Francis pulled into the campgrounds with a sigh. Despite their departure in the early hours of the morning, he felt invigorated. He enjoyed watching the scenery light up as it was bathed in all the shades of the soft sunrise light. He enjoyed spending the drive with his son, Mathieu, whom he would miss dearly for the next eight weeks. He was worried about him. The boy was worryingly withdrawn. Francis really did worry if his son's mind was constricting his quality of life, and if Francis made it worse by not addressing it for so long assuming it was normal.
They arrived a little before lunch and it took a while to find a park. There were people everywhere and Francis found it so charming how excited and friendly they all seemed. The camp really was picturesque, like something straight out of a coming-of-age movie.
"Are you ready, Mathieu?" He asked cheerfully in French as he parked.
Matthew looked like a deer caught in headlights but nodded all the same. Francis gave him a reassuring smile. He did consider asking Roderich to drop him, he was a trusted family friend after all. But this was such a big change for Matthew so it was only fitting his Papa was with him for it.
Plus Francis would struggle with the separation just as much as his son. But it was a necessary step. One day his boy would be all grown up and he had to cherish every moment he could.
As much as Matthew tried to hide it, Francis could see how tense he really was as they pulled the luggage out of the car. Francis knew this was hard for him and hoped by being here it would be a little easier.
"Feeling alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Matthew shrugged and hugged Kuma tighter. Francis frowned, unable to take the words for what they were. He felt guilty for causing the stress. After all, Francis couldn't imagine being 15 again and being left with strangers in another country...
"It's okay! I'll stay here all day if I have to!"
He juggled the luggage in one hand and rested the other on Matthew's back. Standing around in the crowded parking lot wouldn't be doing him any favours. All it was doing was building up the anticipation.
Francis led the way to the check-in office and dropped the bags by the railing. The camp looked absolutely fantastic! The rustic wooden buildings were so cute the lake was so vibrant and the tree-covered hills were so lush. It was so scenic!
"Come now, Mathieu, let's check in before we can explore!"
Inside the cabin was just as lovely as the outside, but not as lovely as the Camp Counsellor with the luscious flowing hair and fierce face. Francis had to wonder how she could wear it down. His own hair was by no means thick but he couldn't tolerate it if it wasn't in a bun in this heat. Those thoughts aside, by the looks of the clipboard she was holding, she was the one to talk to about checking in.
He slung an arm around Matthew and pulled him snugly beside him.
"Hello there, Miss," he sent her a charming smile as she turned his way. "We're here to check in!"
She went to reply before the words got caught in her throat and she looked between the two of them. Francis couldn't read her expression and wondered if he made her uncomfortable. He never tried to overwhelm anyone with his charm because he was aware not everyone appreciated it. However, he didn't even use his charm yet and the situation already felt... weird.
"I'm sure you're very busy today, if you point us to our cabin, we'll get out of your hair." He smiled brightly, trying to show he meant no harm.
"Oh, right, sorry. I just blanked for a second." She laughed awkwardly as her cheerful smile returned. "My name is Elizabeta, or Liz if that's too much of a hassle. Is this your first time here?"
"That's right."
"Oh, I just know you'll love it here." She chuckled and clicked her pen as she turned to Matthew. "So who's checking in?"
"Matthew Bonnefoy," Francis quickly answered for him, "We've had a long car trip and he's a little tired."
"Oh, understandable! People fly in from everywhere to be here. Where did you come from?" Liz struck up a conversation as she marked something off.
"Ottawa."
"In Canada? That's pretty cool. It's not often we get kids from other countries!"
"Well, I thought it would be a fun way to spend the summer."
"Wise choice," Elizabeta agreed as she scribbled on a camp map and handed it over. "Here's your cabin, everything else is labelled so check out everything to your heart's content."
"Merci," Francis memorised the circled cabin before handing the map to Matthew so he could memorise it. Hopefully, it would help to be able to see what the camp looked like.
"Just so you know, activities start tomorrow and at eight we have a swim test. Phones are collected at nine PM each night. You might find this unsurprising but the reception can be spotty. Oh, does he have any medication?"
"No medication."
"Cool! That's pretty much everything then... But I just have to ask, do you have a cousin Matthew?"
That took him off guard. Matthew shook his head and Francis frowned.
"Are you telling me there's another child out there just as gorgeous as Mathieu? Sorry to disappoint, but he's one of a kind."
"Oh, sorry, I was just curious. I hope you have a great summer here!"
She gave Matthew a bright smile before turning to another family that had wandered in.
Francis was a little distracted as he picked up the luggage and followed Matthew to the cabin. Paranoia and guilt were nagging at him as he wondered what inspired Elizabeta to ask that question? If another kid reminded her of Matthew, then being a camp counsellor she could've only come across that kid here... Francis glanced around anxiously. ...Sometimes, late at night when sleep escaped him, he thought about a child that he was sure was just as gorgeous as his Mathieu. But the chances of seeing that child again were next to none.
Right?
It didn't take long to get to the cabin as they travelled through the bustling camp. Both Francis and Matthew were looking around with interest and intrigue as they took it all in. Quite a few counsellors turned their heads as they passed and gave a friendly wave, which Francis promptly returned. It was nice to see all the counsellors were so friendly, but he hoped they didn't overwhelm Matthew. Though considering the activity levels around them, it was inevitable. Hopefully, his son could adjust. They lived in a busy city and the restaurant was often at full capacity. Matthew never had a problem then, but Francis figured he was used to those environments.
Francis saw a group of teenagers loitering by one of the cabins near Matthew's assigned cabin and moved to steer him clear of them. He didn't want him to feel alien when confronted with other kids his age who had likely been coming to this camp for years and years.
When he stepped inside the cabin he let out a whistle of approval.
"Mathieu, these cabins are so cute~ Very rustic and cozy."
Matthew hummed in agreement.
"Which bed will you pick?" He asked encouragingly. Two were already taken, one by the bathroom and one against the far wall by a window.
"That one," Matthew pointed to the other one in the far corner and walked over. Francis followed him and put the luggage down before bringing Matthew into a hug.
"Mathieu, you can do this! I know you'll be making friends in no time! Just promise me you'll enjoy it!"
"I'll try," Matthew hummed as he sunk into the hold and hugged back.
"How about we go learn everyone's names here? I'll do the talking and you remember the faces." If everyone didn't feel like complete strangers, then maybe Matthew wouldn't feel so alienated and alone. And if people knew of him, maybe he wouldn't feel invisible because people ignored him. After a moment, Matthew nodded.
"Great, now we have a plan." He let go of Matthew and reached for the luggage. He dug out a pair of sunglasses and a hat before handing them over. "Here, put these on. We've got to protect your beautiful complexion, non?"
"Thanks Papa." Matthew smiled as he swapped the glasses. His pale and unnatural iris' were shaded purple, but that was something that could only be noticed upon close inspection. It also meant that exposure to UV light was not ideal.
"Now is Kuma coming with us or is he staying?"
After a conflicted moment, Matthew left the bear on the bed. Francis gave him a pat on the head and followed him out the of cabin as he looked over the map. He only had the rest of the day with his Mathieu and he wasn't going to waste a moment.
He searched for as many counsellors as he could. It would be most beneficial for Matthew to learn their names and be comfortable around them. Plus he'd get to see who was running the show.
They had run into a few since and every single interaction only wound the coil inside of him tighter and tighter. There was a possibility it was nothing, that he was overthinking and the odds were so slim they were practically impossible... but every single interaction with each counsellor was weird and he only had one possible theory in mind.
Today was the day when the past would come back to haunt him.
The way these counsellor's eyes lingered on Matthew with confusion that morphed into realisation...
ｔｈｅｙ ｋｎｅｗ
ｈｅ＇ｓ ｈｅｒｅ-
Francis played with his dangling locks as he tried to compose himself and reason with himself. No, non, he was just thinking wishfully. It was for the best if he never knew. He wasn't going to find out today and lingering on wishes would only distract him from focusing on Matthew.
So Francis plastered on a charming smile and insisted Matthew show him the best features of the camp so when he phoned he could picture exactly what his son was describing.
When they checked out the waterfront, Matthew's gaze was transfixed on the sparkling ripples of the beautiful lake. But Francis couldn't see the beauty, for his gaze pierced deep beyond the surface where the light couldn't follow. He had to remind himself to blink and to breathe. Once the thoughts started, they didn't stop. All he could think about was the possibility. The thought taunted him that maybe, and neither the yes or no was here to give him certainty. Maybe. Maybe his world would crumble today. Maybe not. Worst of all... he wasn't against his world crumbling if he knew. Knew what the outcome of the past 15 years was. Not knowing had never hurt so bad. Suddenly, despite living with it for 15 years, not knowing was no longer tolerable.
"Papa, are you alright?" Matthew switched to French, sensing that something was happening and wanted to keep it private.
"Yes, I'm fine, it's just so warm today," Francis brushed off and tried to bring life back into his eyes. He couldn't stare at the horizon. He needed to focus on what was in front of him. A smile naturally came to his face -something he could only thank ownership of a business for- and he projected his most cheerfully playful attitude. "There's so much to see, lead the way, Mathieu."
He almost thought Matthew didn't buy it, but then his son smiled and moved to check out something else.
The more interactions he had, the more paranoid Francis became. The more convinced he became that there was no such thing as coincidence.
Ｔｏｄａｙ
Ｗｈｅｎ， ｎｏｔ ｉｆ
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ
Matthew must've picked up on something. He'd be dense not to. If he didn't pick up on how Francis was starting to get lost beneath the waves, then surely he noticed that the strangeness was directed at him too. The counsellors start talking to him in one way almost like they know Matthew, like they've met him before. But then they caught themselves and something changed, almost too quick to tell, and they were greeting him like any new camper. Francis could tell that Matthew was a little confused and trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, but his sweet son was completely oblivious to the only reasonable explanation that was intruding in Francis' head and wouldn't leave him alone.
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ
But it couldn't be possible, right? The more he thought about it the more he convinced himself that it just couldn't work. They lived in another country, another continent. Francis couldn't picture him ever moving away from his beloved country. The man was too patriotic.
But Francis had moved. Was it really so impossible to think that he wouldn't do the same? Bringing along with him the last part of his missing soul? Matthew's other half?
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ
He didn't want to imply that Matthew was a half, he was complete on his own but would Matthew really think that if he knew?
Ｍａｔｈｉｅｕ Ｉ＇ｍ ｓｏ ｓｏｒｒｙ
Ｙｏｕ＇ｌｌ ｈａｔｅ ｍｅ
Even if he didn't move to the other side of the world, there was still the possibility that... Francis detested thinking about it, but if his other son had been given up for adoption...
NO! He knew how much he wanted the son. He would never do such a thing, especially when Francis would've taken him back in a heartbeat.
That was... such a strong thought. He had never really thought actively about being able to take the boy back. He really was starting to wish that Roderich dropped Matthew after all. His head was pounding and it felt like the stuffing between his ears was swelling-
"Papa!" Matthew snapped and Francis jumped.
"Yes?"
"I said should we go get lunch?"
Oh, had he been ignoring Matthew? He was overwhelmed with guilt. He shouldn't have thought so much about the absent son when he still had present.
"Of course," Francis ran a hand through his son's fluffy hair and pulled him into a hug. Here Matthew was asking if they'd go have lunch, his way of phrasing it as a polite question was really his way of telling people what he wanted without being rude or pushy. "I'll follow you, so lead the way."
Walking towards the big imposing hall was like a death march. It was probably an insensitive comparison, but English wasn't his first language so Francis liked the image the words alone provoked without thinking about their assigned meaning. There were people everywhere, inside and out of the wooden building and Francis couldn't keep his eyes still as he scoured each and every face. Maybe he should've been the one to wear sunglasses because it surely wasn't polite to stare at everyone in the manner that he was.
He couldn't even recall what he put on his plate or how he got to his seat but he knew that Matthew was looking at him with concern and Francis forced himself back into the present.
"There's a lot of people in here," he offered as an explanation before Matthew could ask.
"Sometimes the restaurant gets this packed," Matthew said without emotion. There was a calculation behind his eyes and Francis tried to ignore it.
"Well, usually I'm in the kitchen if it is," he hummed and began to eat. "This food is alright, but I worry you'll miss my cooking if you stay here too long."
Matthew hummed in response.
They ate in silence, which Francis detested because that left him with nothing but thoughts and wandering eyes but he couldn't think of anything to talk about. He couldn't bear to look at any more faces, even glance at the groups of children sitting nearby and studying them to figure out what age they were, if they were younger or older than his Mathieu-
Instead, he focused his eyes on the scenery from the sheltered position under a shaded tree. He looked at the buildings and the forest and the paths and anything other than the kids surrounding them in a desperate hope that maybe one of them would catch his eye and Francis would finally know what happened to his lost son.
The silence was suffocating and he knew it was getting to Matthew but what could he say? Any small topic he picked would just sound redundant with his mind completely focused on something else. In amongst his erratic emotions, he could feel an overwhelming sense of guilt that he couldn't even be here for his Mathieu...
Matthew finished eating before he did and Francis could tell he was politely waiting for his father to finish but Francis couldn't eat another bite. The food tasted and had the texture of cardboard.
"It's strange, I don't feel that hungry," Francis said as he stood and grabbed their plates. "It must be from all that driving."
Matthew followed him as he went to discard the plates in the bin.
"Should I try talking to the groups my age?" Matthew said, though it didn't sound like he was searching for advice but rather ready to try and befriend other kids. He was just phrasing it as a question again so he wouldn't feel pushy. If only he didn't feel pushy for advocating for what he wanted. But it did pain him, it was ironic that Matthew wanted to make friends now. That's all Francis could've wanted... up until an hour ago.
"Yes, yes, that's a good idea," he replied cheerfully but with his back turned Matthew couldn't see Francis scrape the plates with more force than necessary. There was no way out of it. He had to support his son.
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ
ｈｅ ｗｏｕｌｄ ｆｉｎｄ ｏｕｔ
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ
With everything dumped in the bin, he turned around to face his son when movement caught his eye. Someone was approaching them but because of the sun glaring behind them, Francis couldn't see their features until it was too late.
"Hey dudes! I haven't seen you guys before? You new?"
Matthew turned to face him too and in the corner of his eye, Francis could see the moment he noticed, his fluid and practised movements freezing upon facing what had to be, could only be... his twin. Not that he knew it.
But Francis did. His eyes ached from how wide they bulged at the boy with fair hair like Mathieu, although much shorter and his sparkled blue like the lake in the distance.
There was no change in the boy's demeanour. He hadn't noticed. Francis' heart pounded dangerously at the thought that he would.
"Hey, are you blind or something?" The boy said, luckily focused on Matthew and not a crumbling Francis. "Is that why you're wearing sunglasses and acting weird?"
The boy's eyes briefly met Francis for the first time and something passed over his face that Francis would've thought meant something-
ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ ｔｈｅ ｆａｃaｄｅ ｉｓ ｕｐ ａｎｄ Ｆｒａｎｃｉｓ ｉｓ ｄｏnｅ ｈｅ ｋｎｏｗｓ
-if the boy didn't start backtracking.
"I mean, I don't mean it offensively if you're blind or anything! I'm sure you can still have fun here at camp and since you're new you can stick with me! How about it?"
Maybe the boy was the blind one. Francis almost chuckled fondly at the thought that 'damn, his other son really is an idiot'.
Yes, other son. That brief moment of eye contact was enough. Francis fought to stop the world from fading as his eyes became glassy. He knew exactly who this boy was and there was no doubt in his mind. The last time he stared into his other son's eyes, Alfred's eyes was when he had to say goodbye 14 years ago.
"I'm not blind-" Matthew hurriedly recovered from his shock, no doubt feeling rude about not being polite and making Francis feel more guilty because he can't do the same- "I'm just- I'm wearing glasses because my eyes don't do well when it's really sunny."
Matthew pushed his glasses to rest in his hair and the boy stared curiously into the violet ORBS.
"Huh, that's kinda cool," Alfred hummed. "why's it like that?"
"I was just born like that," Matthew shrugged, already having brushed off that the other boy looked so similar to himself, maybe because when the other didn't notice then it couldn't be a big deal. "I'm Matthew, by the way, it's my first time here but you already knew that so I guess you've been coming here a while, eh? How long?"
"Oh, right, introductions," Alfred slapped his forehead. "My Dad would have my neck or whatever. I'm Alfred! It's a pretty unique and cool name and not at all associated with Batman's old man butler but anyway, I've been coming here my whole life so maybe 10 years? Since you're new do you wanna be friends? I can show you around and you can join me for whatever activities we end up doing? How about it?"
"Sounds good to me," Matthew said enthusiastically.
Francis watched the exchange with the clarity of being underwater. Everything felt muffled and his sense of upward was distorted. Now the only thing he could think about was he had got what he wished for. His son was right there and after 14 years Francis didn't know what to do beyond repeat 'merde' on a loop in his head as he failed to grip his bearings.
ｈｉｓ ｓｅｃｒｅｔｓ ｗｅｒｅ ｃｏｍｉｎｇ ｏｕｔ ＴＯＤＡＹ
ｗａｓ ｔｈｅｒｅ ａｎｙ ｕｓｅ ｒｅｓｉｓｔｉｎｇ
ｔｈｅｙ ｗｉｌｌ ＫＮＯＷ ＴＯＤＡＹ
"So Matthew, Mattie? Is this your brother or something...?"
The opportunity was right there. Francis could slip on his mask and act like he always had. But his body was filled with lead and he couldn't make himself lean forward and reach for the comfortable mask that would allow him to brush this all away.
"That's my Papa," Matthew said, turning towards Francis and catching his eye. Francis could tell from that look that Matthew knew he was uneasy and that was enough to pull himself together.
"But I don't blame you for that mistake," Francis kept his voice light as he put on a charming smile, "I am extremely blessed with such an angelic appearance after all."
Francis might be laying it on a bit thick but he really didn't know what else to do. He was grappling at straws here as he tried to stop himself from being pulled under the waves.
"Wait." Alfred threw his hand up as a serious look came across his face. "Are you French?"
"Uhhh yes," Francis answered hesitantly out of obligation and discreetly wiped his sweaty hands down his pants.
The jittering inside him turned into confusion when Alfred laughed.
"No way, can you say some more stuff?"
"Umm, I'm sorry?" Francis' eyes darted between Alfred and Matthew looking for an explanation but Matthew looked as confused as he did.
"Sorry, ahh, I guess that's kinda weird but I really like listening to people's accents. No offence but they're just so funny- not just funny! I like how they sound too but y'know, I haven't heard a French accent before in real life so - y'know."
Francis didn't know. He nodded anyway. But then he physically froze as a realisation hit him in the fucking gut-
Alfred had an American accent.
Merde
Merde merde merde merde merdmenemememrde
There was only one explanation in Francis' mind. He would've never left his beloved country, right? Francis was worried about the possibility earlier but now it was a real threat.
ｄｉｄ ＨＥ ｇｉｖｅ Ａｌｆｒｅｄ ｕｐ？？？
ｆｏｒ ａｄｏｐｔｉｏｎ
ｗｉｔｈｏｕｔ ｔｅｌｌｉｎｇ ＦＲＡＮＣＩＳ？？
h̡eͩ be̡ͮͅt̪͓͈tͯe̘͊r̹̹ͧ ̑ͩn̔ot̥̏ ̃ͮha̬ͮve
Francis' fingers twitched with the urge to lunge and grab Alfred by the shoulders and demand answers through tears before pulling him into a hug and never letting go. But he knew that would get him nowhere. The boy didn't know him at all. Didn't even know that he was his biological father.
Did Francis want him to know?
Francis desperately wanted to know everything he possibly could about Alfred with what little time he had left. He needed to know.
But did he need Alfred to know about him? Would Alfred even want that? ...Would Matthew? It would turn their lives upside down and they'd hate him... and he'd deserve it.
Francis was still filled with the urgency to know who Alfred was living with. Francis couldn't bear the idea that he had been given up. The idea made him sick to his stomach and he rested a shaky hand on the bin behind him.
"Hey dude, are you alright? You're kinda zoning out there?" Alfred chuckled and Francis wanted to slap himself.
"Sorry, English isn't my first language," he said reflexively, something he only did to troll difficult customers and really not an excuse for how he was failing as a man as a father and as a human.
At least Matthew had heard him use that excuse before, to his amusement (and adapt that excuse as his own) so he wouldn't find it odd... No, he would, it was entirely suspicious that Francis used it now.
"Oh really? What is then?" Alfred said with such enthusiastic innocence that Francis could only laugh. Mostly with confusion and worry for his son's underdeveloped brain if he wasn't gifted with Francis' trolling nature.
"Take a guess," Matthew said sarcastically. "It's French."
"Oh right," Alfred chuckled. "Duh, French accent. Does that mean you can speak French too?"
"Yes..." Matthew answered apprehensively.
"Dude, that's awesome! Maybe you can teach me some?"
"I can try," Matthew said sincerely.
Meanwhile, Francis was grappling with his thoughts and trying to uncover the least suspicious way to ask a child who their parents were.
"So what's my French name then?" Alfred asked.
"What?" Matthew recoiled with confusion. "It would still be Alfred."
"Oh ok that's easy but you know how for some languages it changes? I know it does in Russian and Japanese. I can't pronounce either of them but I definitely shouldn't try my Japanese name because doing a Japanese accent might be racist."
"Alfred," the name felt foreign in Francis' mouth. "Do you have any parents here today?"
"Nah," Alfred said, his face falling downcast. "My dad never comes. I get that he's really busy and all but..." he finished his sentence with a shrug.
Oh perfect, an opening. All Francis has to do is keep Alfred talking about his Dad and hope it doesn't seem suspicious that an adult is prying about a child's life.
"Oh, that's a shame. What does he do for work?"
"Accounting, it's super boring."
"And your mother?"
"I don't have one." Alfred looked down.
"I don't either," Matthew said softly.
"Is that hard for your Dad?" Francis pushed. He had to know. So far it didn't seem impossible that he still had Alfred.
"Uh no, don't worry," Alfred chuckled. "I haven't had a Mum my whole life which sucks but I don't know, me and Dad are both used to it."
"So he's been a bachelor his whole life?" Francis' skin was tingling as he begged for answers. The only thing he couldn't do was outright ask 'Is your father Arthur Kirkland?'
"As far as I know. Why? Are you interested," a smirk came onto Alfred's face as he exaggeratedly winked and rubbed his chin. Before Francis could laugh it off and keep pushing, Alfred continued. "But I doubt you'd like him anyway. Just between you and me, he's Bri'ish he is innit. And he hates the French. Like, religiously. I don't know if that makes him racist or what but he says the French hate Brits back so, I doubt you'd get along."
Francis' breath caught. He did move countries after all. Francis could only thank God that he didn't give Alfred up for adoption as a wave of relief physically washed through him.
If Alfred had been coming to this camp for 10 years, it would stand to reason that he had moved to this continent at least 10 years ago and Francis had never known about it.
But relief didn't last long. He still had so many thoughts and concerns and hopes and fears and now that he thinks about it, Francis shouldn't have eaten anything today. A pity he did because now it was all coming back up. He only had time to say 'excuse me' and turn around before he was throwing it up into the bin.
At least there weren't too many people around besides the counsellor's cleaning up otherwise Francis would feel horrible at having made such a big scene.
"Oh shit, dude- Frenchie, you doing ok?"
"Papa, are you alright?" Matthew said as Francis leaned on the bin and wiped his mouth with a clean napkin.
"Yes I'm fine," he explained in English with a hoarse voice. "I just think I ate something that didn't agree with me."
"I guess you just find Bri'ish people that repulsive, huh?" Alfred chuckled, making light of the situation. "Don't worry, me too- I'm kidding don't tell my Dad!"
"I know you've been weird all day, are you sure you're okay?" Matthew analysed him with his calculating eyes and Francis had to look away.
"Crikey, you right mate?" A counsellor came over and Francis hurried to make himself presentable.
"Yes, I just ate something I shouldn't," he chuckled at his weak story.
"Well, as long as you're right. Didja wanna come in and grab some water or something? It's a hot one today so you'd better keep yourself hydrated and I betcha wanna rinse your mouth out after that."
Francis almost declined out of the fear that if he went he'd lose track of Alfred, again, but quickly agreed when Alfred insisted Francis go and started walking with the counsellor. So Francis found himself sitting in the quiet and now clean dining hall with a cold bottle of water in hand. He really wished it was wine.
He wished for a lot of things.
But why would he wish for wine when his boys were reunited right in front of him? What he really wished for was to hug them both close and never let go again.
His boys sat across from him and the counsellor leaned over the back of Alfred's chair.
"Right," the counsellor patted Francis on the back, "so I don't recognise you or Alfred's twin here so I'm assuming this is the first time you've come here?"
Immediately everyone lurched into action.
Francis spat out the mouthful of water he had in and it dribbled down his shirt, Matthew's eyes snapped to the counsellor's with calculating intensity and Alfred just laughed like he had a shock.
"Uh, everyone, this is Steve and he likes to be real funny. But uh, you know he's not my twin, right? Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you ask, I'm an only child."
Francis let his eyes roam carefully between everyone as he fought to keep his hand steady on the water bottle. Matthew didn't seem to think anything was up, yet, but Francis knew Matthew could tell it was strange that Steve had noticed what he did. And if Francis hadn't started acting strange before they met Alfred, Matthew would've been able to attribute Francis' reactions to that as well.
"Yeah, I know, spoilt little single child," Steve said as he poked Alfred's cheek as the boy protested. "But come on, think of the potential here!"
Alfred paused to study Matthew before he started nodding.
"Actually... I kinda see it. Dude, that's so strange. Mattie, don't you think it's strange?"
Matthew went to reply but jolted when he saw Francis' face.
"What's wrong?" Matthew asked urgently. Francis blinked, realising too late that his eyes had teared up and spilled over.
Steve's carefree attitude dropped when he noticed and stood up straight with a concerned face.
"Mattie, what did you say?" Alfred said curiously before his eyes fell on Francis' face. "Dude, are you alright?"
He... he has to tell them. He can't not tell them. They deserve to know. And once they do Francis can ask anything he wants, anything he needs to know. He needs to know that Alfred has been okay for the past 14 years and he needs to let Alfred know that he loves him so much and he's never stopped loving him and he will never stop-
But none of those words came out and nothing useful came from his lips. All he could do was stare at the poor confused American boy as tears streamed down his face.
"Uh, does your father have any medical problems we should know about?" Steve asked Matthew and he shook his head. "Ight I have no idea what to do then. I know that sounds bad cus I'm an adult, aye, but this is a new one for me."
Francis couldn't let this go on for much longer.
"Your father- Arthur Kirkland- he-"
No. Francis couldn't. He's said too much. He rested both hands over his mouth and lowered his eyes so as to not creep out his long-lost son.
"Yeah...? What about hi-" Alfred's eyes bulged. "DUDE! How the fuck do you know my Dad's name?"
Francis can't stop. He's started now. He has to get it all out. His face was burning up but he had to tell them.
"How about you drink some more water and think about what you're trying to say," Steve said carefully as he leaned on the back of Alfred's chair.
Francis did just that, doing his best to avoid Matthew's prying eyes as he slowly drank mouthful after mouthful. He felt much more coordinated once he put the bottle back on the table.
"Okay? So can you tell me why and what you know about my Dad and all that- ouch!" Alfred grunted when Steve flicked his head.
"I don't know what's goin' on but don't be pushy," Steve reprimanded.
"Well he knows my dad and clearly that's an issue- Hey! Are you the reason my Dad hates French people?"
A chuckle escaped Francis.
"Non, he hated the French long before he met me. Although I wouldn't say hate, such a strong word, but surely much less complicated."
Even through glossy eyes, Francis could tell that Alfred had a confused and exasperated expression. Without thinking he reached one hand forward, stopping himself and letting his hand hang awkwardly in the air before dropping it to the table and letting his eyes follow. No matter how much he wanted to give the boy a hug, when he reached there was nothing in his son's bright blue eyes that understood what was going on.
Francis would have to tell them. He was a fool for thinking the past would stay buried forever.
He couldn't get the words out. Where the hell should he start?
"Papa, can't you tell me what's going on? It might be easier if it was only me and maybe I'd be able to help?"
Francis found himself wordlessly shaking his head. He... He couldn't stop thinking about how ripping off this band-aid would only open scars.
But there was no backing out. What could he say that would explain away all this and make things go back to normal.
But if he left camp, 'normal' might end anyway... if the boys figured it out... no.
Francis had to tell them. He had to own up.
"So... do you hate British people then?" Alfred asked, grappling to keep the conversation going despite the heavy atmosphere.
"Non, in fact-" Maybe it was for the best he didn't outright say what he and Arthur were. He couldn't imagine Arthur's pride allowing him to divulge Alfred on his past 'mistakes'. Alfred probably had no idea...
"So you knew my dad but didn't hate him. Did he hate you?"
"Yes and no," Francis said fondly, before grimacing. That was hardly a specific answer and no doubt everyone at the table was sharing his frustration because he was struggling to get to the point. He was dancing around the issue against his will.
"Okay, so why do you care about him so much? Did anything happen...?"
Francis felt so guilty that he got his son so invested in a complete stranger. It seemed that kindness was a trait blessed to both of his sons.
"It's not Arthur I care about," Francis blurted. "Non! I do care for him, it's been a long time since I've seen him but that's not why I'm so-"
Alfred gave him an alarmed and suspicious look and Francis brought both hands to his face.
Ｊｕｓｔ ｓａｙ ｉｔ．
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ ｊｕｓｔ ｓａｙ ｉｔ
ＰｌｅａｓｅＰｌｅａｓｅＰｌｅａｓｅ
Ｐｌｅａｓｅ.
"You're my son, Alfred."
Francis held his breath as silence met his ears.
"Nuh-uh!" Alfred said loudly.
Matthew just gave him a stupefied look and the counsellor had a thoughtful look on his face.
"What, were they swapped as kids then?"
Francis' heart was in his throat from having said so much but still not enough. He fought to clarify.
"Non, I-"
Matthew, his Mathieu was looking at him so intently, so trustingly yet in such disbelief that Francis couldn't take it. His eyes watered as he looked away.
"I'm your son, aren't I?" Matthew's voice was loud and stern, desperately demanding an answer.
Francis' heart seized as he jerked to look at his son and reassure him that-
"Yes! You are my son, you are both my sons and I'm so sorry this is how you had to find out, that you had to find out at all and-"
He can do it, he can get to the point.
"You two are brothers. I am your father."
The counsellor made a face of shock but Francis could tell he believed him.
"Please tell me there's a camera crew hiding somewhere around here because this is really awkward, especially with the Star Wars reference," Alfred chuckled as he looked between Francis and Matthew. "I already have a Dad so how the fuck can I have two Dads?"
Alfred's face winced as he backpedalled.
"Okay, I really don't want to get cancelled because obviously I know how someone can have two Dads, I'm not stupid but my Dad definitely isn't gay and it's not possible to have two biological fathers- unless you're Giorno Gio- now's not the time for a motherfucking Jojo's reference because seriously! How the fuck can you be my dad?"
Alfred looked desperately towards Matthew but didn't find any answers when the other boy's eyes bored into Francis' as everything clicked into place and calm restraint overcame him.
Francis couldn't look away. He knew that his son had worked out exactly what was happening.
Ｍａｔｔｈｅｗ ｋｎｅｗ ｈｅ ｋｎｅｗ ｙｏｕ ｌｉｅｄ ｙｏｕ ａｒｅ ａ ｌｉａｒ ａnｄ ｈｅ ｗｉｌｌ ｎｅｖｅr ｆｏrｇｉｖｅ ｙｏｕ
ｎｅｖｅr
ＤＯ ｙｏu ｂｌａmｅ ｈｉｍ？
Francis felt helpless as Matthew sat back and all the light left his eyes. His posture slumped and his face looked so broken and vacant as he stared at a man he didn't know anymore.
Francis' mouth was dry as he thought about everything he could say to try and make his Mathieu feel better and apologise a thousand and one times but the words were caught because he knew nothing he could say would ever be enough.
ｉ＇ｍ ｓｏ ｓｏｒｒｙ ｉ ｂｒｏｋｅ ｙｏｕｒ ｈｅａｒｔ ｍｏｎ ｃｈｅｒ ｉ ｌｏｖｅ ｙｏｕ ｉ＇ｍ ｓｏ ｓｏｒｒｙ
His other son clearly hadn't been told as much as Francis had divulged to Matthew. It was hardly surprising considering Arthur's private nature, but it left Alfred looking very confused as to why the other blondes at the table had gone silent.
"If your Dad off his meds or something?" Alfred leaned in towards Matthew and whispered, but Matthew didn't respond in any capacity.
"Struth, I feel like I shouldn't be here" the counsellor said before leaning into Alfred. "I'm gonna skedaddle but call me if you need me. This might be your chance to dig about your past so definitely go for it."
"Wot." Alfred said blankly.
"Alfred, just hear him out. I'm telling ya I can tell this isn't some kinda mental episode but it's details about your life so I'm sure you'd be able to tell if it's the truth or not."
"Don't leave!" Alfred faux whispered. "I don't know what to do!"
Steve sighed and turned to Francis.
"If you have any proof you'd better cough it up because this one has a thick head."
Then Steve walked away and Francis was buried in guilt as he watched Alfred's torn expression follow the counsellor.
Okay, proof. Francis curled his fingers into his palm as he thought about what he had to say now. He didn't expect that he'd have to convince Alfred, he didn't expect to see Alfred at all but now that he was here this was the price he had to pay for the sins he committed.
"I was born on February 17th in London," Matthew said blankly with his eyes trained on Alfred.
"Okay," Alfred squawked, "what the fuCK?! NO. NO WAY. NO!" Alfred stared at the table as he pulled at his hair. Apparently, that was all it took to convince him and the cogs started turning.
Matthew's eyes met Francis' and all Francis could see was pain. It was rare when his son was anything other than his happy and placid self but Francis never thought he'd see those icey eyes and cut-throat calculation turned towards him.
"You said you'd tell me everything and anything and I believed you because you told me everything about 'Arthur' but his name. But obviously you didn't tell me everything. When you said that you and Arthur broke up you took me as part of the agreement that you would never see him again. I never said anything but I never really understood that part. At least, not without assuming that I was unwanted. But now I see what really happened. Since there was two of us, you took one and Arthur kept him, is that right?"
"Yes, that's right," Francis' voice was weak. "I was- I just- I never-"
"Whoah, wait, hold on. How the fuck are you my Dad then?!" Alfred was scrambling but still being left behind. "I mean, I definitely believe you that something's going on here. Fuck, as if Dad would ever actually tell me so you need to tell me! Am I adopted?!"
Matthew pressed his mouth into a thin line, waiting for Francis to answer.
Francis felt like he was being pulled too thin. He didn't want to admit so much when Alfred didn't know. But he wanted to tell Alfred everything he could and make him understand- but he needed to talk to Matthew too and he could feel himself getting overwhelmed.
"Non, non," Francis found himself reaching for Alfred because he really wanted to comfort him but couldn't. "No, you are my son. Ah, A- we had a surrogate."
"So... my Dad's a complete stranger?!"
Francis winced.
"He's your biological uncle, his twin sister is our mother," Matthew said, helpfully or unhelpfully, Francis didn't know but winced as Alfred processed that tidbit of information.
"What the fuck?" Alfred looked like he might cry. Or throw up. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah Francis, what the fuck?" Matthew said and Francis felt like he'd been slapped as his mouth made silent words.
"Wait, so this whole time, my Dad just- what the fuck- how- He let me believe that my Mum's dead or something when my Mum is his sister and some guy is my Dad but Dad is still my Dad because he's gay and... and I have a brother-"
Alfred looked wistfully at Matthew and he seemed to still.
"I always wanted a brother."
Matthew's pained glance said the exact same thing.
"Did you really hate Arthur so much that you had to lie to me my entire life?" Matthew asked and Francis' face contorted as his eyes swelled with tears.
"No."
"Then why?" Matthew's voice faded off but nothing else needed to be said. Alfred watched on, wearing every emotion on his face as he waited for more, for any information.
There were no words Francis could say. There was nothing he could say to justify what he realised now was the worst decision in his life. Francis would never be able to trick himself, let alone Matthew... who deserved so much better.
But Matthew wanted a reason so Francis would give him one. Even if he knew it was a shit reason and it would never be a valid one. He'd admit that in front of his son.
"Because we thought it was for the best. We thought it would work out and you'd never know. We didn't think you'd ever meet and... we were just thinking for ourselves..."
There was a fog in his brain that prevented him from thinking about what he was thinking at that time... maybe it was just stubbornness and that was the reason he ruined his sons' lives.
"It was my Dad's idea, wasn't it?" Alfred interjected. "It was, wasn't it? He thought he could just fuck off and start a new life but I don't know why he needed me in it-!"
"We both agreed," Francis said quietly. "And he wanted you. We both wanted you. We wanted both of you..."
"You could've had both of us. You didn't even need Arthur for that," Matthew said bluntly. "No one forced you to stay with Arthur but if you really loved Alfred so much then wouldn't you at least try to get along as co-parents?"
ｖａｉｌｄ ｐｏｉｎｔ， ｃｏｕｎｔｅｒ ｐｏｉｎｔ ｈｅ ｉｓ ｓｏ ｓｏ ｓｅｌｆｉｓｈ
"Oh, so Arthur wanted me but then he went on to act like he never did and forget about Matthew?" Alfred whispered bitterly.
"Non! Arthur loves you! I know it. And I know he's never forgotten about Matthew. I've never forgotten about you and I cannot tell you how much I regret letting you go!"
Alfred looked at him with complete vulnerability. Francis had no idea what his son's relationship was like with Arthur but he knew, deep deep down from many years long ago with Arthur that the man, as standoffish and stuck up as he was, loved their sons too much to let them go. Francis was the same.
That's how they settled on one each, desperately trying to convince themselves to forget about the other, the other that was being loved just as much and that's all Francis had to trust and be content with.
"-Or you could've had neither of us," Matthew continued. "If you couldn't cooperate with Arthur then you should've given us up so we weren't split up."
Francis' heart was split in two.
Matthew-
His son-
So blatantly-
ｂｕｔ ｈｅ ｗａｓ ｒｉｇｈｔ ａｎｄ ｆｒａｎｃｉｓ ｗａｓ ｓｏ ｓｏ ｓｅｌｆｉｓｈ
Francis could never give him up but here Matthew was saying that's what Francis should've done.
And maybe he was right.
Alfred's gaze fell. "Isn't that what they should've done...? I- I really wish I knew about you... I don't get why we had to be split up..."
Francis's heart was aching and he'd do anything to make this right. Words were falling from his mouth in a passionate plea before he could even screen them-
Which meant they were coming from the heart, right?
It came out like vomit. Offers to tell them anything they wanted to know, everything they didn't know. Offers to talk to Arthur himself and sort something out. Apologies in between because he couldn't apologise enough. Promises he understood their pain and he'd do anything to keep them together now as long as they knew he loved them. He'd lose them as long as they know that he's sorry and he loves them but above all, he won't separate them again.
And when he was finally out of breath and left like he'd just ran a marathon, he looked anxiously to his boys who had all the power.
"Y'know, I would love to have an extra Dad. Even if he's French," there were tears in Alfred's hopeful eyes, which then tenderly laid on Matthew. "But if you were my Dad, I don't know if I'd forgive you so easily..."
Alfred seemed to be waiting for Matthew's judgement and Francis held his breath as he did the same. His son was staring down at his hands with an intense look of calculation that made Francis feel like he was going to throw up again.
"I don't want to lose you Papa," Matthew admitted and Francis worried if the other shoe was going to drop. "And now I don't want to lose my brother. I never minded that you didn't tell me Arthur's name but I don't know if I can get over this... I don't think I can trust you again but I don't want to lose you because I love you so I'm willing to try."
Francis was so lucky to have such a compassionate son. He felt like he could cry until there was no moisture left in his body.
And then finally, after 14 long years, Francis was able to hold both boys in his arms again.
It took a while before anyone was up for leaving the safety of the cabin, but when they did Alfred insisted he take them for a tour around the camp. Francis was more than happy to oblige and watch as his boys excitedly bonded with one another.
As Alfred had promised earlier, he made quick work of introducing Matthew to everyone... along with Francis. After a lifetime of lying he had his reservations about Alfred introducing them as his "long lost twin brother and long lost bio 'Papa', which sounds silly to say", but Francis just held his tongue and let Alfred introduce all of his friends to him with a childlike eagerness for Francis' approval. It warmed his heart that his son was so open and eager to know Francis and have his attention.
It did deepen Francis' regret for how the past 14 years were spent, a regret he could see that Matthew shared. Francis would happily spend the rest of his life doing his best to negate the regret so deeply woven into his children.
It was nearing dinner time and every other guest was gone but him. Francis knew that the entire camp, counsellors included were aware of the situation thanks to Alfred and Francis couldn't thank them enough for the grace of letting him stay. He needed as much time with his sons together as he could before he had to go without for 8 weeks.
Or maybe not.
Francis was sitting at the table with all of Alfred's friends, finding it hard to move his arms at all when Alfred handed over his phone with the expectation of staying in contact. Francis choked down more tears for the sake of not making things awkward for his sons.
"Y'know, usually camp means I get an eight-week break from Dad but I kinda feel like calling him tonight." Alfred's face was mischievous in a vindictive sort of way. "This is going to be so fucking good. Imagine how he'll shit himself when he realises I know he lied to me all this time and he can't even lie to get out of it because Mattie's right beside me."
Francis shouldn't say anything, it wasn't his place but he still had to plead.
"Just please... Alfred, if you can forgive me... please be kind to Arthur. He- I know he's a pain but I know he'd hate to hurt you. He loves you and it'll break him-"
"Then he shouldn't've fucking done it." Alfred stated with spite for his father, as if Francis didn't do the same crime. "But you're a real simp for him, huh?"
"If that's the case, then maybe you should cooperate with him," Matthew added. Francis sighed because Matthew was right.
"Please pass on my number to him."
"So what? He can never call? I can't make him do anything! Trust me, I've tried! How about I give you his number instead?"
Matthew was quick to back Alfred up and Francis handed his phone over for Alfred to put in the number. Francis then stared at the contact in his phone, too anxious to touch the screen just in case it did something but part of him hoped for something to happen.
"Call him," Matthew requested though it was more of a demand, a condition for Francis to reach.
"I will," Francis wrapped his arms around his boys again. "I'll make this right. I promise."
"Just give it a day so when I call him to yell at him it's a surprise," Alfred requested with a dark chuckle and Francis agreed. He owed his son that much.
Relationships are fragile and Francis would do anything to stop them from breaking and shattering beyond repair. It would be a rocky road, but Francis was willing to do anything to make his boys happy.
So when he got home to his quiet house a day later he found himself pacing with his phone in hand as he imagined his hair falling out.
But he knew what needed to be done and he pressed call.