When Lily's Cry: Puppet Strings

Chapter IV. The only friend

"Hey. My names Alfred. What's yours?"

Francis stayed quiet for a moment.

He usually didn't make friends, but it was different this time. Yes, it was different.

Francis took Alfred's hand in his own before nodding curtly.

"Francis Bonnefoy."

Alfred's smile widened as he giggled quietly.

He turned to Francis, eyes sparkling in the light of the large room. "Your accents really cool. I wish I had one, but no, I had to be American." Alfred spoke boredly, dragging out the 'o' slightly. Francis chuckled softly before nodding again.

"Thanks. Most people think it's weird though."

Alfred rose an eyebrow in confusion.

"That's weird. Your accents top notch in my book. Besides, French is the prettiest language in the world, who wouldn't want to be from there?"

Francis shrugged before giving a dry chuckle.

"Dunno."

#^#^#^#^#

Over the first quarter of the year, Alfred and Francis continued to talk, and eventually grew really close. They talked all the time, and hung out with each other more than they did anyone else.
A normal day for the two was usually classes, which they luckily had together, eating lunch together, and walking home together. Yes, Francis had told his driver to stop taking him to and from school, making up the excuse that he 'needed the exercise.'
However, as you can see, it was just so that he could spend more time with Alfred. Though Francis felt they had gotten closer, there was still something that was always off about the boy, like he was hiding something. After all, you can't be happy all the time, but it seemed like Alfred was. It seemed like he was.
Francis inhaled deeply. Today Alfred would be coming over to his home. It took some convincing, but he eventually got his father on board. He didn't need to convince his mother, because all she wanted was for her son to make a friend. She was ecstatic at the mere thought of it. Francis had made sure everything was perfect, getting all of Alfred's favorite foods and drinks, along with sweets of all kinds. And for the first time in years, Francis was truly excited.
He had dressed in his Sunday best, combing back his wavy hair and tying it back with a pink ribbon. He fixed his bow tie and tapped his foot. It was a nervous habit of his. He heard the sound of a loud knock and ran towards the large oak doors. He took a moment to catch his breathe before pulling the door open with slight difficulty.
Francis sighed softly after getting the door open and turned to welcome Alfred. The frenchmen inhaled sharply, the sight before him was breathtaking.
Alfred's hair was slicked back, though his stubborn cowlick was still dominant. He had on a pair of glasses that somehow managed to make his eyes look even brighter. He wore a navy suit with a plain black bow tie. The suit was obviously fitted, since it showed off his thin figure. Nothing extraordinary about it. But somehow. Somehow, the boy before him seemed to glow.

Alfred smiled nervously before waving.

"Hey Francis."

Francis realized he had been staring and mentally slapped himself. Alfred just looked so good! He couldn't help it.

"Hi, uh, come on in."

Alfred nodded before entering the large mansion. He gaped at its extravagance, taking in all of the details before turning to Francis with a small smile.

"So, wanna show me around francy pants?"

Francis chuckled at the nickname before nodding and leading his friend further into the mansion. While walking down one of the many long halls, -that just so happened to be the one that lead to the dining area- conversation sparked between the two preteens.

Francis tilted his head, "What's with the bruise on your neck? Did you get hurt?"

Alfred flinched, "Ah, yeah, something like that."

The Frenchman noticed Alfred's odd behavior and pushed further on the subject.

"Okay, but why didn't your dad want you to come over??"

The American bit the inside of his cheek as a nervous habit.

"He's... well, he's not very keen on the idea of me making friends."

"Why not?"

"..... he doesn't like it when I hang out with other people.... he thinks that I'll do something reckless that'll put him at risk."

"Like what?"

"...... telling his secret."

"....... Can you tell me? I promise I won't tell anybody."

Alfred paused before looking towards his only friend. The azure eyed boy frowned before speaking softly.

"He beats my mom....."

Francis urged the American to continue.

"He beats mom.....

..... and me."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I think it's time we invited Alfred over for dinner again. Don't you think so ...... Francis?"

Francis stared at his father for a few moments before sighing and speaking plainly.

"You know he has to work now. And besides, you just want to defile him like-"

"Francis."

The violet eyed teen glared at his father before speaking coldly.

"Whatever. Can I go back to class if your done?"

The older man spoke again, this time in a giddy voice.

"No. We're going home now."

"But my stuffs still-"

"You can get it tomorrow. We're going home."

Francis clicked his tongue before walking past his father and out of the office door. The bleach blond man stood still for a moment, watching his sons retreating figure before smiling small.

"Thank you.... Jessica?"

The receptionist nodded.

"Yes, you're welcome, Sir Ulysses of the Bonnefoy household."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Francis cried quietly in the corner of a dark and empty room. It was cold. So cold that fog escaped his pale lips as he took heavy and erratic breaths. The sound of a door opening could be heard as light poured into the vacant room. Francis looked up to see his mother, a gentle smile on her face as she entered the small space. She closed the door behind her, crossing the room and sitting beside her son, who was only 7 years old at the time. She beckoned to him, as he snuggled into her side.
She ran slender fingers through his golden locks, cooing soft words of comfort. After her son calmed his breathing pattern and had no more tears running down his face, his mother spoke.

"What's wrong, mon ange?"

"The kids in my class k-keep making fun of me. They say b-because I have long hair, I'm a girl. They say I d-don't look like a boy at all. I-Is that true, maman?"

"Mon cher, do not let their words affect you. You are perfect as you are, because you are mon petit ange, et je te tiendrai toujours dans mon cœur. Je t'aimerai jusqu'à mon dernier souffle."

Francis smiled small before hugging his mother tightly.

"Je t'aimerai aussi, maman, pour toujours et à jamais."

His mother chuckled softly before kissing the top of his head.

"Oui, pour toujours et à jamais."

~ * ~ * ~ *~

Don't know if the French is accurate. I used google translate. Hope you enjoyed the chapter though.