Alfred sat in stunned silence after Francis finished the horrible tale that was Arthur’s past. The room was quiet and tense. Alfred stared at the ceiling, trying to process the information he’d just been told and Francis stared at him, waiting for a reaction. The spell was broken only after the next bell rang for students to go to the last class of the day. Alfred shook himself out of his thoughts after that, getting up, appearing frustrated.
"I have to go," he said, grabbing the door knob and twisting it open. Francis nodded but said nothing else. The last Alfred saw of the Frenchman was when he left the room. As he left the room, he decided he never wanted to see Francis again. Something about the story was strangely believable, somehow; yet, Alfred couldn't bring himself to believe it. It was too insane. Far, far too insane.
Alfred went through the motions of his next class period, relieved to see Arthur sitting in his normal seat. He saw Arthur smile at him when he sat down. "Hello," Arthur said quietly, still smiling slightly. "Hi," Alfred responded, giving a little wave and trying to hold back the large grin that formed on his mouth at hearing Arthur's voice. They were quiet for a short while, Arthur staring at the board as class started and Alfred watching him, trying to see him doing the magic Francis said he could do. "Pay attention, will you?" Arthur said after a moment, gesturing at the board. Alfred nodded and looked at the board, pretending to focus.
His mind was actually racing, still thinking about the tale he’d been told. There was no possible way the world Francis spoke of could exist. The events he had described could not have happened. And yet, Alfred wanted to look it up on the internet, to see if maybe there was something on such a fire. He decided that as soon as school was over, he'd rush home to look it up.
Francis had to be lying. He just had to.
After the last class, Alfred raced home, not even waiting for Arthur to notice that he was already rushing to his abode. He was soon at his apartment complex, running up the stairs, quickly unlocking the door, and stumbling into his bedroom. He grabbed his laptop and threw himself on the bed, starting the machine up.
Arthur arrived at the apartment moments later, out of breath and exhausted. He locked the door, (which Alfred had forgotten to do in his haste), and went to the bathroom, washing the sweat from his neck and forehead. Afterward, he trudged into Alfred's room, raising an eyebrow, holding himself up against the doorframe.
"What the bloody hell possessed you to run all the way home, you git?" Alfred shrugged, the blue tinge of the computer screen reflected in his glasses. He spoke not a word, too busy opening the internet browser and typing keywords into Google to actually craft a response to Arthur's question. Arthur raised both eyebrows now. "I'm guessing you need some space, then. Alright, I'll be in my room." Arthur hesitated before leaving, but finally made his way out as soon as he realized that Alfred wasn't truly listening. He closed his bedroom door on the way out, allowing him whatever privacy he needed.
Alfred, meanwhile, had found an article on the incident. It was from a local paper and detailed the occurrence quiet well. Alfred skimmed through it, however, only looking for the key points. He read the headline, (Blaze on Bate Street). The first paragraph was the most informative.
"BLAZE ON BATE STREET
Late last night, at 12:35 AM on Bate Street, there was a report of a massive fire that reduced one home to ashes. The blaze spread to no other houses in the area. There were only two survivors, a grief-stricken boy of 15 named Arthur Kirkland and his older brother, Allistor Kirkland. Their mother, father, and their family friend, Francis Bonnefoy, were all killed by the fire. Allistor Kirkland, was out with a few friends at the time of the incident and states that he has 'no idea what in blazes happened'. Arthur Kirkland, the only survivor actually inside the house at the time of the incident is at the local hospital, being treated for minor injuries. He, too, says that the cause of the fire is unknown. Police say-"
Alfred could read no more. He felt sick to his stomach. Allistor and Arthur were the only two survivors of the terrible incident that had claimed the lives of their parents and “family friend”, Francis. Alfred thought he might even throw up at his sudden realization.
Francis Bonnefoy, the man he'd just met that afternoon, was dead.
A/N: PLOT TWIST~ More to come, soon.