“I…” Alfred forces out, trying to think fast and sharp, but that’s something he’s never been very good at. He’s horrible at standing up for himself. “I, well…” He doesn’t know what would be worse, anger, spitting fury or what his boss does, hang his head and sigh, motion for Alfred to follow him.
Mr. Carriedo’s office is lavishly decorated, authentic Spanish nick-knacks, most shaped like turtles, heady spices and incense. There’s even a model of a tomato, hand-carved out of wood and were he not busy fearing for his job, Alfred might have laughed. Instead, he tries not to choke on either the thick aroma or his growing panic. His boss sighs once more, sits down at the desk and motions for Alfred to sit opposite. “Alfred, did you or did you not steal money from Mr. Bonnefoy?”
“W-well, it wasn’t technically stealing,” Alfred reasons, or tries to through the ice in his body, “He fell asleep, and that’s how much I would have charged anyway…”
“‘How much I would have charged…?’” Mr. Carriedo repeats, voice going high and incredulous, “Tell me you’re not… Oh dear, that’s even worse.” He groans, rests his head in his hands. “Alfred, I… I can’t employ those who sell their bodies on the streets. We don’t have a high enough budget to do monthly STD tests, so we simply cannot take any risks.” He fixes Alfred with a stern gaze, Alfred who tries to stop his eyes from watering because this can’t be happening, not after he got this wonderful job… “You’ve seen how much physical contact there is backstage, and onstage, I… I can’t risk the safety of my employees.”
“But what about me,” Alfred almost shouts, “What about my risks? I… I swear I don’t have any, I’ve been tested,” he lies, “And I need the money, I need this job, I…” How am I supposed to feed my babies? Working on the streets doesn’t give me nearly enough… “Am I fired?”
Mr. Carriedo bites his lip, looks truly apologetic which doesn’t make Alfred feel better in the slightest. “I’m sorry. You’ve stolen a good sum of money from a very close friend of mine, and you… You’re a…”
“Whore,” Alfred finishes, and what mercy is left in the world is granted to him, because his voice doesn’t even crack.
His boss has the decency to keep silent at that, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’m sorry, Alfred, but I can’t allow that kind of behavior. Too many risks for everyone.” His apology is genuine, which makes the sour pit in Alfred’s stomach even worse.
“What am I going to do now?” Alfred whimpers, thinking of how little food they have, how much less there’s going to be and he doesn’t want to go back to going from club to club, making money lying on his back. His emotions clash, fury and desperation, the horrible realization that there’s nothing he can do. “I… Damn it, I need the money more then he does.”
“I’m sure you do,” Mr. Carriedo nods, kindly, then sighs and bites his lip, as if hesitating. “Here,” he says, taking a scrap of paper and a pen, “There’s a nicer club on Thirtieth Street. It’s a bit of a ways from here, obviously, but I’ve heard that there are plenty of men and women there willing to pay large sums of money for your, ah, services. I’d be wary, though,” he warns, “Many of them also want you to do more, well, intense things to get that money. Would you be okay with that?”
Alfred nods quickly, eyes wide, head bobbing up and down like a bobble head. “Yes, anything.” Anything to get more money, to feed my babies I don’t care about myself I don’t eat but I can’t let them go hungry.
His boss nods shortly, hands him the paper and gives him one more apologetic smile, one that makes Alfred want to scream. Instead, he nods, stands, stiff as a soldier, and walks as fast as he can without running out of the office, head down, cheeks and eyes burning. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He can’t let this get to him. He’ll find something else, and it’ll be fine.
The man is still backstage and Alfred refuses to look at him, to see what he’s pretty sure will be a triumphant smirk. Instead, he walks out into the night, into the cold swirls of air, feeling the first snowflakes of winter burning his cheeks, icy hot, and tries to think of what he’ll tell Kiku.
France uses gratuitous French for a reason. He'll explain later. :D
Oh this fill so completely well written and so completely heartbreaking.
So much tension and pain and fear being built up I live in fear of when it will start breaking apart because it's going to be brutal I can just tell. And I'll love every minute of it.
Oh no, Al must feel like he messed up big this time, oh god the money-worries
Sleeked curl, eh? I think I might know who that is~! Love the way you sneak characters in. Also, the subway guy! Might he possibly be a character that I thought before but shrugged off?
Aw, you misled me with the man with "the strange, looping curl" and Kiku being so forgiving; I thought for sure you wouldn't tear my heart out this time, but I'm still crying. ;_; I mean, even before he got fired, his own gnawing hunger and frantic worries about taking care of his babies were putting a knot in my throat. And the fact that believes he's dirty. Not feels dirty, but actually believes he's dirty. T_T
And I have a strange suspicion I know who owns that club and what kind of tastes Alfred may be catering to. :'D
I'd say it was depressing that Alfred expected Francis to be smirking at him on the way out, but honestly, a real customer quite likely would have been. Or would have even made the fuss more public. I wonder how those two will interact in the future after this beginning?
You know, I actually really like Antonio; he was put in a situation where he really had no choice but to fire him on the spot, but he still took the time to recommend another place Alfred could work, warn him that it was different there, and jot down the address. Or dare I even believe that what he jotted down was a little recommendation-type note that he was qualified for the job? Because that would be insanely nice of him, really.
Ugh, and now he's walking through the snow without his jacket? Dare I hope for mercy on that front, at least?
... Dude, the anticipation is going to drive me crazy, even though you don't really leave us waiting for long at all. This is so good, anon. <3
The thought of Alfred dancing for, sleeping with, or indulging the requests/fantasies/fetishes/whatever of any women at all is even more depressing than everything else, really. I have no idea how he's going to deal with that, besides "poorly". T_T
I was pissed at Francis because goddamn it his RICH WHHY is he so fussy over that little bit of money when the man seems so fucking rich?? THAT much money in a wallet pffft poor my ass. But he obviously doesn't know why Alfred does it ( a lot of money in a night +no self esteem+ wanting to get food for his babies+ can ACT like he has self esteem= his situation now) and even if he did think that Alfred need it (but didnt know the situation of course) I can see how anyone (esp some like Francis) would be pissed to hell and back about it. Now I'm just hoping (OH GOD PLLLLEASE this is depressing enough let some little light shine ;A; Its possible damn it!) Alfred DOESNT have an STD and that Ludwig ISNT child services (but if he is then they would all be placed up for adoption since AL'S probaby around 15 anyways. Kiku could always just pretend he knew nothing so his in the clear for the most part.
Not Author Anon, but I believe it was stated he's around 17 right now, although I myself keep thinking 16 because of the ranges of age of consent in the U.S., and how at the age of 16, people go "Only 16? OH GOD THAT'S HORRIBLE", while at 17, it's more like "Eh, only one year to go!"
random anon here thinks what truly made Francis so pissed wasn't the money, but that he behaved really well toward Alfred and was rewarded by an empty bed and 400 dollars less. He probably thinks, and with good reason, that he didn't deserve that treatment by Alfred, who he probably considered just a young man that showed interest in him, in the first place! (since apparently, he didn't know he was a whore!)
I love this fill. I feel so badly for Alfred, if only he let the government take action to protect his kids from their terrible living conditions...I have a feeling Arthur may be showing up soon; that perverted club has to be owned by somebodyXD Antonio is really nice, here. I love what you did with him, especially in this scene. It didn't occurr to me that Alfred's spurned client (Francis, lol) was his friend till they started talking, and then I was "but of course! The Bad Trio!" xDDDDDDDDDDDD you may have to check the whole not-eating by Alfred, though; it should start showing very soon, and he'd only get disgusted glances then. Not to mention he should be too weak to carry out hard physical exercise like energetic sexy dancing for long, and would probably faint from weakness and hunger.
I guess the consolation is that France is going (or at least should) feel like a HUGE shithead when he finds out: a. what the money was for b. he got Al fired from a safe place c. Al being forced to work at (what is being hinted at) is a sketchy/unsafe place...
Really if things are that bad at the next club, I could see Al begin to blame Francis for his new situation.
Holy crap I am seriously on the edge of my seat for this one and feeling just so much for Alfred. At the same time watching this unfold from the outside it's so painful and turbulent for everyone involved. I can see where another anon is coming from by wishing he could let his kids go because they'd be getting what he can't give. It's so heart wrenching because I can completely see where he's coming from and know that it would kill him to lose them.
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Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 03:37 am (UTC)(link)Mr. Carriedo’s office is lavishly decorated, authentic Spanish nick-knacks, most shaped like turtles, heady spices and incense. There’s even a model of a tomato, hand-carved out of wood and were he not busy fearing for his job, Alfred might have laughed. Instead, he tries not to choke on either the thick aroma or his growing panic. His boss sighs once more, sits down at the desk and motions for Alfred to sit opposite. “Alfred, did you or did you not steal money from Mr. Bonnefoy?”
“W-well, it wasn’t technically stealing,” Alfred reasons, or tries to through the ice in his body, “He fell asleep, and that’s how much I would have charged anyway…”
“‘How much I would have charged…?’” Mr. Carriedo repeats, voice going high and incredulous, “Tell me you’re not… Oh dear, that’s even worse.” He groans, rests his head in his hands. “Alfred, I… I can’t employ those who sell their bodies on the streets. We don’t have a high enough budget to do monthly STD tests, so we simply cannot take any risks.” He fixes Alfred with a stern gaze, Alfred who tries to stop his eyes from watering because this can’t be happening, not after he got this wonderful job… “You’ve seen how much physical contact there is backstage, and onstage, I… I can’t risk the safety of my employees.”
“But what about me,” Alfred almost shouts, “What about my risks? I… I swear I don’t have any, I’ve been tested,” he lies, “And I need the money, I need this job, I…” How am I supposed to feed my babies? Working on the streets doesn’t give me nearly enough… “Am I fired?”
Mr. Carriedo bites his lip, looks truly apologetic which doesn’t make Alfred feel better in the slightest. “I’m sorry. You’ve stolen a good sum of money from a very close friend of mine, and you… You’re a…”
“Whore,” Alfred finishes, and what mercy is left in the world is granted to him, because his voice doesn’t even crack.
His boss has the decency to keep silent at that, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I’m sorry, Alfred, but I can’t allow that kind of behavior. Too many risks for everyone.” His apology is genuine, which makes the sour pit in Alfred’s stomach even worse.
“What am I going to do now?” Alfred whimpers, thinking of how little food they have, how much less there’s going to be and he doesn’t want to go back to going from club to club, making money lying on his back. His emotions clash, fury and desperation, the horrible realization that there’s nothing he can do. “I… Damn it, I need the money more then he does.”
“I’m sure you do,” Mr. Carriedo nods, kindly, then sighs and bites his lip, as if hesitating. “Here,” he says, taking a scrap of paper and a pen, “There’s a nicer club on Thirtieth Street. It’s a bit of a ways from here, obviously, but I’ve heard that there are plenty of men and women there willing to pay large sums of money for your, ah, services. I’d be wary, though,” he warns, “Many of them also want you to do more, well, intense things to get that money. Would you be okay with that?”
Alfred nods quickly, eyes wide, head bobbing up and down like a bobble head. “Yes, anything.” Anything to get more money, to feed my babies I don’t care about myself I don’t eat but I can’t let them go hungry.
His boss nods shortly, hands him the paper and gives him one more apologetic smile, one that makes Alfred want to scream. Instead, he nods, stands, stiff as a soldier, and walks as fast as he can without running out of the office, head down, cheeks and eyes burning. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He can’t let this get to him. He’ll find something else, and it’ll be fine.
The man is still backstage and Alfred refuses to look at him, to see what he’s pretty sure will be a triumphant smirk. Instead, he walks out into the night, into the cold swirls of air, feeling the first snowflakes of winter burning his cheeks, icy hot, and tries to think of what he’ll tell Kiku.
France uses gratuitous French for a reason. He'll explain later. :D
Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 03:56 am (UTC)(link)So much tension and pain and fear being built up I live in fear of when it will start breaking apart because it's going to be brutal I can just tell. And I'll love every minute of it.
Well done, anon, well done.
Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 04:06 am (UTC)(link)Sleeked curl, eh? I think I might know who that is~! Love the way you sneak characters in. Also, the subway guy! Might he possibly be a character that I thought before but shrugged off?
Nicely done, anon! Oh, poor Georgie, poor younger!Matt, poor everyone ;_;
Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 04:10 am (UTC)(link)Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 04:11 am (UTC)(link)And I have a strange suspicion I know who owns that club and what kind of tastes Alfred may be catering to. :'D
I'd say it was depressing that Alfred expected Francis to be smirking at him on the way out, but honestly, a real customer quite likely would have been. Or would have even made the fuss more public. I wonder how those two will interact in the future after this beginning?
You know, I actually really like Antonio; he was put in a situation where he really had no choice but to fire him on the spot, but he still took the time to recommend another place Alfred could work, warn him that it was different there, and jot down the address. Or dare I even believe that what he jotted down was a little recommendation-type note that he was qualified for the job? Because that would be insanely nice of him, really.
Ugh, and now he's walking through the snow without his jacket? Dare I hope for mercy on that front, at least?
... Dude, the anticipation is going to drive me crazy, even though you don't really leave us waiting for long at all. This is so good, anon. <3
Oops, I forgot this
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 04:30 am (UTC)(link)Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 05:48 am (UTC)(link)Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 08:59 am (UTC)(link)Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)random anon with two cents
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)I love this fill. I feel so badly for Alfred, if only he let the government take action to protect his kids from their terrible living conditions...I have a feeling Arthur may be showing up soon; that perverted club has to be owned by somebodyXD
Antonio is really nice, here. I love what you did with him, especially in this scene. It didn't occurr to me that Alfred's spurned client (Francis, lol) was his friend till they started talking, and then I was "but of course! The Bad Trio!" xDDDDDDDDDDDD
you may have to check the whole not-eating by Alfred, though; it should start showing very soon, and he'd only get disgusted glances then. Not to mention he should be too weak to carry out hard physical exercise like energetic sexy dancing for long, and would probably faint from weakness and hunger.
Re: Angels 30
(Anonymous) 2010-09-06 01:15 am (UTC)(link)a. what the money was for
b. he got Al fired from a safe place
c. Al being forced to work at (what is being hinted at) is a sketchy/unsafe place...
Really if things are that bad at the next club, I could see Al begin to blame Francis for his new situation.
Re: Angels 30 OP
(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)As always I'm so glad you decided to fill this :D