France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Twenty-Four- Sugar and Cream, or Just Me?

Charlotte (Charlie, Lottie)

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"So how have you been..?"

There's so much innocence in a question with such a horrible answer. Nothing has been good, except for this coffee with Matt. 

When the meeting ended, I made sure to tell Papa I'd be back in the hotel before our flight back to Paris. I'm not sure he heard me through staring so intently at Arthur, but he'll figure it out soon enough. 

"I've been good", I smile politely, taking a sip of the coffee he had ordered for me. "What about you?"

"Fine. I've been- fine", he blurts out, following suit.

I look around, trying to come up with some sort of conversation starter. We could talk about the people passing by, or the fact that it's almost Winter, or that this cafe is really rusty and probably serves moldy food.

Or we could talk about us.

But I'd rather not.

"So.. What was wrong with Francis today? He and Arthur didn't speak a word..", He asks, setting his cup down and folding his hands in his lap. 

"Oh! Right, right", I nod my head- for.. some.. reason. "Just- Arthur moved out, and Papa is really upset about it"

"How come he moved out?"

I give him a crooked smile, and try to concoct the best version of the story. 'Because I walked in on him getting dicked down' doesn't sound very good.

"Just.. relationship.. issues."

"Oh. I see.."

Silence. Thick, uncomfortable silence. There's no connection between us- we can barely hold a normal converstion. At least he hasn't asked about-

"So how are things with Bryce?"

Fils de pute.

"W-We actually broke up.. not too long ago..", I trail off, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. 

His face lights up, but he quickly looks down to hide it. I smile subtly, and check my phone. No messages besides from the girls. 

This is strange. Now that I really look back, this is really strange. We've barely spoken since the incident between the cafe and the salon, and now we're here- having coffee and making awkward small talk like we haven't known each other for sixteen years now. I could sneak off- Tell him that Papa texted, that he wants me back at the hotel. Or I could fake illness, I'm good at that. It got me out of school when I was little, and LBL lessons. 

"I'm sorry."

My gaze locks with his, violet eyes clashing with blue, and all that we have in common now is regret. 

"Don't be", I swing my legs to the side of the chair. "Not your fault."

"It is, th-"

"I have to go"

With that, I spring up, gulping down the rest of my coffee, and heading back to the hotel. I focus on the patter of shoes against cement to distract myself from the ache of leaving him behind. Nothing will ever be the same with us, I was an idiot to think it could change. We'll end up just like Papa and Arthur, and nothing can change that. 

"Charlotte!", He calls out, but I just pick up the pace. 

Before I can escape, I feel his arms wrap tightly around me from behind, and he holds me close to his chest. It's- awkward. Very, very awkward. I know he was trying to have a cute moment, but he's so much taller than me- it just doesn't work.