The mid-morning air was hanging in the room, warming the area like small sun. He had been working for a few hours now, oddly enough, and the apartment was looking hundreds of times better that it had been before. In fact, if you didn't know better, you would've just thought that Francis had been having a busy week and didn't have all that much time to tidy up the house.
Things were getting better. After all, revelations usually do the trick when you're in pitiful states like the French man had been. His had been one simple thought. Why he hadn't thought of it earlier made him feel like a complete idiot. 'A buffoon,' as Arthur would sometimes call him.
Just because he was currently loveless didn't mean it was the end of the world. Hundreds of people loose loved ones. He wasn't alone… A live was given in order for another to survive. That was life. (Name)'s death was something of a sacrifice. She died, he lived; had he been able to choose, it would have always been her who lived. But sometimes, you don't get to pick the things in life that are most important to you.
They just happened.
Like your wedding.
It had been planned, yes, but it happened like the snap of his fingers.
Your slim figure had been encased in the most lovely of fabrics, a floral design tracing itself down the gorgeous silk cloth as it twined itself around your middle and to the floor. You were supposed to look as if you were a goddess ascending from the pureness of cotton clouds and were ready to finally give yourself up to the most human of people.
One who dared to love.
One who was curious about anything different.
One who was ready to commit himself.
And so you came down the aisle, wildflowers recently gathered by an expert florist… Well, Feliciano did have an eye for flowers, but maybe he wasn't exactly professional. Nonetheless, they provided a natural look that only amplified your beauty as you smiled uncontrollably. Your bright, (eye color) orbs crinkled with your nose as you made your way down to Francis on Ludwig's arm, whom you placed a kiss on his cheek before parting. He was a good friend to play 'father' while your's was away, but he took his place back at Feliciano's side in the pews.
Now you were alone under the archways, the pastor giving a brief smile as the two of you joined under the daylight shining overhead. Here, outside, the breeze tickled your skin and tossed your locks of hair playfully from side to side.
Time ticked by…
"… And you may now kiss the bride."
Your arms were thrown tightly around him in an embrace like no other and your lips touched, giggles emitting from your mouth as you pressed back from each other and touched foreheads while the crowds behind you clapped. Even Arthur was smiling for the two of you, although it was interrupted when Alfred, at his side, started to fist-pump and hoot.
Feliciano threw flower petals at you as you threw back your bouquet which Elizaveta caught with a jump in the air.
"Oh! Francis!"
He pulled you up and effectively carried you as the bride should be carried: bridal-style. The Frenchman made his way to your vehicle and away you went to your honeymoon spot at the beach where he had first proposed to you on it's hill.
Francis felt his stomach growl again and before he could think twice about even daring to open his near-empty refrigerator, he was in the bathroom, tidying himself up. First, he put on a pair of black slacks he used to wear frequently, then his dashing white button-up, and then the jacket that went over it. Away went the messy beard with a delicate shave. As he concentrated on cleaning up his unkempt look, he realized how much he'd changed himself. The dark circles could stay for now; to serve him as a reminder of what he'd become when he wasn't careful. His golden locks seemed to glisten in the little ray of light that shimmered through the open high bathroom window after it was combed.
He was back again. He felt almost complete. Sure, he would never be completely the same, but why wallow? Why hurt himself when he could be bettering himself? His blue eyes had a little more life in them: they looked like a lively ocean like they once had been.
The blonde pushed through the doors of his apartment, wallet in his pocket, and a soft smile on his lips. It was wistful, being out here. His gold wedding band gleamed when sunlight finally hit it for the first time in a long while. He looked at it a for a moment, then kissed it and pulled it off, pushing it into his pocket. It was time to go shopping in the open market, Aligre Market, which was only four minutes from Place de la Bastille*.
The breeze felt good against his cheeks as he walked outside, strolling to the market, where he hoped to find some good bargains and great items to make wonderful French cuisine like he used to. Quiche lorraine had always been one of his favourites, and now that he was going to be able to buy ingredients, it would be possible to do so.
When he reached the street, many inviting smells came to dance within his nostrils. He breathed in deeply, relishing the scents, then exhaled with a sweet sigh, "Merveilleux..!"
For a long while, he shopped for quality items, whether they be fruits, vegetables, or pastry crust for his quiche lorraine. It was time to head back to his home, but before he left, he needed a loaf of bread. He ambled casually to the bakery, only to look back for a quick moment- wasn't that Mrs. Dupont? He could've sworn that it was her because her hair was pinned back; maybe it was… If it was, he could've said 'hello,' because he hadn't seen her for a long while. Maybe she had the baby by now and-
He felt most of his items fall to the ground with him with a audible 'oomph!'
"OH! My goodness! I'm so sorry, I…"
The blonde man didn't really hear what the rest of what she said was. That wisp of (hair colour) hair made his heart jump. And he was confused. Maybe this all had been a dream, after all? No, a nightmare… But this was the best part of the nightmare because everything was alright and she was here, right?
His oceanic eyes blinked in bemusement.
"… Really, I do apologize…" Her voice was so sweet to hear once again.
"Non, non… It's… It's alright…" His voice trailed off as he watched her gather his things hurriedly, and all he could do was sit there useless. She looked up at him, flustered, her (eye color) eyes suddenly concentrated on his.
"I… Well, uhm… Haven't I seen you around before…?"
"I think so."
"I'm (Name)."
"… I'm Francis."
And there was something there that he'd been missing for a long while now. There was this feeling that warmed him, made him shiver pleasantly - it was hope. He felt it when those eyes looked at him gently; kindly.
He felt whole again.
