AN: Yatta! It's finally finished! Sorry for the (possibly) long wait for an update you guys. I've been extremely busy with mock exams and I have even more exams ahead! It's hard to balance everything all at once. I do hope that the sheer length of this chapter will cheer you up though.
As you might be able to tell, I did a 360 on the writing style. Changing up the style in chapter two or…making it more descriptive? Love it? Hate it? Want me to go back to my old style or keep writing like this? I'm still experimenting with different styles of writing so I would love to hear from you guys about which style you prefer. (Your words will dictate how much I re-write chapter one and the style of future chapters?)
And of course, thank you so much for your very wonderful reviews. I hope you guys know that I appreciate each and every one.
(Oh! And I added a poll to my profile. You might want to check it out…?)
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia
(I did, however, work hours on the plot of this story. XP)
The Layers of a Cake
Chapter 2
Flour
-
Hold. onto. these. - - - - - - - -
The low murmur of the other customers and the smell of cakes and teas swirled in the air. The air, tinted with the heat of fresh tea, was calm and relaxing.
Feliciano twiddled with the fork on his plate, twirling it between his fingers, before bring the silverware down through the previously perfect pastry, angling the scoop to grab just a bit of whipped cream, and brought the sweet substance towards his mouth. Fork turned, he slid it through of his lips, the cold metal heating slightly. Lingering hints of the cake's sweet taste remained on his breath. Marveling at the taste as it melted in his mouth, Feliciano glanced around absentmindedly, noticing a peculiar new waiter trying to balance a tray of cakes and teas. Bringing the fork down slowly and returning it to the plate, his thoughts briefly flickered to the tastes still in his mouth – 'Francis makes the best cakes~, Feliciano mused, then back to the waiter. Looking over to the man that sat across from him, Feliciano opened his mouth, voicing his inquiry.
"Ve~ Ludwig…isn't that…?", he trailed off, looking to Ludwig for the answer.
Ludwig spared Feliciano a glance as he looked up from his newspaper, coffee in front of him half finished, black without the needless additives such as milk and sugar. He then looked over to Ivan, who was valiantly trying to maneuver between the tables while he balanced his tray with precaution. Other customers were also looking at him curiously, waiting for the slightest mistake to domino into a disaster. Ludwig sighed, flipping his newspaper back into proper stiff form before systematically skimming its contents. He knew Feliciano would not be hurt by his lack of interest. He spoke with a commanding tone, hoping for once that Feliciano would just listen to him.
"It isn't our business to pry into other people's affairs Feliciano.' He flipped to the next page in the newspaper. "If Yao or Kiku want to inform us about the situation, they will do so on their own…." Ludwig looked up; making sure that that Feliciano understood his words.
Feliciano was already gone, skipping his way towards Ivan. Grabbing one of the cakes off of Ivan's tray, he randomly placed it on the table he was standing in front of, flustering the couple that sat there 'Hey, this isn't----', and smiled up to Ivan. His light brown eyes widened with inquisitiveness as he sped through the numerous questions on his mind, causing Ivan to take a step back as the shorter Italian leaned in closer. Feliciano held his arms to his chest, fingers interlocked, as if he was going to burst from curiosity.
"Ve~ Is it your first day? It's nice to meet you! I'm Feliciano Vargas! The one sitting with me is Ludwig! Wow! You're even taller than Ludwig! Where are you from? Have you tried the teas and cakes here yet? They're delicious! ---- Oh! What about pasta? Isn't pasta the most amazing thing in the world? Ve~ I would love to have some pasta right now! But Ludwig tells me that too much pasta will make me sick! Can you believe that? I have never once gotten sick eating pasta! –expect for that one time when….oh never mind! Something so wonderful can't possibly do bodily harm! Don't you agree?"
Feliciano spun slightly on his toe of his shoes, arms wobbling out to his sides, balancing his spin, as he continued to sing praise to pasta. Ivan couldn't help but inch away from the exuberance the brown haired Italian showed. As Ivan tried to remember all the questions Feliciano bombarded him with in an attempt to answer them, Ludwig made his way towards the scene, looking mildly embarrassed at his partner for disturbing the peace of the small store. He weaved through the tables, muttering apologies as he passed. Grabbing Feliciano by his shoulder, Ludwig sighed in exasperation and looked apologetically towards Ivan before he spoke.
"I sincerely apologize for my…friend's behavior. There hasn't been a new worker at Sweet Delights in a long time." Nodding stiffly at Ivan, Ludwig turned and began to walk away, keeping his hand on Feliciano's shoulder, slightly dragging the shorter to follow him. Feliciano looked a little disappointed, eyes no longer curious as he let out a more subdued 'Ve~', but waved a goodbye to Ivan before turning back to Ludwig.
-
Ivan watched them for a second, before he returned his attention to the tray in his hands. He looked at the arrangement of cakes, trying to remember which tables ordered what cakes. He briefly wondered what an odd pair the two made. It was his first surprise of the day. Short introductions with the chief, Francis, were made before the store opened. The chief seemed rather engaged in the decorations on the assortment of cakes in front of him, waving slightly when Kiku introduced Ivan as the new waiter.
Kiku had lead his through the basics of his job, telling him that he only needed to worry about the left half of the store for today, in order to get accustomed to the job. Arthur took care of the right side, flawlessly balancing orders, greetings, and making tea. None of Arthur's previously bad attitude from yesterday could be seen on his face as he took customer's orders. Although Arthur did make it his duty to jab at every mistake Ivan made, looking at Ivan in dissatisfaction before walking off. Ivan fiddled with the white collar of his uniform using his right hand as he walked back to the counter, letting Arthur fill his try with the proper orders. He still hadn't met the owner of the store. Kiku said that his brother would come in around noon but it seemed like the mysterious owner would never show up. Was it just his imagination, or did Kiku seem more nervous than his demeanor implied yesterday? The small Japanese man could barely hold a conversation without glancing at the clock at least three times.
-
Back at their table, Feliciano and Ludwig returned to their chairs, Feliciano uncharacteristically quiet. Ludwig, newspaper abandoned, waited patiently for Feliciano to speak. What remained of their coffee and tea was left cold on the table. Ludwig watched as all of Feliciano's emotions flashed across his face.
Pain.
Worry.
Confusion.
Ludwig and Feliciano had known Yao and Ivan since high school. Ivan's memory loss had affected them both, but Ludwig kept his emotions in check. Feliciano however, let everything out; displayed his emotions while others could not. He shed enough tears for everyone. It was a wonder that he had not broken down into tears yet.
-
Cried when Yao tried to smile and tell everyone that he was alright after Ivan's accident.
Wailed and shed a river of tears when Yao said he wouldn't cry over Ivan anymore.
-
It was hard not to worry that Feliciano would burst into tears any second now at their table.
"Ludwig…", Feliciano began softly, looking down at the table more than he was looking towards his partner. "He didn't recognize us."
If Feliciano wasn't stating something so serious, Ludwig would have chastised him for saying something so obvious. Instead, he let the words sink in; reconfirming what had already been confirmed. He paused before he said anything, wondering if Feliciano would continue.
"…Yes…"
Feliciano did continue, not breaking eye contact with the table.
"He…doesn't remember Yao."
Ludwig couldn't think of anything else to say, a solemn look settled over his face. Again, he replied with the same word.
"Yes."
Tears started to gather in Feliciano's eyes. His posture was tense, back stiff and straight. In his lap, he gripped at the tablecloth, bunching it together in his hands. He sniffed, voice breaking between his tears and breathing. His vision was swimming with the blurry white of the tablecloth, but he couldn't bring himself to look up at Ludwig's face.
"He…was supposed to help Yao with his dream!"
Ludwig glanced around discreetly, making sure that Ivan was unaware of the commotion as his table. Arthur glanced towards them, emerald eyes gleaming with questions, but signaled that he wanted an explanation later. Ludwig could only watch as tears continued to spill down Feliciano's face. Feliciano was still speaking just above a whisper.
"He…made a promise!"
-
A promise that was supposed to last forever
-
"Yao!"
"Go away, aru!"
"Please open the door!"
"I told you to go away!"
Five centimeters.
Five centimeters of wood and- whatever else that together made a door- was separating them.
But the distance between them was so much greater.
Ivan.
Head pressed against the door, fist clenched to his right, ready to pound on the wooden frame.
Yao.
Legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his body. His head was drawn down, black hair hiding his face.
Dry tears already left streaks down his cheeks, new tears threatening to fall. Yao sniffed, hastily wiping his eyes.
The sounds carried through the door, thick wood doing surprisingly little to block the noise.
Ivan's eyes widened, heart aching in his chest. He pressed harder against the door, testing its strength. Shouting out words that could have been spoken and still heard, Ivan hoped the volume would convey his sincerity.
"I'm sorry!"
Yao didn't respond, not trusting his voice to speak.
Silence never sounded so loud.
Both held their breath, wishing that the other would talk.
Ivan let out a shaky breath, gathering his thoughts.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
(Really, what had he been thinking?)
But when he saw Yao's face, all the logic that has been eluding him came crashing down.
It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd seen Yao cry.
Yao always tried to be so calm and collected. His anger and shock sometimes got the better of him, but he was usually so…controlled. Happy when a situation was joyful, but Yao never showed moments of sadness.
-
The shocked glassy amber eyes with tears running down their sides would not leave Ivan's mind.
-
He was an idiot, deserved to be locked out.
They were together.
They were in a relationship.
He had Yao's trust.
And he had broken it.
-
Silence.
Was…this the end?
Ivan's fist slid off the door, fearing the worse.
"Does this mean…you want to break up?"
He spoke softly, pausing as long as he could between the words. He never thought that he would be asking that question to Yao, that there would ever be a time where they were anything but happy.
He would understand if Yao said yes, if Yao never wanted to see his face again.
He would understand.
But still-
He didn't want to lose Yao.
Yao's heart stopped at those words.
(Those where those dreaded words, the words that ended it all)
Shuffling could be heard on the other side of the door.
Ivan perked his ears to listen.
Yao's breathing was just as irregular as his.
....he---
"No."
Although he couldn't see it, Ivan could feel Yao slumped against the door. Yao's posture was slightly more relaxed; eyes unseeing as he chose his words.
"I don't want to break up."
At those words Ivan allowed himself to hope.
"I'm just….really angry right now."
Ivan let the words settle in his mind before determination flashed through his eyes.
"It won't happen again! Forever! We'll be together forever and I promise I'll never hurt you again!"
-
He realized that his words might be cliché.
They were.
-
They were sappy.
They were too sweet.
But those were the words he wanted to give Yao.
(needed to give him)
He wanted to promise forever.
-
-
He could hear Yao's tear-ridden laughter from the other side of the door.
They would make it through this.
-
Ivan allowed himself to smile.
Ivan's laughter mixed with Yao's. He jiggled at the door.
"So come unlock the door Yao!"
Scuffling occurred on Yao's side. A few jerks at the doorknob. Nothing. A few more. Then silence.
"Uh…Ivan, aru?"
"Yes, Yao?"
"I think the door's jammed, aru…"
Ivan blinked, jiggling at the door, but with more force this time. He stared at the offending doorknob, before he smiled, idea forming in his head.
"Let me just find my pipe and I'll knock down…kolkolkol…"
Yao's eyes widened, he jumped back from the door, then pounded on it frantically.
"What!? No, aru! Think about the door!"
"Kolkolkolkolkol~"
-
What where you thinking?
-
Ivan glanced at the clock, hands both over the cursive twelve, indicating the time. Kiku was also glancing at the clock but his hands seemed preoccupied with the white paper that he was tearing in his hands. The young raven haired man tore through the paper as he stared at the clock, fingers working through intricate folds on the small square. Ivan brought himself closer, interested in the small sheet of paper that was twirling between Kiku's fingers. The multiple folds made no sense in Ivan's mind, the paper changing shape faster than he could comprehend, collapsing into smaller squares, and then magically growing larger. Kiku continued to shift his gaze between the clock and the front door, smiling nervously as Ivan inspected his paper cranes.
"Gomen nasai, I just need to keep my hands occupied." Kiku pulled at the wings of the paper crane, giving the bird shape, before adding it to the growing collection in front of him. The tiny birds were all facing the front door, seemingly ready to take off in flight. Kiku ripped another piece of paper, rapidly going through the same motions before adding another to the pile.
"They're pretty." Ivan stated, admiring the simple bird. In his four years of memory, Ivan was reminded of his clumsiness with his hands. He was certain that if he attempted origami, all he would be able to produce would be a crumpled sheet of paper.
Kiku handed one of the small birds to Ivan so he could take a closer look.
"My brother taught me origami." A sense of nostalgia overtook his voice.
-
Another bird with no ability to fly.
-
"We used to make them all the time."
At this line, Kiku stopped and looked at the tiny paper in his hand. Ivan looked between the crane and Kiku. Kiku's eyes seemed to be caught in a dream, words of the tip of his tongue-
When the bell chimed, signaling that the front door had been opened.
Kiku tore his gaze from his hands and looked at the figure that was opening the door. He let out the breath he was unconsciously holding and kept his eyes trained forward. Ivan followed his line of vision.
"He's here."
you?
I don't believe in you.
It wasn't very often that Yao Wang hesitated so much. And the door of his own store was not helping.
Its intricate patterns seemed to be laughing at him and a large part of his mind was half tempted to flee down the street. That option looked very enticing right now…
No, he steeled himself. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to walk through this door.
It hadn't been too hard to walk towards the store, but now that he was standing in front of the door, his heart was racing. He could feel it thumping against his chest, faster than the ticking of a clock, his breathing was normal but he hoped that no one could hear the frantic noise concealed within his chest. He slowly brought his right hand up to measure the heartbeats.
It was ridiculous how much it betrayed.
Yao sucked in a few deep breaths of air, momentarily closing his eyes to calm himself. The air was cold, leaving a sharp bite when inhaled too quickly.
He spent the whole night turning over his options, haunted by memories and so many precious moments. For the first time in three years, everything hurt again and he was left vulnerable to anyone who wanted to expose that weakness. Small signs of fatigue where evident on his face but a few tricks of light and tilt of his head would be able to hide it.
Time was not being kind, making the last 16 hours pass in a blur.
(Too little time to think. Too soon to--)
Yao cut off his own thoughts.
This is not a work related issue.
(You're at work Yao.)
(It'snotIvanit'snotIvan-it'snot-it'snot-it'snot-)
Boss and employee, nothing more, nothing less.
In the back of his mind he was screaming at the lack of logic in that statement, that he was friends with Arthur and Francis. How would he be able to avoid as much personal contact with Ivan as possible? Why was it so hard to make up his mind? Why did his mind seem at odds with his heart?
-
Forever! We'll be together forever and I promise I'll never hurt you again!
Promises.
Do you still keep them after they've been broken?
Was it foolish to believe in those words when they were first spoken?
(he held too many words close to his heart)
-
People were beginning to stare at Yao as he made no motion to walk into Sweet Delights.
Yao sighed, hardening his eyes and pushing his worries away.
It was now or never.
The weight of brass never felt so heavy.
Taking the brass doorknob in his hand, Yao pushed open the door, hearing the familiar ring of the bell above his head. Staring straight ahead, the usual interior and smells of his small store was a welcome every time he entered. The well-known setting relaxed him. So of course his vision caught the store's newest addition.
-
(His routine was being broken.)
Ivan.
-
(he trusted his heart to not betray his emotions)
From the side of his eyes he saw Kiku's nervous stare, and the cluster of paper birds in front of him. The sight of so much origami left another itching memory on the front of his mind, but he was so focused on the man in front of him.
(he trusted…)
He looked exactly the same.
Younger even.
Than he had at 21.
(who did he trust?)
But the curiously blank look in his amethyst eyes and the lack of beige scarf around his neck was the biggest reminder that---
This isn't the Ivan he knew.
-
(Not the same person)
A few people turned and greeted him, 'Hi Yao!' which he politely returned. Turning his attention back to the stranger that held his old lover's face, he kept those thoughts in his head as he spoke.
"I'm Yao Wang, your boss."
Keep it simple Yao.
Even if this wasn't Ivan, it was still hard to stand so close, to look at this stranger. Examining the standard uniform on Ivan, he immediately spotted his crooked collar. Instinctively, he reached his hand out to fix it, annoyance tinged on his voice.
"Your collar isn't straight…"
Before his hand could even leave his side, he snatched it back and turned, snapping at Ivan before his brain could think.
(and make him say words that he might regret)
"Your uniform! It's all out of order!"
(if he kept looking, maybe he would see the emotions in Ivan's eyes)
Yao quickly headed towards his office. Was he making a getaway? He wasn't sure.
"Kiku, you fix it."
He rattled out quickly, nerves in disarray.
Arthur scoffed as Yao shut his door.
"At least he didn't fire you on spot."
-
Life. goes on.
Or at least-
It continues.
-
Yao ran his fingers over the frayed ends of the scarf in his hands, sitting on the floor quietly. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately- Staring off into space and absentmindedly rubbing his fingers across the material's long surface. The beige surface was well loved, dull from being worn all the time. Across the ends, lighter spots danced across the scarf, indicating where the blood stains used to be. Yao brought the scarf up to his face, thumb tracing the bleach marks that replaced them. He lost track of the number of times he washed the once precious scarf to get out all the red.
(That turned to pink that eventually, eventually turned to white)
(Better than blood, blood was so red, and it was a constant reminder that---)
(Was it his fault?)
The burns on his hands would be there for weeks.
Forever…they promised each other forever…didn't they?
A timid knock could be heard; Yao looked up to see his younger brother Kiku poke his head into the room. He looked at Yao, barely concealed worry and pain in his eyes, then to the scarf in Yao's hands, before he brought the rest of his body into the room, walking up to Yao cautiously.
"Nii-san… are you okay?"
Silly words. But they needed to be asked. Kiku knew that his brother was an emotionally strong person, that he hid his emotions well, but deep down Yao was falling apart. He didn't know what to do. This was the first time his brother had actually needed emotional support and he was at a loss for how to comfort him. Most days, Yao could be found in his room, staring blanking at nothing in particular, with Ivan's scarf in his lap. All the pictures of the once happy couple used to fill the room, where face down in their spots, picture frames hiding memories that were being locked up. Kiku could only check in on his brother, offering pathetic words of comfort and ask Yao if needed anything.
(Please ask me for something) (anything) (just one thing would do)
Perhaps the worst part was that the best person to comfort Yao was the one causing him so much pain.
The ones closest to the heart cause the most pain.
Sometimes when Kiku looked at Ivan's scarf, he wanted to rip it out of Yao's hands and scream that it wasn't his fault, shout out his worries and that he wanted to see his brother smile again.
(It was circumstances, painful circumstances.)
But he never did.
But this time-
Ivan (should he still be addressed as Ivan?) was leaving town.
Yao knew.
Of course he knew.
But was this the end?
(forever and ever and ever and the promises that you fail to keep)
Kiku shuffled a bit on his feet, hands fidgeting at his sides. Yao kept his eyes on his brother, desperately trying to smile. He knew that's what Kiku wanted to see, but it was just so hard to get his muscles to obey his command. The end result was a shaky twitch of his lips.
"This is…for the best." Yao said, the conclusion to his thoughts forming just five words.
"I tried."
(So desperately)
"I know…that he's never coming back."
(Tried so hard- because we made a promise)
"So…"
Another attempt to smile.
(Forever, remember?)
(let's move on)
"I need to move on."
The only reassurance Yao could show Kiku was a small upturn of his lips. His eyes cracked along with him, red from lack of sleep and too many nightmares. He placed one of his hands on Kiku's, letting go of the scarf. Getting up slowly, he walked, following Kiku out of his room.
-
Happy?
Happy?
Of course.
-
Of course I'm - - - - -
-
Five Letters
I hate five letter words.
-
There was a simple reason as to why Ivan was wandering around in the kitchen of Sweet Delights. It was his first lunch break and Kiku promised that Francis would be able to whip him up something him to eat. Kiku has effectively returned his uniform to its proper order, bowing slightly before he followed after his brother. His stomach growled as he turned and circled around the counter that was placed in the center of the kitchen. Metal pots and pans hung from the ceiling, creating rows of silver reflecting the florescent lights. Now where was Francis? The kitchen was not incredibly big, and he was certain that the French chief has not left the premises.
"A-hah!"
Ivan's shoulders stiffened in surprise, he whirled around, meeting a whisk in his face and the narrowed eyes of Francis scrutinizing him. Even after making eye contact, Francis did not lower the whisk. Holding it right below Ivan's chin, Francis shouted out his question.
"Vous êtes qui, and what are you doing in my kitchen?"
Ivan blinked, finding it very hard to speak with a cooking utensil in front of his face.
"I'm Ivan, we met this morning."
Acknowledgement sparked in Francis' eyes. He lowered his whisk and quickly grabbed Ivan's left hand with his free one, looking slightly ashamed for forgetting a face.
"Oh yes! Ivan! The new waiter- excuse-moi! Forgive my manners! How is your first day at Sweet Delights?"
Francis was friendly, openly so. He was so busy this morning that he had barely glanced up at Ivan to greet him. Now that he had taken a closer look at the boy, he could see exactly what sort of trouble he might cause in the future. His eyes were filled with interest at what Ivan had to say about his first day.
-
First day.
(A new start)
Ivan thought about Francis' question for a moment, replaying the moments of the day as they happened in his head. It had been….eventful. So much had happened and it was only his first day. Was he supposed to be so nervous? The brunette that called himself Feliciano popped into his head, with his questions of pasta and the wonders of pasta. After the first few tables, Ivan began to get the hang of balancing orders and delivering those orders to the customers. Everything had been going well until his meeting with his boss.
Yao.
Now there was a mystery. Ivan wondered what he did to make his so angry. Was the slight disarray in his uniform really something to fuss over? He barely got a chance to look at Yao before he stormed off, simple ponytail tied back with a red ribbon being one of the few physical characteristics he was able to remember about Yao. Yao's departure left Ivan feeling slightly hurt- pangs of rejection and anxiety making their way through him. Arthur had not helped, insinuating that he might even be fired. His first day and this was the first time he had angered one of his bosses so quickly.
He was usually the one quitting his job.
The jumble of thoughts in Ivan's head all came out in a long stream of words.
"A man named Feliciano ranted to me about pasta. It was…odd to say the least. All Arthur has done since he's met me is scowl in my direction and scoff at my mistakes. Kiku has been very helpful, guiding me through what I should do, and what to say to the customers. But this might not matter at all because Yao does not seem to approve of me."
Ivan cringed, hearing his thoughts out loud made them sound seven times worse. What was this? Throw all his worries on the chief?
Francis let out a short bark of laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand as he tried to breathe.
"Is that what you're worried about mon ami? Do not worry about Yao! He is hard on all of his employees, he expects the best. This store is very precious to him. He is especially tough on new workers. It is best to train a dog young, non? Eventually, he will warm up to you."
Francis threw Ivan a knowing look. As he spoke, Ivan visibly relaxed. Francis continued.
"And Arthur is always a…stick up the ass? As you call it? Just wait until hisprécieux Alfred shows up. Arthur is usually in a considerably better mood after those meetings."
Francis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to further state his point. Ivan got the impression that Francis and Arthur got into a number of fights, considering the way Francis was talking about the Brit. He could see their personalities clashing, maybe even a bitter rivalry.
Ivan was about to thank Francis for his words when his stomach rumbled loudly. He blushed slightly, trying to quell the noise with his hand. Ivan looked at Francis sheepishly, embarrassed by the echoing in the small kitchen. Francis looked on amused, but swayed towards the counter, looking through the ingredients.
"Pardon moi! Where are my manners? Allow me to fix you up something to eat, right away! But go on! Continue with what you were about to say."
Ivan leaned against the table, looking on as Francis worked on his meal. He chose his words slowly.
"Thank you, I think I needed someone to tell me to stop worrying."
He gave Francis a small, half smile. Francis studied Ivan for a moment, before he handed him a plate consisting of a quick but brightly colored sandwich with tomatoes, lettuce, salmon and olives, and with a side of assorted fruits and a small raspberry pastry. Ivan was munching through the fruits before Francis spoke again.
"But why were you worrying so much? There seems to be more to your first day worries than meets the eye."
Silence.
Ivan stopped eating.
Francis was unnervingly observant.
-
Should he tell him?
-
He was wondering if there were people that already knew from the moment he arrived back in town.
Francis held a finger to his mouth indicating 'I will not tell a soul.' and urged Ivan to speak, eyes doing the talking.
Setting the plate down, Ivan looked to the floor. The strangest things catch your attention when you're trying to distract yourself.
"I'm…an amnesiac." Ivan began, thinking that was the best way to start. "All I remember is waking up in a hospital bed four years ago without any previous memories."
A pause.
"Apparently, this was the town I grew up in."
Silence settled around them.
If Francis already knew, he made no indication of knowing, and withheld any comments related to Ivan's previous life.
"Then…why did you return?" Francis asked softly.
"I'm…not sure."
A flicker in his eyes.
"I think…I'm searching for something."
-
An idea ran through Francis' head. Grabbing Ivan by the shoulders, he smiled at the Russian brightly.
"Then you are like a cake Ivan!"
Ivan stared at Francis is confusion. He was…a cake?
Passing Ivan his unfinished plate, he ushered him out of the kitchen.
"A cake without a recipe-! You just need to find your ingredients!"
It's exactly what you're missing Ivan.
Ingredients.
-
Flour.
He's the most important.
-
AN: I hope those French terms are alright, I relied way too much on Google and when I tried to type them myself, I realized I was making Francis speak Spanish. (The languages are just too similar.) Feel free to correct any of the mistakes that I might have made. I really hope you enjoyed this installment of The Layers of a Cake. I bet you totally get the title now, right? XP
It's 3:30 am. and I think that I have done all I can metally do on this story without sleeping on it and check up on mistakes later today. XD
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