Corner of my eye

by coeurgryffondor

It's like Francis sees him everywhere; he's so used to looking, to keeping him in his sight, always just out of the corner of his eye.

Corner of my eye

It's like Francis sees him everywhere; he's so used to looking, to keeping him in his sight, always just out of the corner of his eye. He probably never even realized how the French nation looked for him, his pants, his bag, that scarf Francis bought him years ago that he sword he'd never wear. Or had that been the one he'd laughed at? Hard to remember now.

But he's gone now anyway. Sure, Francis could go see him; you could get anywhere from Paris. But it wouldn't be the same; the instincts are still there, the need to protect and love and adore, but he isn't there anymore, not the same way he was before.

It's that it's something unconscious that makes it so annoying. He can't stop, Francis has no control of it, so he keeps looking out the corner of his eye.