Mon cher. Je t'aime tellement.

He was the one who taught me the language of love; the one who taught me to love; the one who I loved.

France

I called France "Mr. Bonnefoy" at times, referring to his human name: Francis Bonnefoy. Ah, simply hearing his beautiful name made me feel so happy inside. My insides would feel tingly, and my cheeks would flush red. France was a romantic man. Always trying to please the young ladies around him. Of course I felt jealous. Pah! I hate being jealous.

Loving him hurt me. I didn't like it when I caught him flirting with other women. I wanted him and him alone. Was that so wrong?

It was too bad France was taken already. His girlfriend was fairly beautiful, with her long, brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and a smile that would brighten up anyone's day. France seemed really happy with his girlfriend, whom I have not met before. When I saw them together, he would caress her cheek gently and kiss her forehead. I often heard him say, "Je t'aime," to her which made me even more jealous.

Though I heard rumors of them fighting and even breaking up, I refused to believe it. France would only go after another girl rather than me. France and I were close friends, which I was very proud of. Although I wanted to be more than friends. I longed for the day his strong arms would hold me in them; him telling me that he loved me.

That would never happen. Absurdity!

I was at the park on the day I saw France and his girlfriend again. They sat far away from each other, which I found quite odd. I sighed loudly, causing France to look directly at me. I looked at him and waved nervously.

"Ah, mon cher! Such a pleasure to see you on this beautiful day," France greeted me. His thick, French accent was simply adoring. His smile made my body shake slightly. France's hand reached down for my hand, lifting it to his face. His lips gently pressed against my hand. His lips were soft, like I imagined how soft clouds would be. My cheeks flushed red, making Francis chuckle at the sight of my red face.

"Dear, your face is red again," he told me. My eyes widened and I rushed my hands to my face, covering most of it.

France chuckled again and took my arm, dragging me to a park bench. Though, his girlfriend had to walk up to him and ruin my moment.

"Francis! Honestly, I despise it when you court other women," his girlfriend said, pouting. I rolled my eyes at the sight, nearly face-palming. France's bright smile faded slowly.

"I told you. We're done, alright?" France said to her. His girlfriend pouted more and stomped away.

"...You really did break up with her?" I asked, staring up at France's face. He nodded slowly, staring at my hand.

"Yes. She simply got too jealous whenever I talked to other women," France said. "I got tired of her constant nagging as well, and she would never let me take naps!"

"Then why did you date her anyway?"

"Ah, she was a beautiful figure. Simply magnifique. She was an angel at first, mon cher, but she later became too... irritating. Like dear Britain," France told me. I nodded slowly, my eyes glued to his face.

France smiled and looked down at me.

"It was in the past. She's gone now, which means I can spend more time with you," he said with a wink. My face grew redder, making France chuckle again.

"Such a beautiful face," France said to me, stroking my left cheek gently. I looked away, feeling embarrassed. He was being romantic to me once again.

"M-Mr. Bonnefoy... I don't believe- I don't think you should say that," I stuttered, staring at a distant tree. France cupped my chin and made me look at him.

"Look at me, dear. Do you believe me?" he asked. I was about to say something, but his soft lips pressed against mine. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, bringing me closer. His chest pressed against mine. The French man deepened the kiss, seeming to want more of me. Soon, he pulled away and kissed my forehead.

"M-Mr. Bonnefoy!" I exclaimed, my face red. "Wh-what was that for?"

"Elise, dear. Don't you get it? Je t'aime."

I thought for a moment. What did 'je t'aime' mean again? I thought. Then it hit me.

He said 'I love you.'

I blushed madly once again, but managed to speak.

"Mr. Bonnefoy... You can't possibly- You just got out of a relationship. You must be lying, oui?" I said. France chuckled.

"Seems like my language lessons have payed off."

"Answer my question, please!"

"Alright, dear. You really don't know? I've loved you for a while. I couldn't say it," France whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my back.

I could feel his golden, wavy hair brushing against my cheek. I didn't want to believe it.

"N-No..." I said, getting up and running away. I felt embarrassed. My face grew warmer and warmer by the second.

I ran all the way home, not looking back. For some reason, I sobbed. I couldn't believe what France told me. I didn't want to believe it either. He was messing with me and I knew he was. The mischievous glint in his eyes told me.

He hadn't broken up with his girlfriend. It was only a scam to trick me, to mess with me. That's what I chose to believe.

How cruel!

I didn't want to see him anymore, despite my feelings.

Sure enough, my belief was proven true. I saw France and his girlfriend again nearby the flower shop the day after. His girlfriend held a bouquet of flowers in her hand, smiling at France. They were too far away for me to hear their conversation, but I knew they were talking.

My vision became misty. How dare he play with me like that! I ran home to hide from France, not noticing him glance at me once.

Once again, my heart throbbed and ached. I wanted it to end. What makes one love another so much? It sounded impossible to me.

I hated this.

Hated it so much.

I wanted to hide myself from him forever.

Then I drifted off into a deep sleep on my house couch. I dreamed of a world where everything went my way. My dream self was talking to me in my sleep.

"Dear, in a perfect world, everything would go your way," it said to me.

I didn't really want everything to go my way. Drama and different ways made life interesting, and not so bland.

I woke up, breathing heavily. What started off as a sweet dream ended up as a nightmare. My dream self turned out to be some sort of monster who kept telling me to "get rid of one."

Get rid of one? What does that mean? I asked myself, remembering the vivid snarling noise of the monster when it talked. It seemed all so real.

I wouldn't figure out what the monster meant until the day after.

Surely I couldn't do that! No. France would hate me!


A/N: I don't know. I wanted to do this, a fan fiction with France and Elise (one of my OCs). Hehehe. There's something wrong with me. xD I rushed because like, my dad would be coming home soon and I didn't finish homework. w;; I really should be doing homework. Waaaaah I'm horrible at France. ; u ; Sorry for any spelling errors, btw. I don't like reading stories to check for errors even though a good writer should. D: I rely on Spelling Check.