𝐹𝓇a𝓃𝒸is 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝓃ef𝑜𝓎 — 𝐹𝓇an𝒸𝑒

“Mon doudou, je ne te décevrai jamais, et je ne te trahirai pas non plus.”

Those words would always go through your mind. From what you remember, those words came out of that French mouth when you and he first met. It was a lovely moment, a date you would never forget. Every time those words came to your mind, there was a soft simper playing on your lips, a smile you could not control no matter what. You were happy, of course; you were always grateful to have that as one of your favorite memories. Your hands would touch those pictures of you and him together, admiring how happy both of you look holding hands, kissing or just being right next to each other.

It was a relationship, a dream, almost a wish that you had been waiting for years. The best relationship you could ever have was here, and you would not throw it in the trash or not take good advantage of it. Of course not, who would do that? Everyone always wished to have a perfect relationship, and you considered yourself lucky to finally have one. After years of searching, of suffering alone, of almost talking to yourself because you had nobody around you, you found yourself finally smiling; it wasn’t a smile for politeness, it wasn’t a smirk. This time, it was because it had a true meaning behind it.

Francis, your partner, was the most compassionate man in the world, it was unbelievable how right he treated you. He remembered almost everything about you; your interests, your taste in food, in clothes, everything. The man would always pay for dinner whenever you were on a date, he would ask the most unique and exquisite questions and his touch was always so subtle, it made you feel like you were someone special. Someone so fragile, that a bad touch could simply damage you. You couldn’t help the emotion of feeling buttered up around him, he always created some ‘butterflies’ in your stomach, which caused you to often avoid eye contact or smile a bit nervously. No matter what, he would not judge your reactions, and that made you even more enamored.

The coffee, the flowers, the most precious things you could imagine, he would bring them to your house, to your hands. France would always call you by pet names… some were common, some were pronounced in his own language. Those eyes of his would only be on yours, moving to your appearance, along with a grin that could express how much he adored you.

Every day, he would show you his affection in different ways; physically, quality time, words of affirmation, etc. You would sometimes feel like you were in heaven, accepting those gifts, those words. Francis Bonnefoy was, in a way, your protector. The only person you could trust, besides your beloved ones, was him.

There was a small problem. Your partner was known for his attitude.

It wasn’t a simple, normal one. France captured you because of his confidence, his courage, and the way he chose his own words, and he did the same thing with others. It didn’t matter if they were countries, friends, or even strangers, he could have whatever he wanted with his disobedient behavior and beautiful nature. It seemed that he didn’t care about the consequences, if he wanted to have fun with others, he could do it because of his eye candy.

At first, you didn’t notice. While you were aware of how naughty this man could be, the thought of him being so careless behind your back didn’t cross your mind at all. It was the opposite, you would defend him at all costs if someone tried to talk about him, rolling your eyes and saying harmful words towards that person. He was your boyfriend, after all, the man who brings happiness to your heart. The man who loves you. But then, things started to shift a little.

Whenever you two had a date, Francis’s eyes would glance at another point — another person, looking down. You did notice that, though you didn’t want to bring that up since an argument couldn’t end well, especially in a public space. Then, when he was with his friends or anyone else, his hand would trace the fabric of their vesture, tracing a few shapes and keeping that hand in there. He would always take advantage, these situations were often during parties. He’d incline into their ear, his tone would get like a gentle whisper, too soft for you to hear…

‘Si je n'étais pas en couple, je te laisserais faire tout ce que tu veux de mon corps…’

Then, disappear, without even telling you, leaving you alone at the party.

Obviously, this would make you mad but yet curious. The constant urge to investigate whatever the man was doing was pulsing through your head, unable to leave you alone, causing you to get even more stressed out. You were nervous that Francis only saw you as his toy. If he was doing all these things without your presence, your permission, then why was he still with you? It didn’t make sense, and the more time went by, the more paranoid you became.

The frequent calls coming from you began to slowly fade, not visiting your partner anymore. You didn’t want to get at this point, but you were nervous, still trying to figure out what was going on as he tried to approach you.

After almost three weeks of avoiding France, you had the chance to invite him to your place, with the excuse of having another of your dates. It wasn’t in public this time, it was more ‘intimate and personal’, but in reality it was for you to blame him for all the mistakes he made in the past, having enough evidence to prove it.

When the man accepted your offer, you prepared the living room and your appearance, making it look fancier and even a bit romantic so the other wouldn’t suspect so quickly, knowing how much he was into these types of scenarios. You waited almost impatiently, tapping your finger on the table as you stared at absolutely nothing — your head was working, imagining any consequences that this could have, bracing yourself for those consequences. The moment the soft knocks on your door sounded, you quickly stood up from the chair you were in, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

The evidence, after a long talk about nonsense, was resting on the table you two were sharing, dropping them like you didn’t even care, but deep inside you were getting a bit sweaty. It was unexpected, that even the other had to raise an eyebrow in confusion as his eyes went to those things, stopping his lips from taking another sip of his wine.

A long pause was coming, being exaggeratedly quiet and uncomfortable. Your focus was on France, seeing how the fancy country was reading and checking the photos you had related to his actions. Of course, in his own language and with a quiet tone, but he was seeing them at least… Then, his gaze turned to you. His excuses and explanations were there, said with such casual silence that it made you a bit frustrated. It was like he didn’t care at all, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

“If you really want to leave, I’ll let you go.”

He denied almost everything, denied the evidence you had, shifting into his usual dramatic personality as his words continued, his eyes getting watery while his tone began to crack a little, placing a hand on his chest. Francis looked a bit pathetic, too sad, which made you a bit guilty. While he did admit a few things, he blamed you afterward, saying you weren’t affectionate enough that day, which led him to do that. Unfortunately, his performance worked, making you comfort him instead of accepting his mistakes.

So, due to that, a cycle began to develop; he would cheat on you, you would bring it up and he would deny it, manipulating you and making you forget about it eventually. Occasionally, you would acknowledge this, and it would ruin your mood for the entire day, blaming yourself for taking another chance to ‘fix’ your relationship with him, yet you didn’t take the next step to break up and move on from this situation.

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