Soulmate AUs

Last words

There will be some French in here as Francis is half French but picked up a lot of French phrases from his mother that he puts into his English speaking. Also he has a French accent but you'll just have to imagine that ;) I'll put any translations at the bottom

Francis POV
Honestly, it's been 27 years and I still haven't found my soulmate, everyday if I speak to someone new I remember clearly what each of them say yet non of their words match the red words printed onto my left wrist.
"Francis, could you get the door, your petit ami is here!" Yes I'm 27 and my mother still calls my friend 'little' even if it is in French.
"She's not little, she's 23!" I called back, walking from the kitchen to the front door with a tea towel in hand. I was currently visiting my parents who lived in the country. I was 18 when I moved to London with my best friend Patricia for school, she decided to move back after 4 years, whereas I stayed.
"Eh, you'll both always be little to me, mon fils." I rolled my eyes and opened the door with a bow.
"Good morning, ma fleur." I looked up to see my oldest and best friend, Patricia Jones. Her long dark hair was half tied up and her dark blue eyes twinkled as I held out a hand for her. "Good morning Francis, you're looking well," she smiled as she took my hands and I pulled her through the door and into a hug.
"Should've seen me the last few years, bags under my eyes, disheveled hair, and a constant look as if I'm about to die." I kissed her head and smirked, I truly had missed her in those 3 years without her, when I've been with her all my life.
"You should've come back earlier then." She shook her head and pulled away to look at me. "Let me guess, you came back in a mess, as you just said, your mother took one look at you and set to work. Your father sat at the piano and added pointers when asked?" I laughed and a voice was heard behind me.
"Corriger, ma belle fille!" I turned round with an arm round Patrica.
"Lisa!" Patrica moved forward and hugged my mother as if they hadn't seen each other in years, they probably see each other every Friday or something.
"Lisa, even after 23 years I still barely understand French," Patricia said, as she was released from my mother's grip.
"Pardon, I said correct, my gorgeous girl," despite Patricia just expressing her lack of knowledge for French, my mother still carried on using French words.
"My father made some croissants and my mother made some French bread," I said as I lead Patricia to the kitchen dinning room. "I of course perfected everything with my own special touches." I smirked back at her, hearing my mother 'tsk' behind me.
"Your father made crossants? I would've thought you mother made them." This made me stop in my tracks and I raised an eyebrow at her.
"My mother? Why would you think that?" I pulled out a chair for her at the table. It was filled with croissants, French bread, different toppings, a pot of tea, pot of coffee and jug of orange juice, my parents always went all out for meals.
"Well, you know she's French and he's like a quarter Austrian and three quarters English," she mused. I watched her eyes scan over the table at all the food and grinned.
"You know croissants are actually Austrian, not French." I sat down next to her and pick up an Austrian croissant and poured myself some tea.
"Oh, really?" She smiled and started to pick up some breakfast too. "That's interesting, you should tell me interesting facts every morning."
"Sure, I will find out more facts for you," I replied with a smile as I put chocolate spread on some bread. After a few minutes my parents came into the room and sat down to eat too.

As we ate I found my eyes wondering to the girl sitting next to me, as if drawn to her, more to her wrist to see what the words were.
"You know you could just ask what the words say," she said as she sipped at her orange juice, not looking at me.
"I- I wasn't-" my face turned slightly pink as I quickly gulped down some tea to him my embarrassment, which in turn made me choke.
"Francis, are you ok?" Patricia put her glass down and hit my back. I nodded and coughed slightly, although now I had a reason to have a red face.
"Je vais bien," I gasped in French as I recovered and finished my breakfast. That day we had the most fun in year, we went out shopping then a walk in the woods then at night we went out for dinner on the beach, everything seemed like normal again like our youth; and with all my heart I wished it had stayed that way.

After that day I didn't see Patricia in a few weeks, I'd knocked at her parent's house but they said she was busy or out. I'd texted her but she never replied, all these things made me worried if i had angered her. However soon found out what happened through the late night news no less.
"Police report they have now captured the woman responsible for over 100 deaths in he last few weeks. Patricia Jones has been detained and is awaiting trial where she will most likely be sentenced to death." My heart stopped as I stared at Patricia's picture on the screen, no this couldn't be right, my Patricia? She wasn't a killer, she was lovely and sweet and caring. The next day I went to the police station to visit her and the sight I saw would haunt my nightmares. Patricia, the girl I've know since I could remember, was sitting cross legged on the ground with her head bowed forward and a straight jacket on.
"Patricia?" I said gently. Nothing. "Hey, Patricia, it's me Francis."
"Francis you shouldn't be here," she muttered, still not looking up.
"Why? Why did you kill them!" I crouched down in front of her but was immediately pulled back by a security guard.
"Watch out, son, she's dangerous, gone insane," he said sternly, holding me back. I didn't see her for another few weeks, until her hearing.

The news shocked me, I ran from my house straight to the prison, knowing she would be outside of it.
"Patrica! Mon amour!" I saw he with handcuffs on looking down as she was guided out of a police van.
"Francis?" I ran to her but was grabbed by two big police officers who held me back.
"Stand down, she's a dangerous prisoner who's just been sentenced to death," their voices were so monotone and plain which made me even more angry I just wanted to talk to her!
"Francis, remember to fight your demons!" She shouted as some police officers came over to take her into the prison. "Fight your demons or you'll end up like me!" I didn't really listen to her, I punched one of the officers but was restrained by three more.

I was let out of prison after two days and I came home to a silent house. My parents were in the living room staring at the tv, making my eyes dart to it.
'Today three prisoners have been shot as they staged an escape, Adrian Sims, Patrica Jones and Charlie Fort.'

And just like that my heart stopped, I knew she was to die but so soon? So sudden? No goodbye? I shook my head and looked down, seeing the words on my left wrist. 'You're French? That's cool!' I sighed but something on my left wrist had appeared. 'Fight your demons or you'll end up like me!'
"Mother?" She looked up as I felt tears in my eyes.
"Is it true the last words spoken to you by your soul mate appear on your right wrist?" She nodded.
"Oui."

This time my heart shattered. Into 30 million pieces as tears fell down my cheek. Patricia...

French:
petit ami- little friend
Mon fils- my son
ma fleur- my flower
Corriger, ma fille- correct, my beautiful girl
Pardon- sorry
Je vais bien- I'm fine
Mon amour- my love
Oui- yes

Omg I feel like this was a really bad chapter that's why I didn't upload it. Ahh sorry next will be Clay