Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
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In the following Sunday morning (the times when usually Arthur would stay in his house, and Francis knew this, too), as soon as Arthur got off of his train, he immediately ran to the nearest accessories shop. Once inside, he scanned rows and rows of colorful hair bands and ribbons on an aisle, trying to find an attractive one. A few minutes went by as he scanned from one row to another, until a certain ribbon caught his eyes. It was a plain dark blue ribbon, with no shades or other motives adorned on it. Arthur took the blue ribbon, inspected it for a while, before running towards the cashier.
Alright, I've got the gift. Now I just have to find the git, Arthur thought as he received the ribbon which was put inside a colorful paper bag. He went outside, determined to immediately give Francis his gift.
Arthur took a deep breath. "Okay," he murmured. "The frog always comes here, so he should be here at four o'clock. If I want to apologize immediately, I should find him before then. But where to start?" Arthur closed his green eyes and thought hard.
Wait, he said he's a designer's assistant, he thought. Arthur gasped in realization, then removed his jacket to see if there was a name of the designer attached to his jacket. He was relieved he never cut off the designer's name on every of his shirts and jackets. Arthur inspected his jacket, and finally found what he was searching for.
"Jocelyn," Arthur murmured. Now that he mentioned it, Arthur thought he had ever heard that name. He thought and thought harder, ignoring the weird looks the passengers gave him. After a while of him standing in front of a shop, holding his jacket in one hand and his paper bag of gift in another hand, Arthur opened his eyes as he recalled something. "Of course! The Jocelyn store!" he exclaimed.
The store he mentioned was located in the heart of the town. He had ever been there once a year ago, to find himself a nice jacket, the one he was holding now. The journey from the station to that store would be thirty minutes by a taxi; maybe less if the traffic was clear. It was nine thirty, so Arthur would be there around ten.
"Alright, Francis, you bloody twat. You stay where you are," Arthur said to no one in particular, immediately dashing out of the train station to find a taxi.
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"Ve~ you want to meet signore Jocelyn?" the brunette employee, who went with the name Feliciano Vargas, asked.
Arthur nodded. "Yes."
"Okay! Right this way, ve~" Feliciano said with a smile, leading Arthur through rows and rows of expensive dresses and shirts. The brunette Italian led the blonde Brit to a staircase behind an aisle, and they ascended the stairs, up to the second floor. Feliciano turned to Arthur. "Ve~ can I ask what business you have with signore Jocelyn?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm actually looking for someone," Arthur answered. "He said he works here, so I thought maybe I can find him here."
Feliciano nodded. "Okay, then I hope you can find him!" he said, smiling brightly.
"I hope so," Arthur muttered. "Say, you're an employee in here, are you?"
As they stepped on the second floor, Feliciano turned at him. "Ah, sì. My fratello and I work here as employees," he answered as he led his guest to the designer's workshop.
"Oh, you don't suppose you both have any contact with the designer's assistant?"
Feliciano shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, ve~" he replied.
Arthur's shoulders slumped slightly. He thought it would be faster if he could question the employee. Arthur didn't expect that the employee didn't have any contact with Francis. Maybe that was why Francis didn't mention anything about the employees. Francis worked on the second floor, whereas the employees worked on the first floor.
Wait, if Francis worked on the second floor, he should have met Feliciano and his brother in the process, because they were working on the first floor, whereas he worked on the second floor. How come Feliciano and his brother never had any contact with Francis? Surely they should have had any, even if it was just a small greeting or a minor glance.
"So you're going to ask signore Jocelyn about your missing person?" Feliciano asked as they arrived in front of a door.
"Yes, maybe he knows something," Arthur replied, nodding. "I told you, he works here, so the good fellow should know something."
"Ve~ this is just a small warning, but don't ever mention about signore's assistant," Feliciano whispered. "Whenever I mentioned it, signore went so sad. I don't know why, though."
Arthur frowned. He was looking for Mr. Jocelyn's assistant! Francis said it himself, he was working as Jocelyn's assistant. How come he could not mention his own assistant? And the good sir went sad whenever Feliciano mentioned it? Why would Mr. Jocelyn be sad? It was his own assistant—Francis was his assistant.
Feliciano knocked on the door. "Ve~ signore? Someone wishes to see you!" he called.
"Bring him in!" a muffled voice echoed from the inside.
Feliciano opened the door, letting Arthur to see the room behind it. It was quite a large room, with the wall painted in warm color, the window placed on the right angle where the sunlight would fill in the room. Two desks were placed on a wall, most of them covered in papers and clothes. Two opened cupboards were placed on either sides of the room, filled with various designed dresses, shirts, pants, and tuxedoes. Sewing machines placed on certain places, the on the wall, doodled papers were stuck on every corner. Sitting on one of the chairs was the notorious designer himself. The designer turned his chair around to see his guest.
"You can leave us, monsieur Vargas," Jocelyn said with a smile.
"Sì, signore!" Feliciano exclaimed. He turned to Arthur. "I hope you'll find your missing person, signore Kirkland!" And off he went.
"Missing person?" Jocelyn asked. He stood up. "Do you want to ask me some questions about this missing person of yours?"
"Ah, yes," Arthur nodded. He paused as he looked around the room. He saw sketches and doodles on the wall. There were some doodles that had a quite different style from the rest. They must be Francis'. Arthur only recognized two styles of doodles and sketching in this room; one of them must be Francis' sketches and doodles. At one corner, Arthur could see a vase with a white lily inside. It must be Francis' post when he was working, as most of the doodles and sketches there were different than the ones on Jocelyn's post.
"Beautiful lily, isn't it?"
Arthur blinked and turned to Jocelyn, who stared at the vase on the corner. The Brit nodded. "Yes, it's beautiful," he muttered. After a pause, he turned to the designer. "Um, sir, may I ask a few questions about your assistant?" he asked slowly.
Jocelyn faced Arthur, his middle aged face seemed surprised. "Ah," the designer muttered as he sat back on his chair. "You were one of his friends, I assume?" he asked.
Arthur frowned at the usage of tense. "Um, yes."
The French designer chuckled. "Such a talented boy. I've already considered cher Francis as my own son. I even planned to give my whole enterprise to him. Well, what do you want to know about him, then?"
"Well, I'm looking for him," Arthur explained. "It's a long story, but let me sum it up; I've made a mistake. A big and kind of scandalous mistake, and I intent on giving this—" he held up his ribbon gift so the designer could see it "—to him, as an apology. If possible, I would like to give this immediately. The last time I saw him was in the 'W' railway station. I'd like to know where I can find him."
The designer stared at Arthur the whole time with an unreadable look. As soon as Arthur finished explaining, Jocelyn linked both of his hands, deep in thought.
A long silence followed.
After a few minutes passed, Jocelyn broke the silence with a sigh. "Well, you already know that Francis is not here," he muttered. "He had not been here since a month ago, to be exact. If I were you, I would have gone to the florist. I may have gone to his apartment instead, but the last time I've ever seen him was in his favorite florist."
Arthur frowned. Florist? "Ah, which florist do you mean, sir?" he asked. He remembered Francis had said he had a favorite florist he always went to, but Arthur didn't know which one.
"I don't know the name of the florist, but cher Francis bought that flower from his favorite florist," Jocelyn replied, pointing to the white lily inside a vase that was set on Francis' supposed desk. "As you know, Francis loved flowers, especially white lilies."
"Yes, I know he loves lilies," Arthur said, nodding. "So where can I find this florist, sir? Do you know anything about it?"
"What I know is that the florist is ten blocks away from this place," Jocelyn answered. "I forgot the name of the florist, I'm afraid, so you have to find it for yourself."
Arthur nodded, his green eyes determined. "Yes, sir. Thank you so much for your help," he said, smiling. The florist was only ten blocks away, so Arthur should find it easily. He knew a florist when he saw one, so this should be a piece of cake.
Just as Arthur was about to turn around and leave, Jocelyn halted him. "Wait a minute."
The Brit blinked, then faced the designer. "Yes, sir?"
"What is your name, mon cher?" Jocelyn asked.
"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."
Jocelyn looked at him straight in the eyes. "I should warn you, mon cher Arthur, that your journey on finding your friend may not be as easy as you thought it would be," he said slowly. Then his grey eyes dimmed. "Because, unbeknownst to you, your friend may have gone and never come back."
Arthur frowned in bewilderment at the middle aged man in front of him.
"But I bid you good luck on finding the florist," Jocelyn added. "Au revoir."
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He found the shop. He could tell that it was a flower shop just by one glance, because the particular place had so many flowers placed outside of the shop. It only took fifteen minutes walk from the store to the shop. It was currently ten forty five in the morning. Arthur looked at the displayed flowers; various types of flowers were placed inside of various shapes of vases and pots. Arthur saw chamomiles and daisies in one vase, mixed with several colorful roses. There was a vase filled with colorful chrysanthemums. Dahlias and colorful poppies were also displayed. There was also a vase filled with several types of colorful lilies.
Lilies.
Arthur walked closer to the vase of lilies. He saw several red spider lilies, fire lilies, and—Arthur's eyes widened at the sight of white Easter lilies. They were the same type of lily with the one he saw on Francis' desk earlier. Arthur knew Francis loved white lilies, but he never knew which type it was.
"Looking for something, sir?"
The Brit flinched at the female voice and turned to the owner. A young Belgian woman with short, slightly curly brown hair held back with a black ribbon stood in front of him. She donned a white shirt doubled with light blue dress and a pair of shoes. The nametag that was pinned on her left chest was read Emma. She smiled warmly.
Arthur paused. "Oh, are you the florist?" he asked.
The woman nodded. "Yes, I am," she replied with a smile. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Ah, I'm here looking for someone, actually," Arthur replied.
Emma blinked her green eyes curiously. "Someone?" she repeated.
"Yes. I was told that there's a Frenchman who always comes here. He's my friend, and I did something bad to him, so I want to apologize," Arthur explained. "Do you by any chance know where I can find him?"
The young florist frowned. "Um, there are many Frenchmen who always come here, sir. Is the man you're looking for has any characteristics?"
"Oh, right. How stupid of me," Arthur muttered, chuckling nervously. "He's my age, probably older a few years. He's around my height, and has blonde hair and blue eyes. He also has thin stubble around his chin."
"Anymore?" Emma asked, tilting her head.
"Um," the Brit frowned, trying to recall any other characteristics he could remember. "He, um—he loves white lilies. This kind of lilies," Arthur said, pointing to the Easter lilies.
Emma looked at the flowers Arthur was pointing at, and paused. She stared at the Easter lilies for a few moments, her face unreadable. Arthur looked at her in anticipation, patiently waiting for her to remember. Slowly, Emma's face changed to realization as she turned to face Arthur once more.
"He had long hair, right?" she asked slowly.
"Yes, long, shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes. He loves white lilies," Arthur answered, nodding.
"His name is Francis Bonnefoy, isn't he?"
Arthur nodded eagerly. "Yes."
"He's gone."
It took Arthur a few seconds to comprehend what Emma had just said. He stood there, staring at the young woman in front of him with wide eyes, for a few seconds, with no sound coming from him. Finally, when he was able to find his voice once more, he frowned. "W-what? What do you mean gone? He went away?" he stammered, wishing silently that the florist didn't mean what she just said.
"I don't know the details. What I know is that he doesn't visit us anymore," Emma said glumly.
"Wha—since when?"
"Since a month ago, when the train accident happened," she answered. "I thought he was mourning for his loss ones, but he never came back ever since. I don't know what happened—he just suddenly didn't visit us anymore. My little brother missed him so much, and my big brother was annoyed that he lost one of our regular customers. I was so sad—I mean, he always complimented our shop, gave me some tips on how to care for some certain flowers, and had been so kind to us. Now he's gone and I don't know what happened to him."
"But I just met him!" Arthur argued. "I last saw him at the 'W' railway station! In fact, I've been meeting him there! He was perfectly healthy, and I saw no signs of depression or sickness!" This was weird. Every reply he received whenever he asked about Francis was odd and ambiguous.
Emma stared at him with a look Arthur couldn't explain.
Arthur sighed desperately. "I just want to find him and apologize. Can you tell me where I can find him?"
The young florist paused for a moment. "Maybe you should check his apartment. It's around six blocks from the 'H' Primary School."
'H' Primary School. He didn't know where that was, but Kiku knew. All Arthur had to do was to call him and take him to where the school was. He would be there in no time. Arthur really hoped Francis would be in his apartment.
"Alright. Thank you for the help, and forgive me for bothering you," Arthur said rather apologetically.
The young woman laughed. "It's alright. I'm also wondering where he is, too. Contact me if you find him, okay?"
"I will." And Arthur turned around, reaching for his phone.
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A/N:
Welp, finally able to update after so long.
For espeon64, I hope this chapter isn't suck. I don't want to give a confirmation yet, but please, do read and review. I still wanna know dear readers' opinions about this, and I also nervous on how this would turn out.
For those who had reviewed from the beginning, please review again! XD No flames, though. Concrits is welcomed. See you in the next chap!