It was a lovely summers evening. Bright stars decorated the purple sky. An evening like this was very rare to you, but what could you expect, you were in France after all. You were visiting your childhood friend, Francis Bonnefoy after he had invited you out. It was quite a spur of the moment type of thing. You remembered receiving a phone call from the French man, asking(more like begging) for you to come visit him in France. You were in a bit of shock when you received the phone call, given you haven't spoken to the blonde in over two months. It actually took you a few moments to figure out just who Francis Bonnefoy was. So, after over an hour of begging, you finally agreed to visit him.
"Ahh~ Isn't the evenings in France beautiful, mon cherie?" a voice said from behind you. You smiled softly and rested your elbows on the balcony ledge.
"It certainly is, Francis. I wish the nights were like this in my home," you said, grazing your eyes across the city below you; Paris, to be exact. The Eiffel Tower glowed in the darkness, as it were only a mile away from Francis's voluptuous home. The Frenchman folded his arms and leaned against the frame of the doorway.
"I'm sure your evenings are just as beautiful, ______," he complimented. You turned around to face him. His shoulder length blonde hair looked actually combed for once, and his deep sea blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight. You smiled. "Why don't we go on inside now? It seems to be getting chilly out here," you were a bit confused, given that it was summer and the nights were especially warm. But, he insisted for you to come inside, so you did.
You walked into the room you owned for the time being and blinked in surprise. Flowers covered the whole room. Your favorite flower. The entire room lit up with the color of (insert favorite flower here) everywhere. You had never seen so many (f/f) in your life, until now that is. A bottle of champagne and two long stem glasses were set upon a small coffee table. You knew that Francis was a very romantic man, but he really outdone himself this time. You heard the closing of the balcony doors and Francis stand beside you.
"Does mon amour like what I put together?" he asked, smiling down at you. You were too busy gawking around the room to return the smile. You were pulled away from your gawking when you felt something warm wrap around your hand. Breaking your graze, you looked and noticed that Francis had taken ahold of your hand. A soft wave of red sprinkled upon your cheeks. You let him guide you through the room and to the couch. After taking a seat, you were knocked back into your senses.
"It's incredibly stunning, Francis. Is there a reason for all of this?" you asked as he opened the champagne bottle and filling a glass halfway. Francis handed you the glass with a coy smile on his lips.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is a reason for all this. From me asking you out to France, to the romantic atmosphere," he started in a soft voice. You rested your hands in your lap and waited patiently for him to continue. Francis fidgeted slightly in his seat, and adjusted multiple times. He's obviously nervous. But, what could have him so worked up like this? you thought to yourself. Biting his lip, Francis reached out and grasped one of your hands. You blinked confusingly at him, but all he did was give your hand a couple of soft squeezes.
"You see, _______, for a very long time now, I've been having this sort of feelings....What I'm trying to say is I think that I lo--" all of a sudden, interrupting the blonde, your cell phone erupted in your pocket. You literally jumped up when you heard it.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Francis!" you scrambled to take your phone out of your pocket. You checked caller ID and saw it was another childhood friend, Arthur Kirkland. Unlike Francis, you both spoke on an almost daily basis. "Just a sec," you walked off somewhere in the room and answered your cell.
"Hello?" you asked over the line.
"Hello, _______," a voice with a thick British accent said on the other line. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I needed to ask you something," you turned towards Francis, and noticed a sad and hurt look on his face. Sighing, you answered with: "No, you're not interrupting anything. What is it, Arthur?"
"Well, I know this is completely out of the blue, but I was hoping that you could come out to England in a couple of days? I need to talk to you about something very important," Arthur asked you, his voice actually a bit shaky. Being the oblivious person you were, you were confused on why he sounded so nervous.
"Of course, Arthur," you agreed, smiling to yourself. After saying your goodbyes, you hung up your phone and put it back into your pocket. Then, you returned back to the couch where Francis was at. "I'm terribly sorry about that, Francis. That was Arthur on the phone and he just invited me out to England," you said as a smile grew on your face. The hurt expression Francis's face escalated to a more depressed one.
"Oh, so I see. Well, I guess I'm going to go turn in for the night, ______," Francis stood up and headed for the bedroom door.
"Wait! You said you had to tell me something," you stood up as well, grabbing ahold of Francis's arm. He turned his head to look at you and shook his head.
"It's nothing now, don't worry. Well, bonsoir, mon cherie," and with that, Francis exited the room, leaving you in a heap of confusion. That was quite odd. I wonder what got into Francis. Instead of following after him, you plucked a (flower name) and sniffed the head of it. Sighing dreamily, you skipped to your closet to pick out something to wear to bed.
Time Lapse: A few days later
After returning home from France, you tried to get ahold of Francis to tell him about how much you enjoyed the trip, but all of your calls were sent straight to voicemail. Not only was this odd to you, but it was also strange on how Francis acted on your last few days in France. He would avoid you, and when you did talk to him, his answers were short and dull. You were worried. Something was saying that you had done something wrong, but you didn't know what that was. Francis was telling me about how he had feelings for me, but what exactly could those feelings be? you thought to yourself as you walked down the streets of London, England. Just like you agreed to, you had traveled to England to visit Arthur. For a summer, it was quite rainy.
You reached the porch of the Kirkland household with a broad smile on your face. Just as you were about to knock on the oak door, you heard an argument going on from within.
"Damn it, Arthur! Why is it that every time I start to like someone, you have to take it away from me?!" that was Francis's voice. What was he doing at Arthur's house? And what does he mean by that? Being nosey, you decided to keep listening in.
"Oh, come off of it, Francis! It's quite obvious that when you start to like someone, they tend to like someone else and I'm pretty damn sure that ______ likes me a hell of a lot more than you!" a snarl came as a response. It was Arthur, of course. A blush rose on your cheeks. Their talking about me? And....Arthur knows that I like him? You bit your lip. Yes, in fact, you did have a small crush on Arthur, but you knew that the feelings weren't mutual. Maybe that's he wanted to talk to me today. To let me down gently with his rejection.
"I'm only going to say this once, Kirkland. You better back off of _______! Unlike you, I actually care deeply for her," said Francis. The blush grew much hotter and much redder. Francis cares about me? Well, of course he cares about me. He's one of my best friends.
"I do care about ______, you bloody git!" Arthur threw back at him, getting extremely angry.
"But, I bet you don't love her as much as I do!" hearing those words made your heart stop beating for a few mere moments. You couldn't believe what you just heard. You couldn't believe that he, Francis Bonnefoy, world-known flirt, actually just said that he was in love with you. It was unthinkable. So, that's what Francis wanted to talk to me about. He was going to confess his love to me. The fighting continued going, until finally you saw the door fly open. Francis was standing there, red in the face from his constant screaming and yelling. Arthur was standing only a few feet from the door, making it clear that he could see you on the doorstep.
"_______! Wh-what are you doing here?" Francis asked, biting his lip. He was sure that you had heard what he and Arthur were arguing about, just by looking at the scarlet red blush on your face.
"I....came to visit Arthur, remember? But, I can see that I picked a bad time. I'll just be going now," you turned on your heel and bolted down the path that led from Arthur's house to the main street. You heard Francis calling your name and swore you heard his footsteps tailing you, but you didn't stop. I-I can't face him now! I feel so terrible about that night! I'll never be able to look at him without feeling a knife in my heart ever again! Just as you rounded a corner, you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist.
"_______! Please, let me explain!" it was Francis. You tried desperately to free yourself, but he had your wrist in an iron grip. Tears streaked your face, but the rain clearly hid them.
"Let me go, Francis! How can you even talk to me after what I did to you that night?!" you sobbed, whirling around to come face-to-face to Francis. His blonde hair was soaking wet and sticking to his face. You felt as more and more tears ran down your face, and you wanted them to stop, but they never did. They just kept coming and coming. Without saying a word, you were pulled into Francis, an embrace if you may. His arms wrapped securely around you, and instead of trying to escape, you clung to his damp shirt and sobbed loudly. You felt as Francis ran his fingers through your wet (h/c) hair.
"Shh, don't cry, mon cherie. No matter what you do to me, I'll always talk to you. Because I just love you that much," he whispered to you, in a soothing and calm voice. The sobbing slowed to a gentle cry. Blinking back more tears, you looked up at him. His blue orbs gazed lovingly into your (e/c) ones.
"I'm so sorry, Francis. I can't believe how foolish I was. But, I won't be foolish anymore," you told him. Smiling at one another, you felt Francis place one of his cold hands on your cheek. You didn't mind though. All you cared about was Francis's forgiveness.
"Je t'aime, ma chérie,"
You smiled. "I love you too, Francis."