Author: Manic-Mania PM
Francouer over hears Lucille and Raoul in the midst of an argument, he's called a monster, and nothing more than a pet to Lucille. When she can't retaliate. it upsets him and he sets off to become more than just a "Pet". After a painful transformation, he returns home. How will they react? Reviews appreciated! T just in case. I OWN NOTHINGRated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Francoeur - Chapters: 4 - Words: 3,610 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 03-20-13 - Published: 11-08-12 - id: 8686201
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"How could you do this, Lucille!?" Raoul states. Throwing his hands up in defeat. After such a long argument, it would make no sense for him to be calm. "What about everything we tried to build? What about us? What about…" he sighs, and takes her hands in his "What about our love?"
"This isn't about you, Raoul. This is about Francoeur. We need to get him some place safe, you know that. He was alright in Paris for a while. But it's been weeks. Fleas don't last very long, Raoul. Who knows how long Francoeur will live from here?" She fumbles over the desk, picking up various make-up containers and things. "I've got to talk to the Professor. Maybe he can do something."
"Of course, it's always been about… about that flea!" Francoeur flinched back at the word. Raoul spat it at him, pointing maliciously. "Don't think I can't see how he looks at you… The thing is a flea, a monster, for gods sake." He turns to look at Lucille. She charges at him and draws a hand back to slap him. He catches the hand and stares into her eyes, his mind isn't calm. "Don't you say he's no monster." He says, her eyes go wide. "He may be no monster to you, but he's not a human, either. He's your pet."
Lucille's eyes go wide, and she turns her back to him, taking her hand from his grip. Her eyes are downcast. Fracoeur's eyes widen in horror. He can tell what's going on. He just… he doesn't have the words for it. He doesn't know how to say "It's not true! It's not true! Tell him, Lucille, tell him it's not true!" Instead all that he can express comes out in horrified, frantically mournful chirps. Eventually raising into wild shrieks. The look on his face is pure pain.
"Francoeur…" Raoul says, Lucille doesn't turn. She couldn't see him like this. He stares at her back for a long second before catapulting himself out the window. He couldn't bare to be in that room any more. He couldn't bare to be a pet.
"Hello, Francoeur." The professor says, as the big blue flea opens the door, and quietly steps into the greenhouse. "You look upset. What's the matter?" The old mans face is aged, and wrinkled. Franc shakes his head and lunges into a tree nearby. He doesn't want to discuss it. "You know, it's been several weeks… Perhaps you've come back wondering if there's some way you could live longer?" The professor pulls up a chalk-board from under his desk and displays if for the musician to look over whenever he decides to. It was pretty simple, really. There was a drawing of Franc, or at least a really big flea like him, and a man. A very average looking one, Franc imagines it's just to get the image across. He sits there, with the board in his hands for a long while. All four of his hands are gripping it tightly. He chirps a slow, sad chirp.
"I can make this happen, you know." the professor says, walking up behind the flea after he examines the board a while. "I heard about the argument Raoul and Lucille had… That's a terrible thing to say." He puts a hand over Franc's shoulder, his spines are drooping, his head low. He hands the board to the Professor. Eyes gleaming with hope. "It will be no easy task." He says, mixing various chemicals and liquids, each glowing in a respective color like some sort of magic. But magic doesn't exist in chemicals. Magic exists in music. That's what Francoeur believed, any how.
"There" the Professor says, finally holding up a vial to Franc's face. It was an odd liquid. Completely clear, but from the way it moved, you could tell it would ooze, not run. It was thick and clear. "Open up, Franc." The flea opens his mouth widely. Eyes closed, expecting something to happen… "Ah, no. That's not what I need. I need you to keep your eyes open." He says, pulling a syringe from his coat and popping open the vial. He's scared. He breathes quickly, his eyes darting anywhere but the needle, as it approaches his left eye slowly. "I'm going to have to put it in each of your eyes, nostrils, give you some to drink, and put some in each ear, and major vein. I'll do it as painlessly as I can…" The professor explains as the needle eases its way into Franc's eye. He squeals and screeches wildly as it punctures his left cornea…