France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Six- Exhausted and Smothered

Charlotte (Charlie, Lottie)

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Me and Bryce have been dating for a year now. At fifteen, I've only had one boyfriend- but God, is he amazing. Papa doesn't approve of him, but I don't care. Sure, he's a bit of an addict, and a little bit of a bad-boy, but he always makes time to sneak in my bedroom window. 

Papa says he was only supposed to be target practice, a warm-up to my flirtatious journey, but I couldn't help but call him after he gave me his number. I even painted my nails red for him- red's his favourite color. He calls me his little lapin... He's just so sweet! We've never had sex.. only kissing and a teeny tiny bit of touching. Even the memories make me blush! He tells me I'm his little lady. I guess all those LBL lessons payed off. 

Well, maybe. Papa and I are in a huge fight right now.. maybe because he just caught me halfway out the window, or because I was going to go to that one bar across the cafe to meet up with Bryce. They don't ID us, because Bryce's friend's brother owns it.

 It was only a matter of time before Papa's bitter remarks and passive aggressive insults finally flourished into an argument about Bryce. 

Once he found me, he dragged me out of the room- he's always been stronger than me. My gym schedule only consisted of slimming workouts- not strength training. And feeding me one meal a day doesn't particularly make me strong either. Papa's a good cook, though. He's taught me how to cook, and I think I'm pretty good, but I'm a tad too short to reach most of the materials. Ah, I'm getting side tracked.

Oncle Arthur is in the living room, and when he sees Papa dragging me by the ear, he stands. 

"Oi, Frog, what are you doing!?"

"She was trying to sneak out!", Papa yells, letting me go.

I rub my ear slowly, waiting for Arthur and Papa to hash it out. Arthur likes to protect me- he's very defensive of me when Papa's mad at me. That's why he's my favorite. But now, he's silent, and can't even look me in the eyes. Papa can, though. And his eyes are furious- the kind of eyes I used to fear when I was little... but Bryce has taught me to be unafraid. As long as I can see him again... as long as I can hold his hand.

"I have spent the past fifteen years raising you to be this elegant woman, and you just throw away everything I've taught you!?", he yells, slamming his fist on the coffee table.

I don't flinch. He doesn't scare me anymore.

"Everything you've taught me? You taught me nothing! You taught me how to bottle up my feelings until they spill over and I end up punching the wall! You taught me that I'm not perfect unless I'm unrealistically posh and polite! I can't even eat a pint of ice cream without you breathing down my neck and shoving a gym schedule in my face! I'm so tired of being the product of your fantasy!"

Both men are taken aback, but Papa is getting more and more furious.

"Everything I've done is for your happiness! Joan, I've exhausted myself, I've bent over backwards, to make sure you grow up to have an amazing adulthood. Why can't you see that!?"

I let out the breathe I've been holding in, and the pain I feel is evidently spreading across my face. He realizes his mistake.

"My name isn't Joan", the words are breathless and quiet-  no, pained.

"No, no, ma cherie, I didn't mean to say-"

"No, I get it! Joan, huh. Pretty name. So what, is she a friend of yours? Maybe a sister or cousin? I get it, you want me to be Joan. Tough luck, connard!"

He gasps. I've never cussed in front of him. LBL rule #54: Never cuss. Especially at someone with superiority. Mon dieu, it feels so good to let it all out. Papa looks at me like I just murdered a priest. 

"You give me no freedom! When you finally do, the one boy I finally feel free with, you despise! He may not have his priorities straight, but he's good to me! He treats me far better than you ever did! Why, he even-"

"Get out", he interrupts.

"Wh-What?"

He's mad, I can tell, but not the same as before. He looks lost. But- did he just tell me to get out? Like, as in get out of the living room- or get out of the house? 

"I want you gone by tomorrow morning. If I come into your room and you're still there, I'll get the guards to kick you out."

Even Arthur seems shocked. I furrow my brows, scoffing. He's not serious- there's no way he's serious. I'm his daughter, he can't just kick me out! Where am I gonna go!? I have no money- he's never let me get a job! 

"Get packing", he whispers through gritted teeth.

I stare at him for one last second, but he's looking down. 

"Fine. Va te fair foutre! I'll be fine by myself. I never needed you!", I scream, storming upstairs. 

Once I reach my room, I pull out the biggest travel bag I can find, and start stuffing everything I can inside. 

Fuck him!

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France (Francis)

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I throw myself on the couch, covering my eyes and sighing deeply. I never meant for it to come to this, but no good can come from her. All my efforts were in vain- she's found a boy that's damaged her beyond repair. It's for the best, though. This makes it easier for me to begin forgetting about her. If she wants to be a street rat, let her. I'll have to move out soon, just so if she comes crawling back, I won't be the one who answers the door.

"Francis, you're the stupidest frog I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"Mon dieu, just stop!", I yell, and it startles him. "Go home, Angleterre. I can't stand your voice right now."

He doesn't leave. Instead, he sits next to me, and nudges my side. I don't look at him. There's no need to... besides, I can't let him see the tears welling up in my eyes.

"When I lost America-"

"England.."

"When I lost America, I thought: 'Fine. It's for the best... If he thinks he can live on his own, then let him.."

I take a sharp and shaky breath, my lip quivering. He doesn't stop talking.

"Then the shock of it all hit me, and after the fight I... I realized just how much I missed him. Even now, I reminisce over how things could have been if we had stayed together. I don't think you should let her go just yet, she's only fifteen.. I mean, where will she go? She might die out there. But.. I understand if you let her go anyways.. She needs to learn the way of the world. I know you're mad, but think it over."

I can't think about anything right now. I lift my hands from my face, to my lap, and let a single tear spill down my face. He watches, and pats my back gently. I don't like it. I don't like the tension, the seriousness of it all. But right now, his touch is the only thing I can focus on without losing it. 

I lean down, and rest my head in his lap, wrapping my arms around his waist tightly. I expect him to start screaming, to push me off, to cuss me out and call me a perverted frog- but he doesn't. He blushes, sure, but soon, he's stroking my hair, cupping my face, holding my hand as I cry silently. I don't mind. I'll muster up enough energy to scream at him in the morning... as I say goodbye to my gorgeous petite Charlotte. 

"Angleterre.. I'm so old.. ", I groan.

"I know."

"...I miss her."

He stays silent, and I know why. He doesn't know if I'm talking about Charlotte or Joan.