AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to chapter 4! This is officially my longest fanfiction EVER(I've always abandoned them after three chapters .-.). I keep forgetting to write in the story notes at the end of the chapter, so here are the ones from the last:
According to the article I read, the orphanage the girl from my old school was in what looked like a burned out factory, in which waste was everywhere, clothes that were washed monthly were the only things the children owned, and their heads were shaved occasionally due to frequent lice infestations.
Also something from the first chapter: the term nymphomania is used for females, and satyriasis is its male counterpart. I don't really care though, since its the exact same thing, so I'll refer to Francis as a nymphomaniac, even though it's not the politically correct term.
Lastly, to reply to a guest review from the last chapter, I'm writing this story with romance as a second genre, so while there will be romance, I don't want it to be my main focus. There will be two or three explicit pairings most likely, but for anything else, pairings will be implicit.
As always, thank you for the favourites, follows, and reviews!
WARNING: Somewhat sexist thoughts. They'll be explained at the end of the chapter.
DISCLAIMER: Do not own.
Yao was a very selfish person. That is why, even after hearing Ivan's tragic story, he was thinking of himself. He shivered to think what his life could have been like if that had happened to him, if he had he been born a girl.
He might have ended up as Ivan and his family did, living in a orphanage, penniless, selling himself on the streets…
Thank God he was born a boy.
.
Yao was born to a middle class family in Jiangsu. He came into the world in a nice house and with a nice family. He didn't quite remember China, as his family had moved when he was relatively young. He had only one memory of that time.
He and his mother and father had been in Nanjing, which was not too far away from his own town. The Wang family was on its way to the International Plum Blossom Festival, walking together through the city. As they passed near an alleyway, Yao heard a cry.
"那是什么？" what is that? Yao asked, stopping at the noise.
"这算不得什么。我们将继续前进。" it is nothing; we will keep moving. his father replied, tugging the young boy's hand and trying to force him to move forward.
Yao slipped out of his parent's grasp and tore off towards the noise. He ignored their calls as he ran, wandering into the decrepit alley. The sound of the cry came again, louder this time.
Snapping around towards the noise, Yao saw her. He spotted a little baby swathed in a clean and warm blanket, tears in her eyes and soft cries leaving her mouth.
His parents caught up to him. They stilled as they saw.
"这是一个婴儿。" he whispered. It is a baby.
Looking at each other warily, his parents made a decision. His mother picked up the baby in her arms, and his father grabbed onto Yao's hand.
They took the baby to the orphanage, only two blocks away. Yao and his father stayed back as his mother brought the baby to the woman in charge, exchanging quick words. She handed over the baby and walked back to her family. She grabbed Yao's hand tightly, sandwiching him between his parents. Together, the family went to the Plum Festival, and Yao was thankful that he had not been born a girl.
.
When he turned three, his family moved to America so that they could build up some business or other, Yao never bothered to learn.
His clever and skilled parents quickly became rich. With smart business tactics and great ideas, they built a comfortable and luxurious life for their family.
Yao became a very spoilt child. His parents gave him whatever he wanted; they just wanted to keep their little boy happy and quiet and occupied.
He was lavished with gifts, soft designer clothes, delectable lo mein stirred up by the professional cook living in his house, along with the nicest nannies. He had everything a child could want, except the attention of his parents.
.
When he was eleven years old, he stole for the first time. ONe day after school, he was in the mall with his parents. It was one of those rare days when they were both free. They had better be free; it was his birthday, after all. They brought him to a toy store, with games, Nerf guns, stuffed animals- everything a child could possibly want.
The stuffed animals were Yao's favourite part. His parents sat down near the entrance as they allowed their son to explore the store. Whilst looking around, he spotted an itty bitty panda stuffed animal. It was made of the softest material, and it had the cutest eyes…
Looking to his left and to his right, he saw no one in the aisle. Moving quickly, he unzipped his schoolbag and stuffed the toy inside. He looked around a bit more, trying not to seem suspicious. He pretended to be interested in a water gun, struggling not to twist his face into an ugly expression. He loathed water guns.
After a few minutes, he left the store.
"Did you find anything you want us to buy?" his mother asked, glancing up from her Blackberry.
"Nope!" The young boy said, smiling mischieviously. They went to dinner, where his parents spent the meal doing something on their phones, then went home. He was forced to take a shower and brush his teeth before he was finally granted freedom.
Nearly sprinting to his room, Yao closed his door and locked it. He grabbed a flashlight, crawled under his panda comforter, and opened his backpack, heart racing. He unzipped it and pulled the small stuffed animal out. He stared into its plastic eyes, felt the soft plush, smelled that beautiful smell. He turned off the light and snuggled with his new panda, falling asleep with the fur tickling his cheek.
The next morning, Yao brought the animal down to breakfast, wondering if his parents would notice the stolen toy. When he sat down at the breakfast table, his parents only tapped away at their phones. They finished eating and left without a word. Yao looked down at his little bear and frowned.
He didn't have to steal the bear. If he had simply, asked, the toy would have been granted to him. It wouldn't have been what he wanted.
What did Yao want, exactly? It wasn't stuff that he wanted, he had enough stuff. He wanted… thrill? Attention? Love?
Yao didn't know why, after that, he couldn't stop stealing. He didn't even question the urge to grab, steal, take. He certainly didn't feel an annoying pang whenever he wore his stolen possessions in front on his parents with them not even looking at him. Most definitely not.
No, Yao was simply selfish.
.
When Yao was thirteen, his parents went bankrupt. He wasn't exactly sure of what happened, or how, just that the servants went away, the Wang family moved from their mansion to a small two-bedroom house, and his parents' faces, once youthful with that perpetual air of sophistication and arrogance, had turned old, wrinkled, desperate.
They did not give up, however. They started working at modest jobs(Yao didn't know what those were either), and they made a decent living. Yao could tell, though, that they weren't happy. He was okay with it, however. The only thing that mattered was himself. It was his parents' own faults that they had gone bankrupt. Karma was a bitch.
Maybe now they would notice him.
Eating their modest breakfast, they sat quietly. Yao wore a beautiful, green, cashmere sweater. He had smirked as he nabbed it; it was worth a pretty $429.99. Stealing this gem had been his biggest heist yet.
He watched as his parents ate, put their dishes in the sink, and slipped out the front door without a word.
Yao did not notice the tear slipping from his eye as he thought about his parents. It was as if they moved robotically, going through the motions of human with no life. They had become zombies.
Yao thought of the abandoned baby, and how they had said not a word, showed not one emotion as the family left her and went to the Plumb Festival.
Or maybe they had been like that all along.
Francis frowned at the Italians. The lighter haired twin, Feliciano, was ignoring Francis in favour of that stiff German. Antonio, who was supposed to be helping him get one of the twins(or both) into his bed, was instead flirting with his prey. Francis consoled himself in the fact that the Italian seemed immensely irritated by Antonio's mere presence.
He sighed. Another night with his hand seemed to be all that awaited him. He had nearly resigned himself to this fact when he caught sight of a certain Brit walking past him, a grin crawling onto his face.
"Arthur!" he called out, standing up and resting his hands on the other's shoulders.
"What do you want, frog?" he asked, turning his head towards him, and Francis frowned. The words were familiar, but the tone was calmer than normal. It lacked a certain… bite. He quickly brought his grin back as he formulated a plan. It would not do if Arthur became suspicious; well, more than usual, since he was almost always suspicious of Francis.
Francis trailed his fingers down the Brit's arm and entwined their fingers together. His grin widened as Arthur raised a curious, bushy brow at him.
"We are going to my house." he announced, leaving no room for protest as he tightened his grip on Arthur's fish fingers. Arthur glanced at their entwined hands, and sighed as he knew that the damn Frenchie would not let go until he got his way.
"Fine."
.
"So, do tell, Arthur. What is eating at your mind?" The Brit shot a glare at him over the rim of his teacup. He sat all the way back in the yellow high backed chair, black socked-feet pressed to the edge of the seat, knees raised. Next to him was an identical chair, in which Francis sat. The chairs were almost touching at the front and spread wide at the back, a small round table situated in the open space between the chairs.
"Absolutely nothing." The Frenchman laughed, placing his coffee down on the table. "What is so funny?"
"Something is always eating at your mind, even at times of peace." The words caused his companion to frown. He thought back to this past week, all the times he had been so close to sending that message, that single, cursed "hi", but lacked the courage to tap that little button. He thought of the blood swirling in the drain, Amelia's fingers bandaging his hands. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt that pervert's hand on his leg.
"Does it have to do with that girl, Amelia?" The interruption in his thoughts caused the Brit to jump in his seat. Thankfully, he hadn't spilt his tea.
"Amelia?" The name slipped off his lips, music to his ears. He thought of her shy smile, the way her eyes lit up when she was happy. He frowned as he remembered the way she hid herself and acted almost cold before Support Group. His frown deepened as he felt the hand crawl up to his knee.
"Yes, her." Francis said, smirk floating in his voice. "It's obvious that you're smitten with her."
"Am not."
"And you have proven my point. Why do you not pursue her?" he questioned, and Arthur stayed stubbornly silent. "Come on, rosbif, penny for your thoughts." The hand crawled up his thigh…
Arthur slapped it away angrily.
"She would never love me!" he exclaimed angrily. After the outburst, the fire in his eyes died, replaced by sadness. "No one could ever love me." He stared into his teacup, as if the liquid might hold all the answers.
Francis was quiet for a moment, a bit stunned by Arthur's violent reaction.
"You insist that no one loves you, but what about me?" he asked.
"That's not love, that's lust." Arthur muttered, gaze locked onto his tea.
Francis smirked a bit. "That means I love your body, no?" Arthur lifted his gaze to glare at the other.
"I'm leaving." he said, placing down the teacup and placing his feet on the floor.
"Wait." Francis reach out to grab the Brit's wrist with a firm grasp, feeling the scars under his fingers. He swiped his thumb across his forearm, over the puckered skin. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to his flesh. Arthur felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the strange, intimate gesture.
"Mon lapin, whilst you are extremely frustrating, infuriating, and annoying, you do happen to be my best friend. And while I would love to have you under me, I do think that it means something- the fact that you haven't slept with me." Francis stared into Arthur's wide, bright green eyes. "You still think that you're worth something, that Arthur is significant and not just some hunk of flesh. You are significant." Francis finished. He watched Arthur blink once, twice, before a rush of colour pervaded his senses. His friend tackled him with a hug, arms wrapping around his neck. He laughed and Francis felt small drops of hot tears fall onto his shoulder.
"Bloody hell, you blinding wanker. If you tell anyone about this, I will stab you." Arthur warned him. He hugged back, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist.
"Mmm, ditto."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, time for an especially self-indulgent author's note. Back around the 1990's(perhaps 80's as well), most Chinese parents wanted sons, not daughters(the one-child policy was mandated in 1979), so a whole lot of families gave up their daughters for adoption. Back then, it was really easy to adopt a Chinese baby girl(how I got here! Jiangsu is the province where I was born). Eventually people realised that they needed girls in China, so now it's hard as dicks. Yao, belonging to a middle class family, thinks of how he might have been left to an orphanage had he been born a girl. The "clean and warm blanket" means that the family that abandoned the baby was well off. Also, the International Plumb Blossom festival is a real thing that happens in Nanjing, and has happened annually for about 17 years.
I don't know Mandarin, and there's a different dialect in Jiangsu anyway, so the Chinese is probably way, way off.
I apologise for the British slang fail.
Lastly, I am currently staying at my aunt's apartment(it's been great, went to the theatre, museums, got a Chromebook which I LOVE, and a GODDAMN G-1 BOMBER JACKET AT MY COUSIN'S VINTAGE SHOP), and my aunt is a therapist(I am literally surrounded by therapists) who happens to have a very user-friendly guide to personality disorders and it's SO USEFUL; I'll probably post a guide of the characters and their personality disorders on Tumblr sometime soon.