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Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya
Don't Lean On Me (c) Bringmemisery
Chapter 19 - Non, Pas Encore
Francis placed a few glasses of water upon the coffee table, then sat down onto the couch beside him. He stretched his arms out as he yawned, then he leaned into the couch.
Recently his days off seemed nothing more than a drag. Not to say he doesn't moderately enjoy then, but it was the fact that there wasn't much to do around the house. Arthur was still in class, Antonio was off in the fields, and Gil? Well, he needed his rest, of course. In all honesty the most action he had gotten on a day off was Antonio's pool party, but even that wasn't really the best way to spend any day . . .
He contemplated on showing up to work later that afternoon when he noticed Matthew pick up two of the glasses, and hand one to his brother beside him.
"Dude," Alfred smiled, "this glass is pretty tight!"
Francis smiled as he heard a long sigh.
"It's just glass," Basch crossed his arms, a displeased look on his face, "no need to be that amazed."
"But look at it!" the American held up the glass, "it's got like all these little shapes and sparkles! It's like a fairy!"
"You're so weird," Matthew laughed as his eyes met Francis', "He's got the attention span of a three-year-old."
Francis chuckled, "that glass was very expensive, and most people just overlook its beauty. I honestly appreciate Alfred's . . . enthusiasm."
"Good grief," Basch snorted as he leaned beside Francis, "I don't understand how you do it."
"Do what?"
"Tolerate children."
"Hey!" Alfred whined, "I'm a full-fledged A-dult!"
"Full-fledged dumbass more like it," Basch sighed.
"Mon ami," Francis tugged Basch's shirt, "those boys are older than you. You should be a little more respectful."
"Impossible!" Basch barked as Roderich's laugh filled the room.
"Oh, Basch," the Austrian wiped the corner of his eye, "I told you that you act too old for your age."
"Shut your mouth!" Basch retorted, "just because I am more mature than most my age doesn't mean I am to blame. To get anywhere in life you've got to have a good head on your shoulders."
"Duuuuude," Alfred broke in, "Maybe you've just gotta take a chill and slow your role. Gotta live life to the fullest, and not be a suck."
Basch went silent for a moment before he replied, "Is that English?"
Matthew giggled as Alfred shot him a look.
"What you laughin' at?"
"I swear," Matthew grinned, "no one understands you."
"But it was English! Just . . . kinda different . . ."
"Alfred," Francis spoke, "talk however you want. Basch is just giving you a hard time."
"Seriously," Basch looked down at him, "what the hell did he say?"
Roderich chuckled, "He said to stop having a stick up your ass."
Before Basch could take a step, Francis yanked his shirt.
"Now, now," Francis said, "My carpet is clean, and I expect it to stay that way."
"Yo, Frankie," Alfred's voice rang, "just let 'em duke it out. That way I can post the video and get a huge follow count!"
"Al," Matthew smacked his brother's arm, "can't you think of anything better to do than make yourself more of an embarrassment?"
Alfred brought his finger to his mouth, ". . . Make both of us embarrassments?"
"You're hopeless," Matthew sighed.
"But not useless!"
"You really want to go there?"
". . . no, not really . . ."
"Then let's not, shall we?"
"Whateves," Alfred crossed his arms, "Yo, Frankie?"
"Yes, Alfred?"
"How's Gil doin'? I've been meaning to text him, but I don't really wanna bug."
Francis shrugged, "I honestly haven't checked on him myself."
"He's fine," Roderich took a sip from his glass, "Lizzie and I checked up on him this morning. He was wide awake and refused to sleep, though. I cannot understand his . . . urgency to occupy himself."
"It's Gil we're talking about," Basch replied, "the guy's always running around. I mean, at least he wasn't doing that—"
"About that," Roderich interrupted, "Francis, did the doctor not say that Gil's leg was broken?"
". . . Oui," Francis furrowed his brows, "Why do you ask?"
"He was walking around," Roderich responded, "on his own, without any aid, and somehow he managed to take his cast off."
"What do you mean?" Basch questioned, "He couldn't have just taken it off."
"But he did! I asked him what happened to it and he told me he took it off. Then I asked him why he was walking around without it, and he told me that he 'wasn't broken' so he didn't need it. But he showed no signs of pain, nor did his foot even look broken. . ."
"Maybe the doc was wrong?" Alfred asked.
"But how would he be?" Francis frowned, "he told us it was broken in at least three different places. Gil's side of the car was destroyed – The doctor couldn't have just messed up like that."
"Maybe your boyfriend did something?" Basch suggested.
"Why would he?" Francis rose his eyebrow, "Arthur's been at school and hasn't even visited Gil yet. Plus, he wanted to give some space as well."
"Maybe Gil's got some tricks up his sleeve?" Alfred stated as he pushed up his shirt sleeves.
"Don't be ridiculous," Basch disagreed, "Gil can't fix himself – he's not like Arthur. But if it wasn't Arthur, and the doctor wasn't wrong, how can his leg magically fix itself?"
"Why don't you ask Gil?" Matthew proposed.
"I tried that," Roderich started, "but he insisted that he was fine and not to worry about it."
"He's bound to tell someone," Alfred said, "who knows Gil more than anyone? I'm sure he would have told them!"
"I'm thinking of two people," Basch responded after a moment.
"I can think of three," Roderich stated.
Francis pondered for a while, but his brain was too distracted to come up with anyone. It did not make sense what Roderich said. Gil's leg was broken – it was IN a cast.
So how could it be one thing one day, and something else another?
A broken bone does not heal overnight. . .
"Francis," Basch's voice broke his thoughts, "I think we need to pay some people a visit."
"Really?" He scratched his chin, "and who might they be?"
"Lovino," Basch replied.
"And Antonio," Roderich added.
"Why them two?" Francis asked.
"Simple," Roderich smiled, "who else would be so obvious that they would be overlooked? Gil wouldn't tell Ludwig solely because he would tell someone else. The other two would probably keep it to themselves. Antonio is too much of an idiot to be spreading the word, and Lovino is stubborn enough to pretend it never happened. Oh, and we'll need to question Arthur next, but we will have to wait until he is available."
Francis frowned, "I honestly do not think he has anything to do with this . . . Really I don't think any of them do. Antoni is terrible at keeping a secret – he'd tell me right away if anything. And if Lovino wasn't gaining anything in it I don't think he'd keep something either. . ."
"Then what do you suggest we do?" Basch asked, "This can't be pushed aside, Francis."
"I am not saying that it should," Francis reassured him, "all I am saying is that maybe this might be out of our hands? Besides, is it not a good think that Gil is able to use his leg? Maybe there was a mistake, and maybe this may seem crazy, but I think we might be on a wild goose chase here."
"Statement," Alfred's voice called, "I think there might be someone better than those two."
"Alfred," Francis pleaded, "don't fuel their fire."
"Sorry, bro, but they've got a point. Besides, hasn't weird crap been goin' down with Gil for a while now anyways? Maybe there's something we don't know, and maybe there is someone else who does?"
"But Alfred—"
"Okay, kid," Basch interrupted, "who is your best bet?"
"Lizzie," Alfred smiled.
The sound of Roderich chocking on his water made Francis laugh uneasily.
"Alfred, what would make you think of her?"
"Well, they're like always around each other. And like to me they seem preeetty close, so it would kinda make sense."
"But," Roderich cleared his throat, "she was with me the entire time we were over there."
"Don't mean she can't call him," Alfred crossed his legs, "I mean, she has his number doesn't she? So maybe it is a stretch, but I totes think she'd make more sense to tell anything to. I mean I know I've only just got here, but she's been around him a LOT recently."
"And how would you know that?" Basch rose his eyebrow.
"Easy. Arthur was talkin' to me about it. He was noticing how every time something happened to Gil she's somehow end up coming around. They're like in sync or something, and I'm not talkin' about the band."
"Oh my god," Matthew groaned.
"I'm serious!" Alfred locked eyes with Francis, "She probably knows something."
Francis looked over to Basch and then Roderich, both of their eyes locked on each other's. The heavy atmosphere made him shift in his seat, though he couldn't understand why it felt so . . . awkward.
It was like those two got sucked into a different dimension whilst the other three remained on earth.
Maybe it was the way that Alfred said it that made it almost seem . . . wrong?
Francis had no idea, but he also couldn't help but feel that uncomfortable air surround Roderich the most. His eyes looked darker – almost hazed over. There was something on his mind, but it wasn't Francis' business to pry.
He was probably just worried . . .
"Francis?" Matthew's soft voice snapped him back to reality "are you alright? You look troubled."
"Of course, Mon Chouchou," Francis gave a quick smile, "I am just thinking, is all."
"We've thought enough," Basch walked away from the couch, "We need answers so might as well start asking around."
"I'll call Lizzie," Roderich stood up, but then he didn't move.
Francis looked over to him – Fear and confusion swept across the Austrian's face.
"Roderich?" He asked after a moment, "Are you alright?"
Roderich shot a glance over his shoulder before he turned back to the group.
"Roderich?" Francis asked again, "Are you listening?"
"Did you hear that?" Roderich replied in a low voice.
"Hear what?" Basch questioned.
"That voice," Roderich looked around the room, "Francis, are your sisters home?"
"Non," Francis stood, "They're both out with their friends . . . why?"
"You didn't hear that?" Roderich shot him a glance.
"Hear what?" Francis started to scan the room as well.
His stomach knotted, and there was another shift in the air.
It felt much like that day that creature took over Gil.
It felt like they were being watched.
"Roderich," Francis repeated, "What did you hear?"
"A . . . laugh . . ."
"A laugh?" Basch asked, "What the hell does that—"
"Again!" Roderich yelled, "You heard it that time, right?"
The room remained silent, and the knot in Francis' stomach grew.
"Roderich," He replied, ". . . what are you talking about?"
"I need to call Eliza," Roderich pulled out his cell phone, then pressed it to his ear.
Then Francis felt his vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and Lovino's name highlighted on the screen. He blinked a few times before he unlocked it.
"Bonjour?"
"Is Antonio with you?" Lovino's voice seemed frantic.
"Antoni? No, why? Is everything alright?"
"I don't know! He told me he was coming over almost an hour ago, and he's not picking up his phone. Can you call him for me, or something? I don't know why he'd be ignoring me when he told me he'd come. He doesn't just—"
"Lovi, calm down. I'm sure he is fine. Maybe he got caught up with something?"
"Listen, fucker. Antonio told me he needed to tell me something in person almost an hour ago. He made it seem important, so why the hell would he do something else when he specifically told me he was coming?"
Francis bit his lip as he looked over to Roderich who was talking on the phone. Basch stood beside him, worry consumed his face. The boys were still on the couch, but even they looked weary.
"Lovi, are you home right now?"
"For now. I'm about to go over to his place."
"Meet me there. Give me just a few minutes."
"You'd better fucking show up, asshole."
"I will."
The line cut off, and Francis quickly dialed Antonio's number. He waited a few moments, but there was no reply – only his voicemail.
"Merde," he muttered as he shoved his phone into his pocket.
"Francis?" Matthew called, "what's wrong?"
"I need to go," He replied as he walked over to the front door.
"Where?" Alfred questioned this time.
"Antoni is not picking up his phone, and Lovino is getting worried."
"We'll come with you," Basch suggested, "two birds one stone."
Though he wanted to say 'no' he didn't have the time to argue. He gave a nod, and plucked his keys from the small table near the door.
†††††
Francis pulled into Antonio's drive way and shut off his car. He and the twins stepped out, and from behind him he could hear Basch pull up. He noticed Lovino standing beside Antonio's car – the Italian ran circles around it.
Francis approached him, "Lovino, is he home?"
"I don't think so," The Italian's eyes were glossy, "I tried to call again, but he's still not answering. I'm about to bust down that fucking door!"
"What about the spare key?" Francis tilted his head.
"I can't find it," Lovino whined, "It's not where it should be! And I can't find my spare either!"
Francis pulled out his phone and called Antonio once again, but this time was different. As the phone rang he heard a soft buzz from somewhere. He looked around, and the buzz continued. He peeked inside the car, and the buzz still continued.
When he heard the voicemail Francis dialed once again, but this time he tried to pull open the car door. To his dismay the door was unlocked. He quickly searched for the buzz, but he couldn't really hear it once inside. He pulled himself out, and heard the buzz a bit louder.
Once again the voicemail chimed, and once again he redialed. However, he decided to look underneath the car. As ducked his head his heart skipped. Just below the axel of the car he found Antonio's cell phone laying face up, its screen showing Francis' name.
Francis quickly grabbed for it, and then held it out to the group, "I need to call Arthur."