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Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted...
Pairing:France x Reader x England
It was wrong.
So very wrong.
As his little, arrogant American nephew would say "he totally fucked up." would perfectly summon up the whole ordeal he had done. The betrayal he had done to the woman who ever given him a second chance to redeem himself and utterly he blew it. Now here he was in a quiet and empty house, drinking his senses numb, and spending his night with a prostitute. Yes, what a lovely scene he was starring in.
Swinging the wine bottle to his mouth, France downed it quickly as any sailor from the olden Pirate days would, so quick it would've made Prussia proud of him. The red liquid was sweet, he thought senses numb, so sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. The beautiful liquid beads of red that leaked from his lip fell onto his white long sleeved shirt, staining it.
Pulling it away from his lips, he muttered to the prostitute next to his side," The look on her face. It felt as if I had been slapped."
"Oh?" the prostitute mummered, inhaling the cigarette fumes then with as much grace she had, she let it flow out of her mouth like any veteran,"how so monsieur?"
France nose crinkled in distaste,"As if she expected I would do zis. She looked betrayed, upset, and …...cold."
The prostitute burst into laughter,"Oh! I see! You are upset because of just zat? Oh, monsieur with your reputation I would find it unlikely for you to be so sadden," she said mockingly,"of the look of another woman you've hurt."
France uncharacteristic glared at the woman coldly, stopping her laughter. France leaned back on the bed, resting his head on the headboard of the bed. Once more he drinks from the bottle, not sparing the unnerved prostitute a glance. She ha seen similar situations such as this in her profession, the occasional client's of her would pour out their frustrations or lust out onto them, things they couldn't confess to their own wives. Alas, Monsieur Francis Bonneyfoy was not like these men, he spends his nights with beautiful gems and not once has he ever came to her with such conflicts. Until tonight. With wariness she asked,"But is that the only reason you came to moi?"
"Do not flatter yourself," France laughed bemused," (Name) is a queen among many women."
"And it seems as if the Queen left the King", she spoke dryly.,"And maybe found another?"
"Non," France said quietly," non, I don't believe it."
"Or maybe it's because you deny it?" she asked taking a long drag of the cigarette,"Snap out of your silly illusions Francis. You know it. I know it. Your beloved loved you very much, I can tell you, and she thought you loved her as well-"
"I do love her!" France shouted, he sat up and looked over her the look of desperation made him look younger than he was,"I love her very much. I-!"
"Yes, you do love her." She threw him a sharp look," But you couldn't leave your old ways behind, not even for her. As Quentin Crisp once said 'Sex is the last refuge of the miserable.' and your Francis are miserable. You feel it don't you. The feeling of unwanted and loneliness from your Cherie, is suddenly dawning on you yes? If you continue this path of yours you will lose her, she will be off her her King while you stay alone and unwanted. Do you feel it now? Francis?"
He felt it, that cold feeling of it washed over him.
Never had he felt such loneliness.
And it wasn't Arthur's nor (Name)'s for the cause of this feeling.
Non, it was his own fault she had left.
It was why she was with England now, him comforting her, and laughing with her. He saw them together today, out by Madame Rouge's cafe, the bags that littered her feet, and the hand that sealed that sealed their fate. It pained him as he watched them walk away like in those tasteless love movies he'd seen, but it hurt more seeing that familiar look in (Name)'s eyes.
France's fingers tighten its hold on the bottle, and threw it at the wall with all the anger he held. The prostitute yelped as France forced his lips onto hers', the tearing of clothes, and the animalistic sounds that erupted from the two rang into the quietness of France's house. France kissed from the woman's jaw and down to her throat,
He wanted to get rid of it. Rid of this feeling that frightens him. How so? With the reassurance of another being's body next to him, no matter if it came from the dirt of society.
The morning light shined through the open curtains and onto France's face. Opening his eyes, he turned to his right side only to see it empty. He stares at the empty side before letting out a bitter laugh. He laughed and laughed until he could no more. Once his laughter subsided, he stares at the ceiling emotionless. He listened to the morning of Paris, listening to the happy chattering of the people below.
They have love ones to be with, as I am alone.
I never thought this silence could be suffocating.
"Alone and unwanted...yes, 'ow terrible it is," he closed his eyes and slipped back into the darkness of sleep. For a moment, he was with (Name) again once more, in the realm of dreams.
…...is the most terrible
-Mother Teresa
Author's note:
Okay I will say this. I really do like France, I don't hate him or anything like that in fact I found him as the most mature and rather likeable character out of all the Hetalia characters. France see's true beauty in everyone, he's like the big brother of Hetalia, that is slightly over affectionate, but in this he may seem off from how he really is in Hetalia, but I kind of need him like that in order for this to work. So please forgive me if it seems like a bad misinterpretation of France. Gomen!
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