Let the good times roll.

[creme_master]

Characters: Francis and YOU.
Setting: Dormitories [1-10], Floor 13
Format: EITHER
Summary: In which Francis is a hermit and a lost man.
Warnings: Possible → mentions of surgery/flashbacks, looming possibility of character death thanks to event specifics. Definite → heavy despair

Comments

[i_luv_syrup]

The tower was starting to frighten Matt, People were acting strangely even for themselves. The last he'd seen his various friends it seemed like Paranoia, fear and something close to schizophrenia had appeared in them.

Not to mention he hadn't been able to find France.

In a small way Canada was thankful for his invisibility, taking to wandering silently on floors that people didn't seem to like to lurk. Going up from the aquariums the shadow of someone coming down the stairs made Matt duck into the cathedral. He'd always felt odd in extremely religious settings, as a nation he had so many and the overly christian motifs made him glance around.

The one thing that caught his attention though was France sitting in one of the pews close to the back. From behind Matt wasn't sure if the man was praying or crying, both were equally viable for what was going on.

Without much of a thought Matt moved silently into the pew and sat down beside his former father figure, letting him have his moment before placing a gentle hand on his

[creme_master]

It was a good thing that someone had interrupted his solitude.

It was even better than it had been Mathieu who had avoided the experiment that was driving the Tower's inhabitants stir crazy. Or genuinely crazy rather. Despite the boy's sanity, the floor's tricky silence had quieted his former charge's approach and he jolts under the hand. There is no racing pulse. No gasp of surprise. Just a man sitting up straight with wide eyes that relax soon after.

He can't speak, but he leans back against his touch in a silent hello, feeling the shame creep deep. There'd been a time when Francis had been more worthy of his mentor role. Now reduced to nothing, he couldn't help feeling as if his plight was letting the boy beside him down.

sorry it's a tl;dr tag

[i_luv_syrup]

Matt knew the look on Francis' face, it was of despair, of something that deeply unsettled him for all of the world he had never seen Francis look quite like this. His heart twisted seeing his former father figure so distraught and obviously upset but Matthew didn't know what quite to do

Ain' no thaaang

[creme_master]

He swallowed thickly, hindered not for the first time by the phantom feeling of his heart clenching in his chest, long gone. Tension has settled in along the muscles along his shoulder and back, leaving the man more skittish than he normally was. Numbness had settled in. Apathy. If they had wanted to see how to break the refugees here they'd mastered it after little time.

Mathieu was a stronger man than most believed him, having compassion no matter the hardship and capable hands. Francis gave a quiet shudder, something that sounded like a muffled sob, and leaned in against the boy's side, clamping his eyes closed.

[i_luv_syrup]

It pained him to see Francis this way. So deeply hurt on a level that Matthew had never seen before and it unsettled the Canadian that this tower, this monstrosity had turned such a proud man into this.

A broad hand moved its way into France's golden hair, giving the silky strands a pet before Matt shifted enough to try to console Francis. Matthew knew that the only thing he could offer to him was a medial comfort, a shoulder for him to cry on. He didn't even know what had happened to him to upset him so, and he had been worried. Oh he had, wandering the tower in search of Francis, inquiring about him and it all yielded the same result of it being unknown.

He held Francis, not saying a word, but letting the man find a small piece of comfort in his ex-colony that Matthew believed that Francis wouldn't find in others.