Last week
Francis Bonnefoy was flirtatious, promiscuous, and gorgeous.
France wasn't one to be tied down. He lived for seduction, he wooed and courted doggedly, and once he succeeded he left you high and dry for the next humanoid that crossed his path. He was flighty and flamboyant. Any country could tell you this, most speaking from experience. Except, the french country had been sleeping with the same person for a month. He hadn't so much as leered at another, wooing and romancing this person even after he got into their pants.
Francis Bonnefoy, who everyone had thought was aromantic(he certainly wasn't asexual), was in love. He was in love, and everyone knew it. Well, everyone except the recipient of that love.
"Alfred hasn't looked away from Arthur all evening," Matthew said in a small voice. Francis, who had Matthew practically in his lap, huffed and continued braiding his love's hair.
"Now they're holding hands."
If Francis' love for Matthew was a billboard, then Matthews's admiration for his twin was a flashing neon sign in Times Square on New Years'. Alfred hadn't noticed and everyone suspects that the obliviousness is a familial trait. No one tells about Matthew's crush though. He is too kind and likeable to be killed, and Arthur would DEFINITELY kill him if he knew. Besides, even if they tried to tell, they'd probably get halfway through and forget who they were tattling on.
Francis had asked out Matthew a few months ago.
A Few Months Ago
Everything was perfectly in place. Rose petals littered the floor(on top of a layer of plastic for an easy scooping clean up later) the wine was chilling and the crepes were prepared. Francis wouldn't normally eat crepes for a meal besides breakfast and he certainly wouldn't eat them with as much chocolate, powdered sugar and maple syrup as those on the table. He had a fantastic figure to maintain. But for his amour parfait précieux, he would do anything. Including planning an elaborate dinner and decorating Mathieu's house just to ask him out.
So he sat down on the chaise in the sitting room, in his silk shirt and dress slacks, and he waited.
Yesterday
Francis groans as Matthew pulls out. Again.
"I'm sorry Francis-" He starts before Francis sighs. Every time, he pulled out. Every time, he apologized. Every time.
Francis was tired. Tired of the constant blue balls, tired of knowing that the man he loved couldn't be satisfied by Francis. Matthew was in a committed relationship with FRANCIS BONNEFOY and he wasn't satisfied. Francis had known about Matthew's obsession prior to dating him, but he had harboured hopes of getting Matthew to love him. The stupid bastard that Matthew "loved" was taken, and was never going to love him back anyway. Honestly, Francis didn't even think that Matthew tried to forget about the other, even when Matthew was with Francis. Francis était putain de fatigué.
"At this point, I don't even care if you are imagining someone else, I just need to come, for god's sake," Francis exclaims, exasperated.
A Few Months Ago
He sat. And he waited. And waited.
There was a jingling of keys being inserted in the lock. Francis perked up and put away his phone, watching the doorway for son amour. Finally, he caught a glimpse of golden tresses and he beamed, then frowned when he saw Matthew's face.
"Mon tresor? Why is your beautiful face being accosted by such anguish?" Tears streamed down Matthew's red face. His face was so scrunched and blotchy that only someone who loved him would call it beautiful.
Matthew didn't show any surprise at France's presence, going to him and burying his face in France's bleu de France silk shirt.
"Alfred invited me over- *gasp* - and I was- so excited," he sobbed, heartbroken, "I ho-hoped - I hoped. But h-he w-w-w-w.."
"Shhh. Breathe mon amour. Breathe in," He breathed in with Matthew, "and... out. and again." They breathed together until Matthew calmed down.
Matthew continued, in a whisper as if even speaking the words was agonizing, "He wanted advice on how to ask out Arthur."
Yesterday
Matthew shakes his head, pulling away. He can't continue this with Alfred is on his mind. It doesn't occur to him that Alfred is ALWAYS on his mind and he never does anything about it. "Francis I can't. It would be unfair to you-"
"What is unfair is getting me worked up and wanting, and then leaving me or kicking me out! What is UNFAIR, is agreeing to date me, and PROMISING TO TRY to forget about someone else, and then NOT DOING IT! WHAT IS UNFAIR IS LEADING ME ON AND LETTING ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU WITH NO INTENTION OF LOVING ME BACK! MATHIEU, YOU NEED HELP, AND I CAN"T HELP YOU. Don't call me until my name is the one in your thoughts." Francis snaps. Matthew can hear the heartbreak in the Frenchman's voice when he says 'don't'.
"Mon amour," Mathieu starts, but Francis has already left in a flurry of sexual and emotional frustration.
Matthew isn't sure what just happened. Did Francis just break up with him?
A/N: Bleu de France is a shade of blue. If I could, I would put a pic here, but you can just look it up. Other translations are:
Amour parfait precieux - precious perfect love
Francis était putain de fatigué. - Francis was fucking tired.
Son amour - His love
Mon tresor - my treasure
I think y'all know what mon amour means lol. Sorry, the formatting and pacing and crap is confusing. I added the dates to hopefully help with any confusion over the timeline.
