be in England, yeah?' XD My mistake... I will move Katyusha to Carlisle. (I was almost tempted to say 'screw it! she lives in Scotland now' But then realized Scotland MAY not be connected to England... Oh God... I'm so ignorant x_x) Forgive me... I'm just a simple American with Google and Bing on my side. Mostly Google... Um, this chapter might be a little rushed. I apologize if it isn't all that great... *Clears throat* Please enjoy the newest addition to Forgive Me Father. Love you all. -Fool
A Minor Favor
I know what you're waiting on. You're waiting on me to say I ripped it. Burned it. Fed it to the leeches on the street. Oh, and I wish I could tell you I did do that. I wish I could... I wish I could tell you I proudly rid myself of the check. I didn't. My fingers burned that entire walk to the bank. Yes, I cashed it. Please don't expect so much of me. I was a strong man, but I wasn't God himself. I couldn't allow my love to be out in the cold, sitting around a garbage can fire with her family. No. What kind of man would I be? How could I ever ask her to marry me if I couldn't do something as small as this? I only took what I needed from the Frog. Nothing more, nothing less. Three thousand, for Katyusha.
I was not some corrupt bloke trying to stuff his pockets to the brim in cash. Hell, I didn't even take anything for my own bills. It was all for her. And it seemed like God allowed this. For the weeks after that, I had actually convinced myself that God had not allowed it, but had created it. My gift. The only thing I'd ever ask for. To take care of Katyusha. I loved her more than I could ever love anything. I was sure of that. Now I'm not even sure what my own name is half the time. So, as I was saying a few good weeks had went by and I was quite sure everything was alright. I had given the money to my love long ago and everything was back to normal for me. Go to work, look for better jobs after work, eat, ignore the monster pile of bills in the corner of my room, and hope to hear from Katyusha.
So you can imagine my surprise when I opened my door ready to head off to work on a Tuesday morning to find none other than Francis Bonnefoy at my doorstep, fist posed as if he were about to knock. His blonde hair framed his face in a neat manner and his baby blue eyes lit with amusement to find me staring at him dumbstruck. "...Mr. Bonnefoy..." I mumbled as my eyes began to narrow in distrust. The man clicked his tongue at my tone then shook his head. "Ah, do not be so cold mon ami... I am not 'ere to cause you 'arm." I wrinkled my nose at his annoying accent. I wasn't a fan of the French, and the fact that he was the Frog just topped the horrendous cake. "May I come in? This will only take a moment."
Now, usually the answer would be a straight "no". The man was bad news. He reeked of malevolence, despite the sweet aroma of roses that burned my nostrils so insistently. But... I didn't know what he had up his sleeve. I wasn't aware of the game he wanted to play. Cards, checkers, chess... The rules were always different. "Alright. I must be going to work soon, so please make it quick." And with that, I stepped back to allow the man inside of my less than shabby apartment. I expected him to cringe at the "peasant-like" style of my home, however he surprised me with another knee buckling smile. It only increased my wariness.
"Merci. I assumed you would be much more... Difficult." Francis chuckled softly before walking inside and looking around. He then took the nearest seat: the couch. He looked out of place in my home with his spiffy suit and that grace he had. Honestly, it was just so unnerving how beautiful a man could be. Oh, believe me when I say I hadn't miraculously fell for him. His beauty was of an external quality, and though I was sometimes struck with awe... I was never fooled. Never once. "Would you like something to drink?" I responded blandly as I closed the door. I did not sit, though I had the feeling this would take more than a "moment".
The blonde shook his head as he crossed his legs. "Non... I am fine. Now... Do you know why I am 'ere, Monsieur?" He questioned with the lift of a single eyebrow. I was pretty sure I knew what it was all about, but with a man as confusing and as intricate as Francis Bonnefoy... One could never be sure. "Is it because you're missing money?" I questioned as I furrowed my brow, a frown tugging my thin lips in a downward slope. And of course he laughed at me. I don't think I'd ever seen him angry. No, not even now... Never have I seen him bothered in the least. Yet another unnerving factor of his. "Oh do not be silly! That was a gift, yes? I am 'ere because I would like you to do me a favor..."
I blanched at that. My heart sped. I felt hot yet cold. A favor. For him. This had to be an invitation to trouble. The worst kind of trouble. "...If I may ask... What kind of favor would it be?" I nervously fidgeted with my tie and he chuckled in that same carefree manner, his eyes glittering with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "Oh nothing difficult, mon ami. My little brother needs to be picked up, but I do not 'ave time to do so myself... Could you do it for me? I would be forever grateful." He peered up at me beneath his long feminine lashes then batted them in a mock-pleading manner. I grimaced in response. Though it didn't sound that difficult, I knew better than to be relieved.
"Please, Monsieur Kirkland? It is just a small favor." He clasped his hands together and looked down at them, lips suddenly pursed in a tight line. It made him look as if he were pouting rather than scowling, but I somehow knew that was what he was going for. I also knew he had plenty of connections. He didn't need me to do it. He wanted me to. Why, I didn't know. I just knew he had some sick reasoning behind it all. The Frog always did. "...Alright. If it isn't too far..." He lit up and smiled grandly, flashing his overly white teeth. "Merci~! 'is name is Mathieu and I will be needing you to drive 'im to my 'ome. And to tell 'im that his dear brother misses 'im... 'e will most likely be at the "Comfy Inn"... Room 113. You know it, yes?"
I was half tempted to deny that I did. Of course, then he'd just give me the directions. I know I could've said no to him, but I wanted to repay the debt. Even if he assured me that check was a "gift" I knew very well Francis would forever have me under his thumb squirming until I coughed up something he wanted. So if I did this small insignificant task, I could be worry free. We would be even and I could breathe easy. I hadn't expected him to pop up, but when he had it came to my realization this might become a habit of his.
Thus, my trek to the motel began. I was going to be late to work if I didn't hurry, so I guided the man out in front of me then headed on my way to get this "Mathieu" person. Heaven knows how screwed up he was. I prepared myself for the worst. Francis was the devil, so his younger sibling must've been something of a demon. Probably even worse actually. I knew how younger brothers could be. I had one myself. So. I drove in my beat up old Bentley to retrieve the boy and take him to the desired destination. I was wary and ready to get the supposedly simple favor over with.
The motel was on the "bad" side of town. Where men sold their souls and flesh met flesh in revolting back alleys. I could feel the sin coming in waves. I felt tainted just by association. Gritting my teeth I tried to get a hold of myself. Get the boy and go. That wasn't a hard task. I parked my car in the small little section for parking in front, and was immediately approached by a woman barely dressed with smeared make up. My skin crawled. "Looking for a good time, sweet cheeks?" She reeked of sweat and there was still a bit of dried semen on her chin and clumps of it in her tousled hair. I vaguely wondered how many diseases she was carrying.
"No thank you." I said as politely as a man in my position could before walking around the tempest and toward the cluster of motels. The room number was 113. I made sure to remember that fact. Getting lost wouldn't have done me very much good in such an area. "Room 113..." I murmured as I came to a stop in front of a certain room. The rest of the tale will be forever imprinted in my brain. After I knocked... Yes. I can remember it like it happened just yesterday. There was the sound of the doorknob turning and the door creaking open.
It was rather pitch black inside the room, and all I saw was the gleam of eyes. Like the Frog's, they were vast blue oceans. Unlike the Frog's, however, there was a murderous intent. I suppose I should've just left right then and there, seeing such clear hatred. "...Matthew?" I questioned, furrowing my brow. Somehow I hadn't thought he would be so tall. Taller than Francis, even. The male said nothing in reply. His eyes only darkened at the sound of the name. It was then my collar was grasped and I was jerked into the room. The door shut softly behind me.
"Where the fuck is he?!" The male snarled out, venom clear in his voice. Oddly enough, it was not a French accent I heard... But an American one? Yes. He was clearly American. I stood frozen in place, my thoughts tangling as fear and adrenaline shot up my veins. "Where is Matthew?!" Clearly this was not the man I was supposed to be picking up... I slapped his hand away from my shirt collar and took a few cowardly steps back. My hands grasped behind me for anything. Anything at all. They found a light switch.
In the light I saw that the male was quite young. No older than seventeen, probably. His face was... rugged. Marred with old bruises and jagged scars. He looked rather weary as well. Still, he had the same beauty a man should never possess. His dirty blonde hair was smoothed back, excluding a rebellious cowlick, and I would've found it rather silly if this meeting were under different circumstances. In his left hand, he held something that made my breath catch in my throat. And not in awe. "What? Franny sent one of his fuckin' bitches without a weapon?" He hissed out, raising it up. His finger ghosted over the trigger. My heart rammed against my chest in a desperate attempt to break free and leave my immobile body behind. "...I... I'm guessing you're not... His brother?" The American seemed to be infuriated by such a statement, and I found myself shoved against a wall, cold metal pressing into my right temple. I began to tremble.
"Franny didn't tell you who I am?" I felt the need to respond, but I knew I should just keep my mouth shut. It was clear to me that anything I said would only provoke the... boy... more. Yes. A boy. That's all he was. I knew not to underestimate him for such a thing though. He looked quite... "street hardened", if that's the correct term. I had a horrible hunch he'd probably used that gun more than once. "Ha! What a laugh... He sent his new hussy without telling him anything?" He leaned close, his eyes furious and feral. Somehow, he still managed to be attractive while looking so menacing. The sweet contradicting smell of apple trees flooded my senses as he exhaled. The only person who had ever been so close to me was my beloved Katyusha. I swallowed.
I cleared my throat and wrangled up some courage. Narrowing my forest green eyes in defiance, I spoke. "...I am just an acquaintance. Francis sent me to pick up Matthew... His brother. To tell him that his dear brother misses him..." At this, the teen began to laugh. It was bitter and sharp. "Matthew... Sweet Mattie... He's my "dear" brother." The weapon dug into my skin as he put more force to it. I felt my head begin to throb. Francis hadn't wanted to do the task himself. I supposed that was why he had asked me to do that favor. "...You're... B-But that doesn't make any bloody sense..." I stammered out, my defiance turning into confusion. To this, the boy merely frowned.
"You're useless. Franny probably sent ya 'cause he knows I don't like to hit women." He sneered as he backed off. "Take me to him." The boy stated as he grabbed a worn out brown leather jacket hanging off the back of a chair. I stared at him incredulously. Surely, after that, he couldn't expect me to be driving him somewhere. Was he mad? At that point in time I was nearly positive he was. "Listen. Either you drive me or I kick your ass and steal your car keys. Your call old man." He stated with a scowl, his eyes daring me to defy his wishes. And as prideful as I was, I wasn't stupid. Driving a loon was better than getting maimed by one. "...F-Fine..." His blue eyes lit up, and for a sheer second, I thought I saw a boy beneath the riddles of malice and violence. The scars. A boy that smelled of apples. Just for a second.
"Move it." He ordered, his scowl back as he slipped on his jacket. Where the gun had gone, I didn't know. I hadn't wanted to know either. I turned around and opened the door, exiting. The boy stayed on my heels all the way to the car. And of course he refused to put on a seat belt like a childish git, not that I tried to get him to do so. He was the one with the gun. "...You never told me your name." I stated, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The boy blinked a few times. He then shrugged and looked out the window. "And you didn't tell me yours, old man." My left eye twitched at his response, but I was aware he had a point.
Sharing my name with a hooligan was bound to get me into trouble someday. Still, I offered it. "Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." The teen hummed in thought. He then glanced at me out the corner of his eye, responding with a bored: "...That's a lame name, dude." I groaned in frustration, but still, I found myself waiting. Just what did Francis want with the kid? He was violent, relatively unstable by the looks of it, and... Well. As I said, a kid. "My name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones." The boy finally told me after at least five minutes of silence. "The F. is for heroic effect." He murmured with half-hearted pride, turning his attention back to what lay beyond the passenger window.
"Franny's my ex."