Homeless (a Hetalia Fanfic, Book Three)

Chapter 5~!

My plan was rather simple, even if it employed some abstract thinking.

Within two weeks, I had run from six nations in four different countries, and the amount of time I had in each country before I ran into the personification was shorter each time. I had been in Norway for the entirety of half a day, so I was going to try one more time in a different place. If I ran into the nation, I would go home at last. If not, I would return to hiding in the most rural places I could think of. Maybe there was an uninhabited island I could live on...

It was midday when I stepped off the ship and onto a dock of the country of France. Why France, you ask? Well, I was close to him in a familial way. He wasn't that far from Norway, so the trip hadn't been painfully long. And... Well, I felt like since he was supposed to be the country of love, maybe he would be kinder than I expected some of the others to be. I couldn't blame anyone if they started yelling at me for leaving, but I wasn't going to stick around to hear it.

'They don't know what's going on. I don't even know... But I stand by my decisions.'

This is what I was thinking with conviction as I stepped onto the dock and took to the streets of the town I had landed in. It wasn't Paris, at least. Maybe France was out of his country on business, or chilling in his capital--

Crap. This is definitely the universe telling me to come home.

The head of long blond hair tied back in a ponytail stood out from the other people. He was laughing at something someone had said to him, but now he was turning away and heading right toward me without even realizing it.

My first instinct was to bolt, but I could hardly go anywhere. Clearly I couldn't hide anymore. I had to suck it up and get this over with.

Francis came nearer, his blue gaze skipping over my head once before he did a double take and fixated on me specifically. I saw it all happen because I was looking right at him the entire time.

I'm pretty sure my lower lip was trembling imperceptibly as he drew nearer and didn't break his stare.

"... I 'eard you were in Madrid recently," he said. "Alice."

The way he spoke my name made so much emotion overflow inside me. Damn him and his country of love powers. I had to look down and bite my lip viciously.

Because I was sitting on a crate, Francis sat down beside me and didn't say anything for a moment. He looked like he was about to say something, but my old habit of sometimes blurting things out took over.

"Is that a wedding ring on your finger?" I asked as I clapped my left hand over my mouth and stared at his left hand.

He sputtered, trying to hold back his own laughter. "Oui, Alice. It is. I got married five years ago."

"And?" I asked immediately. "Who is she? Is she nice?"

"'er name is Emmaline, and she is my sun and moon," he replied poetically. "But, please, Alice. Tell me one zhing."

I looked up at him tentatively, afraid that it was going to be the same question I had been asked by every other nation I had run into.

"Are you 'ungry, ma cheri?"

~

"Okay, so I 'ave to tell you zhis one zhing zhat I found out a little while after I met Emmaline," Francis told me over lunch. We each had a glass of wine and were waiting for our food to be brought to us. I nodded for him to continue and set my glass down; by his facial expression, I was going to be laughing by the end of his tale.

"See, Emmaline 'ad a 'usband before she married moi, and she 'ad a daughter by 'im before 'e died a few years ago. 'er name is Aila, she is very sweet. I adore zhem both. But! Emmaline lived in London for a while, and Aila is best friends with Christian!"