Trust and Truth

264

Saturday, I read a really good France-UK story that made me teary eyed. I liked it so much that the next day, I spent three hours writing this one up. It's long, a different writing style, but I love it. I hope you will as well.

Disclaimer: HELLO, 5TH GOLD FOR CANADA! (MAKE THAT 7TH NOW!) (NO WAIT, TENTH!) THIRTEENTH!

Trust and Truth

The young boy asks his father where he is going, as he watches the man bring his suitcase to the cab that is waiting by the street. His brother follows his father closely behind as well. There is tension in the air that could be cut with a knife.

The father tells him he is going back to his hometown for some time and that they will see each other soon, he promises, when he sees the tears wellup in his son's eyes. The youngest of the family would like nothing more thanrun to his father and clutch his leg tightly, begging him not to leave, but he knows he can't. His other father, the one he will be staying with for now, is standing right behind him. The other father's eyes are cold and distant and he watches the Frenchman with hate and disdain.

The children hug briefly and the older man, the one of French descent, ruffles his youngest son's hair, for a second, before he walks down the stairs, to the car with the older boy. No words are exchanged between the two adults. Nothing is said, even though they could probably forgive each other, but they do not.

Just as the older of the pair is about to enter the cab, he turns around, despite his resolve, and looks into those green eyes that used to hold so much love for him. The only thing he sees now is scorn and hate. He is met with the iciest of barriers. He gives a small sad smile and then he is gone.

The junior of the family looks at his father and he sees that amidst all that hate, there is something else swimming in those green eyes. The boy looks at his father, trying to decipher this emotion, but he is too young and cannot understand what pity is for something that is probably forever lost.

After a while, they go back inside, where life is ready to begin anew. The boy watches as his English father tries to cope with the situation, but despite his best efforts, they can never quite make believe there are people missing in the house. It is as if their presence still lingers in their home and no matter how many times the father will air out the place, they are always there.

Eventually, after a week or so, there is little to no trace of his other father, the French one, in the house. The photos are removed and it is peculiar to see so many empty picture frames on the coffee table and the shelves throughout their home. It is amazing to see just how many mementos of their past life the Englishman can find. From the cutlery they had purchased many years ago, the magazines the other man had forgotten, a scarf that the Englishman had received, a favourite mug, clothes forgotten in the laundry room on that day and letters, so many love letters exchanged over the years.

At first he wants to burn everything, but when he tries to do so, he realizes that he cannot. He simply cannot destroy all of his past life, because as much as he wants to make believe he never existed, he cannot erase what happened. So instead, he burns the magazines, gives the clothes away, breaks the cup before throwing away the remains of what could very well symbolize his broken heart, puts all the photographs and love letters into a box, before burying it in the confines of his attic to be forgotten and never found.

The only thing he cannot seem to be able to put away is the ring that should have been his. The ring the Frenchman wanted to offer him on the night of the argument. The ring that was thrown on the table before he stormed out. He wears the ring around his neck, on a small chain, tucked beneath his shirt. No one sees it. He clutches the box tightly to his chest and cries. He cries for his stupidity, he cries for what has happened and even though he does not want to, he cries for the only man he ever loved and that is now forever gone.

The children take it pretty well. After a month, they switch. The youngest goes to visit his French father, while the older brother comes to visit his English father. In the original agreement, they were not supposed to switch, but both parents could not find it in their hearts to say no to their children. However, they never speak to one another. Throughout the entire ordeal, they never speak face to face or via the telephone. The children come and go and they know not to mention the other's name.

The years go by and never did they meet one another. It is an amazing feet in itself, considering they do not live extremely far away. The children continue to grow into fine individuals and the Englishman is pleased the situation he has imposed on them did not affect them in any negative way.

Eventually, the older brother moves out for a place of his own, saying it would be best for school, but his younger brother once hints it has more to do with the fact he cannot take living in a house of gloom and despair.

He feels as though he has failed as a parent. And even though he has put on his brightest of smiles for them, they had seen through his charade. The children know their father, the English one, misses the other one and that both parents would probably be happier together, but they do not say anything.

Many more years pass and he has not seen or heard a single thing about his once lover. He silently congratulates himself, but perhaps he does so too quickly, for one afternoon, as he is doing his grocery shopping, their paths cross again. They both stand in the bread aisle and before he can stop himself, his lips part open and the name he has not said for so many years comes out.

Francis. Deep down, he wants to run to the man and feel the other's arms hold him tightly, but he does not. He remains rooted to the spot and hopes he has not been heard, but he has and the Frenchman turns around and his eyes are wide with surprise.

Arthur. He asks in return. The two of them stand there without saying a word, even though there is much to say. They stay there, one holding a loaf of bread and the other fumbling with the wrapping of a baguette. Their eyes meet after what feels like an eternity and old wounds feel fresher and emotions ignored resurface.

The Frenchman can still see that old hate reflected in those green eyes, but there is also something akin to longing there. Longing for something that once was and that is no longer.

They both search for things to say, but nothing comes out. Eventually, the spell is broken when a person walks between them. They do not look back and they both go their separate ways as two strangers would.

That night, once he is sure his youngest is fast asleep, he locks himself in his room and does something he has not done in a really long time. He pleasures himself thinking of the man he has seen again. He pictures that silky blonde hair and those azure eyes whispering loving words to him and that mouth that would look at his body in the right way. He comes to a climax that leaves his aching heart to even more pieces, as the Frenchman's name slips off his lips for the second time in far too long.

Without really realizing it, he does his groceries at the same time every week, ever since that meeting. Part of him knows he does it in the hope of crossing the other's path again, but his pride simply tells him this time is more convenient. It takes three weeks, but they meet again. This time, they both hope the other will say something first and they end up talking at the same time.

They give each other awkward smiles and an uncomfortable silence, as thick as the tension from before, installs itself between them, until the Englishman invites him over for a drink. The older man smiles at him and says he will come, once he is done with the groceries.

Later that evening, he greets him at his house. The Frenchman notices there are only pictures of their youngest in the frames and even their eldest seems to have been put away. The Brit makes them drinks and they sit at the old kitchen table. They drink in silence, both thinking of what to say. After a third drink, their tongues loosen up and they are talking like two people who have just met.

He learns the Parisian has opened up a small bakery and that he is doing well. They do not really speak of their children. One of them moved to the land of opportunities, not wanting to suffocate under his parents' hate, the other has his own apartment, but mostly stays with the Briton.

The evening goes on quietly. Neither brings up the past for it is too soon to go there. They end with a warm handshake and a promise that the Frenchman will call him soon, to invite him over for dinner.

The call comes a week later and the plans are made for the following week. The older man meets him at the train station and drives him to his flat. The view is superb and the atmosphere is rather lovely. The meal is delicious just like he remembers it. They talk some more and it almost feels as though that subject will be breached, but it is not. They do not mind. They know it will come, but for now, they want to rebuild what they used to have.

When he is driven back to the train, they shake hands again, but just as he is about to leave, the taller man pulls him for a brief hug and a promise that he will call him later.

However, he is the one to make it. He is at the office when he phones him, because he feels spontaneous. He tells him to meet him at that park in two hours and even though the other is busy, he agrees.

They smile at each other when they meet, like two young people in an awkward first love relationship, and maybe they are. They take a nice walk in the park, both absorbed in memories from the past and they hold hands without really questioning it. When comes the time to leave, they look at each other for a moment, before the Frenchman kisses him softly on the cheek. He knows he wants more, but for now, they would go at it slow, not wanting to ruin what they hope they are fixing.

This continues for a few months. A dinner here and there, a drink after work, walks in the park… The youngest is pleased with the new development and he tells his brother. He is the only one who is in contact with him and the only thing he tells his parents is that his brother is well. That is all they are told and they do not ask for more.

After three months, he is invited back to that Parisian flat for a "commemorative supper". He knows it is only another term to underline the fact they have been on friendly terms for three months and it is a big event, considering how long they have been apart.

The food is extra succulent and the wine seems better than usual. There are no gifts, just the company of two people who used to care, then did not and are now trying to rebuild their relationship.

When Christmas comes, a month or so later, they hear from their estranged son, for the first time, in many years. It is only a simple postcard, from a big city, from the other continent and it is sent from a hotel, but he wishes them both well and it is signed Alfred.

That evening, the mood is bright and they are closer than they have ever been. The Frenchman has his arm around his shoulders, while he himself is laughing at what he has just heard. They lean ever so close to each other, until their cheeks lightly touch. Blue eyes bore into green and their lips greet each other, as people do after a long separation.

The kiss is short and sweet and neither regrets it when they break away. They smile at each other and perhaps it is the ideal time to mention the incident, but after such a tender moment, both are scared it would simply ruin this fragile thing they have going on, so they do not talk about it.

Time continues to pass and they both find themselves being with each other more often. They try to weave in trust where there was none before and slowly, they heal each other. Their small relationship develops and becomes something more, as their kisses become fervent and he finds red roses one morning all over his living room.

They would both like to solve that one remaining issue from long ago, before they take it up to the next step and sort of become what they once were, but they do not and their need for each other comes first.

It is now a year since they have met in the grocery store and they are at the Parisian flat, not the London home. Their hands rediscover familiar territory as clothing is shed and dropped to the floor. They dare not break the kiss for they have waited too long for this.

However, when the other removes his shirt, he notices the chain around his neck with the ring hanging from it. They look at each other for a moment and a silent agreement passes between them. He removes his necklace and puts it away in a drawer. They do nothing more that night but cuddle together. They know the issue has resurfaced and that eventually, they will come to talk about it, but not now.

The next morning, the elder is gone and for a moment, the Englishman thinks that everything is ruined. He dresses quietly and returns home, silently waiting for a phone call. It takes two weeks, but it finally comes. They agree to meet up for dinner that evening and he reminds himself to leave the chain behind, but when he comes to remove it, he notices he has not been wearing it for the past two weeks and that it is still in the drawer back at the flat.

The dinner is splendid, for it is at a marvellous, five star, French, restaurant. It is the native of that country's treat and he invites him over for drinks afterwards. Again, they find themselves at the flat and after a drink or two, they are at it again.

This time, there are no mementos from their past that get in their way and finally, after so many years of waiting for it, their bodies are brought together, as they make love to each other. Their joining is sweet and full of tenderness and it does not leave a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, as the Frenchman's name escapes his lips when he feels his release.

Now they know the inevitable must come if they want this to work out. They must trust each other not to make the same mistakes as they have in the past and they know they must, but they do not, not yet, because they like what they have. They like spending lazy afternoons in bed reacquainting themselves with each other's body. They like their languid mornings and steamy nights of passion. They like making the other happy with small gestures of affection like a warm hug after a particular crummy day of work or a note on the fridge that says "I love you". They like the comfort that it brings and frankly, who could blame them?

Eventually, however, they get back to the place where they had been when they were happy, but there is an impasse between their past happiness and their current happiness. There is that whole period of hate that needs to be bridged over if they want to continue and the Frenchman knows the only way to fix everything, once and for all, is to finally confront their demons and take that ring out.

They meet for their Friday supper at a quiet restaurant in town. The Parisian is nervous, because he does not want to destroy what he has been working at for the past couple of years, but it has to be done in order for their old wounds to completely heal.

He sees his lover walk in and greets him with a smile and a kiss. They talk about trivial little things for a while, but then the time comes for bygones to become bygones.

He tells him he is sorry and that he didn't mean anything by it, unexpectedly. For a moment, the green eyes widen with fear and he thinks the past years have been nothing to him, but then, the Frenchman tells him he is talking about the incident and he calms down some.

He tells him he should have trusted him more and that he would not have said those things behind his back nor done any of that as well. He tries to take the Brit's hand in his own, but the younger man pulls it away. However, he remains seated and says nothing, so the other continues.

He admits he was with the group. He was only doing what he had been told to do, but that did not mean he had not, did not love him. He always did. He still does. He wants to love him and only him.

His partner remains silent. He does not know what to say or do. He remembers well how he was treated. He remembers the comments and he remembers watching the man that was supposed to love him stand in the back with a blank expression upon his face. He says nothing.

The other takes his hand again and continues talking, apologizing. He tells him of what he had tried to do to prevent everything from happening; of how he did not want any part of it, but it was his job at the time. He tells him that if he was sincere with what happened, he would not have tried to propose to him.

Green eyes meet with blue and he tries to read any other meaning behind that sincerity, but the only thing he finds is love. He realizes his mistake and comes to regret his hot headedness that has caused both them and their children so much misery.

He then notices a small box being placed in front of him. The box is opened and he finds a familiar looking ring staring back at him. It sparkles with renewed love and hope. He takes it in his shaky hands and expects to read the same inscription inside, only to find it has been changed. It now says "Trust and Truth".

He looks up at the only man who could ever make him whole and the Frenchman comes up to him and asks the question that should have been answered so many years ago. He knows the answer and he tells him over and over again. The ring finally makes it to his finger, where it always should have been, and he is finally happy. There is no more despair in his eyes and no one can tell him his smile is fake as he kisses his future husband.

The news makes it to their eldest and he finally comes back home. They have Matthew to thank for that. He is the one who has kept in touch with his brother and was a sort of go between their parents and their eldest. The children do not move back in with them, but they find themselves a place to live that is close to their new house.

After the engagement, they sell their house, his house, the old house that holds too many years of tension and they build themselves a new place with trust and truth as their foundation.

The wedding is a quiet affair with their close friends and their beloved children at their side. They have finally bridged over all parts of their lives. They are ready to make this a relationship that will last for as long as they both shall live, no matter what it would take, because they have all they would ever need.

OWARI

At long last, this thing is typed out! It was so very complicated to keep the verbs to the same tense all the time! If anyone is confused and does not understand who's thinking what or what happened to them in the past, well you're supposed to feel that way.

I do accept anonymous reviews.

And I should really get back to working on "Olympic Fever."

Started writing: February 21st 2010, 11:44am

Finished writing: February 21st 2010, 3:332pm

Started typing: February 22nd: 12:34am

Finished typing: February 27th 2010, 4:45pm