gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[ Mention of the police convinces Aucheforne to back down, to retreat a few paces the moment Zephirin loosens his hold on his arm. His blue eyes narrow, flicking between Zephirin and the top of Francel's head visible behind him. "Friend, yeah, right... Well, I'll be seeing you, Joacin. When your friend tells you it's over, because even fucking a rich kid delicate flower gets old real fast, you'll come crying to me—"

The sight of Zephirin's phone, held ready, silences Aucheforne's jeering. The device is recording every word. ]

I would advise you to go home. Don't contact Francel again.

[ Though Zephirin's voice remains calm, it carries the same edge it did when Francel spoke of his experiences in his French literature class. Aucheforne bares his teeth like a growling dog on the verge of attacking, but he turns tail, fleeing from Last Vigil's grounds. ]

[at first, francel just breathes, and then breathing turns to sobbing — hiccuping, gasping for air. he is afraid to look up for fear that when he does, aucheforne will still be there, angry with him, waiting to punish him. his fingers scrabble against zephirin's blazer, but he doesn't know for what — his short, blunt nails scratch harmlessly against the fabric. every now and then he tries to choke out what seems like zephirin's name, but he is barely coherent for all of his tears.]

Zephi — Zeph — i — ri —

[ Around the corner, there is a garden bench, which Zephirin leads Francel towards for the boy to sit down until he grows calmer. Francel takes too-rapid breaths, unable to speak, and Zephirin keeps his questions contained for the time being in favour of reassuring Francel and guiding him out of his panic-stricken state. ]

He's gone. [ Whether Aucheforne will return is a problem to address later, and so is what he has done tonight and in the past. Slowly, as if Francel might bolt at sudden movements, Zephirin brings one hand closer and closer to the boy's head, passing it across Francel's hair. ] He won't hurt you.

[francel whimpers softly, clinging fiercely to zephirin, for warmth and safety both. he buries his face in zephirin's chest and stays there — sobbing, sniffling, hiccuping, whimpering. he is only barely emotionally present. aucheforne's threats have drained his will to rebel.

gradually, however, francel straightens his posture, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.]

...Zephi — [a hiccup] — Zephirin. I'm... I'm sorry, Zephirin...

[ Zephirin's other hand rests lightly on Francel's back, where it stays for a moment longer after Francel sits up, before Zephirin offers the boy his packet of tissues again. He shakes his head. ]

Can you tell me what happened?

[ Based on what he witnessed of Aucheforne's behaviour, it's not a stretch to imagine the man intimidating Francel into letting him have his way, be it through verbal threats or physical violence. ]

[for some reason, francel laughs — though it isn't a happy sort of laugh, and seems to be born from some ugly desperation deep within his heart. he hiccups again, taking the packet of tissues proffered to him, but he makes no move to take a tissue or to use one.]

W-Well... he's... my boyfriend.

[it's still sort of an embarrassing thing to say, so francel averts his eyes.]

I mean... my ex-boyfriend. Well, I guess he wants to get back together... so I don't know what that makes him...

[ It makes Aucheforne someone who shows no consideration for Francel. From his arrival to his departure, his every action disregarded Francel's discomfort, the boy's fear in his ex-boyfriend's presence.

It makes Aucheforne dangerous.

Brows knit, Zephirin withdraws his hands. His gaze traces the tear-tracks left upon Francel's skin, and his mind replays the broken notes of the boy's plea for help.

Perhaps it's too late to tell Francel that Aucheforne won't hurt him. ]

...And is he likely to come back?

[laughing rather hysterically again, francel shakes his head, though it's not a denial so much as a "i don't know." he shrugs his shoulders helplessly.]

I... I don't know. There's nothing to stop him, I guess. He knows my brothers. But they... they just think we're friends. I don't want them to find out — I mean, I don't want them to know...

[the issue of francel's closet seems to pale in comparison to the fact that he is being actively threatened by his ex-boyfriend, but he isn't exactly thinking straight at the moment. leaving the pack of tissues in his lap, he buries his face in his hands, willing himself to take even breaths.]

[ Out of shame or fear, it seems, what Francel feels the need to hide from his family is not his orientation itself, but the abusive nature of his relationship with Aucheforne. No doubt it's all too easy to keep it secret, when his siblings and parents are rarely home, when Aucheforne presumably presents the facade of a caring friend to most.

Alone, unwilling or unable to turn to his family, Francel is vulnerable, an accessible target to prey upon. Even if he were to file a restraining order against Aucheforne, it might worsen his situation.

Zephirin says nothing more while Francel's breaths still sound closer to tremulous sobs. He gives Francel's emotions a few more moments to settle somewhat, using that time to examine Francel for any evidence that Aucheforne has raised a hand against him, possibly even tried to force himself upon the boy.

Aucheforne had Francel trapped against the wall, but with the exception of his mussed hair, there are no visible marks on him.

Francel's heart is a different matter. ]

...Then for now, perhaps you should confide in trusted friends. [ At length, Zephirin makes his suggestion, formulating at least the beginnings of a plan of action. ] Avoid meeting with him on your own.

...I don't have anyone else... Haurchefant... I can't...

[francel seems to be trying to tell some sort of story. he lets his hands drop to his lap and sits up in his chair, fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves.]

...He wasn't always like this. When we first met, he was — Aucheforne was — he was so kind... to me. But when he found out he looked just like Haurchefant he — he got mad at me — s-so — it's my fault, really...

[in all likelihood this is probably not true. this is the version of the truth that aucheforne has fed francel, that francel has believed because it is easier to believe that he is being punished for a reason than that he is enduring abuse he doesn't deserve.]

[ The fragments of Francel's story form an incomplete picture, and it's not for a newcomer to comment on his befriending two men with such similar names, men who could pass for twins. Zephirin merely listens, wearing a frown, until Francel trails off. ]

You have my number.

[ Unfortunately, he has no proof to give Francel that the boy won't find his trust betrayed again, but he is the only third party thus far to discover Francel's secret. ]

I'll vouch for Janlenoux as well.

[that gets francel's attention. he looks up, laughs weakly, but his shoulders quiver with more than just mirth — the cold is starting to get to him.]

No... it's okay. Please... you don't have to get any more involved in this than you've already...

[francel hesitates, looks at the party still going on inside. he wipes his eyes on his sleeve one last time.]

...You've done enough. I'm really grateful to you for stepping in when you did. I don't know... what might have... I don't know.

[hesitating again, the boy's eyes drop to his lap.]

...He said he was going to drop his things off tomorrow...

[ The night air is too cold to linger outside as they are, but inside, Francel will undoubtedly deflect any concern in order to cover up the evening's events. To combat the boy's shivering with one more layer of warmth at the least, Zephirin removes his blazer for Francel to take, and shields himself against the cold by crossing his arms. ]

If you're asking me to walk away, as a friend, I'm afraid I can't respect your wishes.

[ Tomorrow, Aucheforne might return to seek Francel out, or his plans are an empty threat. Francel isn't obligated to let him into the house, but the boy can't barricade himself inside his home, shouldn't live in fear of his ex-boyfriend's surprise visits. ]

My door is open.

...We did talk about that, didn't we? That I wanted to be your roommate...

[francel sniffles again, but his voice is holding steady now. were it not for the faint redness around his eyes, he would be ready to go back inside.]

...Would you still... be interested?

[knowing that francel is what he is? someone cruel enough to rope a man into being the substitute for another man? someone stupid enough to get trapped in an abusive relationship? broken and battered? used goods?]

I'm probably not... what you expected me to be.

[ In truth, had Francel declined, Zephirin would have found it unsurprising, understandable after the boy's encounters with kidnappers and a manipulative boyfriend. Francel's giving in and accepting what help Zephirin can offer is a step forward towards a solution, though he finishes on a note oddly heavy with self-doubt, out of place if he is simply worried that Zephirin envisioned certain qualities in a hypothetical replacement roommate. ]

I expected you to arrive on time for our tutorial session. You've yet to disappoint me.

[ Finally, Zephirin rises from the bench before their disappearance from the party is questioned, and before the breeze grows still colder. ]

Do you have plans tomorrow?

...No...

[the boy pulls zephirin's blazer tighter around his shoulders, but he looks up at zephirin with a kind of questioning hope, a kind of desperation. the burning look in his eyes makes him seem as though he is expecting orders.]

I don't have plans.

Edited 2018-01-01 04:41 (UTC)

[ Moving out requires some planning, enough time to pack, but removing Francel from an immediately dangerous situation is too pressing to delay. Zephirin checks his watch. ]

Then I'd like to ask you to accompany me home after tonight's party. I'll speak with your family, if need be.

[at that, francel's eyes blow wide; he blinks, and then an entire world of possibilities seems to lie in the deep blue ring of his pupils. he wants this badly, that much is clear — he wants to go home with zephirin more than he has wanted anything else zephirin has offered him.]

C-Can I? I — I'll be good, I promise! I'll do anything you want...

[these passionate entreaties are hard to enjoy, given that they seem to be the product of aucheforne's influence...]

[ Francel's eagerness to please could be endearing, if it didn't call forth images of Aucheforne training him to behave as desired, punishing any misstep. Someone like Aucheforne would take advantage of the boy's promises, holding them over his head.

Once more, Zephirin's brow furrows — suddenly, he is reminded of Francel's fears that his friends might discard him. ]

...Should I think of something, you'll hear it. For the time being, enjoying the rest of your evening will suffice.

[ Zephirin extends his hand to help Francel to his feet. ]

[francel hesitates a moment, then takes zephirin's hand, rising to his feet. he seems unwilling to let go. though his eyes do not rise to meet zephirin's gaze again, francel seems to smile at the sight of their entwined hands. he squeezes gently, as if fascinated by the idea of someone else's warmth in his palms.

...but a light shining upon their shoulders prompts francel to let go of zephirin's hands at once. the bright white headlights of a sleek black sports car cut through the night air — someone is driving up the road, presumably meaning to park in the fortemps family's generous stretch of driveway. the driver slides the car into reverse and parks smoothly, then silences the radio, turns off the lights, and cuts the engine. he gets out of the car.

it is haurchefant, though zephirin might be forgiven for thinking that aucheforne has come back with a vehicle to spirit francel away in. first of all, haurchefant is wearing different clothing — a warm sweater not unlike francel's, though his is brown, and he wears it over a cream turtleneck — and second of all, haurchefant's nose is visibly hooked. he looks up at francel and waves.

"francel!" he calls, in a jovial voice. "and who's that with you?"]

Oh... Haurchefant?

...Zephirin.

[ Haurchefant seems undaunted by the reserved reception, and oblivious to Zephirin's wary glance cast his way as he makes for the door, stopping to thrust out his hand and clasp Zephirin's, giving it an enthusiastic shake. "Zephirin! Good, good, a dear friend's friend is always a pleasure to meet! Come on in — it's too cold to be standing out here."

With a parting squeeze of Zephirin's hand, Haurchefant releases him, freeing his own hands for his keys and the door. "Didn't anyone hear the doorbell?" ]

Oh — no, we — we stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. We didn't ring the doorbell.

[perhaps there is something about this haurchefant that makes it easier for francel, but it's impressive, really, how quickly the boy pulls together a mask of normalcy when he was crying hysterically only a few minutes prior. there's still some redness at the corners of his eyes, but even francel's siblings wouldn't notice it unless it was pointed out to them.

francel turns and smiles at zephirin.]

Shall we go back inside? Everyone's waiting.

[ Inside, Emmanellain's party is in full swing at last, and aside from his remark that Aucheforne and Haurchefant no longer need to avoid running into each other, no one asks any particularly uncomfortable questions. No one seems to take note of the fading traces of Francel's misery. Soon, Haurchefant explains his late arrival, recounting the tale of the horse on the road, while Emmanellain devotes most of his energy to fluttering around Laniaitte and surrounding himself with his friends.

Zephirin's juice box sits on the counter, untouched. ]

[despite francel's pivotal (?) role in getting the party set up, he doesn't seem terribly interested in socializing now that more than ten people have arrived. he flits from conversation to conversation for a little while, mostly to catch up with his siblings — from the way they speak, it seems that they have little reason to converse with one another outside of emmanellain's get-togethers — but in the end, francel winds up in a corner talking to honoroit about a few things (the boy's relation to the family goes unexplained), sipping delicately at his wine. strangely, despite his intimacy with haurchefant, francel does not lure haurchefant into a one-on-one conversation.

eventually, francel happens upon the space where zephirin left his juice box behind, and brings it back to the professor.]

Zephirin? Were you going to finish this?

[ From the fringes of the gathering, Zephirin takes part now and again, accustomed to the usual polite small-talk to reciprocate after numerous faculty events, but the fact that most of the party's attendees are related or long-time friends, and stay within their comfort zone, affords him ample opportunity to learn names and bits and pieces of information to go with them, simply through overhearing the chatter around him. Haurchefant, whose friendly manner appears sincere, approaches him a few times — as Emmanellain's half-brother, he must be another childhood friend of Francel's, perhaps more, perhaps something now complicated.

His presence, however, unlike Aucheforne's, has apparently had a positive effect on Francel. When the boy reappears before Zephirin, his eyes are neither puffy nor red-rimmed. Nothing gives away what took place just outside the house. ]

...Ah. [ Zephirin's eyes lower to the juice box. His mouth curves slightly as he takes it, and finally unwraps the straw, sliding it partway into the carton. ] Thank you.

[ The juice box is comically small, enveloped in Zephirin's long fingers, and it's unclear why Emmanellain has them on hand — for Honoroit? — but Zephirin sets the top of the straw against his lips, taking a careful sip. ]

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