But all you ever were and still are to him; is nothing to be proud of. You are a toy, a sex slave. Someone he could lust over, but never love. Sure you both went out and did things, but it was usually as best friends and then over the event, he would make it to where you would have sex with him. That's how it had started, and that's how it would end. He didn't care how you felt; he didn't know that you loved him.
You thought back on when you first met him; you were in the school halls lonelier than ever. Suddenly you were being picked on by big bullies, who teased you about your clothes and crushed your glasses under their feet laughing. They prodded you for money and when you couldn't give them anything because you got free or reduced lunch, they took you to the boys' bathroom and beat you shitless and took advantage of your weak state. Then no sooner had they finished your business, did he come into the bathroom and kicked the living shit out of them for hurting you.
After that, he was always there to protect you. As you both went into your sophomore year, your guys' hormones had started raging and you had already fallen in love with you, and France wasn't a stranger to flirting with girls. And to catch his attention you told him that you wanted to have sex with him, just to see how it felt. He was happy to oblige and it was the best thing you had ever felt. Much better compared to the horrid thing the guys had done to you when you were thirteen.
He said he loved it when he made love to you, and would like to keep doing it, and so you agreed. Hoping he chose you over all the other girls, you never saw him flirt with any other girls after that, but you had this paranoid feeling that he was doing so behind your back. You tried to pretend that you didn't see it, but you knew he did.
You came back to the normal world and found yourself in the bedroom, he was holding you close kissing you, and you were kissing him back but it wasn't something you had to think about. You treated him like a god, like he was your hero, well he was…but you wanted him to want only you.
You didn't know what else to do but let him hold you with all your love held back. After he had made love to you, he whispered in your ear, "You know…since we began this five years ago…you have never once told me you love me, though I have said it countless times. Why mon amour?"
You couldn't hold it anymore; you slapped him and ran home, though his was many blocks away. Francis ran out and called for you. But you hid in the shadows of the night.