You were sitting alone in your car, holding your head. Your choked sobs echoing around you. It was a Friday night, and you had to pull over in an abandoned parking lot because your eyes were too blurry due to the tears.
An hour ago, you had walked in on your boyfriend of over a year making love to a complete stranger. They were in your shared bedroom. He looked at you and, seeing your pained face, tried to chase after you as your ran away. You grabbed most of the stuff you could and threw your key in his face. He yelled apologies at you, but there was no way you were going to forgive him.
So now you were alone, crying your heart out. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and shakily pulled it out to see who would be calling you.
There was that one name that always made you smile.
You had known him since your high school years, and he had to be one of the most amazing people you had ever met in your life. You knew he had a rough history in love, but he was honest and kind to you. When you met your boyfriend, you figured that Francis wouldn't want to date a girl like you and moved on, deciding your friendship was more important.
Sniffing, you answered it and held it to your ear."H-He-Hello?" Your voice was still shaky from all the crying, and your throat was clenched due to frustration.
"________? Are you ok, chérie?" By his tone of voice, you knew he was worried. But why would he be calling you?
"Y-Yes, I'm ok
" Darn, why did tears have to make you stutter? The last thing you wanted was to make Francis worry over you. He had saved you too many times. You figured that he saw you as a weakling, a girl that couldn't even take care of herself.
"________, don't you dare lie to me."
"I-I'm s-sorry!" You sputtered out, the water once again pouring from your eyes. You covered your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs.
"I'm coming right now, ________! Where are you?"
by that a-abandoned p-p-parking lot
the o-one by my a-apartment
" Almost regretting telling him your location, you barely even noticed he hung up.
Realizing that he was going to arrive soon, you tried to collect yourself. You looked in the rear-view mirror and groaned at your appearance. Your eyes were red and irritated, and your once nice ponytail had hair sticking up all over. You rubbed your eyes and tried to fix your hair. How could you look like a mess when Francis Bonnefoy, fashion on a stick, was coming to see you?
Your thoughts were interrupted when a rapid knock was heard on your window. Looking over, you saw the worried Frenchman and opened your door.
" You refused to look at him and instead focused your gaze on your lap.
"Don't give me that merde, ________! What happened to you, chérie?" Francis leaned down and grabbed your hands gently. Glancing at him, you almost flinched at his expression. His eyes were flashing anger and confusion.
"________. Please, mon amour, tell me what's wrong." His smooth hand reached up to cup your cheek, preventing you from looking away.
"He cheated on me with another woman." Oh, that set him off. His grip on your hand increased and you flinched at the hazardous look in his eyes.
"F-Francis?" The Frenchman looked at your with such an intensity that your heart sped up, almost afraid of what was going to happen. He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you out of the car. Before you could say anything his body wrapped around yours in a tight hug.
"Désolé, ________. Je suis désolé." Francis whispered as he pet your hair and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer.
You threw your arms around his neck and silently cried in to the soft fabric of his shirt. Not wanting to stain his shirt with your tears, you drew back and looked at his sky blue eyes.
"For what, Francis? It was my fault, I fell hard for someone that didn't even love me back." The gaze Francis had on you softened and he gently wiped a tear away from your face.
"I wasn't able to protect you, mon amour." At his statement you closed your eyes, wishing all the pain and worry to be gone from his voice.
"You're wrong, Francis. You're protecting me right now." Opening your eyes, you managed to crack a smile. He smiled back and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.
"Je suis amoureux, ________."
"You know I don't speak French, Francis."
"I'm in love." You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. Why were you feeling this way? Francis was just a friend, nothing more! But maybe
"Je t'aime, ma belle." You were educated enough to know what that meant, and your eyes grew at the sincerity in his voice.
I love you too." Tears sprung from your eyes again as he laughed and pulled you in to a passionate kiss.
But this time, they were tears of joy.