[APH] The Six Degrees of Separation (3rd°)
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: Everyone has a story to tell but not everyone can be the main character. We meet a family who gives Arthur a special push and a pair of dear friends separated by time and seas.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Third Degree
♠ and maybe love is the reason why for the first time ever, we're seeing it eye to eye
It was twelve noon when Tino Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxestierna emerged from the Osaka Castle, flushed and excited from the morning tour. Their son Peter ran ahead and down the castle steps.
“Mama!” the boy yelled, waving. “Take a picture!”
Tino burned bright red as a number of tourists and other visitors glanced at them curiously, no doubt wondering where the mama was between him and Berwald.
“Come on,” Tino urged and gently pushed Berwald toward the bouncing Peter. “Get in there, I’ll take a picture.”
His towering bespectacled husband nodded and joined the boy posed by the foot of the castle, next to a ticket line and the flower bed where a funny old man sat feeding a squirrel on his shoulder. Tino pressed the shutter on his digicam.
“Y’too,” Berwarld grunted, taking the device from his hand and pointing toward a rocky platform with an impressive view of the city.
It was a gorgeous Saturday and the Osaka Castle grounds were teeming with people-tourists, picnic goers, families and whoever else have you. Beside the large monuments, old buildings and small parks with summer flowers under green sakura trees there were people taking pictures, people walking dogs, friends and lovers on park benches, children running, children laughing and almost everyone eating.
A complex of street food kiosks stood a few twisty pathways from the actual castle. From large grill vents wafted the smoky smells of takoyaki, grilled squid and okonomiyaki. An endless multicolored cue lined the shop front.
“Sunflower Tours! Sunflower Tours!” called an elderly Japanese tour guide donned in a sea green overcoat with the logo of Sunflower Tours on the breast pocket. He waved a flag bearing the same symbol. “Sunflower Tours!”
“Ah, that’d be us,” Tino remarked and the family stopped their picture taking to return to their gathering tour group.
“Now,” began the elderly Japanese guide as soon as he saw the humble party of ten complete. “After we take a short walk through the Plum Garden, we be having lunch in Dotombori then a bit of shopping if you like then back to the hotel, okay?”
The small band of tourists murmured their assent and followed the guide as he began walking and showcasing sights with much vigor like he didn’t feel a day over thirty.
“It’s awfully hot out, “ Tino sighed contentedly and looked at the sky. He could never have asked for more perfect summer weather. “Did you like the Castle, Peter?” he asked, turning to his son and his husband who brought up the rear. The family trailed behind the rest of the group with Tino snapping pictures here and there. The tour guide’s loud voice punctuated the air.
“Y’need help?” Berwald asked and Tino jumped. After two years of marriage and more than simply living together with the quiet Swede, he still wasn’t used to the tenor of his voice.
“Ah, no I’m fine,” Tino laughed. Help with what, besides? He was already dressed in his thinnest shirt. He glanced at Berwarld’s similar clothing and blushed.
“Mama’s hot,” Peter reported and Berwald promptly went into Mama’s Welfare First mode, much to Tino’s horror.
“You brothers are really amusing,” remarked an old Russian lady touring with them. “You must be close.”
Tino laughed sheepishly, hoping his husband wouldn’t say ‘He’s m’wife’ like back in the days they’d been newlyweds. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t proud of having Berwald for a husband. They fought long and hard to get married and the happiness they found, especially when they adopted Peter, was the fruit of their labor of love. Tino knew not everyone welcomed the idea of their union and so hid it for convenience. People who mattered to them were the only ones who needed to know.
“This tour is wonderful,” the old Russian lady continued, holding onto Tino’s arm as she hobbled along. “I wish my husband were here to see this.”
Tino nodded sympathetically and Berwald offered a grunt, holding Peter’s hand as they listened to her whimsical impromptu reminiscing while looking at green plum trees.
“After he died, my son told me ‘Mother, get outta that chair and tour the world!’ could you believe that? So I told him, ‘You idiot. I’m not going anywhere without your father!’ Then you know what he did? He got a few of his savings and sent me on this tour, sweet child-“
A ringing interrupted her.
“Oh, sorry!” Tino said, pulling out his cellphone. Ivan Braginsky, said the flashing screen. “I think I have to take this. It’s our tour.”
The old lady gave a wrinkly smile. “Ivan Braginsky, is it? That’s okay, my son checks up on all his tourists, lovely boy. His sisters? Not so much.” With that, she hobbled to the front of the line once more and Berwald raised his eyebrow.
“Hello?”
“Good morning,” greeted an unusually high voice from the other line. “Mr. Väinämöinen and Mr. Oxenstierna?”
“Y-yes?” Tino replied.
“Yes, how are you liking your tour so far?” Ivan asked. Tino could hear the whir and clatter of computers in the background.
“Very much!” he replied. “Mr. Nakamura is very accommodating.”
“That’s very good to hear,” Ivan replied. “You said in your email you would like to go to a mall?”
“Mainly for Peter, but yes.”
“I have arranged for a taxi to be picking you up at your hotel after lunch. You will be heading to Namba Parks, is that alright? I will be giving you his number in a bit.”
“Yes, thank you,” Tino said.
“The guide will be meeting you there by two,” and then he hung up.
“'S that Ivan?” Berwald asked.
“Well yes, he said after lunch another guide’s going to show us around Namba Parks.”
“Parks?” Peter asked groaning. “Another one? Do we have to walk again?”
And as Berwald looked right about ready to hoist his son over his shoulders to save him from doing so, Tino laughed and said. “It’s a mall. A large one as I hear it.”
With that, Peter brightened and had a spring in his step for the rest of the tour.
♠ straight from the mouth of babes
2:14pm on a Saturday and Arthur thought he should stop checking his watch at ten minute intervals. He wasn’t in the office and no one was going to be anal about the time here in Namba Parks. Besides, he was enjoying his first absolutely stress free weekend with his kids. They had a date with the toy store to make up for his douchebaggy-ness in the past few weeks.
No paperwork, no overtime, no Sadiq, no boss and no Francis. …huh. Arthur’s mind automatically wandered to how they had usually spent touring Osaka with the baker. Well, he was history now and the kids seemed to be getting along without him, even eating his delicious cooking. He had learned enough Japanese to get by too.
“Papa!” Alfred called, tugging on his polo. “I want a cheeseburger!”
Arthur turned and saw they had walked passed a McDonald’s. He laughed and took hold of his childrens’ hands, much to their delight and entered the restaurant together like a picturesque family doing an ‘I’m Lovin’ It’ commercial.
…and bumped into another family on the way in.
“Oh, sorry!’ Tino and Arthur exclaimed in unison and stepped aside. Alfred, Matthew and Peter stared at one another curiously.
“Um, well…” Arthur began, unsure of what to make of a fellow English speaking person aside from surprise and a little relief. “After you.”
Tino bowed in thanks. Berwald did the same, with added unintentional glare and Arthur flinched.
They lined up behind cues that were beside each other.
“Daddy, get me a cheeseburger,” Alfred said. “Mattie! What are you getting?”
“Um, chicken with rice?” Matthew asked tentatively, staring at the menu and unable to decipher the kanji beside the pictures.
“Mama,” Peter called, tugging Tino’s shirt. “Did the guide tell you where we’re meeting?”
“He did, but we’ve still got an hour and a half until he does.”
Arthur saw Tino answer and frowned. He most certainly did not look like a ‘mama’ to him and by the stinging glares Berwald was now intentionally giving him, Arthur had the sneaking suspicion this couple, tourists or whatever, was one of those types and mentally groaned.
What the heck was the world trying to tell him.
“Where are we meeting him?” Peter asked again, and for some unfathomable reason, a vein popped on Arthur’s forehead.
“Well…” Tino began, squinting at his old Nokia. “Ivan told us we’d be meeting him by the entrance with the fountain beside K-Clothing Co. I…I don’t know where that is…”
“Y'wanna ask for directions again?” Berwald told him and Arthur-who couldn’t help but eavesdrop, why oh why-jumped.
Tino blanched, remembering the first time Berwald asked for directions in Osaka (wearing black no less) and the humble store owner looked right about ready to surrender his wares.
“Um…” he began and cast a wistful glance at Arthur in the hopes of conversing with someone he understood with relative ease and caught the businessman staring.
Arthur broke into a sheepish grin. “…yes?”
Tino took a breath. “Would you happen to know how to get to K-Clothing Co.?”
Twice, Arthur had been in Namba Parks only twice, including today.
“I…I think from here you take a right, go straight past the place that looks like a cinema until you reach the outside K store is near a flower shop and just further’s the entrance with the waterfall…I’m not entirely sure though.”
Tino felt immensely relieved and Berwald’s face eased up. They ordered separately and sat on one table, the adults to one side and the children at the other. In fifteen minutes, the two families felt like they’ve known each other for years.
“Peter,” Matthew began, staring at Tino and Berwald curiously. “You don’t look like your brothers.”
Alfred and Peter, who had been in the middle of a heated strategy exchange for Pokemon games, looked at him.
“Oh!” the latter brightened. “They aren’t my brothers. They’re my parents. Mama’s Finnish and Papa’s Swedish. They took me in when I was six and Papa looked real scary at first but he’s actually really nice. I love them a lot.”
“Peter, I don’t see a mama, just two papas.” Alfred said bluntly and Peter sighed. How naive these six years olds were, the eight year old thought.
“A lot of people in school say that. They tell me papa and mama aren’t right and that they’re people who’re called gay and that they’re wrong to be together. They called mama weird and I punched them in the face.” Peter looked proud of it. “Teacher got mad and called papa to school. He looked really mad. Well, madder that he usually looks.”
Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances. They’ve never punched anyone for saying bad stuff about their father, who seemed to get along well with everyone they knew…except for their mother. They sneaked a glance at Tino and Berwald who shared a joke with their father and couldn’t see what could possibly be wrong with the couple, aside from the lack of a lady.
“Well,” Peter began testily. “What about you? I don’t see a mama either.”
“We had one,” Matthew answered tentatively after receiving a nod of approval from Alfred. “She and papa always fought so we never saw a lot of her. Papa was the one who took care of us. But he cooks real bad. One day papa and mama had the hugest fight ever-“
“-and it had a lot of people called lawers and a court,” Alfred cut in.
“Yeah and papa said that he’d take care of us from now on. We never saw mama again and papa looked really sad,”
“’S why I wanna grow up fast,” Alfred declared. “So that papa’ll always be happy. I’ll protect him!”
“What’s it like having a daddy for a mommy?” Matthew asked.
Peter pensively ate a fry. “I didn’t have a real mommy,” he said slowly. “So I wouldn’t know but the TV said she makes your food, plays with you and kisses you good night. My mama’s like that and he and papa are real sweet, so I don’t see the difference.”
Alfred was ticking off a list with his fingers. “Hey, Francis does that to us too!”
“Who’s Francis?” Peter asked.
“He’s papa’s friend,” Matthew began but Alfred continued enthusiastically.
“He’s really awesome. He owns a bakery near the school and makes super yummy cakes. He picks us up from school and has dinner with us sometimes. We really like him…but.” Alfred toned down, frowning. “Daddy told us we shouldn’t be seeing him anymore because Francis was ‘the wrong sort’ though I don’t know what that means. Francis doesn’t look wrong to me.”
“Daddy’s also been sad ever since,” Matthew added quietly. “If only he and Francis got along as well as your parents that would be nice.”
“Sounds to me like this Francis of yours would make a great mama,” Peter remarked. “Y’love him too, right?”
The boys nodded.
“Well,” he continued sagely. “Two papas isn’t different from two mamas or a regular mama and papa as long as they love each other and they love you.”
Alfred and Matthew never admired another kid more than they did Peter.
♠ crashing and burning and relishing every minute of it
“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Tino remarked casually as the three adults gazed fondly at their children, having finished their food and run out of things to talk about.
Arthur hummed in thought and Berwald, having listened to both conversations going on at the same time, cleared his throat and looked at his watch, feeling somewhat proud yet embarrassed.
“’S three. Better get going.”
“Oh yes!” Arthur said, looking at his own watch and standing up. “Hope we didn’t keep you. It was a great pleasure to meet you, Tino, Berwald,” He briefly shook their hands and turned to the kids. “Bye Peter.”
The families parted outside McDonalds and went their separate ways.
“That was certainly unexpected,” Arthur told Alfred and Matthew on either side of him. “What were you and Peter so animatedly discussing?”
“A secret,” Alfred said and Matthew shushed him.
“A secret?” Arthur repeated with surprise. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, boys. Care to tell your dad?”
Alfred looked momentarily conflicted and Matthew gave up any attempts to further hide it. “Those weren’t Peter’s brothers. They were his parents,” he said and looked at his father to see how he’d react.
Arthur’s face twitched before he was able to restore the smile he had on before. Well, of course he knew that. “Children, you don’t ask other people about these things. They’re called sensitive issues for a reason…wait, you talked about that?!”
Alfred and Matthew nodded. Arthur paled and they stopped walking.
“What could you have possibly talked about?”
“We asked him what it was like,” Aflred said.
“And?” Arthur prompted, both hesitant and curious to know the answer.
“He said it wasn’t any different from having a regular mommy and daddy.”
Sure, Arthur saw the point. What horrible pair of parents would make life hard for their child? Certainly Tino and Berwald didn’t strike him as such. At least they had the decency to be aware not everyone was comfortable with their relationship (unlike Antonio, hello) but they were men! Men had needs and men had pursuits. It was extremely rare for Arthur, or perhaps anyone, to meet a couple so dedicated to each other and to family, regardless what gender. Granted, he could owe his phobia and general pessimism toward relationships to his own terribly rocky and unsuccessful one. He looked at his naked ring finger and vowed for the umpteenth time he’d devote himself to no one else but his boys. He wasn’t ready to admit that perhaps they needed more than just him to grow properly in this world, nor was he ready to open his heart once more to someone who’d support him mentally and emotionally and to reciprocate that with equal love and devotion, so he wouldn’t feel so hopelessly alone. Someone who made him feel at peace and shared his happiness.
Indeed, the way Tino and Berwald were seemingly made for each other made Arthur feel jealous, just a little.
Mind you, he wasn’t looking for a partner, he really wasn’t. It felt wrong to desecrate memories of Cecile in the pursuit of another (why did reminiscing make their time together seem so irreplaceable and precious?) rather Arthur was simply bothered. Bothered by the fact he was meeting so many foreigners in Japan and that a lot of them were homos, like the world shrunk or something, bothered by the fact he had a mysterious gaping hole in his chest, or the weight of an unnamable sort of guilt in his stomach, bothered by the listlessness he suddenly saw as he ploughed through everyday and most of all bothered by the fact he was even bothered by all of this.
What was he missing?
“Daddy?” Matthew began, in a small voice as if the child had heard and sympathized with every moment of his inner turmoil.
“Yes?” Arthur asked and gathered him in his arms while he held Alfred’s hand.
“May…may we go visit Francis? We miss him…” The boy looked so scared yet determined at the same time Arthur mentally smacked himself.
“Of course,” he said and they headed out of Namba Parks and to the street of Rose Bakery.
With each step, Arthur realized with some dread that he feared being loved by and loving his children any less than he did now, all because he had made the folly of giving his heart away once. It was laughable, what he feared.
♠ when there's need enough, a way can often be found
At 4:16pm, the welcome bell of Rose Bakery jingled merrily and by force of habit, Francis Bonnefoy looked at the door and was about to call out his usual welcome when the person (people really) made his voice die in his throat.
Luckily, Aline was there to call for him, quite delightfully for that matter.
“Kirkland-san! And Alfred and Matthew!” she pinched the children’s cheeks and Francis continued restocking honey glazed dinner rolls with shaking tongs. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! How are you?”
“Busy with work,” Arthur sounded cheerful, the baker sighed. “We happened to pass by and the kids were hungry.”
“Why, you’re in luck,” Aline replied cheerfully. “Francis just finished baking a fresh batch of apple cinnamon rolls and maple crossiants.”
From where Francis stood bending into the cake display, he could feel Alfred and Matthew radiating anticipation from behind their father’s legs.
“We’ll…we’ll have one of both and Earl Grey tea for me. Thanks, Aline.”
Francis froze. Arthur was having tea? They were staying? He heard the scrape of chairs and the sure footfalls of Aline’s flats as she went behind the counter to punch in their order.
“What on earth are you doing in the cake display?” she asked Francis tartly and the man jumped and straightened.
“Fixing the cakes,” he answered casually.
Aline sighed and handed him the order slip. “You deliver their food, monsieur. I thought you wanted to see him? Look, the kids are staring at you.”
Francis unwittingly glanced at the direction of Arthur’s table and saw that indeed, Alfred and Matthew were bursting to run and hug him. Their father, though, was fixedly reading the Saturday newspaper despite hardly knowing any kanji, ears reddening with some sort of embarrassment. Francis smiled warmly and gave a little wave. The boys smiled and waved back, sitting straighter with patience renewed.
He went into the kitchen and prepared the orders for two tables and laid them on his large tray before re-emerging to deliver them. When he arrived at Arthur’s table, the boys were practically bouncing.
“Bonjour, mes chers,” Francis greeted and placed their pastries before them like he always did. He placed Arthur’s cup of tea (made exactly as the man liked) in front of him and cleared his throat.
“Is your order complete, sir?”
Arthur slowly lowered his newspaper with an embarrassed, livid look on his face Francis so loved whenever he teased him and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“You insufferable dolt, what’s that façade for?” he hissed.
“I can say the same,” Francis replied, nudging the edge of Arthur’s newspaper with his tray.
The Englishman tutted and pulled out the chair beside him. “Sit,” he ordered tersely and Francis followed. The stared at each other for a few awkward moments while Alfred and Matthew happily ate across them.
“I miss you,” Francis began, unwittingly falling into their old tandem and Arthur hit him with the newspaper.
“Quiet, frog!” he said hotly. “Watch what you’re saying in front of the kids!”
“Oh, but didn’t you miss me, cher?” Francis insisted, unable to stop the happy bubble swelling inside him and Arthur crossed his arms across his chest.
“No, I didn’t and if you think I’ve let you off the hook, then think again.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that if I don’t even know why you’re angry with me in the first place.”
Arthur hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth without coming up with an answer. Francis looked seriously at his face.
“I do miss you,” the baker said pointedly and Arthur ‘tut’-ed again, looking away from him and sipping his tea.
“The boys wanted to see you,” the man said stiffly and Francis smiled.
“So…are we friends again?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Think what you like.”
It wasn’t a yes but Francis couldn’t have wished for a better answer. By some mighty hand of god, the day suddenly brightened, the atmosphere more cheerful, the people extra kind and the smells and food extra sweet and savory. He laughed easier on the small chair beside Arthur and watched the children lick the glaze off their fingers.
“Dad,” came Matthew. “Does this mean we get to see Francis again?”
Francis’ mental celebration came to a halt at the question. He waited with baited breath for Arthur’s answer. He saw the man struggle between Francis’ unknown transgression and the desire to fulfill his child’s wish.
“Yes, we get to see Francis again,” Arthur said and something akin to overwhelming relief washed over the baker’s system.
Arthur then realized he indeed needed support in his life, if not to ease his own troubles and share happiness that came with living. His children had opened their hearts to Francis and Arthur couldn’t deny them that. Francis on the other hand, vowed he’d never give Arthur any reason to leave and that in spite of knowing the Briton might never want him the same way he did, they’d stay together and take care of Alfred and Matthew.
They’d make this work.
♠ when you're tired of it all, i'm right here waiting
Seven years.
Seven years of Toris Laurinaitis moving from one travel agency to another, working just long enough to know his stay would be fruitless. Seven years of hacking systems in a desperate search for the one name he so longed to find. Seven years of asking himself whether to stop or keep on going, because searching through endless records started feeling like a chore, a courtesy act Toris felt obligated to perform in order to pacify the gnawing at the back of his mind, the ominous, disheartening echo of ‘he’s not here again’.
Seven years with on sigh upon his lips. ‘Feliks Lukasiewicz, where are you?’
Toris sat back in his swivel chair with a squeak. He tiredly ran a hand through his hair before leaning toward the computer screen and squinting. His computer clock read 5:37pm and the window he had opened displayed all the records of the clients the travel agency had for the past year. He made a mental note to thank Eduard later for the hack he’d given him and resumed his search for any sort of data possibly associated with Feliks. Engrossed he was with his work, Toris failed to notice a shadow hovering over him.
“Mister Torvis, we cannot be taking a break now, da?”
And as if shocked by something electric, Toris immediately straightened in his seat and minimized the window. His boss and owner of Sunflower Tours, Ivan Braginsky, peered curiously (and quite scarily) at his face.
“What were you doing?”
Toris felt the blood leave his face. “N-nothing sir, I just had a hard time reading wh-what was on the screen.”
Ivan continued to stare, seemingly unconvinced and Toris swallowed. The large man eventually withdrew and patted him heavily.
“Tsk, tsk Mister Torvis. You cannot be doing nothing when I am needing proposals by today. And if you cannot be seeing what is on your computer, perhaps you are needing of glasses, yes? Get back to working.”
With that, Ivan left humming softly to himself, and the chill that seemed to follow the man left along with him. Toris let out the breath he was holding and returned to his computer screen. His boss was right. He had a project proposal to finish if he wanted to earn a decent living. Searching for Feliks could wait. After all, how long had he?
Toris had been an employee of Sunflower Tours for the past six months. Prior to that, he had run out of leads as to where Feliks was traveling next and was juggling several part time jobs to earn back the money he had spent chasing the elusive Pole around the globe. SF Tours was actually a stroke of luck. He could still remember that fateful day.
Eduard von Bock, an old high school friend and then already an employee of the agency (one of the select few who managed to stay despite stressful working conditions, read: Ivan), emailed him seemingly out of the blue one weekend morning.
‘Greetings from Osaka, Toris!’ it went. ‘How are you? Raivis tells me you’ve left your old agency again. How would you like to work at ours? Now I know that sounds silly by how we’ve been complaining about the works hours and all but it pays well.’
Toris had thought the email sounded quite odd for Eduard to write. Despite their sparse communication, his old friend was indeed aware of his situation yet had never been the one to pry, and more than once tried to dissuade him from any more searching efforts. Yet there was this email offering him a job in Osaka with a boss who (according to Eduard’s emails) was nothing less than tyrannical when normally his friend advised him to keep away from things that added unnecessary stress to his wallet and physique.
‘Why the sudden offer?’ Toris had asked.
Eduard’s reply had been quick, as if he were online. ‘You’re still looking for Lukasiewicz, aren’t you?’
Toris’ skin had broken out in goosebumps as he read on. ‘He checked in the Hokkaido branch of SF Tours a month ago, but when I tried to find out where he’d go next, he disappeared again.’
Of course, Toris had a hunch. Feliks’ travel patterns were almost always the same. He’d check in with a touring company once or twice when it was his first time visiting a country, then he’d vanish for months at a time, afterwards one would find out the man had tried ‘roughing it’ and was geared to leave for a new state or city.
No, Feliks Lukasiewicz wasn’t a criminal nor was he running away from something, or at least that’s what Toris would like to think on both accounts. The reason why he hadn’t called the authorities to go on some long-winded search was because he didn’t really have a reason to. Feliks was a backpacker, Toris accepted as much, but why the time and distance, he didn’t understand. The man had been so shy around strangers when they were young.
Toris paused in mid-type and stared worriedly at the screen. Things change over time and without a doubt so did people. He was scared to think how much Feliks could have possibly changed through the years and if, because of that, would Toris still be able to reach him with more than time and space between them?
It wouldn’t be the first time Toris thought about giving up, and neither was it the first time he discovered he just couldn’t say ‘enough’. He and Feliks had grown up as neighbors in a humble compound at the heart of Warsaw. Their families were so tight, he’d often thought of Feliks as a brother. The boy had a hard time getting along with the other kids on account that he was so shy around new company. It was an interesting observation Toris didn’t have the opportunity of experiencing because Feliks had been constantly by his side. He opened up to people he gradually grew comfortable with, but it was with Toris that Feliks felt comfortable enough to bare all, sometimes to an embarrassing extent. Feliks was very open and frank when they were together and despite the fact Toris had to put up with a lot from his friend, he was the only one who bore witness to any of them. It gave Toris a sense of pride that he indeed shared something with Feliks that no one else knew, their special secret. And because Toris kept thinking they had something special did he start expecting Feliks to share the more-than-brotherly-feelings he was harboring. With the way the Pole spoke, dressed and acted, anyone of the current day and age would think of him as fruity.
Of course, Toris had no qualms about his effeminate friend, he himself was of dubious gender. Raised by grandparents who were a pair of genuine Balts Believers, Toris was often told that love was a thing of nature and that it was foolish to go against it, whatever gender you happened to feel strongly for. His parents, however, begged to disagree, but Toris himself had never been particularly bothered. He had often wondered though what Feliks’ parents thought about their son’s antics or may his family were just lenient Catholics.
Perhaps it was in this nonchalance that Toris felt so sure Feliks would always be with him.
The deceptively quiet days of college reared its ugly head and before he knew it, the stability he shared with Feliks was fast crumbling under his feet. It had been the week after graduation and the pair sat in Toris’ empty living room watching movies when Feliks dropped the question.
“Like, what d’you wanna be when y’leave, Liet?”
In retrospect, Toris should have considered before speaking, but it was too late for regrets.
“I suppose I’m going to work in a firm.”
Feliks pouted. “Well that’s totally lame.”
Toris laughed. “What about you? Didn’t you say you wanted to teach?”
“Yeah, but I wanna do something super cool, y’know? Like, travel the world.”
In retrospect, Toris shouldn’t have overlooked that answer, because unlike most things, Feliks acted upon this dream with much fervor. Before Toris knew it, he’d been left behind. Feliks scrimped and saved tirelessly in his job as a lecturer and in three years, he was ready to lead the life he wanted. Toris on the other hand, passed the same amount of time with a humble desk job, reading nothing into their conversations about the world during lazy Sunday mornings.
“I finally did it, Liet!” Feliks declared as Toris came home to the compound they shared. The wall that had separated their families in childhood had been torn down years ago.
Toris’ mind teetered to the edge of panic when he saw Feliks packing. “Wh-what is it?”
“I’m finally going to travel the world! My flight’s like tomorrow! Decided to surprise you. Aren’t I cool?”
His legs felt like jelly. Tired and overworked, Toris collapsed on the couch with his head in his hands. Too soon, he thought. Feliks can’t leave without him knowing how I feel about him.
“Yo Liet, you okay? Look, I know it’s a huge surprise but y’should’ve had it coming. Been saving up for this for ages.”
Toris felt nervous laughter escape his system. “I’m…I’m very happy for you, Feliks. B-but you can’t leave.” This was it. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself nor take back the words at the edge of his lips. What he would say could change his careful relationship with Feliks forever. “I…I love you.”
He looked up just in time to see an unreadable look on Felik’s usually expression-filled face and Toris felt his blood run cold. After a pause that shouldn’t have been so long, the Pole placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Like, I totally knew that, Toris. Listen, I want you to be here when I come back home, ayt?”
The bedroom door clicked shut and with that click, something snapped into place in Toris Laurinaitis’ head. A realization he couldn’t pinpoint but knew what it was. He got to his feet shaking with the daring to hope and followed the strains of song coming from the kitchen.
“Feliks! Does this mean you…too?”
His long time friend gave him a smile and a quick kiss beside the stove.
“Of course, you dummy. Like c’mon. I wanna share dinner with you.”
The bubble of happiness swelling inside Toris at the revelation of their mutual feeling made him forget that Feliks had already set his sights elsewhere. An empty bed the next day woke Toris to that and he felt like the earth dropped out of his chest.
Seven years later, he still wasn’t able to clear this dull ache. He saved the document in his file and clicked ‘Print’. As Ivan’s project proposal flew out in crisp sheets, he packed his belongings, having no intention to do overtime today. It was near seven in the evening and his mind was tired.
The computer blinked shut as Toris headed to Ivan’s office with a stack of print outs. He knocked once on the frosted glass door and entered as soon as he was given permission.
“Ah, Mister Torvis. Just the man I was wanting to see.”
“I have the proposal, sir.”
“Yes, yes, that. I will be attending to that later. For now, I am having a special project for you.”
Toris said nothing and Ivan continued with an unmistakable gleam in his eye. “Have you ever been working outside before?”
Outside? Toris blinked. “…I’m afraid I don’t understand-“
“No matter, yes? From now on I will be assigning you to oversee our clients and their tour groups. Then you will be personally reporting back to me~ Very well then, that is it.”
Toris found himself ejected from his boss’ office without a clear inkling of what happened. But as always the silent sufferer, Toris went home mulling about the news. He wouldn’t put it past Sir Ivan to know that he’d been searching for Feliks using the SF database for the past months of his employment. The scary thing was he didn’t know whether the man was okay with it or not. It was funny how a travel agency that highly valued their customers could be so unpredictable with their employees.
Toris took the train and alighted three stations later, bought himself a watermelon shake from one of the stores in Dotombori before squeezing into his tiny apartment. Working in a foreign land was hard, but he was used to it. There wasn’t a day he didn’t miss his home back in Warsaw, but Feliks not being there didn’t make it much of a home. This in mind, Toris fell asleep on the tatami floor.
to the Fourth 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: Everyone has a story to tell but not everyone can be the main character. We meet a family who gives Arthur a special push and a pair of dear friends separated by time and seas.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Third Degree
♠ and maybe love is the reason why for the first time ever, we're seeing it eye to eye
It was twelve noon when Tino Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxestierna emerged from the Osaka Castle, flushed and excited from the morning tour. Their son Peter ran ahead and down the castle steps.
“Mama!” the boy yelled, waving. “Take a picture!”
Tino burned bright red as a number of tourists and other visitors glanced at them curiously, no doubt wondering where the mama was between him and Berwald.
“Come on,” Tino urged and gently pushed Berwald toward the bouncing Peter. “Get in there, I’ll take a picture.”
His towering bespectacled husband nodded and joined the boy posed by the foot of the castle, next to a ticket line and the flower bed where a funny old man sat feeding a squirrel on his shoulder. Tino pressed the shutter on his digicam.
“Y’too,” Berwarld grunted, taking the device from his hand and pointing toward a rocky platform with an impressive view of the city.
It was a gorgeous Saturday and the Osaka Castle grounds were teeming with people-tourists, picnic goers, families and whoever else have you. Beside the large monuments, old buildings and small parks with summer flowers under green sakura trees there were people taking pictures, people walking dogs, friends and lovers on park benches, children running, children laughing and almost everyone eating.
A complex of street food kiosks stood a few twisty pathways from the actual castle. From large grill vents wafted the smoky smells of takoyaki, grilled squid and okonomiyaki. An endless multicolored cue lined the shop front.
“Sunflower Tours! Sunflower Tours!” called an elderly Japanese tour guide donned in a sea green overcoat with the logo of Sunflower Tours on the breast pocket. He waved a flag bearing the same symbol. “Sunflower Tours!”
“Ah, that’d be us,” Tino remarked and the family stopped their picture taking to return to their gathering tour group.
“Now,” began the elderly Japanese guide as soon as he saw the humble party of ten complete. “After we take a short walk through the Plum Garden, we be having lunch in Dotombori then a bit of shopping if you like then back to the hotel, okay?”
The small band of tourists murmured their assent and followed the guide as he began walking and showcasing sights with much vigor like he didn’t feel a day over thirty.
“It’s awfully hot out, “ Tino sighed contentedly and looked at the sky. He could never have asked for more perfect summer weather. “Did you like the Castle, Peter?” he asked, turning to his son and his husband who brought up the rear. The family trailed behind the rest of the group with Tino snapping pictures here and there. The tour guide’s loud voice punctuated the air.
“Y’need help?” Berwald asked and Tino jumped. After two years of marriage and more than simply living together with the quiet Swede, he still wasn’t used to the tenor of his voice.
“Ah, no I’m fine,” Tino laughed. Help with what, besides? He was already dressed in his thinnest shirt. He glanced at Berwarld’s similar clothing and blushed.
“Mama’s hot,” Peter reported and Berwald promptly went into Mama’s Welfare First mode, much to Tino’s horror.
“You brothers are really amusing,” remarked an old Russian lady touring with them. “You must be close.”
Tino laughed sheepishly, hoping his husband wouldn’t say ‘He’s m’wife’ like back in the days they’d been newlyweds. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t proud of having Berwald for a husband. They fought long and hard to get married and the happiness they found, especially when they adopted Peter, was the fruit of their labor of love. Tino knew not everyone welcomed the idea of their union and so hid it for convenience. People who mattered to them were the only ones who needed to know.
“This tour is wonderful,” the old Russian lady continued, holding onto Tino’s arm as she hobbled along. “I wish my husband were here to see this.”
Tino nodded sympathetically and Berwald offered a grunt, holding Peter’s hand as they listened to her whimsical impromptu reminiscing while looking at green plum trees.
“After he died, my son told me ‘Mother, get outta that chair and tour the world!’ could you believe that? So I told him, ‘You idiot. I’m not going anywhere without your father!’ Then you know what he did? He got a few of his savings and sent me on this tour, sweet child-“
A ringing interrupted her.
“Oh, sorry!” Tino said, pulling out his cellphone. Ivan Braginsky, said the flashing screen. “I think I have to take this. It’s our tour.”
The old lady gave a wrinkly smile. “Ivan Braginsky, is it? That’s okay, my son checks up on all his tourists, lovely boy. His sisters? Not so much.” With that, she hobbled to the front of the line once more and Berwald raised his eyebrow.
“Hello?”
“Good morning,” greeted an unusually high voice from the other line. “Mr. Väinämöinen and Mr. Oxenstierna?”
“Y-yes?” Tino replied.
“Yes, how are you liking your tour so far?” Ivan asked. Tino could hear the whir and clatter of computers in the background.
“Very much!” he replied. “Mr. Nakamura is very accommodating.”
“That’s very good to hear,” Ivan replied. “You said in your email you would like to go to a mall?”
“Mainly for Peter, but yes.”
“I have arranged for a taxi to be picking you up at your hotel after lunch. You will be heading to Namba Parks, is that alright? I will be giving you his number in a bit.”
“Yes, thank you,” Tino said.
“The guide will be meeting you there by two,” and then he hung up.
“'S that Ivan?” Berwald asked.
“Well yes, he said after lunch another guide’s going to show us around Namba Parks.”
“Parks?” Peter asked groaning. “Another one? Do we have to walk again?”
And as Berwald looked right about ready to hoist his son over his shoulders to save him from doing so, Tino laughed and said. “It’s a mall. A large one as I hear it.”
With that, Peter brightened and had a spring in his step for the rest of the tour.
♠ straight from the mouth of babes
2:14pm on a Saturday and Arthur thought he should stop checking his watch at ten minute intervals. He wasn’t in the office and no one was going to be anal about the time here in Namba Parks. Besides, he was enjoying his first absolutely stress free weekend with his kids. They had a date with the toy store to make up for his douchebaggy-ness in the past few weeks.
No paperwork, no overtime, no Sadiq, no boss and no Francis. …huh. Arthur’s mind automatically wandered to how they had usually spent touring Osaka with the baker. Well, he was history now and the kids seemed to be getting along without him, even eating his delicious cooking. He had learned enough Japanese to get by too.
“Papa!” Alfred called, tugging on his polo. “I want a cheeseburger!”
Arthur turned and saw they had walked passed a McDonald’s. He laughed and took hold of his childrens’ hands, much to their delight and entered the restaurant together like a picturesque family doing an ‘I’m Lovin’ It’ commercial.
…and bumped into another family on the way in.
“Oh, sorry!’ Tino and Arthur exclaimed in unison and stepped aside. Alfred, Matthew and Peter stared at one another curiously.
“Um, well…” Arthur began, unsure of what to make of a fellow English speaking person aside from surprise and a little relief. “After you.”
Tino bowed in thanks. Berwald did the same, with added unintentional glare and Arthur flinched.
They lined up behind cues that were beside each other.
“Daddy, get me a cheeseburger,” Alfred said. “Mattie! What are you getting?”
“Um, chicken with rice?” Matthew asked tentatively, staring at the menu and unable to decipher the kanji beside the pictures.
“Mama,” Peter called, tugging Tino’s shirt. “Did the guide tell you where we’re meeting?”
“He did, but we’ve still got an hour and a half until he does.”
Arthur saw Tino answer and frowned. He most certainly did not look like a ‘mama’ to him and by the stinging glares Berwald was now intentionally giving him, Arthur had the sneaking suspicion this couple, tourists or whatever, was one of those types and mentally groaned.
What the heck was the world trying to tell him.
“Where are we meeting him?” Peter asked again, and for some unfathomable reason, a vein popped on Arthur’s forehead.
“Well…” Tino began, squinting at his old Nokia. “Ivan told us we’d be meeting him by the entrance with the fountain beside K-Clothing Co. I…I don’t know where that is…”
“Y'wanna ask for directions again?” Berwald told him and Arthur-who couldn’t help but eavesdrop, why oh why-jumped.
Tino blanched, remembering the first time Berwald asked for directions in Osaka (wearing black no less) and the humble store owner looked right about ready to surrender his wares.
“Um…” he began and cast a wistful glance at Arthur in the hopes of conversing with someone he understood with relative ease and caught the businessman staring.
Arthur broke into a sheepish grin. “…yes?”
Tino took a breath. “Would you happen to know how to get to K-Clothing Co.?”
Twice, Arthur had been in Namba Parks only twice, including today.
“I…I think from here you take a right, go straight past the place that looks like a cinema until you reach the outside K store is near a flower shop and just further’s the entrance with the waterfall…I’m not entirely sure though.”
Tino felt immensely relieved and Berwald’s face eased up. They ordered separately and sat on one table, the adults to one side and the children at the other. In fifteen minutes, the two families felt like they’ve known each other for years.
“Peter,” Matthew began, staring at Tino and Berwald curiously. “You don’t look like your brothers.”
Alfred and Peter, who had been in the middle of a heated strategy exchange for Pokemon games, looked at him.
“Oh!” the latter brightened. “They aren’t my brothers. They’re my parents. Mama’s Finnish and Papa’s Swedish. They took me in when I was six and Papa looked real scary at first but he’s actually really nice. I love them a lot.”
“Peter, I don’t see a mama, just two papas.” Alfred said bluntly and Peter sighed. How naive these six years olds were, the eight year old thought.
“A lot of people in school say that. They tell me papa and mama aren’t right and that they’re people who’re called gay and that they’re wrong to be together. They called mama weird and I punched them in the face.” Peter looked proud of it. “Teacher got mad and called papa to school. He looked really mad. Well, madder that he usually looks.”
Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances. They’ve never punched anyone for saying bad stuff about their father, who seemed to get along well with everyone they knew…except for their mother. They sneaked a glance at Tino and Berwald who shared a joke with their father and couldn’t see what could possibly be wrong with the couple, aside from the lack of a lady.
“Well,” Peter began testily. “What about you? I don’t see a mama either.”
“We had one,” Matthew answered tentatively after receiving a nod of approval from Alfred. “She and papa always fought so we never saw a lot of her. Papa was the one who took care of us. But he cooks real bad. One day papa and mama had the hugest fight ever-“
“-and it had a lot of people called lawers and a court,” Alfred cut in.
“Yeah and papa said that he’d take care of us from now on. We never saw mama again and papa looked really sad,”
“’S why I wanna grow up fast,” Alfred declared. “So that papa’ll always be happy. I’ll protect him!”
“What’s it like having a daddy for a mommy?” Matthew asked.
Peter pensively ate a fry. “I didn’t have a real mommy,” he said slowly. “So I wouldn’t know but the TV said she makes your food, plays with you and kisses you good night. My mama’s like that and he and papa are real sweet, so I don’t see the difference.”
Alfred was ticking off a list with his fingers. “Hey, Francis does that to us too!”
“Who’s Francis?” Peter asked.
“He’s papa’s friend,” Matthew began but Alfred continued enthusiastically.
“He’s really awesome. He owns a bakery near the school and makes super yummy cakes. He picks us up from school and has dinner with us sometimes. We really like him…but.” Alfred toned down, frowning. “Daddy told us we shouldn’t be seeing him anymore because Francis was ‘the wrong sort’ though I don’t know what that means. Francis doesn’t look wrong to me.”
“Daddy’s also been sad ever since,” Matthew added quietly. “If only he and Francis got along as well as your parents that would be nice.”
“Sounds to me like this Francis of yours would make a great mama,” Peter remarked. “Y’love him too, right?”
The boys nodded.
“Well,” he continued sagely. “Two papas isn’t different from two mamas or a regular mama and papa as long as they love each other and they love you.”
Alfred and Matthew never admired another kid more than they did Peter.
♠ crashing and burning and relishing every minute of it
“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Tino remarked casually as the three adults gazed fondly at their children, having finished their food and run out of things to talk about.
Arthur hummed in thought and Berwald, having listened to both conversations going on at the same time, cleared his throat and looked at his watch, feeling somewhat proud yet embarrassed.
“’S three. Better get going.”
“Oh yes!” Arthur said, looking at his own watch and standing up. “Hope we didn’t keep you. It was a great pleasure to meet you, Tino, Berwald,” He briefly shook their hands and turned to the kids. “Bye Peter.”
The families parted outside McDonalds and went their separate ways.
“That was certainly unexpected,” Arthur told Alfred and Matthew on either side of him. “What were you and Peter so animatedly discussing?”
“A secret,” Alfred said and Matthew shushed him.
“A secret?” Arthur repeated with surprise. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, boys. Care to tell your dad?”
Alfred looked momentarily conflicted and Matthew gave up any attempts to further hide it. “Those weren’t Peter’s brothers. They were his parents,” he said and looked at his father to see how he’d react.
Arthur’s face twitched before he was able to restore the smile he had on before. Well, of course he knew that. “Children, you don’t ask other people about these things. They’re called sensitive issues for a reason…wait, you talked about that?!”
Alfred and Matthew nodded. Arthur paled and they stopped walking.
“What could you have possibly talked about?”
“We asked him what it was like,” Aflred said.
“And?” Arthur prompted, both hesitant and curious to know the answer.
“He said it wasn’t any different from having a regular mommy and daddy.”
Sure, Arthur saw the point. What horrible pair of parents would make life hard for their child? Certainly Tino and Berwald didn’t strike him as such. At least they had the decency to be aware not everyone was comfortable with their relationship (unlike Antonio, hello) but they were men! Men had needs and men had pursuits. It was extremely rare for Arthur, or perhaps anyone, to meet a couple so dedicated to each other and to family, regardless what gender. Granted, he could owe his phobia and general pessimism toward relationships to his own terribly rocky and unsuccessful one. He looked at his naked ring finger and vowed for the umpteenth time he’d devote himself to no one else but his boys. He wasn’t ready to admit that perhaps they needed more than just him to grow properly in this world, nor was he ready to open his heart once more to someone who’d support him mentally and emotionally and to reciprocate that with equal love and devotion, so he wouldn’t feel so hopelessly alone. Someone who made him feel at peace and shared his happiness.
Indeed, the way Tino and Berwald were seemingly made for each other made Arthur feel jealous, just a little.
Mind you, he wasn’t looking for a partner, he really wasn’t. It felt wrong to desecrate memories of Cecile in the pursuit of another (why did reminiscing make their time together seem so irreplaceable and precious?) rather Arthur was simply bothered. Bothered by the fact he was meeting so many foreigners in Japan and that a lot of them were homos, like the world shrunk or something, bothered by the fact he had a mysterious gaping hole in his chest, or the weight of an unnamable sort of guilt in his stomach, bothered by the listlessness he suddenly saw as he ploughed through everyday and most of all bothered by the fact he was even bothered by all of this.
What was he missing?
“Daddy?” Matthew began, in a small voice as if the child had heard and sympathized with every moment of his inner turmoil.
“Yes?” Arthur asked and gathered him in his arms while he held Alfred’s hand.
“May…may we go visit Francis? We miss him…” The boy looked so scared yet determined at the same time Arthur mentally smacked himself.
“Of course,” he said and they headed out of Namba Parks and to the street of Rose Bakery.
With each step, Arthur realized with some dread that he feared being loved by and loving his children any less than he did now, all because he had made the folly of giving his heart away once. It was laughable, what he feared.
♠ when there's need enough, a way can often be found
At 4:16pm, the welcome bell of Rose Bakery jingled merrily and by force of habit, Francis Bonnefoy looked at the door and was about to call out his usual welcome when the person (people really) made his voice die in his throat.
Luckily, Aline was there to call for him, quite delightfully for that matter.
“Kirkland-san! And Alfred and Matthew!” she pinched the children’s cheeks and Francis continued restocking honey glazed dinner rolls with shaking tongs. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! How are you?”
“Busy with work,” Arthur sounded cheerful, the baker sighed. “We happened to pass by and the kids were hungry.”
“Why, you’re in luck,” Aline replied cheerfully. “Francis just finished baking a fresh batch of apple cinnamon rolls and maple crossiants.”
From where Francis stood bending into the cake display, he could feel Alfred and Matthew radiating anticipation from behind their father’s legs.
“We’ll…we’ll have one of both and Earl Grey tea for me. Thanks, Aline.”
Francis froze. Arthur was having tea? They were staying? He heard the scrape of chairs and the sure footfalls of Aline’s flats as she went behind the counter to punch in their order.
“What on earth are you doing in the cake display?” she asked Francis tartly and the man jumped and straightened.
“Fixing the cakes,” he answered casually.
Aline sighed and handed him the order slip. “You deliver their food, monsieur. I thought you wanted to see him? Look, the kids are staring at you.”
Francis unwittingly glanced at the direction of Arthur’s table and saw that indeed, Alfred and Matthew were bursting to run and hug him. Their father, though, was fixedly reading the Saturday newspaper despite hardly knowing any kanji, ears reddening with some sort of embarrassment. Francis smiled warmly and gave a little wave. The boys smiled and waved back, sitting straighter with patience renewed.
He went into the kitchen and prepared the orders for two tables and laid them on his large tray before re-emerging to deliver them. When he arrived at Arthur’s table, the boys were practically bouncing.
“Bonjour, mes chers,” Francis greeted and placed their pastries before them like he always did. He placed Arthur’s cup of tea (made exactly as the man liked) in front of him and cleared his throat.
“Is your order complete, sir?”
Arthur slowly lowered his newspaper with an embarrassed, livid look on his face Francis so loved whenever he teased him and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“You insufferable dolt, what’s that façade for?” he hissed.
“I can say the same,” Francis replied, nudging the edge of Arthur’s newspaper with his tray.
The Englishman tutted and pulled out the chair beside him. “Sit,” he ordered tersely and Francis followed. The stared at each other for a few awkward moments while Alfred and Matthew happily ate across them.
“I miss you,” Francis began, unwittingly falling into their old tandem and Arthur hit him with the newspaper.
“Quiet, frog!” he said hotly. “Watch what you’re saying in front of the kids!”
“Oh, but didn’t you miss me, cher?” Francis insisted, unable to stop the happy bubble swelling inside him and Arthur crossed his arms across his chest.
“No, I didn’t and if you think I’ve let you off the hook, then think again.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that if I don’t even know why you’re angry with me in the first place.”
Arthur hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth without coming up with an answer. Francis looked seriously at his face.
“I do miss you,” the baker said pointedly and Arthur ‘tut’-ed again, looking away from him and sipping his tea.
“The boys wanted to see you,” the man said stiffly and Francis smiled.
“So…are we friends again?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Think what you like.”
It wasn’t a yes but Francis couldn’t have wished for a better answer. By some mighty hand of god, the day suddenly brightened, the atmosphere more cheerful, the people extra kind and the smells and food extra sweet and savory. He laughed easier on the small chair beside Arthur and watched the children lick the glaze off their fingers.
“Dad,” came Matthew. “Does this mean we get to see Francis again?”
Francis’ mental celebration came to a halt at the question. He waited with baited breath for Arthur’s answer. He saw the man struggle between Francis’ unknown transgression and the desire to fulfill his child’s wish.
“Yes, we get to see Francis again,” Arthur said and something akin to overwhelming relief washed over the baker’s system.
Arthur then realized he indeed needed support in his life, if not to ease his own troubles and share happiness that came with living. His children had opened their hearts to Francis and Arthur couldn’t deny them that. Francis on the other hand, vowed he’d never give Arthur any reason to leave and that in spite of knowing the Briton might never want him the same way he did, they’d stay together and take care of Alfred and Matthew.
They’d make this work.
♠ when you're tired of it all, i'm right here waiting
Seven years.
Seven years of Toris Laurinaitis moving from one travel agency to another, working just long enough to know his stay would be fruitless. Seven years of hacking systems in a desperate search for the one name he so longed to find. Seven years of asking himself whether to stop or keep on going, because searching through endless records started feeling like a chore, a courtesy act Toris felt obligated to perform in order to pacify the gnawing at the back of his mind, the ominous, disheartening echo of ‘he’s not here again’.
Seven years with on sigh upon his lips. ‘Feliks Lukasiewicz, where are you?’
Toris sat back in his swivel chair with a squeak. He tiredly ran a hand through his hair before leaning toward the computer screen and squinting. His computer clock read 5:37pm and the window he had opened displayed all the records of the clients the travel agency had for the past year. He made a mental note to thank Eduard later for the hack he’d given him and resumed his search for any sort of data possibly associated with Feliks. Engrossed he was with his work, Toris failed to notice a shadow hovering over him.
“Mister Torvis, we cannot be taking a break now, da?”
And as if shocked by something electric, Toris immediately straightened in his seat and minimized the window. His boss and owner of Sunflower Tours, Ivan Braginsky, peered curiously (and quite scarily) at his face.
“What were you doing?”
Toris felt the blood leave his face. “N-nothing sir, I just had a hard time reading wh-what was on the screen.”
Ivan continued to stare, seemingly unconvinced and Toris swallowed. The large man eventually withdrew and patted him heavily.
“Tsk, tsk Mister Torvis. You cannot be doing nothing when I am needing proposals by today. And if you cannot be seeing what is on your computer, perhaps you are needing of glasses, yes? Get back to working.”
With that, Ivan left humming softly to himself, and the chill that seemed to follow the man left along with him. Toris let out the breath he was holding and returned to his computer screen. His boss was right. He had a project proposal to finish if he wanted to earn a decent living. Searching for Feliks could wait. After all, how long had he?
Toris had been an employee of Sunflower Tours for the past six months. Prior to that, he had run out of leads as to where Feliks was traveling next and was juggling several part time jobs to earn back the money he had spent chasing the elusive Pole around the globe. SF Tours was actually a stroke of luck. He could still remember that fateful day.
Eduard von Bock, an old high school friend and then already an employee of the agency (one of the select few who managed to stay despite stressful working conditions, read: Ivan), emailed him seemingly out of the blue one weekend morning.
‘Greetings from Osaka, Toris!’ it went. ‘How are you? Raivis tells me you’ve left your old agency again. How would you like to work at ours? Now I know that sounds silly by how we’ve been complaining about the works hours and all but it pays well.’
Toris had thought the email sounded quite odd for Eduard to write. Despite their sparse communication, his old friend was indeed aware of his situation yet had never been the one to pry, and more than once tried to dissuade him from any more searching efforts. Yet there was this email offering him a job in Osaka with a boss who (according to Eduard’s emails) was nothing less than tyrannical when normally his friend advised him to keep away from things that added unnecessary stress to his wallet and physique.
‘Why the sudden offer?’ Toris had asked.
Eduard’s reply had been quick, as if he were online. ‘You’re still looking for Lukasiewicz, aren’t you?’
Toris’ skin had broken out in goosebumps as he read on. ‘He checked in the Hokkaido branch of SF Tours a month ago, but when I tried to find out where he’d go next, he disappeared again.’
Of course, Toris had a hunch. Feliks’ travel patterns were almost always the same. He’d check in with a touring company once or twice when it was his first time visiting a country, then he’d vanish for months at a time, afterwards one would find out the man had tried ‘roughing it’ and was geared to leave for a new state or city.
No, Feliks Lukasiewicz wasn’t a criminal nor was he running away from something, or at least that’s what Toris would like to think on both accounts. The reason why he hadn’t called the authorities to go on some long-winded search was because he didn’t really have a reason to. Feliks was a backpacker, Toris accepted as much, but why the time and distance, he didn’t understand. The man had been so shy around strangers when they were young.
Toris paused in mid-type and stared worriedly at the screen. Things change over time and without a doubt so did people. He was scared to think how much Feliks could have possibly changed through the years and if, because of that, would Toris still be able to reach him with more than time and space between them?
It wouldn’t be the first time Toris thought about giving up, and neither was it the first time he discovered he just couldn’t say ‘enough’. He and Feliks had grown up as neighbors in a humble compound at the heart of Warsaw. Their families were so tight, he’d often thought of Feliks as a brother. The boy had a hard time getting along with the other kids on account that he was so shy around new company. It was an interesting observation Toris didn’t have the opportunity of experiencing because Feliks had been constantly by his side. He opened up to people he gradually grew comfortable with, but it was with Toris that Feliks felt comfortable enough to bare all, sometimes to an embarrassing extent. Feliks was very open and frank when they were together and despite the fact Toris had to put up with a lot from his friend, he was the only one who bore witness to any of them. It gave Toris a sense of pride that he indeed shared something with Feliks that no one else knew, their special secret. And because Toris kept thinking they had something special did he start expecting Feliks to share the more-than-brotherly-feelings he was harboring. With the way the Pole spoke, dressed and acted, anyone of the current day and age would think of him as fruity.
Of course, Toris had no qualms about his effeminate friend, he himself was of dubious gender. Raised by grandparents who were a pair of genuine Balts Believers, Toris was often told that love was a thing of nature and that it was foolish to go against it, whatever gender you happened to feel strongly for. His parents, however, begged to disagree, but Toris himself had never been particularly bothered. He had often wondered though what Feliks’ parents thought about their son’s antics or may his family were just lenient Catholics.
Perhaps it was in this nonchalance that Toris felt so sure Feliks would always be with him.
The deceptively quiet days of college reared its ugly head and before he knew it, the stability he shared with Feliks was fast crumbling under his feet. It had been the week after graduation and the pair sat in Toris’ empty living room watching movies when Feliks dropped the question.
“Like, what d’you wanna be when y’leave, Liet?”
In retrospect, Toris should have considered before speaking, but it was too late for regrets.
“I suppose I’m going to work in a firm.”
Feliks pouted. “Well that’s totally lame.”
Toris laughed. “What about you? Didn’t you say you wanted to teach?”
“Yeah, but I wanna do something super cool, y’know? Like, travel the world.”
In retrospect, Toris shouldn’t have overlooked that answer, because unlike most things, Feliks acted upon this dream with much fervor. Before Toris knew it, he’d been left behind. Feliks scrimped and saved tirelessly in his job as a lecturer and in three years, he was ready to lead the life he wanted. Toris on the other hand, passed the same amount of time with a humble desk job, reading nothing into their conversations about the world during lazy Sunday mornings.
“I finally did it, Liet!” Feliks declared as Toris came home to the compound they shared. The wall that had separated their families in childhood had been torn down years ago.
Toris’ mind teetered to the edge of panic when he saw Feliks packing. “Wh-what is it?”
“I’m finally going to travel the world! My flight’s like tomorrow! Decided to surprise you. Aren’t I cool?”
His legs felt like jelly. Tired and overworked, Toris collapsed on the couch with his head in his hands. Too soon, he thought. Feliks can’t leave without him knowing how I feel about him.
“Yo Liet, you okay? Look, I know it’s a huge surprise but y’should’ve had it coming. Been saving up for this for ages.”
Toris felt nervous laughter escape his system. “I’m…I’m very happy for you, Feliks. B-but you can’t leave.” This was it. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself nor take back the words at the edge of his lips. What he would say could change his careful relationship with Feliks forever. “I…I love you.”
He looked up just in time to see an unreadable look on Felik’s usually expression-filled face and Toris felt his blood run cold. After a pause that shouldn’t have been so long, the Pole placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Like, I totally knew that, Toris. Listen, I want you to be here when I come back home, ayt?”
The bedroom door clicked shut and with that click, something snapped into place in Toris Laurinaitis’ head. A realization he couldn’t pinpoint but knew what it was. He got to his feet shaking with the daring to hope and followed the strains of song coming from the kitchen.
“Feliks! Does this mean you…too?”
His long time friend gave him a smile and a quick kiss beside the stove.
“Of course, you dummy. Like c’mon. I wanna share dinner with you.”
The bubble of happiness swelling inside Toris at the revelation of their mutual feeling made him forget that Feliks had already set his sights elsewhere. An empty bed the next day woke Toris to that and he felt like the earth dropped out of his chest.
Seven years later, he still wasn’t able to clear this dull ache. He saved the document in his file and clicked ‘Print’. As Ivan’s project proposal flew out in crisp sheets, he packed his belongings, having no intention to do overtime today. It was near seven in the evening and his mind was tired.
The computer blinked shut as Toris headed to Ivan’s office with a stack of print outs. He knocked once on the frosted glass door and entered as soon as he was given permission.
“Ah, Mister Torvis. Just the man I was wanting to see.”
“I have the proposal, sir.”
“Yes, yes, that. I will be attending to that later. For now, I am having a special project for you.”
Toris said nothing and Ivan continued with an unmistakable gleam in his eye. “Have you ever been working outside before?”
Outside? Toris blinked. “…I’m afraid I don’t understand-“
“No matter, yes? From now on I will be assigning you to oversee our clients and their tour groups. Then you will be personally reporting back to me~ Very well then, that is it.”
Toris found himself ejected from his boss’ office without a clear inkling of what happened. But as always the silent sufferer, Toris went home mulling about the news. He wouldn’t put it past Sir Ivan to know that he’d been searching for Feliks using the SF database for the past months of his employment. The scary thing was he didn’t know whether the man was okay with it or not. It was funny how a travel agency that highly valued their customers could be so unpredictable with their employees.
Toris took the train and alighted three stations later, bought himself a watermelon shake from one of the stores in Dotombori before squeezing into his tiny apartment. Working in a foreign land was hard, but he was used to it. There wasn’t a day he didn’t miss his home back in Warsaw, but Feliks not being there didn’t make it much of a home. This in mind, Toris fell asleep on the tatami floor.
to the Fourth Degree