[fanfic] Lonely Hearts
This came about when I’m thinking of a fan art to request from vivalalixi XD I wanted to describe the scenario, but this happened :| I should have just referenced a bonnie and clyde pics or charles starkweather mugshots, but no.
ONESHOT ~~~\o\!
Listening to lounge or slow jazz while reading this will make it more awesome /shot
Title: Lonely Hearts
Author: silentside
Characters: Alfred x OC!Fem!Piri x Matthew (and other cameos)
Warning: OCness. Speed typed (unbetad), AU setting (APH Mafia). Inspired as I re-watched “Public Enemies” (Johnny-chan! /shot) and some violence. Can anyone guess where the title comes from?
Summary:
They never were his adversaries. He tried to explain it to them even if there is already a gun pressed against his head. “I’m not Alfred F. Jones! Don’t shoot me!”
He is a fool if he thinks they'll listen.
It leaves him with no option: In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
---
Being mistaken as Alfred F. Jones has always been a liability to Matthew. How many times have he been caught in a shoot out? Several botched assassination attempts? All because of Al Jones. And yet he accompanies him, albeit begrudgingly, everywhere he goes. He was like his shadow, a mirror reflection of that despicable bastard and yet ironically, everyone barely notices him when he is actually around--"Matthew, who?"
Al will always laugh it out, saying how he is his 'hat'. It was like saying he means nothing more to him but that of a mere accessory. He is more than his bloody hat, he is bigger and 'above' him in a way that, if the world is a prison, he will be his bitch. In those dark times when he is left to his own devices, thanks to his brother-Matthew Williams learned to fight back and defend himself from the enemy, fending those numerous attempts on his life that are all meant for Jones.
They never were his adversaries. He tried to explain it to them even if there is already a gun pressed against his head. “I’m not Alfred F. Jones! Don’t shoot me!”
He is a fool if he thinks they'll listen.
It leaves him with no option: In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
Hot warm tears streamed down to his cheeks, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he beats the attacker viciously with his hockey stick-a sport of his favorite past time that have become his ‘accidental’ choice of weapon as of late. He kept hitting him until he heard the sickening sound of the skull cracking wide open, the pained screams gradually fading away to blood-choking gasps until there is nothing, absolutely nothing, but dead silence.
He felt the tight grip on his leg slowly loosening up and eventually the attacker stopped moving.
Brains are coming out of his ears, he cannot be any deader-and when the gruesome reality finally sank in, the blonde quickly ran to the nearest corner and threw up. He started to cry. He swallowed hard-this is not the time to think about what he feels about the situation, he have to ‘clean up’ before anyone else sees him.
Besides, nobody knows the brutality he is capable of if the need arises. Nobody expected acts of violence from a soft-spoken and polite Matthew.
There are times he wished he could simply leave his mess around and it will be all blamed on Alfred-
But it’s not going to be easy.
"They say still waters runs deep--and you know what that means, Kuya?" she chirped. “I’m very certain you are very interesting once you get out that shell of yours!”
Matthew Williams looked up from his mug of beer, for a moment he forgot he is in a dimly lit smoke-filled nightclub, 2-stars, not exactly one of the best spots in the district. It’s called Pearl of the Orient. Alfred and the rest of the Big Eight, him included-always frequent the place and despite its below-average appeal, it has grown to be an infamously popular attraction.
Alfred claims he can never have enough of the place’s charm-but everyone knows it’s because of Maria. How many times does he hums the tune “Manila-I keep coming back to Manila” much to their 'Dad's' Arthur Kirkland’s irritation. He knows why. Maria is a gracious hostess, whatever Alfred wants; she gives it to him-no question asked. She always eagerly awaits him, bearing all smiles.
They have a dysfunctional romantic history together, Alfred and Maria. Too complex even for Matthew Williams to untangle and comprehend. She was nobody’s girl and yet her brothers scorned her for being a whore: the men in her lives took advantage of her, the dramatic events that unfolded during the years she struggled for her freedom---everything that defined her up to this moment. He have researched every possible detail on Maria’s background during his spare time-and from there he developed a deeper understanding on her constant need to be with Jones and at the same time, how she intimidates him. Anyone who makes a fool of his brother is good in his book, and it nearly made him cry and laugh at the same time when she fooled Alfred with her poisonous ‘I love you’ packages. That bastard will just take about anything without caution. Now, Matthew never felt such great admiration for the small, complex yet feisty woman who can put up with him.
Matt tried patching up the relevant information with vague series of events that he witnessed while ‘unfortunately’ in Alfred’s company. There are times he will simply drop by her place during territory disputes, ‘his home base’ as he calls it, to get some well-hidden arsenals, change to some clean clothes-restock and refuel, leaving her confused if that’s all she meant to him. He will seal her doubts however by sweetening the deal with a kiss-enough to make her knees tremble and he will hoarsely whisper to her ear about promises such as protection and financial aid if any of ‘her brothers from the other side’ tries to hurt her.
But they were never her adversaries.
Goddamn it, Alfred.
He recalls another event-they were arguing, she refused to sign something for him. He wanted her place. She refused. They shouted. He hit her hard so hard that Matthew heard something crack. He wants to run towards her aid, but he knew better than to get involved with Alfred’s personal issues. Few minutes later, he apologized…they kissed and made up-or at least that’s what Matthew saw before he felt his stomach lurch. He is such a bastard, treating her like that-taking advantage of her trusting nature.
But in the end, Maria made up her mind and forced Alfred to leave.
“She can never live without me, you’ll see.” He said cockily as he lights up a cigarette, Matthew grimaced beside him. “I will always keep coming back to Manila.” And he will go on endlessly, how he will profit from her resources as long as there is chaos going in her district-in exchange for ‘protection’ he will look out for her ‘best interest’.
He puffed out a long smoke line. “I will probably have to put that on paper. It’s going to be a formal agreement. Whadya think, Mattie?”
He hated it when he calls him Mattie.
Alfred will always eerily hum to his favorite tune every time they drop by at the club. The quiet blonde will then clench his fists so tight that his palms will grow red. How can you do this to her, Alfred? She is nothing but nice to you. She sees you as her hero!
He felt so sorry for her that he starts to forget his own pain.
“How can you even take it, Maria?” he answered her absentmindedly, lifting his weary amethyst gaze to meet hers. “After all that you have been through---”
And there she stared back to him, having no clue whatsoever on what he is talking about. It was then she glanced down to his table, she suddenly starts apologizing that she didn’t serve him his favorite dish. After all, beer and pancakes with maple syrup does not mix-it worries her it will give him tummy aches.
He held both of her hands, cupping them to his own and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry that you misunderstood.” He smiled bitterly. “I just want to know, are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry I can’t provide you the goods that you need, Kuya!” she apologized again. Business is not faring well with her lately, thanks to the dry weather; she can’t provide him the food rations he will need to prepare for the cold months to come. “I hope you are not disappointed with me. I really did try.”
Stop apologizing Maria, I’m not Alfred- I…
Matthew fished out his wallet and looking around cautiously, slips a roll of folded money quickly to her palm.
“But, I told you---I can’t!”
He held on her hands tight, squeezing them firmly. “Maria, this is not about the rations. You can keep it, you needed it more than I do. You have provided me well, and let me do this for you in return.”
Embarrassed, she took a quick look around her place. It’s in a bad need of repairs. She tried to keep it presentable in every best way she could-after all, Alfred constantly drops by to visit her. His presence alone attracts other customers. But his presence never gives her what she needs.
Maria tried to fight back tears and forced an uneasy laugh. “You are always so kind to me. Kuya Matthew.”
“It’s really nothing, Maria.” He whispered, slowly releasing her hands. They were calloused and rough, having been so overworked just to make ends meet. She is trying to be strong.
He then stood up, this time taking out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Matthew moved closer to her, tipping her chin lightly towards him so he can see her face clearer in the dimly lit bar. She gasped, wondering what he will do-and gradually relaxed when he gently starts dabbing her tears away.
“No, it’s not nothing-“ she continued, “There is a time when-I really cannot keep up with the costs and I have to evict my sister’s people out of my place…you took them in.”
“Y-yes I do.” He stammered,
“Then recently, the flood-I heard you are pulling some strings to speed up some paper works so my people can get well-paying jobs in your place.”
“It’s the least I can do -“
She stomped her foot that made Matthew jump back a little, it was then Maria gently pushed herself away from him-they are already getting too close for comfort. “Matthew Williams.” She smiled, slowly gaining her confidence back. “Why do you always underestimate your own abilities?”
“I-I do not!”
“You are being way too polite for your own good!” she pouted, placing both hands firmly on her dainty waist, looking up at him. “Every good deed counts, Kuya! No matter how big or small-it’s the thought that matters. Take pride on what you do!”
He chuckled softly, stroking a loose strand of hair from her cheek. It’s amazing that the same woman who was almost near-tears few minutes ago is now lecturing him on confidence and pride.
“Pride-“ Matthew said softly, managing another smile. “-I wish you can rub off some of your well-known nation’s pride on me, Maria.”
“Y-you just need to be a little more aggressive on things, Kuya Matthew.” she replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at his touch: His fingers are still tangled loosely on the strands of her lose hair near her cheek. “You know just like-“
“I’m not like my stupid brother. He does not define me…” He cuts off, his expression suddenly turning dour. His sweaty palm still lingers on her cheek, until he tipped one finger underneath her chin. He is trying to make her look at him-as if trying to ingrain in her memory how he looks like, as every one else he knows-always forgets.
I’m not Alfred Jones, please don’t shoot me!
“-he does not define me, Maria.”
Matthew was briefly lost at the moment. Oh god, now he wants to mentally kick himself. Maria didn’t mean to and there she was staring at him with her terrified doe-shaped eyes, fearing she have offended him. Despite the constant abuse and the dysfunctional relationship -Alfred F. Jones will always be her hero. She does not know how he terribly hated being compared to his likeness.
He tried to patch it up quickly, “I don’t mean to scold you, y-you didn’t know. I’m sorry…”
She closed her eyes upon reflex, half-expecting that he will hit her-and not those kind re-assuring words. It was then Matthew noticed a small tender bruising just along her jaw line, he didn’t realize he was touching it.
“He did this to you again, didn’t he?”
She opened her eyes, but avoided his searching look. His resemblance with Alfred is so uncanny, and with the club’s lighting, it’s hard to define the other with the only thing that separates them both: color of their eyes. Matthew’s eyes are near purple and when he speaks, he sounds nothing like his brother.
“It’s my fault Kuya, it’s nothing!” she smiled bitterly, gently pushing his hand away. Again, they are getting too close for comfort. “I get a little too emotional as always, I always forget he is a busy man-he got the whole world to look after.”
Well yes, to do his dirty job.
“You don’t have to put up with him.”
She had nothing but praises towards Alfred-at least most of the time. Matthew wonders if this is because he constantly monitors her activities, watching her every move through other people, mostly through his peers. It has been that way ever since she got talked into signing that stupid agreement.
But never with him, Matthew was always neutral and Alfred does not give a damn on what he does. It was a good thing he lack that kind of aggressiveness and it works as an advantage to him in some way, as the blue-eyed devil never suspects a thing if he shares a conversation with his favorite girl. He even joked once that maybe Maria’s exceptionally friendly demeanor around him is caused by the fact he resembled him so much: Blonde hair, near-identical eye glasses and having almost the same build.
“You got no chance with my girl, Mattie.” He remarked once, while watching a cabaret act on the small stage. “She looks at you and it’s all ME that she’ll always remember.”
“She can tell us apart, Alfred. Don’t you even know that?”
“Huh, really? When I freed her from that Spanish bastard she calls every blonde as ‘Joe’-took her several years to tell apart Caucasians. I can’t blame her, father is insanely possessive and kept her locked up most of the time.”
“Well, I’m glad she knows now.”
“Heh, is that a smile I’m seeing on your face, brother?”
“I’m happy for her, okay?“
“And damn lucky. It probably feels good to be mistaken as me for once without fearing someone will kill you.”
He shot him a cold hard glare. Alfred ignored him.
“Mattie, you know what she sees in you?”
“Yes, yes. YOU told me already. I’m not deaf. She sees me, she sees you.”
“She sees the man she hoped and that she can never have.”
“Alfred-“
He wasn’t paying slightest attention to Matthew as he talks, as usual. Alfred is still watching the act, bringing a glass of whiskey near his lips. He is clearly enjoying the view from below as the scantly clad dancers performs their number.
“She wants a nicer less awesome me and you fit the bill perfectly.” He continued, drinking his whiskey. “That’s a groovy idea, Matt! You can be my substitute, my mini me. I have a reputation to uphold after all!”
“Bastard.”
“-and you are welcome~!”
Matthew Williams knows damn well that Maria never treats him as Alfred’s substitute. She hardly mentions him when they talk and she never EVER mistook him as his brother. But without a doubt, he still reminds her of him, and just like him, she thought he is going to hit her after saying words he don’t want to hear.
“I need him, Kuya Matthew.” She continued, “They call me his whore. I know you have heard of it a number of times--I’m already used to it. But I really don’t have a choice--”
It leaves him with no option.
“-I need him to survive.”
In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
“You just don’t know it Kuya Matthew, but you are just as great as your brother if you allow yourself to be. You have an advantage, at least you have choices--”
He held on her once again, cupping his hands on her small face. He is determined to tell her-but she knew little of the dilemma he live painfully by, the nerve-wracking guilt, the blood on his hands that are all not meant for him. His only crime is being mistaken and being associated with that bastard who single-handedly took down Carriedo's drug empire. The same bastard who freed Maria from his abusive clutches.
But Maria traded one prison for another. She never knew real freedom, as he himself never knew a moment of peace of mind. All because of Alfred F. Jones.
They were both victims of his devices.
You have an advantage, at least you have choices--
He opened his mouth, words barely forming out when suddenly from nowhere Arthur Kirkland materialized from the adjoining lounge room.
“Oh pollocks! How did you get here so fast?”
Maria jumped back a little but Matthew still held on her. “Dad!” He muttered frustratingly, lifting his hat a notch above from his forehead-revealing his disappointed amethyst gaze. “I’m not Alfred.”
“Ah, Matthew.” Arthur lifted both brows, it seems he have forgotten about Matthew again. “Your brother needs Maria to sing onstage, he wants her up there right now, pronto.”
“She is still busy attending other customers!” he snapped, Maria is not properly dressed up: She is wearing a greasy apron and her loose long hair is tied up shabbily into a ponytail. With the lack of manpower, she was forced to multi-task around her place. Alfred knows about her plight and still he does nothing to help out. He is just an additional burden to look after. “Someone is still performing onstage, can’t he wait?!”
Arthur frowned, he does not need to say anything for them to understand what he is thinking right now: He just gave both of them a long disapproving glare.
As if she have read his mind, Maria blushed deeply and tried to turn away. She knew what it meant. Matthew was about to say something but Arthur turned his back around, “Just get her up there, do something. Prep her up, I don’t know. This won’t be over until that lady sings.”
“I-I will be there in a minute, Kuya Arthur! Tell Kuya Alfred not to worry!”
“Maria-“
“Good because it won’t be nice if you keep that brat waiting, just hurry up.”
Arthur has already walked back to the lounge room, but Matthew still held on her. Few minutes have already passed. He was lost into his deep thoughts once more.
“Kuya, you can let go of me now.” she gasped, facing him. They are so close she can smell the faint scent of earth and maple emanating from his suit. “If he sees us--”
“No, he won’t. Maria--“ the warm tone in his voice shifted. It was more forceful. “Look at me.”
There is something strange the way Matthew looks down on her, it’s his eyes-they look determined. “Y-yes?”
"They say still waters runs deep--and you know what that means, Kuya?" she chirped. “I’m very certain you are very interesting once you get out that shell of yours!”
“I made my choice.”
“That’s nice, but--”
“He won’t hurt you again.”
Maria’s eyes widened and without saying a word, Matthew swings down one arm and scooped her up from the floor.
“Kuya!” she cried, “What are you doing?!”
He didn’t respond and was about to turn around at the nearest exit, when she looked over his shoulder and saw Arthur come out again. From there, everything in the room starts to spin: The Englishman angrily demanded to know what’s going on and tried placating Matthew: instructing him calmly to put her down. Alfred followed suit, equally as surprised and just as furious-but tried to laugh it out, after all, he knows his brother well enough not to have no balls to run away with his favorite. Matthew never goes against anybody’s orders, this is the first time he certainly had-and Maria watched nervously as his eyes darted around in panic. She can feel his arms trembling.
“You…you don’t have to do this.” She gasped, her voice was barely above a whisper, as she buried her face on his chest.
It scares her that Matthew is still not saying a single word.
“What are you going to do, Mattie? You can’t take her anywhere.” Alfred laughed, his voice tinted with reigned in anger-he is suppressing the urge to lounge forward and beat up his brother.
“Shit, you are even trembling!”
Thinking fast, he shifted Maria’s weight over one shoulder, supporting her with one arm briefly as he quickly drew his gun with his other free hand. He pointed it first at Alfred, who waved both palms playfully in the air. The bastard thinks he is still joking, just as he predicted he would be. He wouldn’t be able to draw his guns quickly as he acts like a monkey and using that as a diversion, Matthew pointed at the ceiling and fired a couple of rounds-activating the fire alarm and setting the sprinklers off.
Matthew Williams didn’t spare a single moment to waste. As the water came pouring down drowning the surprised shouts and angry voices of his comrades, he held Maria with both arms once more. He turned around, dropped his gun and flees towards the nearest fire exit. Fortunately for him, it’s just few feet behind them.
Pushing the door wide open, he headed towards his vehicle and quickly settled Maria at the back seat. He saw a couple of familiar faces, one of them his Papa’s-and yet no one made an attempt to stop him.
They all probably thought he is Alfred.
But before he flung himself on the driver’s seat, his Papa, Francis Bonnefoy, winked at him.
“Where are we going, Kuya Matthew?” Maria found her voice again, she can already hear several heavy footsteps drawing near. She peeked over his shoulder, clutching it. “Please, say something! Where are we going? Where are you taking me?!”
With his hands trembling, Matthew finally shoved his key into the ignition. The darn thing quickly roared to life. He quickly stepped on the gas, glancing briefly over his other shoulder as he turned the wheels around and as it screeched and burned rubber on the rubble, they quickly sped out on the main road, heading to the unknown.
“He won’t hurt us again, Maria.” He finally spoke, quickly glancing on her, before turning back his attention on the road. “He wouldn’t beat you up any more, he wouldn’t torment me anymore-he…you DON’T need him to survive!”
What are you doing Matthew Williams? Where will you hide, where will you go? Why do you have to bring the girl?
Shut up, shut up! He gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate on the road, forcing the reality out of his head. He felt the hair on his back prickle, as Maria’s small hand reached out and squeezed him worriedly on the shoulder.
He does not deserve her. He does not deserve anybody. He has taken everyone else for granted. It had to stop.
“T-torment you? Why?”
“It’s a long story!”
“Then tell me!” she cried frantically, “We have gone this far and heading to god knows where, t-there is no turning back now!”
She said ‘we’.
She could put the blame on him for dragging her into this mess, yet she didn’t.
“Maria, please…”
She sees the man she hoped and that she can never have.
She loved Al Jones, a one-sided love borne out of desperation and need. She sees him as his hero, but he never really loved her. She was nothing but a mere necessity for him; an asset on his business and Matthew is always the one to painfully witness that. He was there for her when his brother was too busy to care and there she was wishing how Alfred could be more like him.
She does not have to say it, but he knows. Alfred will always hold a special place in her heart, no matter what. She owes him her life, regardless on how he treats her.
But he is going to change that.
“The hero always gets the girl, brother.” Alfred will always drill on him every time they are at the shooting range. “Nothing will come out of playing nice. History recognized heroes and heroes are the one who defied the rules to make them.”
Nice guys don’t finish last, Alfred F. Jones. Not all the time.
With one hand on the wheel, he turned around slightly towards Maria. It was dreadfully quiet on the road, which makes him wonder if he either lost them or something even more terrifying awaits them if they ever stop.
He does not want to stop, he does not want this moment to end. He and Maria. Free.
She started to break down and cry.
“Everything is going to be alright.” He reassured her, “Shh…there now…just hold on.”
He is going to defy everybody.
He is going to make history.
For both of their sake, he is going to be a hero.
THE END
I think ._. shut up muse, let me finish my other pending titles.
GOD I MISS WRITING THESE TWO SOO MUCH ;w; You know what else? I referenced some of the terms and violence in IRL umm...criminals. Like Matthew quoting in his mind about the brains seeping out. I happen to like reading criminal biographies and all the notorious crimes/scandals that happened from god knows when till the present 8D This was finished a week ago but I keep on re-proofing and changing and adding scenarios until ahh my little malicious heart is content and I can't see well anymore...adjfkhjsdhkjh actually I want to write them in a level so twisted similar to the story that inspired Quentin Tarantino/Oliver Stone's classic: Natural Born Killers.
Now to tweak 1762 doujin fic because DAMN that's what I'm supposed to be doing.
I MIGHT make a spin off when I start getting more stressed than usual heh 8D Might.
Don Carriedo's Drug Cartel and his pedophile tendecies with his children. Ahh.
We need more piri-inclined APH mafia fics. for srs.
ALSO A RANDOM FACT: In Russia, sometimes they pay their employees not with money but with TISSUE PAPERS..or tissue rolls.
Norwegians makes the best stay at home-housemen...Australia being the LEAST
Just saying, because if I post it, it might be considered spam again XD
ONESHOT ~~~\o\!
Listening to lounge or slow jazz while reading this will make it more awesome /shot
Title: Lonely Hearts
Author: silentside
Characters: Alfred x OC!Fem!Piri x Matthew (and other cameos)
Warning: OCness. Speed typed (unbetad), AU setting (APH Mafia). Inspired as I re-watched “Public Enemies” (Johnny-chan! /shot) and some violence. Can anyone guess where the title comes from?
Summary:
They never were his adversaries. He tried to explain it to them even if there is already a gun pressed against his head. “I’m not Alfred F. Jones! Don’t shoot me!”
He is a fool if he thinks they'll listen.
It leaves him with no option: In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
---
Being mistaken as Alfred F. Jones has always been a liability to Matthew. How many times have he been caught in a shoot out? Several botched assassination attempts? All because of Al Jones. And yet he accompanies him, albeit begrudgingly, everywhere he goes. He was like his shadow, a mirror reflection of that despicable bastard and yet ironically, everyone barely notices him when he is actually around--"Matthew, who?"
Al will always laugh it out, saying how he is his 'hat'. It was like saying he means nothing more to him but that of a mere accessory. He is more than his bloody hat, he is bigger and 'above' him in a way that, if the world is a prison, he will be his bitch. In those dark times when he is left to his own devices, thanks to his brother-Matthew Williams learned to fight back and defend himself from the enemy, fending those numerous attempts on his life that are all meant for Jones.
They never were his adversaries. He tried to explain it to them even if there is already a gun pressed against his head. “I’m not Alfred F. Jones! Don’t shoot me!”
He is a fool if he thinks they'll listen.
It leaves him with no option: In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
Hot warm tears streamed down to his cheeks, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he beats the attacker viciously with his hockey stick-a sport of his favorite past time that have become his ‘accidental’ choice of weapon as of late. He kept hitting him until he heard the sickening sound of the skull cracking wide open, the pained screams gradually fading away to blood-choking gasps until there is nothing, absolutely nothing, but dead silence.
He felt the tight grip on his leg slowly loosening up and eventually the attacker stopped moving.
Brains are coming out of his ears, he cannot be any deader-and when the gruesome reality finally sank in, the blonde quickly ran to the nearest corner and threw up. He started to cry. He swallowed hard-this is not the time to think about what he feels about the situation, he have to ‘clean up’ before anyone else sees him.
Besides, nobody knows the brutality he is capable of if the need arises. Nobody expected acts of violence from a soft-spoken and polite Matthew.
There are times he wished he could simply leave his mess around and it will be all blamed on Alfred-
But it’s not going to be easy.
"They say still waters runs deep--and you know what that means, Kuya?" she chirped. “I’m very certain you are very interesting once you get out that shell of yours!”
Matthew Williams looked up from his mug of beer, for a moment he forgot he is in a dimly lit smoke-filled nightclub, 2-stars, not exactly one of the best spots in the district. It’s called Pearl of the Orient. Alfred and the rest of the Big Eight, him included-always frequent the place and despite its below-average appeal, it has grown to be an infamously popular attraction.
Alfred claims he can never have enough of the place’s charm-but everyone knows it’s because of Maria. How many times does he hums the tune “Manila-I keep coming back to Manila” much to their 'Dad's' Arthur Kirkland’s irritation. He knows why. Maria is a gracious hostess, whatever Alfred wants; she gives it to him-no question asked. She always eagerly awaits him, bearing all smiles.
They have a dysfunctional romantic history together, Alfred and Maria. Too complex even for Matthew Williams to untangle and comprehend. She was nobody’s girl and yet her brothers scorned her for being a whore: the men in her lives took advantage of her, the dramatic events that unfolded during the years she struggled for her freedom---everything that defined her up to this moment. He have researched every possible detail on Maria’s background during his spare time-and from there he developed a deeper understanding on her constant need to be with Jones and at the same time, how she intimidates him. Anyone who makes a fool of his brother is good in his book, and it nearly made him cry and laugh at the same time when she fooled Alfred with her poisonous ‘I love you’ packages. That bastard will just take about anything without caution. Now, Matthew never felt such great admiration for the small, complex yet feisty woman who can put up with him.
Matt tried patching up the relevant information with vague series of events that he witnessed while ‘unfortunately’ in Alfred’s company. There are times he will simply drop by her place during territory disputes, ‘his home base’ as he calls it, to get some well-hidden arsenals, change to some clean clothes-restock and refuel, leaving her confused if that’s all she meant to him. He will seal her doubts however by sweetening the deal with a kiss-enough to make her knees tremble and he will hoarsely whisper to her ear about promises such as protection and financial aid if any of ‘her brothers from the other side’ tries to hurt her.
But they were never her adversaries.
Goddamn it, Alfred.
He recalls another event-they were arguing, she refused to sign something for him. He wanted her place. She refused. They shouted. He hit her hard so hard that Matthew heard something crack. He wants to run towards her aid, but he knew better than to get involved with Alfred’s personal issues. Few minutes later, he apologized…they kissed and made up-or at least that’s what Matthew saw before he felt his stomach lurch. He is such a bastard, treating her like that-taking advantage of her trusting nature.
But in the end, Maria made up her mind and forced Alfred to leave.
“She can never live without me, you’ll see.” He said cockily as he lights up a cigarette, Matthew grimaced beside him. “I will always keep coming back to Manila.” And he will go on endlessly, how he will profit from her resources as long as there is chaos going in her district-in exchange for ‘protection’ he will look out for her ‘best interest’.
He puffed out a long smoke line. “I will probably have to put that on paper. It’s going to be a formal agreement. Whadya think, Mattie?”
He hated it when he calls him Mattie.
Alfred will always eerily hum to his favorite tune every time they drop by at the club. The quiet blonde will then clench his fists so tight that his palms will grow red. How can you do this to her, Alfred? She is nothing but nice to you. She sees you as her hero!
He felt so sorry for her that he starts to forget his own pain.
“How can you even take it, Maria?” he answered her absentmindedly, lifting his weary amethyst gaze to meet hers. “After all that you have been through---”
And there she stared back to him, having no clue whatsoever on what he is talking about. It was then she glanced down to his table, she suddenly starts apologizing that she didn’t serve him his favorite dish. After all, beer and pancakes with maple syrup does not mix-it worries her it will give him tummy aches.
He held both of her hands, cupping them to his own and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry that you misunderstood.” He smiled bitterly. “I just want to know, are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry I can’t provide you the goods that you need, Kuya!” she apologized again. Business is not faring well with her lately, thanks to the dry weather; she can’t provide him the food rations he will need to prepare for the cold months to come. “I hope you are not disappointed with me. I really did try.”
Stop apologizing Maria, I’m not Alfred- I…
Matthew fished out his wallet and looking around cautiously, slips a roll of folded money quickly to her palm.
“But, I told you---I can’t!”
He held on her hands tight, squeezing them firmly. “Maria, this is not about the rations. You can keep it, you needed it more than I do. You have provided me well, and let me do this for you in return.”
Embarrassed, she took a quick look around her place. It’s in a bad need of repairs. She tried to keep it presentable in every best way she could-after all, Alfred constantly drops by to visit her. His presence alone attracts other customers. But his presence never gives her what she needs.
Maria tried to fight back tears and forced an uneasy laugh. “You are always so kind to me. Kuya Matthew.”
“It’s really nothing, Maria.” He whispered, slowly releasing her hands. They were calloused and rough, having been so overworked just to make ends meet. She is trying to be strong.
He then stood up, this time taking out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Matthew moved closer to her, tipping her chin lightly towards him so he can see her face clearer in the dimly lit bar. She gasped, wondering what he will do-and gradually relaxed when he gently starts dabbing her tears away.
“No, it’s not nothing-“ she continued, “There is a time when-I really cannot keep up with the costs and I have to evict my sister’s people out of my place…you took them in.”
“Y-yes I do.” He stammered,
“Then recently, the flood-I heard you are pulling some strings to speed up some paper works so my people can get well-paying jobs in your place.”
“It’s the least I can do -“
She stomped her foot that made Matthew jump back a little, it was then Maria gently pushed herself away from him-they are already getting too close for comfort. “Matthew Williams.” She smiled, slowly gaining her confidence back. “Why do you always underestimate your own abilities?”
“I-I do not!”
“You are being way too polite for your own good!” she pouted, placing both hands firmly on her dainty waist, looking up at him. “Every good deed counts, Kuya! No matter how big or small-it’s the thought that matters. Take pride on what you do!”
He chuckled softly, stroking a loose strand of hair from her cheek. It’s amazing that the same woman who was almost near-tears few minutes ago is now lecturing him on confidence and pride.
“Pride-“ Matthew said softly, managing another smile. “-I wish you can rub off some of your well-known nation’s pride on me, Maria.”
“Y-you just need to be a little more aggressive on things, Kuya Matthew.” she replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at his touch: His fingers are still tangled loosely on the strands of her lose hair near her cheek. “You know just like-“
“I’m not like my stupid brother. He does not define me…” He cuts off, his expression suddenly turning dour. His sweaty palm still lingers on her cheek, until he tipped one finger underneath her chin. He is trying to make her look at him-as if trying to ingrain in her memory how he looks like, as every one else he knows-always forgets.
I’m not Alfred Jones, please don’t shoot me!
“-he does not define me, Maria.”
Matthew was briefly lost at the moment. Oh god, now he wants to mentally kick himself. Maria didn’t mean to and there she was staring at him with her terrified doe-shaped eyes, fearing she have offended him. Despite the constant abuse and the dysfunctional relationship -Alfred F. Jones will always be her hero. She does not know how he terribly hated being compared to his likeness.
He tried to patch it up quickly, “I don’t mean to scold you, y-you didn’t know. I’m sorry…”
She closed her eyes upon reflex, half-expecting that he will hit her-and not those kind re-assuring words. It was then Matthew noticed a small tender bruising just along her jaw line, he didn’t realize he was touching it.
“He did this to you again, didn’t he?”
She opened her eyes, but avoided his searching look. His resemblance with Alfred is so uncanny, and with the club’s lighting, it’s hard to define the other with the only thing that separates them both: color of their eyes. Matthew’s eyes are near purple and when he speaks, he sounds nothing like his brother.
“It’s my fault Kuya, it’s nothing!” she smiled bitterly, gently pushing his hand away. Again, they are getting too close for comfort. “I get a little too emotional as always, I always forget he is a busy man-he got the whole world to look after.”
Well yes, to do his dirty job.
“You don’t have to put up with him.”
She had nothing but praises towards Alfred-at least most of the time. Matthew wonders if this is because he constantly monitors her activities, watching her every move through other people, mostly through his peers. It has been that way ever since she got talked into signing that stupid agreement.
But never with him, Matthew was always neutral and Alfred does not give a damn on what he does. It was a good thing he lack that kind of aggressiveness and it works as an advantage to him in some way, as the blue-eyed devil never suspects a thing if he shares a conversation with his favorite girl. He even joked once that maybe Maria’s exceptionally friendly demeanor around him is caused by the fact he resembled him so much: Blonde hair, near-identical eye glasses and having almost the same build.
“You got no chance with my girl, Mattie.” He remarked once, while watching a cabaret act on the small stage. “She looks at you and it’s all ME that she’ll always remember.”
“She can tell us apart, Alfred. Don’t you even know that?”
“Huh, really? When I freed her from that Spanish bastard she calls every blonde as ‘Joe’-took her several years to tell apart Caucasians. I can’t blame her, father is insanely possessive and kept her locked up most of the time.”
“Well, I’m glad she knows now.”
“Heh, is that a smile I’m seeing on your face, brother?”
“I’m happy for her, okay?“
“And damn lucky. It probably feels good to be mistaken as me for once without fearing someone will kill you.”
He shot him a cold hard glare. Alfred ignored him.
“Mattie, you know what she sees in you?”
“Yes, yes. YOU told me already. I’m not deaf. She sees me, she sees you.”
“She sees the man she hoped and that she can never have.”
“Alfred-“
He wasn’t paying slightest attention to Matthew as he talks, as usual. Alfred is still watching the act, bringing a glass of whiskey near his lips. He is clearly enjoying the view from below as the scantly clad dancers performs their number.
“She wants a nicer less awesome me and you fit the bill perfectly.” He continued, drinking his whiskey. “That’s a groovy idea, Matt! You can be my substitute, my mini me. I have a reputation to uphold after all!”
“Bastard.”
“-and you are welcome~!”
Matthew Williams knows damn well that Maria never treats him as Alfred’s substitute. She hardly mentions him when they talk and she never EVER mistook him as his brother. But without a doubt, he still reminds her of him, and just like him, she thought he is going to hit her after saying words he don’t want to hear.
“I need him, Kuya Matthew.” She continued, “They call me his whore. I know you have heard of it a number of times--I’m already used to it. But I really don’t have a choice--”
It leaves him with no option.
“-I need him to survive.”
In this kind of business if he wants to survive he have to remember: Kill or be killed.
“You just don’t know it Kuya Matthew, but you are just as great as your brother if you allow yourself to be. You have an advantage, at least you have choices--”
He held on her once again, cupping his hands on her small face. He is determined to tell her-but she knew little of the dilemma he live painfully by, the nerve-wracking guilt, the blood on his hands that are all not meant for him. His only crime is being mistaken and being associated with that bastard who single-handedly took down Carriedo's drug empire. The same bastard who freed Maria from his abusive clutches.
But Maria traded one prison for another. She never knew real freedom, as he himself never knew a moment of peace of mind. All because of Alfred F. Jones.
They were both victims of his devices.
You have an advantage, at least you have choices--
He opened his mouth, words barely forming out when suddenly from nowhere Arthur Kirkland materialized from the adjoining lounge room.
“Oh pollocks! How did you get here so fast?”
Maria jumped back a little but Matthew still held on her. “Dad!” He muttered frustratingly, lifting his hat a notch above from his forehead-revealing his disappointed amethyst gaze. “I’m not Alfred.”
“Ah, Matthew.” Arthur lifted both brows, it seems he have forgotten about Matthew again. “Your brother needs Maria to sing onstage, he wants her up there right now, pronto.”
“She is still busy attending other customers!” he snapped, Maria is not properly dressed up: She is wearing a greasy apron and her loose long hair is tied up shabbily into a ponytail. With the lack of manpower, she was forced to multi-task around her place. Alfred knows about her plight and still he does nothing to help out. He is just an additional burden to look after. “Someone is still performing onstage, can’t he wait?!”
Arthur frowned, he does not need to say anything for them to understand what he is thinking right now: He just gave both of them a long disapproving glare.
As if she have read his mind, Maria blushed deeply and tried to turn away. She knew what it meant. Matthew was about to say something but Arthur turned his back around, “Just get her up there, do something. Prep her up, I don’t know. This won’t be over until that lady sings.”
“I-I will be there in a minute, Kuya Arthur! Tell Kuya Alfred not to worry!”
“Maria-“
“Good because it won’t be nice if you keep that brat waiting, just hurry up.”
Arthur has already walked back to the lounge room, but Matthew still held on her. Few minutes have already passed. He was lost into his deep thoughts once more.
“Kuya, you can let go of me now.” she gasped, facing him. They are so close she can smell the faint scent of earth and maple emanating from his suit. “If he sees us--”
“No, he won’t. Maria--“ the warm tone in his voice shifted. It was more forceful. “Look at me.”
There is something strange the way Matthew looks down on her, it’s his eyes-they look determined. “Y-yes?”
"They say still waters runs deep--and you know what that means, Kuya?" she chirped. “I’m very certain you are very interesting once you get out that shell of yours!”
“I made my choice.”
“That’s nice, but--”
“He won’t hurt you again.”
Maria’s eyes widened and without saying a word, Matthew swings down one arm and scooped her up from the floor.
“Kuya!” she cried, “What are you doing?!”
He didn’t respond and was about to turn around at the nearest exit, when she looked over his shoulder and saw Arthur come out again. From there, everything in the room starts to spin: The Englishman angrily demanded to know what’s going on and tried placating Matthew: instructing him calmly to put her down. Alfred followed suit, equally as surprised and just as furious-but tried to laugh it out, after all, he knows his brother well enough not to have no balls to run away with his favorite. Matthew never goes against anybody’s orders, this is the first time he certainly had-and Maria watched nervously as his eyes darted around in panic. She can feel his arms trembling.
“You…you don’t have to do this.” She gasped, her voice was barely above a whisper, as she buried her face on his chest.
It scares her that Matthew is still not saying a single word.
“What are you going to do, Mattie? You can’t take her anywhere.” Alfred laughed, his voice tinted with reigned in anger-he is suppressing the urge to lounge forward and beat up his brother.
“Shit, you are even trembling!”
Thinking fast, he shifted Maria’s weight over one shoulder, supporting her with one arm briefly as he quickly drew his gun with his other free hand. He pointed it first at Alfred, who waved both palms playfully in the air. The bastard thinks he is still joking, just as he predicted he would be. He wouldn’t be able to draw his guns quickly as he acts like a monkey and using that as a diversion, Matthew pointed at the ceiling and fired a couple of rounds-activating the fire alarm and setting the sprinklers off.
Matthew Williams didn’t spare a single moment to waste. As the water came pouring down drowning the surprised shouts and angry voices of his comrades, he held Maria with both arms once more. He turned around, dropped his gun and flees towards the nearest fire exit. Fortunately for him, it’s just few feet behind them.
Pushing the door wide open, he headed towards his vehicle and quickly settled Maria at the back seat. He saw a couple of familiar faces, one of them his Papa’s-and yet no one made an attempt to stop him.
They all probably thought he is Alfred.
But before he flung himself on the driver’s seat, his Papa, Francis Bonnefoy, winked at him.
“Where are we going, Kuya Matthew?” Maria found her voice again, she can already hear several heavy footsteps drawing near. She peeked over his shoulder, clutching it. “Please, say something! Where are we going? Where are you taking me?!”
With his hands trembling, Matthew finally shoved his key into the ignition. The darn thing quickly roared to life. He quickly stepped on the gas, glancing briefly over his other shoulder as he turned the wheels around and as it screeched and burned rubber on the rubble, they quickly sped out on the main road, heading to the unknown.
“He won’t hurt us again, Maria.” He finally spoke, quickly glancing on her, before turning back his attention on the road. “He wouldn’t beat you up any more, he wouldn’t torment me anymore-he…you DON’T need him to survive!”
What are you doing Matthew Williams? Where will you hide, where will you go? Why do you have to bring the girl?
Shut up, shut up! He gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate on the road, forcing the reality out of his head. He felt the hair on his back prickle, as Maria’s small hand reached out and squeezed him worriedly on the shoulder.
He does not deserve her. He does not deserve anybody. He has taken everyone else for granted. It had to stop.
“T-torment you? Why?”
“It’s a long story!”
“Then tell me!” she cried frantically, “We have gone this far and heading to god knows where, t-there is no turning back now!”
She said ‘we’.
She could put the blame on him for dragging her into this mess, yet she didn’t.
“Maria, please…”
She sees the man she hoped and that she can never have.
She loved Al Jones, a one-sided love borne out of desperation and need. She sees him as his hero, but he never really loved her. She was nothing but a mere necessity for him; an asset on his business and Matthew is always the one to painfully witness that. He was there for her when his brother was too busy to care and there she was wishing how Alfred could be more like him.
She does not have to say it, but he knows. Alfred will always hold a special place in her heart, no matter what. She owes him her life, regardless on how he treats her.
But he is going to change that.
“The hero always gets the girl, brother.” Alfred will always drill on him every time they are at the shooting range. “Nothing will come out of playing nice. History recognized heroes and heroes are the one who defied the rules to make them.”
Nice guys don’t finish last, Alfred F. Jones. Not all the time.
With one hand on the wheel, he turned around slightly towards Maria. It was dreadfully quiet on the road, which makes him wonder if he either lost them or something even more terrifying awaits them if they ever stop.
He does not want to stop, he does not want this moment to end. He and Maria. Free.
She started to break down and cry.
“Everything is going to be alright.” He reassured her, “Shh…there now…just hold on.”
He is going to defy everybody.
He is going to make history.
For both of their sake, he is going to be a hero.
THE END
I think ._. shut up muse, let me finish my other pending titles.
GOD I MISS WRITING THESE TWO SOO MUCH ;w; You know what else? I referenced some of the terms and violence in IRL umm...criminals. Like Matthew quoting in his mind about the brains seeping out. I happen to like reading criminal biographies and all the notorious crimes/scandals that happened from god knows when till the present 8D This was finished a week ago but I keep on re-proofing and changing and adding scenarios until ahh my little malicious heart is content and I can't see well anymore...adjfkhjsdhkjh actually I want to write them in a level so twisted similar to the story that inspired Quentin Tarantino/Oliver Stone's classic: Natural Born Killers.
Now to tweak 1762 doujin fic because DAMN that's what I'm supposed to be doing.
I MIGHT make a spin off when I start getting more stressed than usual heh 8D Might.
Don Carriedo's Drug Cartel and his pedophile tendecies with his children. Ahh.
We need more piri-inclined APH mafia fics. for srs.
ALSO A RANDOM FACT: In Russia, sometimes they pay their employees not with money but with TISSUE PAPERS..or tissue rolls.
Norwegians makes the best stay at home-housemen...Australia being the LEAST
Just saying, because if I post it, it might be considered spam again XD