I shave my prickly legs and armpits, deciding against next-day shaving and not wanting any awkward pokies on my body. I scrub my skin clean of any unsightly scabs or peels, and lather myself in some sort of Hungarian lotion. I ask Hungary herself, and she gives me the needed materials for waxing. I do my face first, then go to… Other locations. I ask Hungary to get me my clothes from my room, embarrassed to leave, and she simply nods. She returns with a white frilly shirt, with ruffles, and a pair of black knee shorts. She also provides an unfamiliar pair of flat, white moccasins.
“These aren’t mine,” I tell her, but she insists on giving them to me.
“Take them! They were for Belgium, but she is more of a fan of girly shoes, like heels. I’ve never been a fan of heels.” I stand up straight after slipping the nearly unworn shoes on my feet, and finally notice. Hungary is nearly a head shorter than me.
“How tall are you?” I ask her slowly.
“Five-two. Why?” She questions. I shake my head.
“Oh… No reason… I just feel really tall now…” I laugh awkwardly. “Here, Spain probably wants to finish dancing and stuff.” I bid farewell to my ‘sister’ and exit the room, completely refreshed. One person is waiting out there. The only one I don’t really want to see.
France.
“Salut, Mademoiselle. Ca va?” He greets suavely. I grumble, replying in French, the pronunciation rolling clearly off my experienced tongue.
“Comme ci, comme ca.” I reply honestly. Because honestly, I have been rather so-so.
“Mais, ma chère, pourquoi vous sentez-vous ces sentiments mitigés? Ne vous inquiétez pas, parce que je vais vous faire sentir mieux.” He replies earnestly. I roll my eyes. He should know why I’m feeling so-so, instead of asking. And I don’t want him to make me ‘feel better’.
“Dis moi juste où l'Espagne est, tu putain.” I growl, revealing that I wish to find Spain, while calling him something rather nasty. He gasps.
“Moi? I would never-“ He holds himself back. “…He’s in the one room you were in this morning, if I recall correctly.”
“Thank you. Or merci. Whatever.” I brush past him, beginning to walk down the hall.
He’s following me. I know it. I feel it. Without as much as a second glance, I spin around and whack him across the head.
“I’ll have you know,” I start while he holds his bruising head, “That I do not tolerate being stalked. I may know French fluently, and I may not exactly hate you, but that will not stop me from kicking your ass, d’accord?” I step closer to him, nearly hissing in his face. “I know kick boxing, martial arts, street fighting, and I am now able to wield knives with a one percent missing range, thanks to Romano. Don’t fuck with me, or it will end badly.” He nods quickly.
“How peculiar… You are nothing like the little girl I met so long ago.” He recalls, catching me by surprise. “You’ve changed.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t remember ever meeting you.” I laugh mockingly.
“Oh really? When you first visited France, you went to a local café of mine.”
“I don’t-“
“Yes, you do. I can see it. Flashback in trois, deux, un-“
-And here I am. That was a stressful boat ride; the lady in front of me had a rather unkempt child who would cry often. I need something to refuel my body.
‘Café’ the sign says. Hmm. Coffee does sound nice. I think I’ll stop by. I push open the door, a bell above it twinkling happily, announcing my arrival.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle!” Someone calls from the front of the store. I walk through the warm, Christmas-like feeling, and head towards the counter. “Qu'est-ce que tu veux boire aujourd'hui?” He asks politely, blue eyes shining. He has somewhat wavy blonde hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail. Although the description of that provides the information that his hair is long, it is only long enough to put back like so. Even with the rubber band, some of his hair has fallen out, framing his face quite nicely.
Overall, he looks like a model, in the eyes of a near-fourteen year old like myself.
“A-ah, je voudrais, uh…” I try to catch my words. “Je voudrais un café au lait, mousse supplémentaire et coups de feu, s'il vous plaît.” I wince, my pronunciation coming out sloppily.
“Right away, mademoiselle.” He responds in English, setting off to work. I raise an eyebrow.
“How come you didn’t try speaking to me in English first? It would have saved me the trouble of trying to translate my order.” I answer huffily, blushing. He glances at me, his blue eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight.
“Well, not only do I like to watch teenage girls squirm,” He laughs, “But this is France, after all. I have to assume everyone is either French or can speak it. You, little missy, are the later, no?” I nod.
“Yeah.” He takes a few more minutes, and finally sets the drink upon the counter.
“Trois Euros cinqante-cinq.” He gives me my price. I pale.
“Merde! I knew I was forgetting something!” I have completely forgotten to filter my money. I’m stuck with only a few Euros, and a debit card Uncle Oliver had given me. “Please tell me you take debit.”
“…Non, mademoiselle.” I blush furiously.
“I’m sorry; I will need to go to a money-“ He shoves the drink forward.
“Here. On the house.” He smiles.
“Ah… Absolutely not! I will pay!” He leans forward.
“Really?”
“Yes! I just… Can’t right now… I’ll come back or something or I’ll… I’ll…” I’m at a loss for words.
“No worries, American. I can help you pay right now.” He grins, catlike.
“Uh… No… I won’t do… anything inappropriate…” I stumble and blush.
“Why does everyone think I’m being perverted!? Non, I meant… You can help clean or something. Pay it off after the day is through. Easy.” He smiles.
“Really?”
“Sure, little tiger. No worries.” He grins again. I like the grin, it suits him-
He’s giving me the exact same grin now. Although it’s hidden by a little five o’clock shadow, it’s the same one.
“…You?” I ask. He bows.
“Francis Bonnefoy, at your service.”
“…Conneries!” I cry, and run.
YOU ARE READING
The World I Live In (Crazy Hetalia Fanfic)
Fanfiction"What if... All of the worlds countries... Were people? And, to top it off, they followed all of their countries stereotypes?" Tally doesn't remember much after running away at the age of thirteen and travelling around the world. When she finds a my...
