literature

Gone Away: FranceXReader

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Literature Text

You had to hurry. He was taking the last train out of town and if you missed him, you would never see him again. You parked your car as quickly as you could, threw open the door and locked your car up, only after grabbing your keys. You leapt over the ticket booth, which made guards chase you, because they thought you were trying to get a free ride to the next station. You ducked and wove through the crowds, trying to get to the train as fast as you could. You had dashed from work as soon as you found out. You left the bakery in your dirty apron, old jeans, worn tennis shoes and your hair a mess with flour on your face. You looked like a nightmare cook escaped from the psycho ward kitchens.

"Francis!" you cried, "Francis!"

However the station was empty. Nothing moved. There wasn't even a train in the station that Francis said there would be, which could only mean one thing. Your legs buckled beneath you. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. It could only mean you were too late. He had gone back to Paris. He was never coming back to see you and you would never get to tell him how much he truly meant to you. He had come on business, but then met you in your bakery. He then came in everyday after that, teaching you how to make new pastries – from France, no less – but along the way you had fallen for him. If you didn't get to tell him before he got on the train, you would never get to find out if he felt the same way and the guilt of not knowing would eat you away.

"H-Hello?"

Guards finally caught up with you but froze in their tracks as soon as they saw you. Slowly, they circled you, prepared for you to lash out but you did absolutely nothing. But now that they saw you on your hands and knees staring at the empty station, they were uncertain as to what to do. They thought they would have more of a chase instead of you dashing in and just stopping before you got anywhere, but you had missed the one train you needed to stop. He was gone. Francis was gone forever and you would never get to tell him how you felt. Tears fell onto the backs of your hands as you stared at the bricks beneath your grip. Your knuckles scraped along the bricks, cutting them up. It wasn't good for cooking but right now your heart was in so much despair you needed a distraction.

"Hello?" you called again, a bit louder.

Nothing. Brilliant. You really outdid yourself this time. 'You let him go, ___________. The love of your life and you let him leave without as much as a goodbye,' you thought. You sank to your knees, disappointment gnawing at you. To your great surprise, you found tears welling up in your eyes. A sudden movement in the station sent a breeze towards you, gently tugging at your hair. A familiar spicy smell accompanied it. You frowned. Now your mind was mocking you by making you remember the scent of his super expensive cologne. You shook your head, trying to force your mind to forget, even cringing at the pain in your knuckles now. You could smell the blood that was forming on your fingers.

"Huh?"

You turned as you heard a footstep behind you. A man pushed his way through the guards with relative ease. He smiled as he saw you. But then you froze as well. He had stayed. Francis was standing in front of you, concerned but smiling as he saw you. He pulled a kerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit. He knelt down and wiped the tears away. The guards looked at one another. Soon enough they started to disperse until there was just one left, most likely to take you back to the front of the station and kick you out after you had your moment with Francis. Now you weren't even so sure you wanted to talk to him about how you felt. That look on his face just made your stomach churn, so smug but there was another emotion you couldn't name. You shifted anxiously.

"Well, now, I was on my way out, but I can't very well leave a Princess crying, now can I?"

Francis extended a hand and grinned crookedly down at you, taking in your tear smudged face, dusty jeans and disheveled apron. Your heart jumped. Now you looked away from him, embarrassed. You could feel your face burning from the sheer embarrassment. This probably boosted his ego through the roof to know that you had left your bakery in a disheveled mess to see him one last time. He would most likely go back to France and then tell his friends – Antonio and Gilbert – how he had gotten a girl to chase him to the train station. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die as quickly as possible.

"I'm…I'm not crying!" you cried.

You stood up on your own, rubbing your eyes fiercely, trying to get rid of any traces of your tears but it didn't seem to work no matter how hard you tried to be rid of the liquid remorse. Francis pressed the kerchief into your hand. Unknowing you used it until you actually took notice of the cloth in your hands. Then even more tears welled up in your eyes. This was getting you nowhere except for making you look like an idiot in front of him. Guys like Francis could go after any girl they wanted. Why on earth would he date someone like you? Girls at the clubs practically threw themselves at him, so did some guys for that matter. He was French and the exotic accent attractive.

"I was just…" Your voice squeaked.

Tears started pouring down your face at such an alarming rate that even wiping them away didn't stop the waterworks. His tissue was completely damp as it had attempted to dry your eyes. You covered it with both hands, shoulders shaking, clenching the kerchief between your fingers. Francis might not get his kerchief back, even if he tried pulling it from you. Francis was silent for a moment, and you felt him put his hand under your chin. His other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. The guard realized what was going on and turned around, to give the two of you a moment or privacy. At least the man had some decency.

"I'm glad you came," he said, "Je t'aime."

"I love you too…"

He pulled you in for a kiss.
This had to be posted. France has been haunting my other stories, whether he was mentioned or whether he was actually in it. So he had to have his own story... I don't care for him as much as I do other nations...

:iconsexyfrance2plz::iconsaysplz:Mon cher, zat is a lie and you know it!

I will deny it to the end!
© 2012 - 2024 kita-kudai
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Ray711's avatar
Love this story! When he called reader-chan Princess, it reminded me of Tamaki from OHSHC...