The Mud
To be completely honest with you, I said nothing after that. I asked him nothing. I don't think I even breathed the rest of that drive. Did that make me a bad person...? To not worry for the boy or try and find anything else out about this? Well. He was a stranger... Not only that, but he was a ruffian. A 'gang banger' or whatever they were called, by the looks of it. He had a gun and seemed like trouble, of danger. How could I have ever thought him to smell like apples? He was the type of person that you would avoid looking at on the street... The kind you'd do you very best to ignore. A lost boy. If one were to look upon him, it would be from pure awe of his beauty. That odd pull of his eyes. I must admit, if it weren't for his scars and his crude tongue... I might've considered him of an upper class. Anyhow, when we finally reached Bonnefoy's property I can't even begin to explain the relief that coursed through my veins. Good riddance to a problem that was never mine.
"You're coming, princess." The teen spat, tone sour and demanding. You can only imagine my dismay at the thought of getting out my car and my frustration at being called such a ridiculous name. "Do not call me a princess, you insufferable-!" I abruptly came to a stop, my skin paling. The boy had his hand in his jacket, and his body language was hint enough. He was packing heat. Oh, and I knew right then. I was leaving that car. Whether in a body bag, or with him. I was leaving it. I swallowed roughly. "I'll call you whatever the hell I want to call you, bitch! Get out." He snapped, his piercing blue eyes drilling holes into my own green ones. I was blind from fright. Child or not, he could kill me. I suppose I'd forgotten that for moment. So, I had no choice in the end. I cut the engine then slid out the car, reluctance dulling my usually vivid eyes. The American followed suit.
The gates were already open and cars littered the area. Women and men lay about on the lawn, consuming alcohol or smoking fags. I scrunched my nose up at the intolerable stench contaminating the air. "It's barely after noon." I muttered, stepping over a giggling woman. Alfred glanced at me with a peculiar look, as if I were the odd one. He then shook his head and looked forward, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. The smell didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. "You don't get out much, do ya princess?" I had the feeling it was more of a put down than a question. As if he wasn't truly curious at all about my life. I snapped at him, of course. "Would you stop calling me a bloody princess?! Unlike you, I'm not a damn fairy!" He quirked a single eyebrow at that, but the only thing he said was, "Huh."
Huh.
Huh!
What ever little concern or pity I had felt for him went right out the window at hearing that. Disgust and spite filled be to the brim. The blasted fool had actually presumed me to be... Well. It didn't matter. What mattered was getting the whole ordeal over with. The sooner I got him out of my hair, the better. I was a good few hours late to work as it was... But I still intended to go. I needed every penny. His expression was somewhere along the lines of... 'You could've fooled me'. It was irritating, to be honest. I said nothing after that. I wasn't about to get into a fight with a man with a gun over my sexuality. Thoughts of lovely subtle blue eyes and the taste of freshly baked treats calmed me. Reminded me what I was living for.
When we reached the front door, the crude American merely opened it. No knock, no doorbell ring. He simply waltzed right in, as if he owned the place. What did I know though? Maybe he did. I followed behind, face splotched red from previous anger and lips pursed in a tight line. Alfred clicked his tongue in distaste at the scene before us. As if he were above senseless grinding and drunken make out sessions. For the briefest moments, I couldn't help but wonder. Who is he to judge? Weren't all fairies rather... Promiscuous... Anyway? I didn't know. I wasn't one myself. He slipped through the crowd and I unfortunately had to maneuver through it as well. I was small, but he seemed to be oddly faster. By the time I caught up to him, I was panting from the exercise of trying to catch up.
Alfred looked at me with what might've been considered irritation. Probably at my slowness. I didn't see why he had any reason to be. I didn't see the purpose of me coming along either, but I wasn't about to test his resolve with shooting an innocent man. "You sure you're not a chick?" He muttered, grabbing at my elbow and yanking me down an empty hall. I could feel the warmth from his fingers through the fabric of my shirt; it was unsettling. I squirmed away then began walking on my own, reluctant to let the boy touch me. "Please don't insult me." I said sharply, putting some distance between us. Alfred snickered, but said nothing else. We walked in silence. Him leading, me fuming. I had no idea where we were going... But he seemed to, and that was good enough.
We walked a while longer, until finally we reached a door. He didn't knock there either. He would've kicked the door in, if I hadn't been there to simply use the doorknob. Bloody barbarian. What I saw flicked the switch to my curiosity on. I was sure to pull it back down. I couldn't allow myself to get any more involved than I already was. "...Ah... Please... More..." A soft pleading voice came, skin much paler than it should be exposed to the stuffy air. A boy... Alfred? No, no... He must've been a twin, because they looked almost identical. If it weren't for his complexion and dead lavender eyes, I would've been fooled. There was a hideous red bruise on his cheek, and from a life of 'running into walls' I knew what that meant. All he wore were boxers... Leaving his sins clear on his arms. I'd have them soon, too... But then... All I could do was stare. The boy was clinging to Francis on a lovely leather couch, begging for something.
"Mon Dieu... You are needy, non? It 'as only been an 'our..." The man soothed, though it was clear he was rather amused. Beside me, Alfred tensed. His eyes became a cold steel... And I wasn't sure if he was breathing. Perhaps this was my chance to escape. The favor was done. I could leave. However, by the time I took my first step back... Alfred had taken hold of my hair and shoved that pistol of his beneath my chin. I went still against his stiff body. Felt the way his heart slammed into my back. Despite his show of dominance and 'control', he was nervous. I knew that. I also knew... I didn't want to die because of his druggy brother and my acquaintance not giving me all the facts. Or any facts, really. "Franny. Baby. If you wanted to talk, you shoulda just called... Matthew, get over here." The boy hissed out. I couldn't help but wonder if Francis would play along with this type of thing. He was a snake with a pretty face. I doubted he'd play 'hostage swap'.
The duplicate of Alfred glanced at us for the briefest of moments. There was such a... lost, look to him. Like he couldn't recognize his brother through that haze of need. He scratched at his neck. It looked as if the skin was raw there from all his scratching. He then turned back to Francis, wrapping his legs around him and grinding and pulling and... Just... being a pitiful longing corpse. "...P... Please... Francis... Please..." He murmured. And I knew he'd give anything to have what Bonnefoy was so cruel to hide from him. I winced as the American took his anger out on my scalp, tightening his grip. "Oh, mon cheri... Please let monsieur Kirkland go... 'e 'as been so kind to me." The Frenchman chuckled a bit, paying no mind to the fidgeting boy in his lap. "Besides, I told Matthieu 'e could go..." He said, his plush lips pulling into a friendly smile. Somehow it just made the boy behind me shudder though.
"After you gave him that shit! I told you he was done! Just... Just stop using him!" He snarled out, my scalp screaming in agony at the sting. I swore he was going to pull out my hair. "Using 'im? All I did was give 'im a little bit of 'eaven... Come now, do you not miss it Alfred...?" He purred out. If he had cursed, it probably would've sounded like a lullaby. He threw down something on the floor, which the boy on his lap was quick to go after. Eyes wide and glimmering in relief. "Matthew! Shit, don't!" And like that, his entire persona crumbled. He was trembling violently at the sight of whatever was on the ground. It wasn't long before he released me and went after his brother. Whether to fight over that piece of 'heaven' or to stop him, I don't know. I ran like the room was on fire as soon after he let me go.
Bumping into bodies and pushing passed lovers, I fled. My scalp stinging and my body shaking. It wasn't my problem. It wasn't. I needed to get to work... Away from the insanity of the Bonnefoy manor. I don't want to know what else went on in that room. I'd seen enough. Knew too much. Hoped my debt to the man was paid. And it was. Until I slipped up with opening that payment... I'm getting a head of myself. Anyhow, I had been running until a hand reached out and yanked at my elbow. I gasped, being pulled into a body that smelled of liquor and sweat... And faintly... Churros? "...Oi, eyebrows. Wait. Fran wanted me to pay you... Stop squirming." He muttered, his breath coming out hot and rank. He let go of my elbow then slipped his hand down to my pocket. I gritted my teeth, about ready to swing wildly... Until I realized what he was doing. There was something he had put there. Something I assumed to be cash. "Enjoy, amigo." He slurred, patting it a few times for his own amusement.
"What... What is it?" I murmured, slapping his hand away and putting the appropriate distance between us. The man laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling. His breath was foul... And with the way he was jittering with energy... I knew he wasn't a bloke I could trust. So why did the frog? "...Mexican mud, man..." When I furrowed my brow at him, he just laughed harder and waved me off... As if the details were unimportant. At first glance, one would assume him to be Mexican as well, I suppose... But the brown tan of his skin and the thickness of his accent made it quite clear of what he was. Spanish. "It's the good stuff. Heh. You should share with me... Haven't had it in so long..." He trailed off, his eyes glinting with that need... That need that too many people around Bonnefoy's place had. I shook my head as I backed away from him, not quite sure I wished to delve any deeper into the specifics.
I then left. I believe I tripped over a few bodies on my way out... But said people didn't seemed to mind that. I scrambled for my car, the heat and stink of the party behind me. I just wanted to leave... Yes. I believe that's what I wanted. I slipped away into the safety of my car, locking the doors then resting my head against the steering wheel. The package still in my pocket. The favor was over. Whatever went on... Was no longer my problem. Francis had given me yet another 'gift' and I was wary to see what it was. I could use the cash... If it was that. I had missed a whole day after all... I shook my head at the thought, but still it lingered. I sat there for a good several minutes, collecting myself. I then put the key in the ignition and turned it, waiting for that old groan I was accustom to. It coughed and spat nothing but smoke the first few tries, but hey... What could you expect from and old rust bucket like that? Eventually it started and I believe... I left. When I say 'I believe', it's because I'm not particularly sure... The even afterwards left somewhat of a gap and I'm still piecing it together.
Traffic had been horrid. I remember the usual road rage and the honking of horns. I remember the cabs and being annoyed with children that couldn't get across the street properly. I remember being fidgety and uncomfortable, my scalp only faintly throbbing... I remember... Driving home. Yes. I had decided against going to the office. I just wasn't in the mood anymore. And surely, if it was money, there was no need. Even though I swore the first time three thousand for Katyusha was all I needed... Didn't I deserve something more? I had dealt with that loon Alfred F. Jones. I had gone up to Francis Bonnefoy's mansion and had to deal with having a gun pointed at me. Surely, surely, I deserved... Just a little payment? I could give the rest to my love, if she needed it. I saw nothing wrong with just paying my bills. Who would? I had undone my tie then had a single glass of wine to calm my nerves. I didn't handle alcohol well, you see. I still don't. So one glass was all I ever had. I then headed off to my room to unwind.
Never mind a shower or a quick meal... I was tired. It had been a long... Long, day. Between teenage gangsters and sweaty Spaniards... I was quite worn. I aged before my time, you see. It didn't matter that I was in my twenties. I always felt like I was in my late forties. I rested on my bed, looking up at the ceiling in thought. My crappy ceiling fan made whiney screeches of noise as if to converse with me. Why it did that, I didn't know. Another bonus to having my lowly job, I suppose. The package was still in my pocket... Untouched. I kept repeating over and over again in my head 'I don't need this'. Whatever 'this' was. Francis could keep his dirty money. Could keep his psychotic ex-lovers and their brother's. Could keep his disgustingly charming smile to himself. I had a stable job and stable income, even if it wasn't much. Opening this payment... It would be stupid. If I did that... What chance did I have of rejecting it?
I had lay there for some time, letting the slight buzz from the wine calm me. I then sat up and ran my finger through my unkempt hair, grimacing at the smell of sweat on me. "...Ah... Well. I suppose I should take a peek, hm?" I said to myself, the fan responding with a tired whirl. "...Alright then." I stood then patted my pocket. Felt it there. I sighed softly. Hesitating. Reluctant to slip it out. I did, though. And whatever it was... I knew right then, it wasn't money. Bringing it out and in the open... I stared down at the little bag. Crumpled and suspicious looking. Brown and oddly harboring no smell. I shifted the small lunch bag from one hand to the other. Playing the guessing game. As if I were a child on Christmas Eve, shaking presents and predicting what they would be. But this... I couldn't... Pinpoint it. No smell... No true form. Maybe the drunkard who'd given it to me was just off his rocker? He didn't look too trustworthy in all honesty. I sighed then shrugged my shoulders, unrolling the top then slipping my hand into it. I pulled out a light baggy, full of some type of powder... And though I was still rather confused... The name that stranger had given me still slipped from my tongue.
"Mexican mud...?"
A/N: Sorry if there are any mistakes... I wrote this at like, four in the morning. You see, I had the idea in my head... But it takes forever for my ideas to come together... And they aren't too pretty when I rush... ^^; Ack... I sure took my sweet time eh? Well. I apologize for the delay and I will start pushing for a chapter a week. I also apologize for my ridiculously long notes... Pfft. I just like to talk. Review please~! And I hope you enjoyed the chapter... I swear to fix it up in the evening tomorrow... When I don't feel dead tired... *jitters from caffeine intake* Eheh... So yeah. Enjoy and what not. Next chapter will be pretty short, but after that it'll go back to being somewhat medium in size.