Fantasie-Impromptu

X. Heroic Polonaise

Note:

SLIGHT PROFANITY AHEAD.

For younger readers and/or anyone who is not comfortable with any mentions of profanities/curse words, there will be a few of them in this chapter so please tread carefully.

Also, I do not actually condone cursing in this household, please be nice to the people around you :")

-

"That's sweet, but don't think I'd let you get away that easily."

A low and husky voice comments from the side. Something like a rough shape emerges out of the alley, the smudge of a dark figure morphing into a sharper shadow of a man, now walks painstakingly slowly towards them, and both Fryderyk and Franz are frozen.

Franz sports a face of anger and horror that is somehow combined into one, and Fryderyk actually looks apologetic, warm tears on the verge of streaming down his pale face. No one from the two moves a muscle or even dares to take a breath.

TAK... TAK... TAK...

The steps were slow and the clacking of the man's leather dress shoes against the cold pavement grounds echo loudly in the empty street, and a little shiver makes its way up Franz' spine. Out of the dark, a hand reaches out as if asking. Franz quips to push the hand away, but before he could, Fryderyk had already gotten up and ran towards the hand as if it were actually calling out to him. In a matter of seconds, lightning in the sky, Fryderyk embraces the man in his arms.

Franz chokes at the scene as he sees Fryderyk crying, trying his best to save Franz and grant him a few seconds to run, or at least that's what Franz thought he was doing, but just as Franz begins to think about what his next move should be - whether he should save Fryderyk or run for his life and call the police – he sees something else.

He hears something else.

He hears Fryderyk speak. He also hears a purr, along with a faint meow. But he ignores this small sound because now he realizes that Fryderyk isn't actually talking to Franz, no. He was talking to the man.

"I'm sorry," Fryderyk chokes out a sob. "I'm sure Franz didn't mean to do that to you." his voice says, now soft and gentle. In fact, it was probably more soft and gentle than it had ever been to Franz himself, and this fact puts him in utter shame. "Are you alright there, Hector?" Fryderyk says.

Hector? – The bidden name echoes painfully down the street.

Shock, anger, and even fear all mix into a huge pot of goo in Franz' head, and for once, for the very first time in Franz Liszt's life, he thinks there is absolutely no way he could ever overdose on confusion quite as much as he had now.

As if on cue, the clouds that had once been hovering over the night's full moon move to the side, letting the moonlight shine brightly upon the man who was now resting in Freddy's embrace. Like a gentle spotlight that was specially lit for this scene, the soft glow of the moon touches the man's face, carefully revealing a beautiful pair of brown eyes glaring straight at Franz, evident with anger.

Almost immediately, Hector Berlioz breaks out of Fryderyk's warm embrace, save for the one-second sigh, and he says (well more like roar, really),

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, FRANZ!?"

And a "huh?" was all that could come out of Franz' lips.

"YOU BEANPOLE PIECE OF SHIT! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU, HUH? YOU-"

"hey-" Chopin's small voice squeaks from behind, attempting to calm one of the two down, but he ultimately gets drowned out by Berlioz anyway.

"YOU PSYCHO-BASTARD! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU-" Berlioz, hot with anger clearly burning in his irises, continues.