[APH] The Six Degrees of Separation (2nd° Part 3)
Title: The Six Degrees of Separation
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters: Greece, Egypt, Japan, Turkey, France, England, America, Canada, Finland, Sweden, Sealand, North and South Italy, Russia, Germany, Prussia, Spain, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, China, South Korea
Pairings: France/England, Spain/South Italy, Germany/North Italy, Lithuania/Poland, Turkey/Japan, Finland/Sweden
Genre/Rating/Warnings: friendship, romance, drama, family/PG/AU, human names, shifting POVs, language shifts (which I really hope people won’t get confused by)
Summary/Excerpt: The Six Degrees of Separation is the idea that everyone in this world is connected by at most six people. It’s an empowering, intimidating thought to know that the world can be shrunk within just one city and that lives begin to affect one another as people converge and intersect. Our story begins with a pair of brothers who manage a fruit shake stand in Dotombori, Osaka and bear witness to different fates being drawn together from all over the globe.
Prologue | 1st° Part 1 | 1st° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 1 | 2nd° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 3
3rd° | 4th° | 5th° | 6th° | Epilogue
In this installment: Things go well for the dancing pair. But Arthur's word is law, it seems, and the children don't understand why they can't see Francis anymore.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Second Degree (Part 3)
♠ ready steady go
Antonio sighed. “Do you usually go home this late? …on foot?” He glanced at his watching, reading 10.57pm.
Francis shrugged. “I take the train myself when I don’t meet them.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t join him on the commute home, you live in the same direction.”
“It looks wrong on the train,” Francis said. “Besides, even if the children wouldn’t mind, Arthur might not be comfortable with it. Besides, I can walk this distance just fine. Gives me time to think.”
Antonio sniffed disapprovingly. “I’d call you crazy, amigo. If I’m going to have to walk two station’s worth of distance with you everyday then I’d better patch things up with Lovino fast. But seriously, what was with you two during dinner?”
Francis sighed. “Look, I didn’t realize Arthur wasn’t comfortable talking about homosexuality in general until you told him about your relationship with Lovino.”
Antonio frowned, getting the picture but not quite there yet. “What, so he isn’t gay?”
“No,” Francis replied awkwardly, as if voicing this truth physically hurt him. “God, the man got divorced in less than three months ago and he has kids!” Just his luck that he was attracted to a man who only saw him as a friend and nothing more. It made Francis’ chest feel heavy.
Antonio watched him steam out his annoyance. They traversed Shinsaibashi-suji in silence. Most of the stores had already closed and the restaurants were taking out their trash. A few people walked past them, having bought last minute necessities from the nearby AM/PM or were ambling home in a drunken stupor. Groups of employees and co-workers gaily called their goodbyes as they parted ways for the night, voices echoing within the roofed street. Bits of trash rolled here and there. A bicycle whizzed by.
“You like him,” Antonio stated after some time of walking.
“I do,” Francis said simply.
The Spaniard smiled. In all the years he’s known the man, he never had any serious interest in men or women he dated. He seemed to float aimlessly through smiles and parties like a beautiful hedonist you couldn’t touch or grasp. Antonio figured Francis didn’t want any sort of commitment in his life other than baking, and so the interest in this Arthur person must be real. He was impressed.
“Hey Francis, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?” Antonio asked cheerfully as they approached Fruit Blends, the only ridiculously bright light in the street and perhaps the only establishment open at this hour. They gravitated toward it.
“That’s my line-“ Francis began with a smirk when a yell-a bad-sounding manly yell-pierced the night air.
♠ it's magic, you'll see
“Those customers?” Hassan asked quietly, pointing to the opposite ends of Dotombori, where two parties were heading toward each other. He couldn’t make out their faces just yet but their voices could already be heard.
Herakles glanced at the clock and saw 11.18pm before curiously peeking over the counter to look. “Hey, I think it’s those two tourists we helped today…and…Lovino Vargas?”
“I told you they looked alike,” Hassan said while Herakles looked to the other side, squinting.
“The ones coming from the other end is that handsome French guy we saw the other day and…another foreigner,” he replied, mildly amused by all of this than anything else.
The brothers watched as the two companies moved toward each other like opposing factions charging in war. They wondered how long it would take for either group to notice who they were running into. Lovino Vargas looked up from his conversation with the two tourists and his eyes widened almost comically. Pointing like he’d seen a ghost, he emitted an ‘Aaaah!’ so loud, it could’ve roused the entirety of Osaka.
The Frenchman and his foreigner friend froze at the sight of him before the latter too yelled and hid behind the former. The tourists simply stared.
“You-” Lovino made toward the foreigner with a fist raised and his friend dully stepped aside. “-BASTARD!” he roared and all but punched him.
“Ve~!” one of the tourists said happily. “They’ve made up now!”
Herakles and Hassan exchanged surprised looks and continued to watch the scene with highly amused interest. The blond one of the tourists sighed and massaged his temples as his happy brown-haired partner bounced with barely contained glee. The Frenchman and Lovino roughly yanked their injured friend on his feet.
“You alright, Tonio?” the former asked him. His friend stood shakily and held his swelling cheek.
He laughed at the utter fury on Lovino’s face. “I’m…I’m fine, Francis. Thank you.” Tears of pain and joy rolled down his cheeks. “Ah, I see a tomato again.”
Lovino geared up to punch him again but stopped halfway, expression crumbling into one of utter helplessness. “You bastard,” he said again, sounding like an abandoned child. The man wrapped his arms about him in nothing like a simple brotherly embrace and whispered what seemed like endearments into his hair. Sure enough, Lovino buried his face in the other’s neck and gripped his shirt tightly, body wracked with suppressed sobs.
Herakles coughed.
“Ah! Good evening, ve~” Feliciano turned and greeted. “Thanks for helping us earlier!”
“It’s fine,” Herakles answered, smiling. “Um, how may we help you?”
“Ludwig, I want a watermelon melon shake,” he said, shaking his partner’s arm.
“Didn’t you have watermelon a while ago? Order something properly!” Ludwig said.
“But ve~” Feliciano whined. “The watermelon’s really good.”
“We have a shipment of jackfruits,” Herakles suggested. “Would you like to try them out?”
At this, the man brightened. “Alright, two orders then,”Ludwig said and turned to Francis. “Getting anything?”
“Aah, of course. Are you paying?” he asked with a wink and Ludwig rolled his eyes but said nothing more. “Merci, cher! You’ve always been sweet that way. Let’s see, I’ll have orange and pomegranate.”
Herakles punched the items in as Hassan made their drinks. He coughed again and gestured to Lovino and Antonio conversing, or rather explaining themselves to each other in hushed, rapid (and somewhat angry on Lovino’s part) Spanish.
“Will…will they be getting anything?”
“Oi,” Francis called, making the pair turn. “Order up!”
Lovino caught Herakles’ eye and gave a disconcerted wave in greeting, replying. “Just the usual. Make it two,” and returned to his conversation. Herakles waved back and nodded.
“So…are you on vacation?” he asked Feliciano conversationally.
“Ve~! We’re here to visit my brother…and my brother’s friend…and Francis,” he said cheerfully.
“Your brother,” the cashier repeated, nodding in understanding before turning to Francis. “You three live here?”
“I work in Namba,” he replied. “But yes, I do live around Shinsaibashi. My dear friend who just got mauled by your acquaintance actually lives and works in Kobe.”
“In the Carriedo School of Latin Dance?” Herakles asked, handing out their drinks to Ludwig and the others.
“How do you know?” Francis asked bemusedly as he took his own drink.
“We’ve talked with Lovino Vargas once or twice. His bar is just down the street. It makes great pasta,” the cashier said simply.
“Ve~! Brother says you’ve talked too!” Feliciano said while Ludwig paid the bill. “Is it true you make good pizza?” His partner shushed him while Herakles and Hassan exchanged looks.
“It’s…it’s a home recipe,” the former began. “From where we come from so it’s nothing much.”
“Oh but it must be lovely,” Feliciano gushed. “Brother says he loved your cooking and he rarely says that to anyone. He’s picky with his food, you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Francis said. “We must be keeping you from closing. Do you always close this late? I remember the last time I passed by here, your store was the only one open.”
Herakles waved the concern aside. “It’s perfectly alright, as long as there are still customers.”
“But we do have to be going,” Ludwig told his companions pointedly. He stared at the two unclaimed fruit shakes on the counter and frowned. “Um…”
“Ve~ I’ll get brother’s shake. Here, you take Antonio’s.”
“Thanks again,” Francis said as the party began walking away with Antonio and Lovino still in deep conversation. Feliciano waved a goodbye and Herakles returned it, watching as they turned a corner and disappeared from sight. He then wordlessly helped his brother dry the washed blenders, not knowing what to make of the night’s events.
“Doesn’t feel like Japan at times,” Hassan remarked and they shared a chuckle.
♠ a heart of stone
Arthur dropped his children off at S-preschool at 6.30am.
“Good morning Arthur-san,” Kiku greeted, bowing.
“Oh, good morning Kiku,” the businessman replied, quick and brusque like his crisp corporal attire. “Well then, I must be off,” he said and turned to the waiting car parked in front. Sadiq sat on the driver’s seat. He waved goodbye from the window before rolling it up and speeding off.
“Eh?” was all Kiku could manage when Alfred and Matthew didn’t even wait till the car was out of sight before trudging into the classroom looking frighteningly small.
There was still half an hour to go before the summer class began and he hastened toward the boys who were already dumping their bags by their usual table, taking out workbooks and patiently waiting for the day to start.
“Um…” Kiku began and the children looked at him curiously. Oh he knew he shouldn’t pry but something was just wrong, he couldn’t sit there and do nothing about it. “Did…did something happened?” he asked quietly.
“Dad made us lunch,” Alfred grumbled, taking out a something wrapped in foil from his bag.
“Is not that good?” their teacher asked.
“He burnt it. Again,” the boy continued forlornly. “He always always burns everything he cooks. We…we never said anything before b-but just this once we told him Francis cooked better and he got really mad. Really really mad…”
Matthew looked close to tears. “We…we miss Francis,” he said softly as if scared his father might jump out from behind them and scold them all the way back to London.
Kiku was baffled. “He…he does not come anymore?”
“Not since dinner with Antonio,” Alfred said, putting an arm around his brother protectively. “It’s been three days. Daddy hasn’t been happy.”
Oh dear oh dear. Kiku stood and worriedly fidgeted about. These boys meant the world to their father, he wasn’t going to doubt that for a second. The kids would worry themselves sick over adult things and oh whatever the reason, Arthur Kirkland should conduct himself reasonably.
“I will talk to him,” Kiku reassured Alfred and Matthew. “Shall he be picking you later?”
They nodded and Kiku relaxed, making a mental note of his to-do. “Come now,” he continued. “Time for class.”
♠ not just a river in Egypt
“Are ya askin’ for overtime tonight?” Sadiq deadpanned as he snuck a peek over Arthur’s shoulder and saw that he wasn’t getting any work done The computer clock read 9.23am.
“Sadiq, what if you just realized you’ve been giving all the wrong signals to someone, or rather you don’t know he’s been misinterpreting your actions,” Arthur rambled, beginning to type furiously. “And then, I mean, he thinks you mean something when you actually don’t but you can’t give what he wants at the same time you don’t want to disappoint or let him go?”
The Turk replied with his best confused face. “…uhuh. Y’lost me somewhere.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance and whapped him on the head with a couple of print outs. “Get back to work, Kirkland. An’ listen, if y’can’t find the answer to somethin’, don’t kill y’rself over it. Makes the people around ya worry. Did y’see the looks on yer sons faces this mornin’?”
With that, Sadiq left Arthur with a lot of questions. Did he not want his kids to see Francis because being gay was contagious or was he in denial of feelings for the man that were taking root in his heart and gaining shape? He sat clenching and unclenching his fists on the computer desk, looking for anyone to blame but himself.
♠ the types of 'what is it, this feeling?'
Francis was thankful Lovino and Antonio took it upon themselves to tour Ludwig and Feliciano around Osaka despite not being quite versed in the area. He badly needed work to distract himself from the recent events and his old college friends weren’t going to help with that.
It wasn’t that the owner of Rose Bakery wasn’t thrilled to see his friends after years, but they shared a happiness Francis could barely grasp and thus felt gloomy and excluded.
Francis was sure man. Well, he should be, years of working abroad alone should guarantee that. The days he goofed off at university seemed to him like a distant dream. He had gone out with a number of ladies from his batch, even several at once, but he had broken them all off before any of them got serious. Thinking back, Francis supposed he simply never saw himself committed as opposed to being scared of it like Gilbert was. It boiled down to wondering whether he could actually love someone beyond the passive affection he had once mistaken for the real thing.
He loved, or rather, he could love. Francis loved the small homelyness of the street and residences fronting his shop. He loved shopping for ingredients in the local market whenever he had the urge to cook dinner for himself. He loved the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning and falling sakura on cold April days. He loved the sky and his patrons who secured their bread solely from him. He loved the kitchen and couldn’t imagine himself out of it.
There is passion there, but these things didn’t make his heart beat any faster, nor his throat constrict whenever he’d hear the welcome jingle of Rose Bakery and see Arthur standing breathless on the doorway, having forgotten to buy snacks for his children. They didn’t warm his stomach inexplicably whenever Alfred screamed ‘Franciiiiis!’ with utter delight and Matthew squeezed him when he’d pick them up from school. They didn’t fill his chest with painful longing and restless anxiety as he waited with the boys in the closed bakery for Arthur to get home from work. They did not overwhelm him with this cushioned jealousy and guilty contentment when he had dinner and cake with the family, sharing laughter he hadn’t asked permission for.
Taking a freshly baked batch of apple cinnamon rolls from the oven, Francis wondered what the children were eating. These rolls were Alfred’s favorite. Surely Arthur would panic-buy meals from a convenience store. Did work still trouble him? The injustice of the man’s request took time sinking in his consciousness, but they both knew full well, after that dinner with Antonio, a wall of reality fell between them.
”Francis, listen. I’ve got nothing against you and you’ve done a lot for us,” Arthur’s voice was quiet and steady, as if he had his first moment of clarity since came to Japan. “But I’ll be taking things from here. For the good of the kids, I don’t want us to be seeing each other anymore.”
Bullshit.
Francis angrily glanced at the clock. 11.42am. He was going to deliver Alfred’s and Matthew’s lunches and no one was going to stop him.
♠ rushing headlong into a beautiful abyss
It was minutes before lunch and Kiku looked distressed at the fact that Alfred and Matthew chucked their burnt foil packs in the bin with bold defiance while their classmates happily opened their bento boxes and started eating.
He was about to give them a strict reprimand when there was a knock on the classroom door. The two boys look petrified with sudden fear. For a split second, Kiku thought of running to pacify them before they erupted into bitter tears but opted for opening the door and expecting the worst.
“Kiku?”
“Francis-san!” And boy was he relieved.
The baker held out a cream white paper bag with the words Rose Bakery stamped across the front. “Co-could you give these to Alfred and Matthew? I…I just wanted to make sure they have food.”
Before Kiku could reply, a pair of small people pushed past him.
“It’s Francis!” the boys cried and hugged him.
Francis immediately gathered them in his arms and held them close, giving each a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you,” he said.
“Why?” Alfred cried. “Why doesn’t daddy want to see you anymore? Was it something we did?”
“Ssh, don’t cry cher. It was nothing you did, don't fret,” Francis said and stroked their hair. How was he going to explain the complexity of it all? “It’s…it’s because I love you. Very much.”
The children didn’t understand. Their father always told them how much he loved them. What difference did it being Francis make?
“Wh-what’s wrong with that?” Matthew sniffed resentfully.
Francis didn’t know either. “I love you and your father very much…” he repeated and hugged them tighter.
Kiku sighed heavily and announced playtime. While the children ran around, read books or slept, the trio ate their lunch on a little table like it was the last meal they’d have together.
to the Third Degree
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters: Greece, Egypt, Japan, Turkey, France, England, America, Canada, Finland, Sweden, Sealand, North and South Italy, Russia, Germany, Prussia, Spain, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, China, South Korea
Pairings: France/England, Spain/South Italy, Germany/North Italy, Lithuania/Poland, Turkey/Japan, Finland/Sweden
Genre/Rating/Warnings: friendship, romance, drama, family/PG/AU, human names, shifting POVs, language shifts (which I really hope people won’t get confused by)
Summary/Excerpt: The Six Degrees of Separation is the idea that everyone in this world is connected by at most six people. It’s an empowering, intimidating thought to know that the world can be shrunk within just one city and that lives begin to affect one another as people converge and intersect. Our story begins with a pair of brothers who manage a fruit shake stand in Dotombori, Osaka and bear witness to different fates being drawn together from all over the globe.
Prologue | 1st° Part 1 | 1st° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 1 | 2nd° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 3
3rd° | 4th° | 5th° | 6th° | Epilogue
In this installment: Things go well for the dancing pair. But Arthur's word is law, it seems, and the children don't understand why they can't see Francis anymore.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Second Degree (Part 3)
♠ ready steady go
Antonio sighed. “Do you usually go home this late? …on foot?” He glanced at his watching, reading 10.57pm.
Francis shrugged. “I take the train myself when I don’t meet them.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t join him on the commute home, you live in the same direction.”
“It looks wrong on the train,” Francis said. “Besides, even if the children wouldn’t mind, Arthur might not be comfortable with it. Besides, I can walk this distance just fine. Gives me time to think.”
Antonio sniffed disapprovingly. “I’d call you crazy, amigo. If I’m going to have to walk two station’s worth of distance with you everyday then I’d better patch things up with Lovino fast. But seriously, what was with you two during dinner?”
Francis sighed. “Look, I didn’t realize Arthur wasn’t comfortable talking about homosexuality in general until you told him about your relationship with Lovino.”
Antonio frowned, getting the picture but not quite there yet. “What, so he isn’t gay?”
“No,” Francis replied awkwardly, as if voicing this truth physically hurt him. “God, the man got divorced in less than three months ago and he has kids!” Just his luck that he was attracted to a man who only saw him as a friend and nothing more. It made Francis’ chest feel heavy.
Antonio watched him steam out his annoyance. They traversed Shinsaibashi-suji in silence. Most of the stores had already closed and the restaurants were taking out their trash. A few people walked past them, having bought last minute necessities from the nearby AM/PM or were ambling home in a drunken stupor. Groups of employees and co-workers gaily called their goodbyes as they parted ways for the night, voices echoing within the roofed street. Bits of trash rolled here and there. A bicycle whizzed by.
“You like him,” Antonio stated after some time of walking.
“I do,” Francis said simply.
The Spaniard smiled. In all the years he’s known the man, he never had any serious interest in men or women he dated. He seemed to float aimlessly through smiles and parties like a beautiful hedonist you couldn’t touch or grasp. Antonio figured Francis didn’t want any sort of commitment in his life other than baking, and so the interest in this Arthur person must be real. He was impressed.
“Hey Francis, how long has it been since you’ve had sex?” Antonio asked cheerfully as they approached Fruit Blends, the only ridiculously bright light in the street and perhaps the only establishment open at this hour. They gravitated toward it.
“That’s my line-“ Francis began with a smirk when a yell-a bad-sounding manly yell-pierced the night air.
♠ it's magic, you'll see
“Those customers?” Hassan asked quietly, pointing to the opposite ends of Dotombori, where two parties were heading toward each other. He couldn’t make out their faces just yet but their voices could already be heard.
Herakles glanced at the clock and saw 11.18pm before curiously peeking over the counter to look. “Hey, I think it’s those two tourists we helped today…and…Lovino Vargas?”
“I told you they looked alike,” Hassan said while Herakles looked to the other side, squinting.
“The ones coming from the other end is that handsome French guy we saw the other day and…another foreigner,” he replied, mildly amused by all of this than anything else.
The brothers watched as the two companies moved toward each other like opposing factions charging in war. They wondered how long it would take for either group to notice who they were running into. Lovino Vargas looked up from his conversation with the two tourists and his eyes widened almost comically. Pointing like he’d seen a ghost, he emitted an ‘Aaaah!’ so loud, it could’ve roused the entirety of Osaka.
The Frenchman and his foreigner friend froze at the sight of him before the latter too yelled and hid behind the former. The tourists simply stared.
“You-” Lovino made toward the foreigner with a fist raised and his friend dully stepped aside. “-BASTARD!” he roared and all but punched him.
“Ve~!” one of the tourists said happily. “They’ve made up now!”
Herakles and Hassan exchanged surprised looks and continued to watch the scene with highly amused interest. The blond one of the tourists sighed and massaged his temples as his happy brown-haired partner bounced with barely contained glee. The Frenchman and Lovino roughly yanked their injured friend on his feet.
“You alright, Tonio?” the former asked him. His friend stood shakily and held his swelling cheek.
He laughed at the utter fury on Lovino’s face. “I’m…I’m fine, Francis. Thank you.” Tears of pain and joy rolled down his cheeks. “Ah, I see a tomato again.”
Lovino geared up to punch him again but stopped halfway, expression crumbling into one of utter helplessness. “You bastard,” he said again, sounding like an abandoned child. The man wrapped his arms about him in nothing like a simple brotherly embrace and whispered what seemed like endearments into his hair. Sure enough, Lovino buried his face in the other’s neck and gripped his shirt tightly, body wracked with suppressed sobs.
Herakles coughed.
“Ah! Good evening, ve~” Feliciano turned and greeted. “Thanks for helping us earlier!”
“It’s fine,” Herakles answered, smiling. “Um, how may we help you?”
“Ludwig, I want a watermelon melon shake,” he said, shaking his partner’s arm.
“Didn’t you have watermelon a while ago? Order something properly!” Ludwig said.
“But ve~” Feliciano whined. “The watermelon’s really good.”
“We have a shipment of jackfruits,” Herakles suggested. “Would you like to try them out?”
At this, the man brightened. “Alright, two orders then,”Ludwig said and turned to Francis. “Getting anything?”
“Aah, of course. Are you paying?” he asked with a wink and Ludwig rolled his eyes but said nothing more. “Merci, cher! You’ve always been sweet that way. Let’s see, I’ll have orange and pomegranate.”
Herakles punched the items in as Hassan made their drinks. He coughed again and gestured to Lovino and Antonio conversing, or rather explaining themselves to each other in hushed, rapid (and somewhat angry on Lovino’s part) Spanish.
“Will…will they be getting anything?”
“Oi,” Francis called, making the pair turn. “Order up!”
Lovino caught Herakles’ eye and gave a disconcerted wave in greeting, replying. “Just the usual. Make it two,” and returned to his conversation. Herakles waved back and nodded.
“So…are you on vacation?” he asked Feliciano conversationally.
“Ve~! We’re here to visit my brother…and my brother’s friend…and Francis,” he said cheerfully.
“Your brother,” the cashier repeated, nodding in understanding before turning to Francis. “You three live here?”
“I work in Namba,” he replied. “But yes, I do live around Shinsaibashi. My dear friend who just got mauled by your acquaintance actually lives and works in Kobe.”
“In the Carriedo School of Latin Dance?” Herakles asked, handing out their drinks to Ludwig and the others.
“How do you know?” Francis asked bemusedly as he took his own drink.
“We’ve talked with Lovino Vargas once or twice. His bar is just down the street. It makes great pasta,” the cashier said simply.
“Ve~! Brother says you’ve talked too!” Feliciano said while Ludwig paid the bill. “Is it true you make good pizza?” His partner shushed him while Herakles and Hassan exchanged looks.
“It’s…it’s a home recipe,” the former began. “From where we come from so it’s nothing much.”
“Oh but it must be lovely,” Feliciano gushed. “Brother says he loved your cooking and he rarely says that to anyone. He’s picky with his food, you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Francis said. “We must be keeping you from closing. Do you always close this late? I remember the last time I passed by here, your store was the only one open.”
Herakles waved the concern aside. “It’s perfectly alright, as long as there are still customers.”
“But we do have to be going,” Ludwig told his companions pointedly. He stared at the two unclaimed fruit shakes on the counter and frowned. “Um…”
“Ve~ I’ll get brother’s shake. Here, you take Antonio’s.”
“Thanks again,” Francis said as the party began walking away with Antonio and Lovino still in deep conversation. Feliciano waved a goodbye and Herakles returned it, watching as they turned a corner and disappeared from sight. He then wordlessly helped his brother dry the washed blenders, not knowing what to make of the night’s events.
“Doesn’t feel like Japan at times,” Hassan remarked and they shared a chuckle.
♠ a heart of stone
Arthur dropped his children off at S-preschool at 6.30am.
“Good morning Arthur-san,” Kiku greeted, bowing.
“Oh, good morning Kiku,” the businessman replied, quick and brusque like his crisp corporal attire. “Well then, I must be off,” he said and turned to the waiting car parked in front. Sadiq sat on the driver’s seat. He waved goodbye from the window before rolling it up and speeding off.
“Eh?” was all Kiku could manage when Alfred and Matthew didn’t even wait till the car was out of sight before trudging into the classroom looking frighteningly small.
There was still half an hour to go before the summer class began and he hastened toward the boys who were already dumping their bags by their usual table, taking out workbooks and patiently waiting for the day to start.
“Um…” Kiku began and the children looked at him curiously. Oh he knew he shouldn’t pry but something was just wrong, he couldn’t sit there and do nothing about it. “Did…did something happened?” he asked quietly.
“Dad made us lunch,” Alfred grumbled, taking out a something wrapped in foil from his bag.
“Is not that good?” their teacher asked.
“He burnt it. Again,” the boy continued forlornly. “He always always burns everything he cooks. We…we never said anything before b-but just this once we told him Francis cooked better and he got really mad. Really really mad…”
Matthew looked close to tears. “We…we miss Francis,” he said softly as if scared his father might jump out from behind them and scold them all the way back to London.
Kiku was baffled. “He…he does not come anymore?”
“Not since dinner with Antonio,” Alfred said, putting an arm around his brother protectively. “It’s been three days. Daddy hasn’t been happy.”
Oh dear oh dear. Kiku stood and worriedly fidgeted about. These boys meant the world to their father, he wasn’t going to doubt that for a second. The kids would worry themselves sick over adult things and oh whatever the reason, Arthur Kirkland should conduct himself reasonably.
“I will talk to him,” Kiku reassured Alfred and Matthew. “Shall he be picking you later?”
They nodded and Kiku relaxed, making a mental note of his to-do. “Come now,” he continued. “Time for class.”
♠ not just a river in Egypt
“Are ya askin’ for overtime tonight?” Sadiq deadpanned as he snuck a peek over Arthur’s shoulder and saw that he wasn’t getting any work done The computer clock read 9.23am.
“Sadiq, what if you just realized you’ve been giving all the wrong signals to someone, or rather you don’t know he’s been misinterpreting your actions,” Arthur rambled, beginning to type furiously. “And then, I mean, he thinks you mean something when you actually don’t but you can’t give what he wants at the same time you don’t want to disappoint or let him go?”
The Turk replied with his best confused face. “…uhuh. Y’lost me somewhere.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance and whapped him on the head with a couple of print outs. “Get back to work, Kirkland. An’ listen, if y’can’t find the answer to somethin’, don’t kill y’rself over it. Makes the people around ya worry. Did y’see the looks on yer sons faces this mornin’?”
With that, Sadiq left Arthur with a lot of questions. Did he not want his kids to see Francis because being gay was contagious or was he in denial of feelings for the man that were taking root in his heart and gaining shape? He sat clenching and unclenching his fists on the computer desk, looking for anyone to blame but himself.
♠ the types of 'what is it, this feeling?'
Francis was thankful Lovino and Antonio took it upon themselves to tour Ludwig and Feliciano around Osaka despite not being quite versed in the area. He badly needed work to distract himself from the recent events and his old college friends weren’t going to help with that.
It wasn’t that the owner of Rose Bakery wasn’t thrilled to see his friends after years, but they shared a happiness Francis could barely grasp and thus felt gloomy and excluded.
Francis was sure man. Well, he should be, years of working abroad alone should guarantee that. The days he goofed off at university seemed to him like a distant dream. He had gone out with a number of ladies from his batch, even several at once, but he had broken them all off before any of them got serious. Thinking back, Francis supposed he simply never saw himself committed as opposed to being scared of it like Gilbert was. It boiled down to wondering whether he could actually love someone beyond the passive affection he had once mistaken for the real thing.
He loved, or rather, he could love. Francis loved the small homelyness of the street and residences fronting his shop. He loved shopping for ingredients in the local market whenever he had the urge to cook dinner for himself. He loved the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning and falling sakura on cold April days. He loved the sky and his patrons who secured their bread solely from him. He loved the kitchen and couldn’t imagine himself out of it.
There is passion there, but these things didn’t make his heart beat any faster, nor his throat constrict whenever he’d hear the welcome jingle of Rose Bakery and see Arthur standing breathless on the doorway, having forgotten to buy snacks for his children. They didn’t warm his stomach inexplicably whenever Alfred screamed ‘Franciiiiis!’ with utter delight and Matthew squeezed him when he’d pick them up from school. They didn’t fill his chest with painful longing and restless anxiety as he waited with the boys in the closed bakery for Arthur to get home from work. They did not overwhelm him with this cushioned jealousy and guilty contentment when he had dinner and cake with the family, sharing laughter he hadn’t asked permission for.
Taking a freshly baked batch of apple cinnamon rolls from the oven, Francis wondered what the children were eating. These rolls were Alfred’s favorite. Surely Arthur would panic-buy meals from a convenience store. Did work still trouble him? The injustice of the man’s request took time sinking in his consciousness, but they both knew full well, after that dinner with Antonio, a wall of reality fell between them.
”Francis, listen. I’ve got nothing against you and you’ve done a lot for us,” Arthur’s voice was quiet and steady, as if he had his first moment of clarity since came to Japan. “But I’ll be taking things from here. For the good of the kids, I don’t want us to be seeing each other anymore.”
Bullshit.
Francis angrily glanced at the clock. 11.42am. He was going to deliver Alfred’s and Matthew’s lunches and no one was going to stop him.
♠ rushing headlong into a beautiful abyss
It was minutes before lunch and Kiku looked distressed at the fact that Alfred and Matthew chucked their burnt foil packs in the bin with bold defiance while their classmates happily opened their bento boxes and started eating.
He was about to give them a strict reprimand when there was a knock on the classroom door. The two boys look petrified with sudden fear. For a split second, Kiku thought of running to pacify them before they erupted into bitter tears but opted for opening the door and expecting the worst.
“Kiku?”
“Francis-san!” And boy was he relieved.
The baker held out a cream white paper bag with the words Rose Bakery stamped across the front. “Co-could you give these to Alfred and Matthew? I…I just wanted to make sure they have food.”
Before Kiku could reply, a pair of small people pushed past him.
“It’s Francis!” the boys cried and hugged him.
Francis immediately gathered them in his arms and held them close, giving each a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you,” he said.
“Why?” Alfred cried. “Why doesn’t daddy want to see you anymore? Was it something we did?”
“Ssh, don’t cry cher. It was nothing you did, don't fret,” Francis said and stroked their hair. How was he going to explain the complexity of it all? “It’s…it’s because I love you. Very much.”
The children didn’t understand. Their father always told them how much he loved them. What difference did it being Francis make?
“Wh-what’s wrong with that?” Matthew sniffed resentfully.
Francis didn’t know either. “I love you and your father very much…” he repeated and hugged them tighter.
Kiku sighed heavily and announced playtime. While the children ran around, read books or slept, the trio ate their lunch on a little table like it was the last meal they’d have together.
to the Third Degree