This wasn't normal. And by the second, Francis' guilt grew. Should he tell someone? Comfort Alfred?

The poor boy. The kid talks less.

Alfred is one of the loudest kids in the room. You'd have to be deaf to not hear him, and now he's barely even heard.

Also Alfred looked wearier. Bags formed under his eyes, his skin went from a glowing tan to a sickly pale. Even his hair didn't look as...Floofy.

Floofy? Is that a word? Francis still hasn't gotten the hang of English completely yet.

Ah, maybe he should use fluffy?

Oh well.

"I wonder what happen to him," murmured Francis to himself as he laid eagle spread across his couch. He flipped through the pages of the magazine, bored out of his mind. "Does Antonio have his number? Heh. Probably does!"

Francis sat up and awkwardly stretched for his phone. As he was about to text Antonio for Alfred's phone number, he noticed he got a text from Ivan Braginsky.

Braginsky was a kid you didn't wanna mess with. He's a big boy from Russia, and fucking terrifying. The kid probably was like 5 foot in kindergarten. Right now he probably stands around 6 foot 3? 4? Either way, he's tall, and freaky.

Ivan also has this problem with Alfred. Why? No idea. Probably because Alfred attacks him everytime they even cross eachother's path.

Fix him. Or else! :)

"Why does the Russian sign his name? I know it's him," muttured Francis, but a chill went down his spine. Ivan apparently noticed something was wrong with Alfred. "I don't want to be killed! But how do I fix this?" He wailed.

"I can't go back in time!" Complained Francis as he went to his kitchen to get a glass of wine. Who cares if he's legal or not? This is serious!

Francis sipped at it, leaning against the island kitchen counter.

Francis lived in a small apartment. His parents were back in France, leaving him and his cousin who lives hours away to send him money when Francis needs it. The only reason Francis even has this apartment.

It was nice, considering how cheap it was and it was in an awful area.

"Should I try to befriend him and slowly wiggle my way in? Then confront him when he's comfortable?" He pondered, taking another sip. He grimaced. This is NOT good wine. "Stupid cheap-ass wine," he grumbled, dumping it in the rusted sink.

Francis hurried into his room and rumaged in his closet before dressing himself in a suit. "I shall take Alfred to dinner tonight, whether he likes it or not!" Declared Francis and fixed his hair.

"Where should I take him?" He murmured to himself. "Surely not McDonalds, it's just greasy shit."

Francis grabbed his wallet, with only twenty dollars. He stared inside it before quickly dialling his cousin's number.

"Bonjour, quel es-il?" (Hello, what is it?)

"Salut...Comment allez-vous?" Greeted Francis. (Hey! How are you?)

Francis' cousin (his name Louis), smiled in his tone. "Bonjour! Bonjour! Qu'est-ce qu'il vous faut-il?" (Hello! Hello! What is it do you need?)

Francis awkwardly coughed. "Ahem, Ah.. Partager votre argent?" He nervously asked. Louis has given him a lot of money in the past which a lot Francis blew on wine, smokes, and clothes. Not his rent, which he desperately needs to pay for, and school supplies. (Erm...Care to share your money?)

"Avez-vous passé tout à nouveau?" Louis shreiked in wonder. Probably on how a boy can blow off so much money in...When was the last time he gave Francis money? Two weeks? Yes. Two weeks. (Did you spend it all again?)

Francis nodded. Even though Louis couldn't see him, he knew Louis already knew the answer, from the way he sighed and rummaged around.

"Combien?" Asked Louis, sounding muffled. (How much?)

Francis furrowed his eyebrows. How much DID he need? Alfred probably would eat a lot. "600, veuillez," He answered. (600, please.)

Louis coughed loudly. "600? Qu'est-ce que vous dépenser cet argent sur, mon garçon?" He said, voice raising in pitch. (600? What are you spending this money on, boy?)

"Une date," shyly answered Francis. Well at least, he hopes it's a date. Not because he likes Alfred. Just...Guilt. (A date.)

Louis sighed. "Aussi longtemps qu'il en vaut la peine," he answered after a pause of silence, and Francis mentally cheered. "Il sera sur votre compte en banque. Si vous allez utiliser l'argent comptant, désolé, vous devez vous servir de crédit." (As long as it is worth it. It will be on your bank account. If you were going to use cash, sorry, you have to use credit.)

"Je vous remercie beaucoup!"

"Ouais ouais. Appelez-moi plus tard. Bonne nuit Francis," louis breathed, as if exasperated.

"Bien sûr. Bonne nuit, Louis."

Francis quickly hung up with a smile. Perfect! And he'll probably have some money left over for some smokes, or anything extra.

Slipping his shoes on, Francis grabbed his credit card, stuffing it in his wallet that he put in his pocket along with his phone.

Before Francis opened his door, he froze. "Where does he live again?"