France x Reader: Begin Again

The emotion you started with on your first date with Francis after breaking up with Arthur was something like cool indifference. It wasn't that you had anything against him. But the minute you first set foot in Alsace with Francis and were introduced to the stunning beauty and color and charm of the beautiful Frenchman, the cool indifference slowly began to build and build until it had turned into a burning, contemptuous disdain of everything about him. How dare anyone be more beautiful than Arthur! You thought.


You glared at Francis, but he didn’t see you do so – too preoccupied telling you about the wall surrounding the village and Honhonhon-ing to notice the sour mood you had descended into. Whenever he happened to touch your arm or grab your hand to show you something, you hated how wonderfully warm he felt. You hated his dazzling blue eyes and the way they sparkled whenever he got excited about something. You hated his stylish clothes, and you hated the clean-cut and yet slightly tousled way he wore his long hair and stubbled chin.


Outwardly you would never have admitted how beautiful he was in a hundred years, and you made a great show of being very unimpressed with both him and everything he showed you, hiding behind your sunglasses to conceal the dazzled sparkle in your eyes. Francis continued to lead you around by the hand, never noticing that anything was wrong and obviously thinking you were simply taking everything in. You acted nonchalant and put on an air of detached disinterest – even boredom – as you wandered together and took in the splendor around you with masked resentment.


There were lots of beautiful things in the world that held no special charm for your eyes, but the fact that this man was so particularly visually appealing to you just made you angry, and while part of you wanted to stay and drink it all in, the other part of you just wanted to run away.


It was at this moment that Francis suddenly stopped as you were crossing a bridge and peered into your face, “Ma Cherie, whatever is ze matter? You ‘aven’t said a word to me all day.”


“Nothing, I’m fine,” you replied flatly. Just get this date over with so I can go back to Arthur. You were struck with the sad realization once again, Only I can’t go back to Arthur anymore, you reminded yourself, that chapter has closed forever.


For some reason your emotions had always been hard-wired to your temper, and instead of breaking down and crying like a normal girl would do, you got pissed whenever you were upset. You brushed past Francis and stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, and then had to stop when you realized you didn’t know where you were going. Francis fell into stride beside you, already guessing the reason for your behavior, and after considering for a bit, he cheerfully suggested, “Why don’t we get somesing to eat? I sink it would make you feel better, no?”


“I’m not hungry.” You shifted your shoulder bag and kept walking. At this point you realized you must have been the worst date Francis had ever gone out with. Or any guy, for that matter.


“Oh, but mi ange, you must ‘ave somesing.” He grabbed your hand and kissed it sweetly, then towed you over to a bakery where he forced you to try a biscuit. It didn’t make you feel any better. After swallowing only one biscuit, you handed the bag he had bought back to him as you walked, declining his offer for you to “'ave anozer.” You ended up sitting on the edge of a fountain in the middle of a square somewhere in the village, saying nothing. Finally you came out of your pout long enough to ask, “Francis, why are you being so nice to me? I’ve been a perfect spoiled brat all day, and all you’ve done is be the perfect gentleman and put up with me.”


Francis set the bag of biscuits down, “Eh, now, I know everysing zere is to know about ze ‘art, so it is easy for me to see when it ‘as been broken.”


“So this is you trying to cheer me up on a pity-date?”


Francis suddenly burst into peals of merriment with his signature, “Honhonhon!” which you glared at until he clarified, “Ma Cherie, I am a man loved by many, many women! Do you sink I would ‘ave ze time to do somesing as boring as zat?”


“Loved by many women, eh?” You swung your feet and looked down at your shoes, “Well, I’ve certainly been the farthest thing from a lady on this date, that’s for sure,” You glanced at him apologetically, “Sorry about that, but I would be lying if I said I liked you right now.”


He grinned back without concern, “Oh, but in time, ange, you will come to feel differently.”


You rolled your eyes, “Me liking you is something that will never happen as long as I live,” You promised, but he just grinned at your words.


“Why did you want to go out with me in the first place if you knew I was still hung up on Arthur?”


Francis plucked a tiny blossom from the flowerpot next to him and tucked it behind your ear, “I am not so gorgeous zat I don’t see ‘ow you feel,” he smiled kindly, if not a bit sadly, “But when you ‘ave finished mourning Arthur, I sink zat you will remember ze beautiful moi and zen per’aps you will feel different, no?” he winked.


You wanted to claw the flower out of your hair, but you fought the urge to do so while praying that your face wasn’t red and looked away. “I will never love again,” you said quietly. You didn’t need to picture Arthur to feel the withered emptiness inside yourself where all the joy and happiness once used to be. Francis obviously had no doubt that your heart would change over time (and had probably witnessed the phenomenon with countless other girls), and maybe he was right; maybe one day you would stop hurting over Arthur; maybe one day you would love again. But never would you fall for this filthy, dangerous, womanizing pansy.


“Come on. Buy me some gelato.” You hopped down from the fountain and he bounded after you eagerly, “Before I do, I want to show you somesing,” He led you up to the top of the street where there was a small clock tower.


“Look familiar?” He asked with a small smile, looking at you expectantly.


It did look familiar. You were almost afraid to guess what it was in case you were mistaken.


“Is this the clock tower from Kissing Town?!” You asked breathlessly.


“Oui, mon ami!” He couldn’t have been more pleased with himself, “Kissing Town, where everyone falls en amore,” he winked and took your hand again. For the moment you didn’t mind it, but that was perhaps because you were too preoccupied smiling up at the tower that had played a key role in the plot of one of your favorite childhood films. It was then that you realized that Arthur was only a piece of your life that had been lost. There were so many things you had forgotten you still had, and as you stood there smiling up at the tower with Francis as it chimed the half-hour, you thought, I guess I haven’t lost everything...