# Dreams Of A Vague Reality 04 #

Francis!

This might disturb people, but I don't want lectures about it being immoral and disturbed. This WHOLE FIC is immoral and disturbed, and if you don't like it, don't read it. I'm a sicko, deal with it. I don't think rape is funny- in fact, that's why it's on here. BECAUSE it's a serious matter.

Better out than in, non? :D

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"The secret side side of me,

I never let you see,

I keep it caged but I can't control it,"

Skillet- Monster

"Pl-ah!-please, stop, I don't want this!"

The young woman's voice was loud, gasping, desperate, as she tried to struggle against the bonds holding her curved frame to the bed, which held fast. Somehow it didn't occur to her that the frantic attempts to free herself weren't working, because she continued to writhe and pull at the ropes. Sweat coated her brow, and her overly made-up eyes were wide. Frightened, like a deer in the headlights of a truck. She was rather pretty, the man observing her struggles thought absently, to the point of it almost being indecent, with the way she was dressed. Who would have thought that big brands like that would use so little cloth when making a dress? But perhaps that was how they became so rich. Still, her revealing clothes made her attractive.

Then again, he always did pick the pretty ones. She seemed to be from a rich family, with her big brand-name clothes and fancy hairdo that was overdone for something that was supposed to be simple. The smell of expensive perfume, almost sickly sweet, filled the air around her. Not that the man himself could talk. He was quite wealthy himself, after all, he was a foreigner. It made picking up...well, 'dates' would be the proper word, but his 'victims' would beg to differ, likely.

He ignored the broken pleas, which were being whispered like some kind of prayer, and smiled at her warmly, a charming expression on his face. He knew it was a bright and somewhat handsome smile, and the woman began smiling back nervously, likely thinking she was safe. Soon she'd learn this was very far from the case, but for now, he would let her feel secure. Dark blue eyes fixed on her sweat-coated brow, and a hungry, twisted grin slid into his face for a mere second as she closed her eyes to try and calm herself down. He licked his lips slowly, tasting her lipstick from where they had kissed earlier. There would be no more of this blatant innocence in this particular relationship. After all, he needed her for one thing, and after that she was not required to reside here any more.

Soon she would be screaming his name. Pain, sorrow, fear, all of these emotions he would rip from her helpless body, revelling in the sharp scent of her helplessness. It was what got him off, after all. The rush, the euphoric high of taking what he wanted, of claiming everything in his name. He wanted to taste the fear, the sweat, the pain, absorb it all into his own being.

She was his to toy with.

They all were, after all.

"All mine," he whispered, the words and the darkness behind them inaudible as the woman's eyes fluttered open again.

The sun filtered in through the large window with the view of the ocean. It felt faintly nostalgic to the man that resided there; as if he had been there forever instead of a few short months. A small, vague smile drifted onto his lips with his appreciation towards the beauty. Although it was that sort of weather that was completely shithouse usually, life had taken a pleasant turn today and the sun was out, shining brightly and illuminating the small, clean office room. The man, used to sudden weather changes by now, still preferred and enjoyed these small moments of tranquil warmth, and had moved hid desk accordingly near to the clear view.

"Francis!"

The blonde man looked up from where he was writing, his neat handwriting filling the page with an elegant ease. He could have been writing a novel of brave knights and beautiful princesses, of worlds far away and royalties only dreamed of; but as it was he was filling in bills he had yet to pay. Being a popular magazine columnist didn't pay as well as he had assumed it might have. He paused in his ministrations, setting down the delicately engraved pen on his desk. Then dark blue eyes flickered into life, looking over his black-framed reading glasses at his friend standing in the open doorway and fixing the man with a curious look.

"Antonio? What are you doing here, amour?"

"Hola, Francis!"

Francis stood from the soft, fabric-lined black chair he had been perched on and moved forward to embrace the brunette beaming at him. His hug was returned with vigor, Antonio almost squeezing what life was left out of him. The Frenchman grinned at him once they had split apart again, and Antonio's beam became incredibly even brighter than before. Their combined excitement at seeing each other was almost tangible, their expressions one of children the morning of Christmas when they had sighted all of the presents under the trees.

"It's been so long!"

"Si, we should have met up sooner!"

Antonio sat down on the small couch reserved for visitors and faced Francis as he began speaking rapidly, and the blonde himself returned to the seat he had been previously occupying. It took them only a few minutes to discuss their lives, having known each other since high school they were fully aware of what the other could get up to. Mutual friends were discussed, relationships were analyzed, all within the space of a few measly moments. But Francis knew, somehow, that there was a reason for his Spanish friend's sudden appearance and waited patiently for an answer to the question he had not even spoken aloud. He didn't need to ask, because he was assured that answers would come to him without searching, and he didn't want to pry too much in case it was a sensitive matter or something like it.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you why I'm here, didn't I?"

"Oui."

"Well, you were looking for a job, amigo?"

"...I am in need of some money. Why?"

Antonio's bright smile dimmed a little as he shifted on the couch and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket. He spent a few long minutes trying to unfold the sheet and flatten it out so it was readable, Francis raising an eyebrow inquiringly. Was the Spanish man offering him a job? He had been under the impression the optimistic brunette had been flitting around a few of his own; he'd been fired once for his indecisive nature and Francis had been forced to pick up the pieces.

"What is it, Toni?"

"Well, I know you're low on money, and whoever sent these adverts sent me two..."

"And...?"

"I want you to look after mi tomate," Antonio said, his words a little rushed.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Your...tomato? Antonio, are you feeling well?"

"No, not a real tomato! That would be silly! I'm talking about Lovi!"

"That petite boy you used to babysit? You kept in contact?"

"Si! But...you see...I'm worried about him."

"-Lovino's always been pretty...well, hard to talk to. But since his grandfather vanished, he's been going places. I don't know where he goes, but...I'm worried. I saw blood once!"

Francis blinked. What the hell had that been?

"...he doesn't have many friends, and I was hoping if you and he worked together, you could befriend him? He's just so unsociable, and it's hard for me. And you're such a friendly person, how can he help but not want to be friends with you! You make friends with all those women when we go out to bars, too!"

Francis couldn't help the small curl of the lips at Antonio's last comment. The Spaniard's astonishing naivety was still present, even after many years. It was kind of sad, really. Especially when some poor woman would try to come on to him and he just bounced it back with his cheery expression. It was borderline incredible on some days, admittedly. But to tell the truth, he hadn't been to a bar in a long time. If he felt like a drink, he had a nice storage of wine in his desk, but that was it. Sobriety wasn't fun; but it was good.

"Well...fine, then. What time is the interview and where is it?"

Antonio looked away sheepishly. "It...was last night."

"...what?"

"It was last week, but I signed you up and told them I'd get you down there this week! I knew how busy you were with your bills and stuff, so I asked them and they told me they only had three applicants anyway, so that'd be fine!"

Francis dismissed the obvious lack of care Antonio seemed to have about his situation. The Spaniard was usually like this, so it was rather irrelevant anyway. He relaxed a little, resting his chin on one hand as he thought about it. It wasn't really a bad offer anyway, and he was certainly willing to do something as simple as that for an old friend.

"...Mon ami, you just want me to look after Lovino?"

"Si! That's it!"

"Then...I suppose I might be able to make it," Francis said with a faint smile. Antonio beamed back, and it was the sort of warm friendship that lightened your heart and brightened everything around it. Francis avoided that feeling crawling up his spine, the one that told him there was something off about this whole matter. Instead he glanced under the desk, looking thoughtful. He did have a few bottles to spare, and that eerie feeling might leave him after a drink.

"Care for a glass of wine, Toni?"

"Si! I don't see why not! We have a lot to catch up on!"

Looking back on it, Francis should have smelled a rat at the first sign of disturbance. But as these things usually go, he remained unsettled but mainly oblivious to the changes around him, of the new axis turning to world to its own pleasure. Life was like that.

But he'd find out soon enough.

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Translations ((Amazingly, there are some for this chapter!));

Amour- love (French) (pet name, like 'poppet' is in British)

Hola- hello/hey (Spanish)

Si- yes (Spanish)

Oui- yes (French)

Amigo- friend (Spanish)

Mi tomate- My tomato (Spanish)

Petit- little (French)

Mon ami- my friend (French)

Names;

Francis Bonnefoy- France