Chapter Text
Three hours ago, Florian Brand thinks he met the love of his life.
Or not, actually. To ‘Think’ would be an understatement, and he prides himself on being a very determined man in matters like this.
It was something like instinct, but oh, so much sweeter. Like a force pulling all of his attention to those gentle eyes. The sounds of the world fading away, and leaving behind only the angel in front of him.
Since he was a child, his mother used to tell him that love like this just feels different. That when she met his dad, she just knew she would love him for the rest of her life. Florian thinks he could do the same, now. That this feeling warming his soul in gentle flames could only ever be love.
After all, God doesn't work in the ways he does without reason. And it's obvious that the way he guided both of them to meet here — Here, of all places! — isn't a coincidence nor an error, but a miracle itself.
They match like a long lost puzzle piece, one that he’d been searching for again and again, everywhere for all his life. There’s no one else that could be like this; Exactly like him. A blessed child in this barren earth. A survivor. A testament of braveness. The embodiment of the human will to live.
And even then, it is obvious, too, how deep their differences run.
Florian marvels at his beauty, at his braveness— would kneel at his feet if he ever so wishes for him to do so. But he also can’t pretend not to see it in his gaze: How it’s filled with a fidgety type of deep melancholy, running to the core and rooted there since who knows how long. How he is not yet ready to accept this gift, scared and wounded to the point of apprehension.
What kind of circumstances, Florian can only wonder, so identical and yet so different, could've driven them so apart from each other?
There's a bridge to cross in the middle of this distance, burned to a crisp and hanging by a thread. And still, Florian would never doubt to cross it.
Florian would tell him how many times are necessary that he is divine. Blessed upon this earth from the heavens above. That people like them are proof that something holy cared enough to spare a glance and give a second chance.
Instead, he says “Welcome! Is this all you're buying?".
It’s mandatory, a company policy, and a complete shame that the first words uttered to this angel aren't promises of a bright future by his side. He smiles brightly nonetheless. A good first impression is the only thing that could compensate for this bummer.
The man in front of him seems to jump at the question, looking surprised to be addressed and immediately diverting his gaze. Is he that shy? Florian’s heart skips some beats seeing him struggle. Cute.
"Yes,” He pauses, and shifts in place. ”It is…"
Florian smiles warmly, trying to ease him from the evident awkwardness. So he IS just that shy!
Scanning all the vegetables, basic supplies and concerning amounts of chocolate as fast as he can, he thinks about his voice. How it’s soft and raspy, exactly like he imagined at first glance and nothing like it at all. His aspect is just so delicate, that his low, cold tone somehow makes the sweetest parallel. Still, it’s a voice so small that if he wasn’t focusing all his attention on him, he can clearly imagine it being missed in a crowd.
Florian can help with that. He would be glad to hear his every whisper anytime he likes to direct him even one blessed syllable. Such tacit, slow words seem like the perfect refreshment from the daily, mindless chatter he has to indulge everyday.
His world is full of compliments— of small talks and passing greetings. But to find someone with counted words, with time to think before talking…
Florian feels like smiling even more than he already is. Even if it isn’t hard for him to strike conversations on a normal basis, in front of this sight he cannot help but falter. Still, he regains himself and announces brightly in the hopes of looking casual, "Are you new in town? ‘M not sure if i've seen you around before"
"Ah…” He gapes, eye flying towards his face and away immediately after. The man grimaced, straightening as if caught doing something wrong ”Yes, we—"
"We arrived a few weeks ago!"
The voice — High-pitched and chirpy, each vowel a painful screech — made Florian blink. A kid? Now? If he had to rush to deal with another lost child situation he swears—
His twitching eye falls to the head barely peeking over the counter, and as he takes him in he already knows— this was way worse than a lost child.
A wave of dread washes over him from head to toe, hitting like a punch in the gut the instant his lone eye meets the pair of brown, round ones— Lively and youthful, a pinch of wit and something sharper. So identical and yet inconceivable to compare to the one of the man by his side.
Florian wonders how he was so blind. How his eye was so charmed by gentle gazes and soft solitude, to not even think of looking at the person next to him. The resemblance is striking, now. Haunting and chilling to the deep core, as he registers every single detail of this kid and tries to give sense to their opposing similarities.
From face to toe they were identical. Every feature perfectly mirrored. Yet something so vast and indefinable relegated any comparison to feel almost profane. As if it was blasphemy to even consider them the same.
Still, Florian has to wonder. Was this how the man in front of him looked when life was easier? When he was younger, happier. When his cheeks were rounder, and he hadn’t yet been forced to drag himself out of the scorching rubble of tragedy.
Are they father and son? He thinks with a trembling realization. It’s clear that there’s some semblance of relatedness here. Of what kind, now that’s…
He looks at them both again, really taking them in this time. As withdrawn and placid as the man looks, there’s a subtlety in his actions that speaks louder than his own voice ever did in their brief interaction. His hands are close to himself, clasped in each other tightly. A distance in his stance that looks subtle, but careful. Deliberate in a way only obvious when looked with the intention to find.
They stay rooted to their place, a distance so poignant that couldn’t come across as coincidence. In the space occupied by this joyful, bright child, the older seems relegated to an invisible corner. And as close as they are, there’s a careful line of distance that seems impossible to cross. An invisible line that keeps them as far apart as a cliff.
The kid goes and rambles about their stay in town— How their house is big, but smaller than the older one. How he still hasn’t enrolled in any school. How he has been so bored the last few days, not getting out of the house. But Florian doesn’t listen to any of that. He nods and answers shortly, pretends to care, but from the corner of his eye he still observes.
The man looks detached from them, from it all. Looking far past the counter, as if focusing so much on thinking that he can’t even hear them anymore. But as Florian answers and the kid replies, there’s a twitch in his brow that gives him away. It’s subtle, but it’s an emotion— a real one, slipped through his indifferent facade.
Florian feels his smile stretch a bit more, sharpened around the corners. If this is how he looks when troubled, then just how would he look when joyful, when alive? And from this little taste of life now he feels addicted. Craving to soften his sorrow with happiness— to offer comfort and safety to ease his pain.
There’s a gap in between them that tells more than it does not, and as time progresses his first assumptions start to crumble bit by bit. There’s no hand on shoulder, nor joy or chatter the two ever share. Is he really his father? The idea of still having a chance flutters and dances in his chest before he has the opportunity to fully extinguish it. And as stupid as it is to give himself false hopes…
He finishes checking all the prices and exchanges a few more replies in this sad excuse of small talk. At last, he risks a parting glance to the man on the other side of the counter.
He feels like a thief, catching glimpses of a treasure not meant for his eyes. If he really is a father, then who could have the hand and love of this man, yet still make him look so detached and lonely? His heart clenches subtly, shifting his chest in an uncomfortable turmoil. Is it right to crave for the chance to lift those lips in a relieved smile? To give life to those eyes, downcasted and veiled?
And at the moment that helpless, deep gaze meets his again, Florian feels his words dry and tangle in his throat. As if singed, a gentle flame warming his face and making his hands clammy. A wonder like this — like curiosity, ingenuity —, like the need to discover and explore just to reach a heart so far away from his, hiding in plain sight of the world and still so elusive.
Just how much would it take to wipe away that loneliness, to lift the weight slouching his shoulders? To take his hand, steal him away from isolation. Make him realize just how much of a miracle he really is.
They stay like that for an instant— brief as a blink, yet as long as a lifetime. Florian tries to clear the dryness of his throat, swallowing hard. A rasp escapes his lips as he finally manages to look away, attempting to recompose himself.
"You're welcome!! Have a nice day!" He forces at last.
As he waves softly at them, Florian can’t help but wonder if the last brief glance the other throws his way before leaving is enough of a silent sign to proceed with his pursuit.
————————————
The next time Florian sees him, he actually doesn’t see him at all.
He’s been thinking about him daily. About his gaze and his actions, and the way he looked so out of place in so many ways and so little time. It’s not a bad thing— Where others could perceive it as off-putting, Florian can only describe it as captivating.
There wasn’t even a day in the prior weeks when he didn’t sleep dreaming of his glinting, downcasted eyes, and his chocolate hair. So it’s like a sign of luck the moment he sees a similar shade of it, just slightly more saturated, when walking down the street back from training one common afternoon.
It’s his small companion the one that zeros in his gaze the moment he rounds the corner. And even if it’s not the one he has been praying to appear in front of his line of sight — And preferably in his arms —, it’s enough of a sign for him. It means he is closer. It means it wasn't a dream.
Florian is joyful with this turn of events: The kid is walking down the street. Sunny afternoon and approaching sunset. Did he just get off from school? He can’t help but wonder, closing distance steadily in the opposite direction. Maybe they are finally getting done with all the moving thing, and are just about to start calling this town their own, too.
Just to share something like a place to live with someone he adores fills his heart with a giddy feeling. If it is a room or a radius of 8 kilometers, it doesn’t really matter for now—
Yet as he closes his distance with the boy, the question arises. Why is he walking alone?
It’s not that this is an insecure city, nor that he wants to look creepy and nosy getting into matters that aren’t his business about a lonely child. It’s just that he would’ve expected to meet them again as the pair they struck him to be. Even with their differences, it’s clear that they are kind of stuck with one another, so did something happen to the older one? Do they really not get along at all?
Florian looks at him again and ponders about it for a moment. Just from the side of curiosity it’s at least a concern, but from the point of view of the responsible adult he absolutely is, a kid alone at this hour is almost worrying.
As a firefighter — Almost. Just a month to get there! —, Florian has been used to carrying his sense of duty and source of aid as if it was the most honorable medal, since he was really young. People rely on him, and he vows for them to feel safe from all dangers lurking nearby with the pride of a true hero.
Since he left the orphanage (And even in his last few years there), he has been working hard to become a firefighter. Even if it wasn’t his own idea, now he sees that there isn’t anything else that calls more intensely to him than the flames. Not since the very moment he was touched by it— scorched in its furnace and forever marked. His previous life consumed in the heat, left to melt and burn.
For him to be reborn anew in this path chosen exclusively for himself.
It must have been God’s plan, he is sure. For what other reason then, would he have taken his family away?
For the nuns in the orphanage it was a noble cause, and an even grander miracle. To devote his life to aid the helpless souls in need of saving, just like he once was. To protect others from what the flames took away. A savior, ‘A brave boy turned into a hero’.
It looked good on the news and the charity pamphlets, and Florian never found it in himself to question the adults and step out of the perfect line set for him since he arrived. It was his calling, after all. To become their hero and aid them in desperate times.
So he never refuted. He grew from charity auctions to summer firefighting courses. Studied hard to be the first of his class. Exercised daily and volunteered selflessly just to become the best cadet in the internship, and now, almost at the finish line, he can say with honor that everyone is proud.
His caretakers cried of joy when he fulfilled his end of the promise of growing up and becoming a hero, and the kids of the orphanage made a surprise party for their brand new role model.
His former classmates smile and greet him when they catch sight of each other on the street, stopping to share jokes and laughs to catch up before continuing their day.
In his part time job, the grannys ask him to take care, and the fathers of rebellious teenagers tell him that it’s good to know there’s still honorable young people that work for the good of society.
Everyone is proud of him, and Florian is happy to know it. He really, really is.
So it feels like his duty, now, to attend to this case. There’s no way he can leave a child to wander alone when night is so close to approaching. He could be scared or lost for all he knows! And it’s in his honor as a firefighter to prevent anything bad from happening.
Taking the decision, Florian looks back with a determined gaze to the end of the street, yet he is taken aback by the sudden lack of anyone there— the kid is nowhere to be seen.
Just as he starts asking himself if he was really abducted in the spawn of one short minute of daydreaming, his next step halts hastily in mid air when he finds a pair of eyes staring unblinkingly up at his face. If it weren’t for his reflexes he would’ve knocked the poor child to the ground— thank God for all the training!
That doesn’t prevent him from almost going into cardiac arrest when he finds the kid so close, though. As he tries to maintain his balance while putting his feet back on the ground, an almost theatrical sigh escapes from his lips.
“You scared me there!! I saw you rounding the corner, and now you’re here! You are a fast walker” He smiles warmly, a joyful tone to match. The kids of the orphanage feel more at ease when he speaks to them like this — Exaggerated and overly enunciated, a soft sing-song to his voice that always makes them laugh —, and even more when he reads them stories with silly voices.
The kid in front of him though, looks just as unimpressed as he looked earlier. His big eyes still unblinking, looking pointedly up at his face. Florian suddenly has the fleeting thought that it feels just like being dissected. In search of what? Now, that escapes his mind.
“It’s because you were distracted, mister. You were all gone-gone, spacing out even when walking!” The kid grins, closing both eyes and stepping back two times with measured, playful steps, as if in a dance only he knows the rhythm of. Whatever actions this boy chooses to enact, though, Florian is only thankful that his voidly eyes are finally off his face.
But as he recomposes he cannot help but think about what he said. Was he really so distracted?
These last few weeks, Lily (One of his work colleagues, the most important one!) has been pointing out that he tends to space out more often than he has ever done before. It tends to be, unsurprisingly, the times when his mind starts to wander to his dream-man territory.
He cannot blame her for worrying though, as it is increasingly clear that his head has been thinking about anything but what needs to be thought of. Was his life really so boring, before meeting him? He cannot fathom the thought of a world without thoughts filled with cotton candy in the shape of lovely faces with downward smiles, and even if it consumes him to the point of getting distracted when walking or sleeping or eating or working— Doesn’t he deserve such a little respite?
When he thinks about it that way, it’s evident that years of hard work needs to be paid off with a prize of the correct value, and what better than the very thing he has ever wanted? For what is a hero’s worth, if he doesn’t have a prince to save from his tower. He deserves this, he won it with hard work!
It is like this that his heart feels restless now— like if the thoughts and dreams aren’t enough anymore. He needs to see him again, he’s been thinking about it everyday since the moment he said goodbye and got out the door.
And as his hands get clammy and his breath warms over, he suddenly realizes that this kid might just be his one way ticket to that destiny.
He just needs to get enough of his trust, for him to guide him to his house.
“Is that so?” He chuckles, a bit of the softness already gone in the excitement. Easy, don’t look like a weirdo. He tries to correct, sticking once again to his helplessly easy-going, usual persona. ”Sorry, grown ups tend to space out sometimes too. We daydream, even!”
Is it ethical to use a child to doxx his house just to see his future husband just one more time? No. But he is willing to overlook it this time, if it is for a greater good.
And it is. He assures.
Besides, how much safer can a kid be if not by having someone like him as a guard on his walk? It is a noble act, even. He should win a medal as commemoration.
While he tries to shut up the little faux angel on his shoulder trying to make him back out of his plans, the boy smiles again. His eyes are as sharp as a blade somehow, even when his smile is the perfect picture of friendly.
“Oh, really?” He inclines his head, looking as the book definition of innocent curiosity, ”Matthias does that too, all the time. The doctor gave him pills for it, but he doesn’t like to take them.”
Huh?
Florian is taken aback.
There’s no way he is talking about him, is he?
His thoughts come to a halt, as the world stops and rewinds back and back and back again. He is sure his breath must have failed him this time, as his heart beats wildly in his ribcage. It could break his bones in the attempt to escape, yet Florian wouldn’t know— wouldn’t even feel it, when all his mind supplies him with is one repeated sound.
Matthias.
Matthias is his name.
Florian can feel the air shifting. As if just woken up from a colorless dream that lasted all too long. Out from a coma, a world and a life born anew.
Ah, if it isn’t this like joy! If it isn’t like happiness!
Sound won’t ever be the same now. No longer any word has any meaning worthy of being pronounced, if not for this one unique shape and combination of lips and articulation. Words must be banned and languages forgotten, this one name should only ever exist in all of the world's dictionaries, yet not even then would it have even a glimpse of the meaning that it has for Florian right now.
There must be someone out there. Watching over him and the path sketched ahead. Guiding his steps with confidence to an already marked destiny. After all, what is it if not God’s plan to send such a clear sign his way?
A gift from God.
Florian is not ignorant of its meaning. In his younger years he had been taught about the sacred scriptures, guided to recognize signs and to pray for good things to happen. To become a good man. And now this is his catharsis. His payment for every good deed he has diligently attended to and never strayed from.
His gift from God. His miracle.
A kindred spirit just like his own, marred and twisted under the flames, yet reborn anew. A lonely soul in need of help— Of saving! The shackled king only a true hero could save from the confined solitude of his self-imposed tower.
Matthias.
His name sounds like a choir of angels. It flows in his tongue with the need to be pronounced and tasted. To be heard again and again, until all his senses are desensitized to all else. His novelty would never wear off, not even when lived a life and another and a million others— Not in the face of the one he has forever been in search of.
Someone to give his life to. To devote his every breath. Someone to love and cherish, protect at all costs and never let go— The one glimpse of love resembling the family he has forever been searching for, in the rubble of ashes and the corners of shadows.
Now it’s finally so close he can almost grasp it. His wish, his destiny—
Oh. And what about some pills…?
He has to wrack his brain a bit to find what it is that this kid decided to drop mid-conversation with a face of pure, ignorant bliss. He has to double check to see if he isn’t mishearing, as his poor ear tends to do, but everytime he checks he is met with the same happy face of childish naiveté.
Florian can’t pretend to not see the truth in it, though. It’s clear that whatever type of person Matthias is, there has been enough pain in his life to leave him confined to suffer alone. If his thoughts are really, slowly, rotting him away— just enough for his ever active mind to be the one guilty of glazing his gaze with the melancholic solitude that Florian saw the other day, then…
His heart aches just by thinking about it.
He is just out of reach, somewhere out there. Behind cold gazes and quiet words. Restricted by himself or who knows how many others to be free. Florian has seen it before, after all. In the orphanage when he was a kid, and in all the times he now goes to visit. It still breaks his heart to see young kids suffering alone, feeding their hearts full of sadness and their minds full of pain.
It is not easy to help in those scenarios. It’s less straightforward than saving a kitten from a tree, yet not any bit less delicate. It takes time and effort, and so much care…
But he knows that nothing truly good has ever been achieved by hurrying. Patience is a virtue he has learned to cultivate and grow, and after a long journey of effort and mistakes, now he can proudly wear it as a medal and a well-earned trait.
He has to tread slowly the way to his aching heart. Pry away his fears, and strip him from all the pain ingrained on his open wounds. He needs to be careful, minding not to scare him away, for care is often misunderstood as danger in the eyes of the ones aching.
Soon enough, his devotion will mend his wounds and soothe his pain. It is only love he needs to feel better— he will help him to trust and heal, laugh and smile once again.
And when that moment finally comes, it will be like breathing again. He is part of his soul now, he decides. Even if they haven’t properly met, even when they haven’t even talked, there’s no chance he can leave him to suffer alone.
He will share his pain, if that helps him feel better. He will take it all, if it means for him to be happy. It’s in his duty after all, to aid anyone that needs saving— and in this case, Matthias clearly does.
But the wise thing now is to wait. Breathe and think before acting rashfully.
Since he was young, patience and premeditation were his most personal and loyal tools to grow up and gain favor in the convoluted game of interests of the people around him. And as much as he wants— needs , to take that man and marry him right now, he has to lay out all the possibilities and critical factors in this equation first.
For the moment, the best thing he can do is gather as much useful information from this boy, and getting in his good graces as a reliable adult is the best possible outcome.
After all, how hard can it be to gain the trust of a child?
“Well I don’t like medicine either. Have you ever caught a cold? Ew! It's the worst” Let’s not delve into all the possible reasons about why he needs the pills. Florian reasons. Should a kid even know about this kind of stuff? No matter. This one here is already aware of the implications and just that much of a blabber, or just plain naive.
As Florian thinks which one is worse for this conversation (Or which one grants him more insight on the dreamy-boy case), he tries to slip his way hinting at the answers he needs to get.
“Is he the person you were with the other day? I couldn’t get you two a proper welcome, I’ve had so little time recently…” He asks, with a show of a smile and a helpless rub of the neck. So silly of me!
Be courteous. Be simple and funny. He tries to remind himself, treading carefully to try not to scare him away. If this works out, it can mark the before and after of a brand new life.
It’s not like he doesn’t have practice, either. Measuring from his words to his actions, since childhood to his teenage years, has helped him become the person that he is today.
By being who people want to rely on, he gains the things he needs to keep on moving forward. It's in the smile he showed to everyone in order to get the highest charity donations, and in the strength he uses to protect the ones in need to get the favor of the whole city. It’s in his care and selflessness, when he hears about their days without a beep of complaint.
He is the reliance of the people, and the embodiment of their trust. People love to concede their safety and secrets to the care of his capable hands. It has worked for ages, and has never failed. Not even once.
So he isn’t sure what kind of demon he has struck here, when it doesn't work this time.
The boy just blinks once, twice, before opening his eyes in shock and gasping a loud, wheezing sound. “So you really are the supermarket guy!!” He ends up screaming in his face while pointing at him with his finger, as if there was anyone else on this side of the sidewalk that also works (Just part-time! He is a firefighter!) as a cashier.
Florian is dumbstruck. That’s what he decides to answer with? Out of everything else?
He is no expert, but it is common knowledge that kids this age are particularly air-headed, and get distracted incredibly easily. To be this level of it, though, that must be a record of some kind.
His smile twitches a bit when he realizes it will take a bit more trying to get the answers he needs. As he is just about to speak again to guide the conversation back to topics that don’t embarrass him as much as his second temporary job, the boy stops his recognition glee in favor of looking at his fire jacket with a furrowed brow.
“But why are you wearing that, then? I saw in the news that people disguise themselves as cops to steal houses. Are you doing that too?”
Florian rushes to clarify, lest anyone hear such a defamation. “None of that!! I’m also a firefighter, I have two jobs!”
“Firefighter…?” He mutters, pondering with a thumb in his chin, “Matthias says they are worthless. When our house burned down they arrived half an hour late”
And he would have had the inkling to look scandalized again, trying hurriedly to grasp all the broken pieces of his crushed honor— But actually, he doesn’t do that this time.
In the span of a split second, time seems to freeze. His mind stopping and his body going numb, as he catches from the corner of his eye the malicious smirk hidden carefully by the downcasted gaze of the boy in front of him.
He is doing it on purpose. He realizes. He is trying to distract me.
It was a short detour, but one that happened either way. And for Florian, who has engaged in countless conversations just as clearly demarcated as this one, deviations in the replies he expects are extremely rare.
He tried to keep it simple and friendly, but in his effort it’s clear that he got too confident. Even if it's just a kid, Florian can recognize easily what he is trying to do. After all, it would only take the realization of the intention behind his questions to evade them all so seamlessly.
Oh. Florian realizes. This is no normal kid after all.
This is a little nuisance.
It takes cleverness to be this elusive. He knows because he had it too, once long ago when he was small and defenseless against a world of lying and manipulation. Oratory and… ‘learning to bend things for his best interest’ were the only tools that he realized could lead him as far as he’s gotten in life.
How strange. To find it now, once again, in a boy so apparently normal.
When he learned this way of life, it was solely because of need. For him to survive the orphanage, his best bet was to be the favorite. To carry all of the expectations with a perfect smile. To have been thrown to the ground thousands of times, just to learn his way to crawl out of the mud.
So how could this seemingly innocent and oblivious child, be someone even resembling the likeness of that same kid that he once was?
…does it have to do with the fire he mentioned?
How interesting, indeed!
Looking back at the kid in front of him, it’s now easy to identify the edge in his deceivingly warm eyes. Is this a trait learned purely by his own means, or is it taken upon imitation from someone else? Perhaps, even from the one that’s been stealing away all his sighs?
Florian cannot help but let a smirk of his own escape and taint his warm smile. How fun would that be? If he had more bite that he shows. An equal in all aspects.
Still, saving his daydreams for later, it’s evident that this boy is deliberately choosing what to say and what to hide. By using the expected poor talking filter of a child as a cover for his true scheme.
It is clever, he has to admit. But it is also clear that he won’t be giving away anything he deems really important anytime soon. A dead end.
But if so, then why tell him about the pills?
It is a pivot point of information that talks about a whole new level of vulnerability, one that, taken upon the wrong hands, could undoubtedly present a big threat to Matthias’ safety.
‘He gets too much into his own head’ It reads. ‘He gets distracted, eats himself away with his own thoughts. It’s serious enough to be of notice to doctors. It’s detrimental to his health, yet he doesn’t care. He hates himself too much for that.’
“Oops, you are out thinking again!” The same chirpy voice calls, smiling mockingly. Florian can now clearly identify in the glint of his squinted eyes and the smirk that doesn’t quite reach them what he really tries to say. Get away , it reads in between the lines. I don’t trust you.
It’s just enough with that, it seems. A last message he wanted to convey in silent gestures for Florian to understand in between tricks and veiled games. With a flourish and a spin, he goes back to his previous walk back home, brushing him carelessly as if they had never even talked in the first place.
“I should go now, Matthias will worry if I don't get home before the sun goes down”.
It’s nothing more than a moment of difference. Between when there was promising plans in his mind, to now, when there’s just a boy walking joyfully down the sidewalk drifting from him with each step.
Florian is petrified. Left exhausted and confused with the nonchalance this demon seems to talk and act with— as if nothing really matters, and everything is just an innocent playground for him to rule.
Kids never were his forte, contrary to appearances and the countless visits he makes to the orphanage. And even if he sometimes thought about the possibility of starting a family of his own, the most prominent breach here is that a normal kid is nowhere near the likes of this tiny monster.
He is left on the sidewalk, stressed and sulking. Angry even, if he allows himself the pleasure of unwinding for once.
Outsmarted by a 10 year old… What a humiliating display.
Yet as he is just about to drop his shoulders and go back home, the same squeaky voice talks again. “Won’t you accompany me, mister firefighter? I still don’t know the city very well”
Ah, marvelous. Just fantastic.
So he knew about his intentions from the very start, yet still had to put him through the mental strain of this whole conversation, the little rat.
Florian grits his teeth sharply, behind his tight lipped smile that gets harder to maintain by the minute. Does this play into his plans too? To grant him what he has been insinuating since the very beginning? Does he consider this information so unimportant that he is willing to share it so carelessly, in the face of whatever his greater goal is?
Florian’s head instantly classifies this as sketchy, but it is soon overshadowed by the notion that there is no other easy, instant way for him to know this information if he refuses now. He is really in no position to refuse.
And that is as clear and evident as a game over.
“I can if you need me to, but isn’t it dangerous to walk with a stranger?” He turns around and starts walking, approaching slowly until they are once again side by side. He feels like on his way to the slaughter. It’s already obvious that this conversation can’t get any easier for his already stressed brain.
“But you are not a stranger, you are a firefighter!” The boy says it mockingly, shaming his previous pride at presenting his role, “And I’m Louis, Louis Czernin. There, now we are not strangers anymore, mister Florian”
There. He can’t take it anymore.
As he clenches his teeth to inhale sharply in barely contained fury, he has to think of flower fields and wedding rings in favor of not starting to throw a tantrum in the middle of the street. This damned brat knew his name all along. He swears he’s going to—
But this is an important person in Matthias’ life, so he tries to contain his killing urges.
Breathe in. Breathe out. He tries to calm himself, poorly. It’s not like it will ever work when the demon at his side snickers at his reactions and tries to pass it up as a cough.
“How did you know my name?” He asks peacefully (no). It’s a wonder, he thinks, how he has the prowess not to scream right now. He should win a medal for this valiant effort. Maybe when he already gets his new beautiful perfect boyfriend, one day he can tell him all about this horrid lost battle of a conversation.
“It was in the nametag of your uniform the other day.” The boy smiles brightly, with too-much teeth and closed eyes. Overly joyous about the misery he must know Florian is going through.
“Then why didn’t you say it earlier—” He grits out, fingers twisting with the intent to clench. Louis, however, doesn’t miss a beat.
“I was waiting for you to say it yourself. Mom and Dad say that introductions are the most important part of meeting someone new, but you never said anything even when you are an adult. Did your parents never teached you that?”
It’s meant to be silly. Mocking, in the playful type of banter he can now come to associate with Louis.
Florian freezes over, however. He can’t even pretend that it doesn’t stir a painful, dormant ache inside his chest.
If he’d had the chance to live with them just a bit longer, just a few more weeks, then maybe now their voices wouldn’t be lost to time. If he could come up with even one memory that is not pieces and fragments, then maybe he could now remember if they told him about how he should sit and talk, express his gratitude or ask for permission.
But even when trying for all these years, still he cannot even picture their faces.
“I must’ve been distracted” He mutters, softer now. The kid by his side must have picked up on it, and chooses tactfully not to comment any further.
They walk quietly a few more streets, yet the boy never tries to speak again. Florian has to wonder if there really is empathy within someone that preoccupies so badly to look like a troublemaker, and if he honestly feels guilty over something like that. He has to be really perceptive, if he could catch it so fast.
Still, Florian is starting to feel bad for worrying him over nothing. Even when his throat is parched from the lack of speaking, he tries to swallow the knot of bottled emotions in hopes of lifting the mood. “Your parents… they seem like good people. Are they waiting for you at home too?”
When he looks back at Louis, he notices how he hastily looks down at his shoes. It’s the first time he isn’t looking directly at him or smiling, and just by knowing him for so little time, he knows that it must be a rare sight to have him so quiet.
They keep walking slowly, but Louis takes a moment to think before speaking again, almost as if hesitating. Nothing left from the confident boy he introduces himself to be.
“...They are not home. It’s just me and Matthias.” It’s dry with finality, and Florian doesn’t ask anything else related to it. Touchy subject, he assumes, and feels in his chest a slight sense of empathy.
Are his parents gone, too? And if they are really brothers, then could this be the reason why Matthias left himself to rot away?
“Matthias...” He tries to start, muttering it as nothing more than a sigh. He tries to taste it, pronouncing it slowly for the first time to keep it longer in his lips. Still, eventually he asks, ”Is he your brother?”
And that seems to do the trick. Louis jumps back to his usual self, slipping back easily into the same toothy grin and carefree pace, quick in his step as he turns to him with wide eyes that feign surprise.
“You didn’t realize?! Silly mister Florian, we even look the same!” His grin widens, before pointing exaggeratedly at his own hair and putting on a sad frown. It’s the most awful impersonation he has ever seen, and he almost gets as offended as if it were one of himself.
“Well, yeah.” He tries to defend, just a little bit annoyed ”But I thought he could be—”
“My dad?” He cackles loudly. Caught red handed... “Matthias doesn’t like people, not even one bit! He has spooked away all the girls Mom and Dad presented him. He is just really bad with all the talkey stuff, there's no way he could ever have something like that”
It's harsh, yet Florian can’t stop himself from smiling. There’s no way he can when hearing the best news he has received in the span of an entire lifetime.
Such a poor, lonely heart. Hidden away in a corner of this world too boisterous for his shy soul. How scared he must have felt to deal with all those unworthy suitors— none of them could even dream of having the level of care needed to take such an elegant, pure hand in theirs.
Florian is the only one that can, he is now sure of it.
It is such a relief to know that no one has ever come as close. No one else is as determined to go as far as he has decided— To the end of this world, just to rescue him of his self-imposed confinement. He will undoubtedly make him fall in love.
He can almost see it. His face, his hands, his hair— Flushed and warm, full of the same devotion as his. He will stroke his cheek, pat his head, kiss him over and over again just to show him a tiny taste of this undying love. And then… then—!
“Ah, but recently he’s been acting weird. Happy. Not like usual” Louis mutters, and Florian almost doesn’t catch it with his faulty hearing. As the boy frowns his eyebrows to recall, his hands move to show his confusion. “I think he wanted your number when we left that day—”
“Are you really sure?!” It must be a scream, with the way the poor boys eyes look at him as if spooked. Florian doesn’t care.
Matthias likes him. Why would he care if the world knows? Even better, let them hear!l Let them all know that Florian Brand will have the most beautiful person on earth as his boyfriend!
His heart is pumping and his stomach does flips with what they call butterflies. As his hands twitch and his smile grows ten times over, he cannot help but want to already see him again.
“Why are we still here?! He must be waiting for me right now!” As he says it he starts walking faster, then skipping and then full on running. Louis laughs and calls it a competition, with his voice still too high and pitched, but Florian’s ears don't hurt as much anymore.
He is a nuisance, but perhaps, he isn’t that bad of a kid.
When he manages to marry his brother, perhaps he will save a place for him as the ring bearer.
As he thinks about the sitting arrangements, they do their best to keep on running.
————————————
“That’s my house, see?!” Louis exclaims after some time. They got tired a few blocks back, but Florian is sure he won anyways. As he says it, his finger points to a house in the middle of the next block.
It’s a big house. Florian has no idea what he even meant last time when he said that his 'older house was bigger'. It’s a two story building, all wood and with a classical, older look. It’s sober and elegant, and even if it looks like an acquired taste for any other person living in the modern day, for Matthias it just feels like the perfect fit.
Are they wealthy, then? Florian has to wonder. He doesn’t have much money, nor has he ever had. His parents didn’t struggle in the financial sense, but their house and day to day life was never excessive. As a kid he had all he needed, but he was always taught to live with what was only essential.
Looking at Louis now, it is clear that his clothes and posture make him stand out from the rest of kids his age. It’s not too obvious, much less with his slightly shorter height than the rest of kids Florian knows from the orphanage, but it is evident that he knows about manners and etiquette, even when he chooses not to expressly show it.
Does Matthias envisions a life with someone with the same level of ostentatiousness, then? Florian’s young age and difficult childhood situation never permitted him to inherit anything that can even compare. He never really minded, honestly, but if this is an important factor now, then he isn’t too sure about what to do.
As they approach the house more, another thing that catches his eyes is how all the windows are tightly closed, even when there’s way too many. Is this another one of its owner’s traits? He can’t think too much about it before Louis goes and rings the bell. One, two, three and four times, then Florian just losses count. He is about to go and stop him from spamming it anymore when the door creaks open by a hasty tad.
“Stop that” Someone says. Scolds, he could name it, if the annoyed tone didn’t sound so tired.
Still, there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize it as the one melody that’s been in his mind over and over again. It’s the same lovely voice. The one from the other day, and from all his hopes and dreams. Just the perfect mix of dry and cutting, yet every bit as sweet as he remembered.
He must look like an idiot now, grinning joyfully with hearts for pupils. What will Matthias think when he sees him standing there? Will he look surprised, or maybe flustered? Maybe he will try to disguise it as annoyance, just to hide his most softer, vulnerable side.
He could almost faint from the expectation, if it wouldn’t make him look even more like a fool. Perhaps one day when the best first conversation of all the history of earth has already been dealt with, he can succumb to dying in public, just to see if Matthias confesses all his love for him in the panic. For now though… he only has to wait for the door to fully open.
“I’m back!” The boy announces, and before the other can even as much as answer, he pushes the door back and sends Matthias tripping from the force. “Look who helped me come back! He wants to tell you something”
Florian doesn’t really hear half of his nonsense. His smile is instead curved into something softer, as his eyes take in all of this beautiful man's details.
His clothes are softer now, haphazardly thrown on and wrinkly as if he had just been sleeping. He wears a loose black long-sleeved shirt and pants that look slightly too big on him, much more resembling a pajama than anything fancier. Yet in his eyes, Florian still sees him as the world’s most elegant human being. His hair is in all directions, and in his red, flushed face, his glittering eye is shining in the afternoon sun.
It’s all he wants to see, now and forevermore. If this is the sight that greets him every time he wakes up, then he is sure all his life will be worthy of living.
As his heart thumps, he realizes he must’ve stayed staring at him for too long, because all too soon Matthias tries to fix his clothes and hide behind the door in a haste, looking anywhere but at him as he opens his beautiful lips to ask skittishly, “Do you need something…?”
How cute!
How lovely, indeed! And how he does it without even knowing that just for being who he is, he has Florian wrapped mercilessly around his finger. He is just so adorable!
Florian tries to recompose his heavy breathing, stabilize his trembling hands— anything not to scare him away so soon. But if he is looking so flustered right now, then he must really be feeling just like him at this moment!
“R-right! I came for this!!” He scrambles for a pen and paper in the multiple pockets of his uniform jacket. He didn’t plan ahead for this, but if he isn’t mistaken then surely— Yes, a pen! Now he only needs…
As he takes longer to find a paper than his flipping heart can manage, he decides on using the next best thing. Approaching in a rush to the shocked man by the door, and with all the delicacy his sweaty, twitching hands can manage, he opens the ink pen with the help of his teeth and starts painting on the white, lavish skin.
It gets difficult as he draws the numbers, because the poor guy must be so nervous that he is touching his hand, that he is trembling in his grasp. But Florian doesn’t falter; He needs to fulfill his wish! There’s no time to waste now, as he so foolishly did the first time they met.
When he is close to finishing the last number, Matthias seems to recompose and takes his hand away hastily, making a trembling line all across the previous code. He doesn’t mind it much— or rather he minds it too much, for he looks at his hand as if he has been tainted and infected with an incurable disease.
“A-Ah, sorry, I didn't have paper… you don’t mind, right?” Florian suffices, trying to sound joking. It doesn’t help much to lift the sudden awkward atmosphere.
He fears something is wrong. Why isn’t Matthias squealing of joy at this moment, and asking him to kiss him until his breath runs out?
He is looking quite affected, yes, but in the way you react when the most awful day just keeps on getting worse and worse. Horrified, maybe. But how can that be true? Didn’t Louis say he wanted…?
As he suddenly realizes, he whisps his head towards the quietly smirking boy in the door to the dark living room, and he can barely open his mouth to say something before the boy cackles and slips away running.
There’s a chilling realization that slowly starts to dawn on him. If this poor man really didn’t want anything to do with him then—
“I’m sorry! I— Louis said that—” He doesn’t get to say anything else. Matthias looks at him with a wide eye, then back at his hand. Gaping just like a dying fish, trembling all over with his brows curving painfully down.
Florian is about to ask again if there’s any kind of apology that would make it up to him, yet as he goes to open his mouth again, Matthias' gaze suddenly freezes in a torrid frown.
“I have to go” He mutters harshly and slams the door closed in his face.
As his steps retreat fast and unapologizing from his shocked guest, his voice raises in the scariest scream of his brother’s name Florian could ever have imagined to come from his vocal range.
He is left with a broken heart and an open mouth. As a soppy kitten lay abandoned in the middle of a storm, only him and his cardboard box.
As he tries to put into order all the mess, the truth behind this whole scheme that damned kid was putting him through falls on him like a brick on the head.
He has been made to look like a fool.
More than a genius manipulator, he has come across a foul trickster.
He sighs tiredly, feeling the beginning of a headache as he dejectedly turns back around to go sleep at his shitty, empty apartment.
Well, he thinks as he rounds the corner. At least he gave him his number…