[This isn't how Franz wanted things to go. Then again, this whole thing with Kurt is entirely unexpected - a cliche, really. Things had fallen apart, both of them were single on Christmas - it just sort of happened. And now they're in Franz's favorite little cafe warming chapped hands with steaming mugs of coffee, and Kurt is entirely lovely with his cheeks all rosy and Franz doesn't want to have to do this. It's almost Valentine's day. Franz takes both of Kurt's hands in his. They're so close in skin tone - but Franz's constant ephermeral glow always makes him seem that much paler.]
Uneventful thus far. I have yet to head to the garage and get my hands dirty, so I suppose you caught me at just the right time.
[A very small, shaky smile. Franz seems--different somehow, far from his usual jovial, sardonic self.] And yours? Something's telling me it wasn't so good. Problems at work?
[Problems at work don't begin to describe it. Today had started off terribly, and gotten worse and worse. Franz always knew if he followed Raul into his ambitions for the NPP that they would face foul play and threats, but today was the first time he saw a true threat of it.]
Mr. Muggles died. He got sick. [Poisoned, and Franz always thought his apartment was secure, that he could trust his dog walker, that the locks were always safe. But someone had fillled the Pomeranian's bowl with antifreeze and Franz had been too tired returning home from work in the wee hours to notice he was unwell until it was too late.
The threat was obvious. The dog was, in a lot of ways, one of his oldest friends in Siren's Port. He had promised to take care of him for Claire, and now he's gone. Franz swallows hard.]
If... if I'm so busy with work I can't take care of my own dog, then I think.
I think we ought to end things here and now, before I end up neglecting you as well.
[Kurt will be next. Franz can sense it, like the
( ... )
[Franz pulls his hands away. He forces himself to look at Kurt even though he knows he'll probably make the young man cry.] I'm telling you I'm breaking up with you. Isn't that clear? [He can put some convincing firmness into his voice, a mean enough glare, but the foundation of it is still about as solid as gelatin. His voice wobbles.]
[There are tears in Kurt's eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. Instead he stares hard at Franz, hard enough to chip away at the other boy, strip him down to nothing.]
Yeah, it's clear. But don't lie to me. Tell me why you're really doing, it, Franz.
[Don't lie to me, Kurt says, and Franz almost winces. Kurt knows by this time about his ability, how the hearing and telling of lies can cause him physical pain, and thus he always takes issues with it. Prides himself on telling the truth. But this time... what can he do? If he tells Kurt the real reason, Kurt will just get all huffy like he does about things and think this is another time to be brave and make a stand, won't he? And Kurt is too beautiful, too good to be hurt, to ever be terrorized again, so even if Franz has to sacrifice his own wants for it, there's simply now way he can tell the truth.
Except it makes his glow flicker a bit when he says a complete falsehood. And it does now.] I'm telling you the truth.
We're just too different. You believe in romance and love and weddings and fancy flower arrangements and cargo vests, and I don't.
[But he's telling the truth for the next words:] It's better for you if you go. [Because that's what he believes.]
Kurt-- Kurt, let me-- [Damn it, damn it, damn it. This is not what he wanted, not what he meant to happen. In frustration he places his hands on Kurt's shoulders, attempting to still him.] I know you hate me for this and that's fine, but I'm doing this for your own good. Try to understand.
[He shakes his head vehemently, and people are definitely beginning to look at them.] You're a liar. If you cared about my feelings you wouldn't be doing this. You think I haven't dealt with worse than--than a few forgotten anniversaries? A couple missed phone calls? You clearly don't think as highly of me as you say you do.
[Franz is at an impetus. On one hand, he could leave it at that, break Kurt's heart and watch him walk away. He could stay silent as he did with Albert, as he had with Daedalus, and ruin everything again, but keep everyone else involved safe except his own heart.
On the other, he could tell the truth and just hope that Kurt wouldn't be stupid.]
I do care about your feelings. I want you to continue to feel everything as deeply and sincerely as you always do. I want you to continue to sing and perform and laugh and make people happy, and be happy yourself.
[Franz is drawing in, guarding his belly as he often does when he's upset.] Let's not do this. Not in front of everyone. Let's not be ugly.
--Oh, is that was this is about? You don't like being in front of everyone? Am I too out there for you, Franz? Maybe I make a spectacle of myself. Like I've never heard that before.
[His voice does lower a bit, though, when he says this next bit. He sounds raw now, much less scathing and inches away from tears.] Or is it because I don't put out for you? Go on, tell me the truth, because I'm not buying this 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit.
[Kurt knows he's being hurtful, but that's how he deals. If someone hurts me, I hurt them back. Simple as that.]
[Kurt really does know how to hit Franz where it hurts. He knows Franz is self-conscious and will never be quite as into making statements, either verbally or with clothes or music, as Kurt is. And color flies into his face when Kurt brings up the sex. He thought he had been good, understanding about that, and the truth was he was willing to wait until Kurt is ready. But none of that matters now.
He can't bring himself to just lie and say that it's because of that, even though he knows that would truly drive Kurt away. Not knowing what Kurt's been through.]
Please, just trust me. It's not any of those things. [Franz places his hand on Kurt's bicep.] I just can't see you anymore. The NPP - it's not just the protestors every day. I don't want you getting hurt because of my job. [And as much as he cares for Kurt - might even love him - he can't give up something this important to all the newcomers because he's afraid.
I know you don't care, Kurt. You're an idealistic idiot.
[After a moment, Franz slumps down in his chair, rubbing at his temples with his thumb and forefinger, an excuse to cover his face.]
I'd rather let you go than lose you.
The death threats, the bomb threats - I've kept on through all of it and put a brave face on, but, last night someone poisoned Mr. Muggles' water dish. Whether it was the landlord, the neighbor I hired to walk him during the day, or someone who broke in...
I can't. It's Paris all over again, I don't want these monsters going after my friends and loved ones.
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How was your day?
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[A very small, shaky smile. Franz seems--different somehow, far from his usual jovial, sardonic self.] And yours? Something's telling me it wasn't so good. Problems at work?
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[Problems at work don't begin to describe it. Today had started off terribly, and gotten worse and worse. Franz always knew if he followed Raul into his ambitions for the NPP that they would face foul play and threats, but today was the first time he saw a true threat of it.]
Mr. Muggles died. He got sick. [Poisoned, and Franz always thought his apartment was secure, that he could trust his dog walker, that the locks were always safe. But someone had fillled the Pomeranian's bowl with antifreeze and Franz had been too tired returning home from work in the wee hours to notice he was unwell until it was too late.
The threat was obvious. The dog was, in a lot of ways, one of his oldest friends in Siren's Port. He had promised to take care of him for Claire, and now he's gone. Franz swallows hard.]
If... if I'm so busy with work I can't take care of my own dog, then I think.
I think we ought to end things here and now, before I end up neglecting you as well.
[Kurt will be next. Franz can sense it, like the ( ... )
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Yeah, it's clear. But don't lie to me. Tell me why you're really doing, it, Franz.
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Except it makes his glow flicker a bit when he says a complete falsehood. And it does now.] I'm telling you the truth.
We're just too different. You believe in romance and love and weddings and fancy flower arrangements and cargo vests, and I don't.
[But he's telling the truth for the next words:] It's better for you if you go. [Because that's what he believes.]
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[He gets to his feet and starts gathering his things, though he can barely hold onto them--his hands are shaking far too much.]
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On the other, he could tell the truth and just hope that Kurt wouldn't be stupid.]
I do care about your feelings. I want you to continue to feel everything as deeply and sincerely as you always do. I want you to continue to sing and perform and laugh and make people happy, and be happy yourself.
[Franz is drawing in, guarding his belly as he often does when he's upset.] Let's not do this. Not in front of everyone. Let's not be ugly.
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[His voice does lower a bit, though, when he says this next bit. He sounds raw now, much less scathing and inches away from tears.] Or is it because I don't put out for you? Go on, tell me the truth, because I'm not buying this 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit.
[Kurt knows he's being hurtful, but that's how he deals. If someone hurts me, I hurt them back. Simple as that.]
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He can't bring himself to just lie and say that it's because of that, even though he knows that would truly drive Kurt away. Not knowing what Kurt's been through.]
Please, just trust me. It's not any of those things. [Franz places his hand on Kurt's bicep.] I just can't see you anymore. The NPP - it's not just the protestors every day. I don't want you getting hurt because of my job. [And as much as he cares for Kurt - might even love him - he can't give up something this important to all the newcomers because he's afraid.
He withdraws his hand.]
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What if I tell you I don't care?
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[After a moment, Franz slumps down in his chair, rubbing at his temples with his thumb and forefinger, an excuse to cover his face.]
I'd rather let you go than lose you.
The death threats, the bomb threats - I've kept on through all of it and put a brave face on, but, last night someone poisoned Mr. Muggles' water dish. Whether it was the landlord, the neighbor I hired to walk him during the day, or someone who broke in...
I can't. It's Paris all over again, I don't want these monsters going after my friends and loved ones.
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