Two Worlds (Hetalia X Reader)

29. Closure

One year later

"I'm on my way!" You say into your phone. It was pressed between your cheek and your shoulder.

"Miss (L/n)," M. Roussel sighed on the other end of the line. "I gave you this job with two conditions."

"Yeah I know." You glance around. "Be on time and don't draw any portals." You drop your voice to a whisper for the last part.

"That's right." He said. There was a shuffling sound in the background. "And I do believe you are violating condition number one."

"Well it was going to be a surprise but I guess I'll have to tell you now." You smiled, holding up the two coffees as if he could see them. "I got us coffee!"

There was a silence. "Decaf mocha with a shot of vanilla?" He asked hopefully.

"Yep!" You smiled brightly.

"Ok you're forgiven." You could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Hurry along, now."

"Just got in the door." You say hanging up and pushing the door of the art center open with your back. The walk to M. Roussel's office was short. You could probably walk it with your eyes closed if there weren't so many people milling around the center admiring the art. Your art.

Elaborate constellations and landscapes of rolling hills and flowery fields dotted the wall. This wasn't even a quater of what you'd painted in the past year. You bumped M. Roussel's door open with your hip and sauntered in smiling brightly. "Order up!" You sang.

M. Roussel reached out for the cup and you graciously handed it over to him. "Any new offers?" You asked innocently sipping at your coffee.

M. Roussel nodded and swallowed a hot mouthful of his coffee. "A man in France made a considerable offer for that painting of the Andromeda constellation."

You hummed. "I've always wanted to have my artwork displayed in France." You exaggerated the accent and laughed. "What part of France is it going to?"

"Hm I don't know." M. Roussel took another swig of coffee. He slipped a document towards you. "Everything is on here."

You picked up the document and scanned it quickly. "Paris," You muse. "Oh la la; comme c'est chique!"

"I believe you are overestimating my abilities in the French language." M. Roussel chuckled.

You grinned and kept reading through the document. The pick up date was set for today at three. Your eyes skip down the bottom of the page where this man's name would be.

"Francis Bonnefoy." Your voice shook.

"Frenchman for certain." M. Roussel didn't seem to notice your change in emotion. "Did you know that Francis literally means french-..." He trails off as he looks up at you.
Tears brim your eyes. "They're back." You whisper. "What time is it?" You cheek your watch.

12:47

Your heart hammers in your chest. "(Y/n)?" M. Roussel uses your first name. He only ever uses it when he's worried about you. A warm hand on your shoudler brings you out of your trance. "Do you know this man?"

"I did." You drop your coffee in the nearest garbage can, eager to distract yourself. "I'm going to paint now." You say with a nod before hurrying out of his office and towards your studio.

Your studio wasn't big but that didn't really matter. It didn't need to be big. The room was about seven feet by eight feet, a desk stocked with all the supplies you needed pushed up against one wall, a window spanning the entirety of the back wall and an easel and stool set up so you had a view out the window. The window looked out onto the public garden behind the art center were cherry and plum blossom trees were in full bloom.

You turned on your small radio and installes yourself in front of the half finished canvas.

12:56

The painting was of the trees bellow. You'd painted a small clearing between the blossoms, just large enough to put a bench in one the stone ground. The outlines of a couple remained sketched on the bench. You were going to give them colour today. Them and the sky. Maybe you'd add some more shading to the trees.

You quickly blended a few paints together to make the right colours and bring your brush to the canvas. First you paint the pale blue of the sky and the fluffy shapes of the clouds.

1:38

You add shadding to the blossoms of the trees to make is look like there is light shinning on the upper side of them and shadows being cast bellow them. There were a lot of flowers to paint and you were grateful that it wasted your time.

2:04

You moved to the couple on the bench ans began to give them colour. You painted their clothes first so they contrasted eachother. You moved onto the woman's features, painting her hair (h/c) and her exposed skin (s/c). You painted her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. She was turned towards the man.

2:36

The man, you painted his hair white and his skin pale. One of his hands was outstretched towards the woman, his hand cupping her face lovingly. You gave his face as much detail as you could fit in, painting the man from your memory.

3:12

You launch yourself off your stool and stumble towards M. Roussel's office. You hadn't kept track of time, too absorbed in your art to notice. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you weaved through the public, struggling to fit through the tight gaps. Out of all days, today had to be the day where everyone visited.

The crowd seemed like the one in the Louvre but in a space ten times smaller. The air was sticky and the voices too loud.

You burst through M. Roussel's office door, your eyes immediately zeroing in on Francis. "Where's Gilbert?" You ask, out of breath. There was no way Francis would have come without him, right? Gilbert would want to see you again wouldn't he?

Francis smiled at you. "He got impatient," You swear your heart stopped. "So he headed towards your house."

You ran. The people in the centre were no longer your top priority. You pushed past them and didn't bother to apologize when you bumped into one.

Your feet pounded aginst the cement of the sidewalk outside, the noise of the city was white noise to you now. Your breath was already laboured and you needed to get as much oxygen as you could now, but you stopped breathing when you saw a shock of silver hair turn down your street.

"Gilbert!" You screamed. He hadn't heard you. Your voice was too quiet. You forced your legs to go faster.

You almost fell as you turned onto your street. Gilbert was turning up your walkway. You called his name again, your voice breaking. He looked towards you.

"(Y/n)!" He broke into a run towards you. Tears were streaming down your face. Happy tears. He was crying to. The two of you met in the middle of your lawn.

You lept into his arms, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. His arms fastened themselves around your waist, holding you to his body as the both of you took a tumble into the grass.

He was here. He was here. You pulled away from his neck and looked into his eyes. "Gil," You breathe before pressing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate. And wet. Your tears mixed with his.

The two of you stayed in the grass for a long while after, holding eachother. "I'm sorry." He whispered into your hair, breathing in your scent. "I didn't mean what I said before we parted ways."

You moved your hand up and slipped your fingers over his lips. "I forgive you." You tip your face up to look at him. "Just never do it again."

He smiled down at you. "Never." Be murmured.