The next morning Arthur awoke to his alarm at eight o'clock which caused him to groan and roll over. He had been up late the previous night writing a detailed email to his assistant about the upcoming changes. Not only that but he had been researching nearby schools that he could send Francis to while he worked. He had narrowed it down to a few options that included both public and private schools as well as bilingual and non-bilingual schools.
After a while he forced himself to get up and go make breakfast. On the way down he passed the living room where he saw Francis standing in front of a table. When he saw him he instantly turned and walked over to him silently instead because he could feel the sadness coming off the boy.
"Is that you?" the boy asked quietly without turning, pointing at an old picture. In it was a much younger Arthur holding two children who were both smiling brightly.
"Yes," Arthur answered, standing next to him. "Those are my boys. They are grown up now."
"You look very happy." The boy looked up at him with eyes that seemed to be able to read his soul. "You do not seem very happy anymore."
Avoiding Francis' deep gaze, he picked up the picture and looked at it longingly. "Things change. My boys grew up and left me. They have their own homes now. That's how the world works."
"Do they have children?"
"No." The two were quiet for a while before Arthur broke the silence by saying, "Why don't you go into the kitchen and wait for breakfast?"
The boy stared at him for a moment before nodding and leaving the room.
Arthur followed him after he put the picture back where it usually was but face down.
Inside the kitchen Francis was patiently sitting at the table, playing with the hem of his nightshirt.
"That is much nicer than my Papa has. Is it expensive?"
The older blond paused and turned to him.
"What? No."
He was confused by the simple question. Since when did Francis care about price? The man would spend thousands of dollars on clothes without batting an eye but this child seemed honestly worried that Arthur had spoiled him.
"Oh good. I was about to give it back and ask you to sell it. I don't need fancy clothes."
Still thrown off, Arthur came and sat across from him.
"You don't?" he asked, still confused. "I can afford them."
The boy thought it over before shaking his head, eyes going distant.
"I should have been able to tell that you are rich. You have such a large manor. Mama made all our clothes. We couldn't go to the market very often…" He sighed sadly. "I miss Mama making my clothes. They were nicer than any of the clothes Nonno or Opa gave me…"
Suddenly the boy snapped back to himself and his vision focused. At the same time his stomach rumbled and Arthur knew that now was not the time to ask about what he had just learned.
"I'll make breakfast. You wait here."
He got up in a slight daze and started making them both some oatmeal.
Late that night Arthur lay awake in his bed, thinking deeply about what Francis had said. He hadn't been able to sit and think about it until now.
Most of the day had been spent in more silence. He had done more research on schools for Francis, eager to get that squared away, and had decided on one. He had even called and set up an appointment for the next day. Francis had simply sat in an armchair and read his book unless it was lunch or supper time.
But now Francis was fed, bathed, and in bed, hopefully asleep. Now he was free to think.
He had known Francis since they were children. But no, he had known him since he was a child. Francis had already been in his early teens when they had met. Before now he had never stopped to think about the other's life before they had met. He had always assumed that he was as loud, self-confident, and outgoing as a child as he was as an adult. Probably raised by some kind mentor nation who spoiled him but this little boy was very quiet and somewhat shy. He was very similar to Matthew when he had been a child.
And he was shocked by what he had heard. Never before had the thought of Francis having parents entered his head. He didn't remember his own parents because they had died when he was very young but it seems like Francis' had been a big part of his life for much longer. They had all lived together and his mother had made them their clothes.
It was hard to imagine Francis as ever being poor or wearing shoddy clothes so he thought that his mother must have done it because she enjoyed it and was gifted with the talent. Otherwise why would he find her clothes better than the ones he had been given?
Another thing Francis had said tugged at him suddenly. 'Nonno. Opa. Grandfather.' Francis had two grandfathers. He had known both of his grandfathers. They had given him clothes but he had preferred the clothes made by his mother. And he had said that in such a heartbroken way. Had something happened around the time he got clothes from his Nonno or his Opa?
'Opa' made him pause again. Everyone knew that Francis and Feliciano were related, it was easy to tell, so it made sense that he had a nonno but an opa? 'Opa' was a German word. Does that mean that he's German? How? Was he related to Germania as well as Rome?
The short memory that had been shared on accident had put so many questions in his head that he had never considered or even cared about until today and now he felt like he needed to know everything, to answer all the question buzzing around his head.
AN: Next time Arthur will have his meeting with the school to decide if that will be the best choice for Francis.
Italics- speaking in French or internal thoughts
No Italics- speaking in English