Chapter 12

Matthew found he was thoroughly enjoying Paris. From the winding, cobbled streets to the open squares filled with shops and people, he felt at home. It was the same feeling he had felt upon seeing the house, a sense of rightness, that this is where he belonged. It helped that both Carlos and Michelle were incredibly enthusiastic and welcoming tour guides, and Matthew was pleased to find that the two got on remarkably well.

And so the three of them made their way through the city, both vying to show Matthew the best Paris had to offer. At one point he looked back from staring in wonder at the architecture to see them both smiling at each other with a wistful expression. When he caught their gaze, they both grinned at him, causing him to smile sheepishly and rub the back of his head.

"I'm sorry. I must seem like such a tourist to you."

Michelle shook her head. "No! Well, yes, a little." Matthew tilted his head at her. "Ok, yes, a lot. But it is cute, isn't it, Carlos?"

The taller teen nodded. "Yeah, totally. It's always cool to see someone who's new to it all. We're all like that once. Gives you a sense of appreciation, you get me?"

Matthew laughed. "Umm, thanks, I guess?"

Michelle laughed at him. Skipping forward, she grabbed Carlos' and Matthew's arms, linking them together as a trio.

"This is wonderful! I have two wonderfully handsome and charming men as my escorts. I'm so lucky" she teased. She batted her eyelashes at Carlos." Where shall we take the little tourist next, monsieur photographer?" she asked.

The Cuban pretended to think about it. "I say we give him a taste of true French cuisine."

Michelle let go of his arm to clap delightedly. "Then that means sweets! I know the perfect place." She ran ahead, leaving Matthew and Carlos to follow her.

She led them across the square to a beautiful patisserie, the window full of the cakes, pastries and sweets on display. Matthew's eyes widened in delight as he stared at the trays. Michelle popped her head out of the door.

"If you're eyes go that wide just by seeing them, wait till you taste it!" she quipped. Matthew's face flushed red, and he followed her inside, still staring. He let her order, listening to her converse with the baker in rapid, fluid French. They must have said something about him, for she nodded and gestured to Matthew with a smile. Whatever she said made the baker wink and smile at him.

She made him turn around while the baker placed their order into the bag, saying that she 'didn't want him to spoil the surprise'. Matthew complied, smiling. He heard Michelle taking her purse out of her bag, then the sounds of the till as it opened and closed. Once the transaction was complete, he felt her hands on his back, propelling him out of the shop.

Once outside, Matthew glanced at her curiously. She waved him off, stuffing the bag in his hands.

"It's fine. I told him this is your first time in the city, so he gave you a little something extra. Welcome to France!"

Matthew stared down at the bag in his hands. Whatever it was smelt divine, the scent of sugar and pastry and something he couldn't identify wafting up from the bag. He opened it curiously.

The bag was full of macarons, pastries and little tarts. All neatly arranged on top of each other, brightly coloured and beautiful. He picked one out and raised it to his lips, closing his eyes. He took a bite. Taste exploded in his mouth. He couldn't stop a small moan of delight.

"Well?"

Opening his eyes, he saw Michelle staring at him, smiling. He blushed, seeing Carlos looking at him with a smirk as well. He nodded.

"It's amazing."

Michelle grinned and clapped her hands. "I knew it!" she crowed. Reaching over, she took the bag out of his hands, taking a square of nougat and popping it in her mouth. She offered the bag to Carlos, who accepted it and took a pastry, chewing slowly.

"Man, I missed these. Nothing like it at home, that's for sure." He licked the tips of his fingers to get rid of the sugar that clung to them.

"Oui. And now, coffee!" Michelle led them both to a café a few shops along. e three continued chatting. After a few minutes, the waiter brought their coffee, setting the cups down in an almost dance-like display. The coffee itself came in a carafe-like cafetière. Matthew inhaled the rich, strong scent.

It was poured into tiny cups, one for each of them. Matthew looked entirely out of place, making Michelle giggle.

"Don't look so nervous, Matthieu! This is how coffee is supposed to be drunk. Not hurried like your starbucks. Enjoy it, savour it. We don't need to rush."

Matthew blushed again, sinking back into his seat. Taking the cup, he took a small sip, blinking in surprise.

"Its good!" he said, amazed.

"Of course" she replied smugly. "This is proper coffee."

Carlos raised an eyebrow. He hadn't said anything, merely taking his cup and swallowing it in one gulp. He smiled at the other two, shaking his head and muttering something.

"What was that?" Michelle asked sweetly.

Carlos coughed. "Nothing, mademoiselle."

She smiled tartly at him. Matthew couldn't help chuckling, making the other two stare at him, then dissolve into giggles themselves.

They finished the rest of the coffee and made their way out. For the next hour, they wandered around, letting Matthew choose for the most part, until it was time to return to the tower and meet up with Francis.

He was, typically, leaning against the pillar aesthetically, looking for all the world like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot. In fact, there were not a few tourists taking pictures of him, which he seemed entirely used to. When he saw the three approaching, however, he stepped away and walked over to them.

"So, Matthieu, how do you like the city?" he asked.

Matthew beamed at him. He started telling hi, about everything he had seen, gushing with happiness.

Michelle took hold of Carlos' arm, motioning for them to hang back a few steps.

"Its is wonderful to see them get on, isn't it?" she said. She spoke in French, making sure Matthew could not hear them. "You know about their situation, right?"

Carlos raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "Yeah, he told me on the plane. Seems rough. Are you ok with it all, though?"

She smiled tightly. "Yes. Uncle Francis has spent too much time in guilt. Now that Matthew is here, he has a chance to be happy again."

Carlos nodded. "Fair enough. So what's the deal with you and him? I can tell you aren't exactly the same."

Michelle looked up at him in surprise, but relented. She told him her background, then looked up at him almost challengingly. "And you?" she asked, almost forceful.

He shrugged. "Not much to tell. My dad ran out when I was a kid, brought up by my mom and gran. Got into photography at school, found out I was pretty good at it, and applied for college. I got a scholarship somehow, and decided to major in architecture. Came here for the first time a couple years ago, and I've been coming ever since."

Michelle listened to this quietly, then surprisingly squeezed his arm tightly. "We have all had problems, haven't we?" she said quietly.

He laughed. "Sure got that right, little lady." She grinned at him. "But that is exactly why I so hope Matthew can connect with his father. Too many families are torn apart. I want to see my family come together." She gestured ahead, to where Matthew was eagerly telling Francis about the sweets and coffee they had had.

"Yeah, you're right" he murmured. He looked down at her, a small smile on his face. They fell into companionable silence, walking arm in arm behind the two, both smiling at seeing father and son gradually begin the process of becoming a family.

Francis took them to a local restaurant for lunch. As per tradition, lunch was the largest meal of the day, savoured over at least two hours. Without really discussing it, they chose to sit at separate, although side by side, tables, allowing Francis and Matthew to continue bonding. Francis paid for them all, waving away Carlos' attempts to pay him back with his typical attitude, saying that it was his treat for being a friend to Matthew.

They went their separate ways after that, Carlos apologising and explaining that he needed to get back to work on the pictures he had taken. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it was Michelle who told him to stay in touch. The two exchanged numbers, and Matthew shared a glance with his father. There was an unmistakable flush on the girl's tanned face, and Carlos didn't look entirely composed either. He said something to her that made her blush bright red, but nod, smiling.

Matthew waited until they were back in the car before saying anything.

"Did you have a nice date, Michelle?" he teased lightly.

She blushed immediately, hiding her face in her hands.

"You weren't meant to see that! Oh my goodness! Uncle, tell him not to tease!"

Francis glanced at her in the mirror. "Oh, does my little 'chelle have a beau? Perhaps I should have made him pay, for you at least?"

She blushed deeper, sinking into the seat. "oh, mon dieu, you are so embarrassing! MATTHEW!" she cried. Her cousin simply laughed softly, putting his phone away too late. He had taken a picture of their parting, her with her hands clasped delicately, Carlos looking down with a faintly blushing expression.

"Sorry. But that was very cute. You would make a lovely couple." He smiled. Michelle peeked out from behind her hands, sitting up again.

"You would not be angry?" she asked wonderingly.

Matthew blinked in surprise. "Angry? Why would I be angry?"

Michelle bit her lip, glancing at Francis. "I-I thought maybe…" she trailed off. Francis raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Michelle, you can say it, you know. I'm not ashamed of it." Matthew stared at her seriously.

She returned his stare, wide-eyed. "You?-"

"I'm gay, yes. Is that alright, papa?" Matthew asked almost challengingly.

Francis drew a deep breath, never taking his eyes off the road. Then, surprisingly, he laughed.

"I wondered when you would tell me. I love you, Matthieu. Nothing will change that."

Matthew looked surprised, but relaxed. "Thank you." Francis smiled at him. If he noticed what else Matthew had said, he didn't draw attention to it. Matthew swore he could see a hint of tears in his father's eye, however, and smiled to himself. He had thought about it the whole time they had been talking, as well as over lunch, and come to a conclusion.

It may not have taken long, but he knew that he was ready to accept Francis as his father. And now that his greatest fear had been spoken, and accepted, he knew that everything would be alright. It would take a while for him to work out how to balance everything in his life, but he was sure that somehow, everything would work out.

Once they were back at the house, Francis followed his son up to his room, standing in the doorway silently. Matthew allowed him to wordlessly, and waited until he had put the souvenirs he had bought away before sitting down on the bed and facing his father. He looked down at his hands, suddenly unsure.

Francis smiled at his son. Closing the door, he took the few steps forward until he was in front of Matthew. He crouched down and took his son's hands in his, running his thumb over Matthew's knuckles. His voice was infinitely soft as he spoke.

"Your hands are so like mine. The same, see?" he raised their joined hands to his mouth, and kissed their intertwined fingers. Matthew simply stared at him in confusion.

"Matthew."

The teen looked up at his father, unsure. Francis' face was calm, soft.

"I would, could never, hate any part of you. I have no right to judge you, nor will I ever. I love you, I have loved you from the moment I knew you existed, and I always will. I am very glad that you have told me how you feel, that you trust me this much. Thank you. You do not know how much it means to me."

Matthew knew that he wasn't just referring to his confession. Suddenly, he leaned forward and hugged Francis. The taller man leaned back in surprise, but drew his arms around his son tightly. He was surprised to find his shirt becoming damp, and heard the muffled sound of sobs.

He drew back in shock and worry. "Matthieu? What is wrong? Did I say something wrong? Mon petit, please, talk to me."

Matthew sniffled, then laughed shakily. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He tried to calm down, eventually managing to stop his sobs.

"I haven't even told Dad" he confessed. "Or Al. You two were the first people I've ever told."

Francis only barely managed to hold back a gasp of shock. He had suspected Matthew's interests from the moment they met, but to hear that it had been a secret even from his own brother and stepfather was surprising, to say the least. In as neutral a voice as possible, he said "I am very pleased that you would tell me, Matthew, but why hide it? From your brother, if no-one else?"

Matthew swallowed heavily, his face turning sour. "Al doesn't think it's manly. All he cares about is his image, and that doesn't fit in with his perfect view of the world. It isn't that he's homophobic, exactly, but he still thinks being gay is like a joke." He frowned. "He'd probably be ok with it if I told him, but it would make things awkward. He's really too childish to be in a relationship with anyone, anyway."

Francis looked at him tenderly. "And your father?"

Matthew's frown deepened. "He's too busy with work to care about me, most of the time. He only notices me when mom praises me, and even then its only in passing. If I told him, he'd likely just forget about it anyway. Which I suppose is good. Mom would probably be cool with it. I think she's so focussed on things going right with us that she wouldn't mind who I went out with, boy or girl."

Francis listened to this in silence. Then, with a light voice, he asked "and is there anyone you would like to, as you put it, go out with?"

Matthew's face blushed deep red. Francis laughed lightly. "Ahah! Not only is my son a lover of men, but he has a beau!" His face turned serious. "Tell me, it is your friend, oui? The one Tonio is trying to help?"

Matthew stared at him in shock. His mouth opened and closed, wordlessly. Eventually, he managed to stutter out "h-how did you know?"

Francis smiled again. "I could tell by the way you talked about him. But I waited until you were ready to tell me. I had hoped you would talk to me when you were ready, but I admit I did not think it would be so soon. You care for him very much, do you not?"

Matthew nodded shyly. "How long?" Francis asked. Matthew bit his lip, debating, then decided to tell his father the truth.

"Since the beginning of school" he confessed. Francis sat next to him, allowing Matthew to speak. As if in preparation, Francis reached over to the box of tissues on the table, taking a few out and giving them to Matthew. He took one, twisting it in his hands as he spoke.

"I first met Lovi at the open day for the school. I was there early because of dad, and Lovi literally ran into me. He hadn't seen me, and when he did he started swearing, saying it was my fault for being unnoticeable and called me a bastard. Then Feli came running up, and his grandfather yelled at him for being mean and made him apologise. I said it was fine and it was my fault for not paying attention. I offered to show them around the school since I had been so many times with dad. I noticed then that we seemed to have a lot in common, and then I got hold of the student list before school started and I noticed we were in the same class.

We get on because we're the same. Feli is friendly to everyone, and he and Al got on because they both love sports and food, and Lovi and I were both kind of left in the background. Lovi has spent his whole life in Feli's shadow even though he's older, just like me.

We've both spent our lives being compared to our brothers, and while I just kind of fade into the background he's got this whole act of pushing people away by acting harsh. But he's just scared. He doesn't want to let people in in case they think Feli is better than him, but he can't see that he's so different. Feli is a nice guy and a good friend, but he's so childish and he has a tendency to blabber. They're like the sun and moon, like me and Al. But where I got ignored because Al outshines me, even though I'm far better in class than he is, Lovi decided that if people weren't going to see him for who he is, there wasn't any point trying. He's always had a bad temper, and it got to the point where he was talking back, being disruptive, even skipping class. Now he's seeing Mr Carriedo and he really does want to try and change, but they can't see it.

That's why I made him take my place on the team. If they can see how good he is then maybe they'll stop comparing him to his brother. Maybe he can make them, kind of, pay for it somehow. He's so much braver than me like that. I wish I could turn around and snap the way he does, but I can't. so maybe, when I get back, we can…" he trailed off, suddenly realising how much he had said. His face flushed deeply again.

"I'm sorry."

Francis shook his head. "Don't be. You have kept this to yourself for a very long time, haven't you?"

Matthew looked at him curiously, then nodded slowly. He drew a deep breath, shuddering, then let it out with a laugh.

"Yeah. I really have." He couldn't stop tears falling again. Francis drew him into his arms, shushing him.

"I am so glad you have told me this. So very glad. I cannot apologise enough for not being there for you through all of this. I will never be able to forgive myself for it. But I am here now, and I can assure you that you are not, and you will never be, less than anyone else. Not your brother, not your classmates, not anyone. You are my son, and you are perfect. Do you understand?"

Matthew sniffled, laughing despite himself. Raising his head, he stared at Francis.

"Really?" he asked.

Francis nodded. "Really." He drew his arms tighter around him. Matthew relaxed into him, sobbing again, although in relief this time. Francis simply held him, rocking him slightly in comfort.

Inside, he was seething with anger. How could Arthur and Amelia have not realised their son's insecurity? He could tell that everything Matthew said applied to himself as well as Lovino, and he could not stop his anger at hearing his son confess his feelings. The fact that he was the first person Matthew had felt that he could trust to confide in, that would even listen to him, was both profoundly humbling and infuriating.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. Matthew had, from the beginning, shown a remarkable willingness to bond with a man who had suddenly appeared in his life, let alone as his father. Francis realised that this was not just due to Matthew's generally agreeable nature, but the fact that the boy saw him as someone who, likely for the first time in his life, saw him for himself, as an individual, and not as a shadow of his brother.

He felt another rush of guilt. He had thought that he had done the right thing by leaving Matthew with his aunt, thinking that having a brother the same age would only be good for him. Now he saw that there was every chance that he was the reason for Matthew's anger, his lack of self-esteem, and his shy nature. He couldn't stop his own tears from falling.

Matthew noticed, and sat up, breaking the embrace.

"Papa? What's wrong? I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to say so much. I'm sorry."

Francis shushed him. "Non. It is my fault. I should never have left you. I am to blame for all of this. I am so sorry."

Matthew looked horrified. "NO! It's not your fault. You did what you thought was best. It's not your fault Al is such an arrogant fool, or Feli such an airheaded ditz. It's my fault I don't have enough courage to stand up to people. I know I should call Al out on his ego, and god knows he needs it sometimes, but I just don't have the strength to. I'm just weak."

Now Francis was the one to frown. He reached out and stroked Matthew's face. "Non. You are not weak, mon petit. I cannot speak of your brother, but you are not weak. Neither you, or your friend. Speaking of which…"

Matthew looked at his curiously. Francis smiled at him. "I think you should talk to him. Ah! I am not saying you should tell him of your feelings. That would not be taken well, at least at the moment, perhaps. But you should talk to him. Let him know that you are thinking of him, and that you will be there to help him when you return."

Matthew flushed slightly, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you, papa."

Francis leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "non. Thank you, Matthieu." Standing up from the bed, he leaned over and placed the box of tissues back on the bedside table. He walked over to the door, stopping with one hand on the frame.

"I am very glad you told me all of this, Matthieu. Please, know that you can talk to me about anything, at any time, and I will listen. I love you, mon petit."

Matthew nodded. "Thank you, papa."

Francis smiled. "Now, call Lovino. I will be downstairs when you finish. Tell him to give my love to Tonio, oui?"

With that, he slipped out of the door, shutting it gently behind him.

Matthew narrowed his eyes in thought, wondering, then decided to let it slide. Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts, then hit the dial tone.

It rang for a few moments, then he heard the familiar voice.

"Si? What do you want, maple jerk?"