France x Reader- The Last

You let out a small sigh, snuggling your face deeper into the chest of your boyfriend Francis Bonnefoy. The sun shone brightly on the two of you from the big, glass porch window beside you, the perfect view of the Eiffle Tower sitting before your very eyes. A bird chirped lightly from outside, the black and blue animal perching upon the porch railing.

Everything had seemed perfect.

You loved quiet moments like this. Just laying in bed, covers pulled up to your waste, the love of your life pushed up against your side as his steady, smooth breathing comforted and engulfed your very being. Closing your eyes, a small smirk spread across your lips.

"Je t'aime." Francis whispered quietly in your ear, the stubble on his chin rubbing across your cheek as his lips met the top of your head, planting a kiss in your (h/l), (h/c) hair. Your breath hitched, the hands you placed on his chest gripping the white tantop he sported tighter. No matter how much you loved to hear those words, no matter how much it made you swoon each time he whispered them to you, you coudn't help but wonder how many times he had said it to other girls. It pained you to think about it, no matter how much you knew that he loved you. The longer that you sat there in the silence, the more it knawed at you until you finally had to speak up.

"Hey." You murmered softly, shifting your body and sitting up on the white comforter so you were kneeling out infront of him. He tipped his head, the long blond hair that he had tied into a messy ponytail flopping to one side. The frenchman sat up, his arms resting on the pillow that lay behind him. "How many were there before me?"

He squinted an eye, shifting the slightest. "What do you mean, amour?"

You scooted forward, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs, giving him a small smirk. "I mean...how many girls did you love before me?"

"Love?" A moment of silence stretched throughout the room, his gaze resting on his hands now folded in his lap. You had thought that he had dated about a billion and five people before you, being the handsome man that he was. And after all, it was Paris, the city of love and lights. He looked back up to you, his blue eyes seeming to smile into your (e/c) orbs. "Five. I loved five women before you."

You nodded slightly, not taking your eyes away from his. "What were their names?"

Just like before, he seemed to take a moment or two to think about it, looking back down to the hands still layed on his blue sweatpants. You waited patiently, wondering if he was just going to make up names to tell you, trying to cover up the fact he had probably loved more than five. Again, he looked up to you, this time no emotion shown in his face. "Their names were Who, What, When, Where, and Why."

You squinted, leaning forward and placing your chin in the palm of your hand, interested to see where this was going. "Can you tell me about them?"

He nodded the slightest bit, moving closer to you.

"Who I loved, was a girl from Albi, France. We wern't that close to each other, but with some superficial facts and few interactions at a small heritage center in the town, like how some men fantasize over a girl they barely even know, I filled in the blanks like a fantasy writer. Who she became inside my head was probably more than the reality. She was older than me by many years, and thought nothing more of me as a child with a dream that he could never acheive. But the few times we got to spend with each other seemed almost magical, and allowed me to see that she had a good heart and a bright spirit. The thing was, though, so did just about every other guy that happened to pass her by." He seemed to be in a land locked away from the world, but you still listened, intreaged by the mans kind words. "Though she turned me down kindly, there were times I couldn't help but feel that the cliche older woman felt something more than friendship towards the young, awkward boy."

You nodded, even more interested in what he would say about the four other women.

"What I loved, was an old friend. She meant so much more to me than just a regular old person you would hang out with. The two of us had met during training school, and stayed in touch many years after. We saw each other grow and change throughout the time we knew each other, and through multiple relationships. I saw her many boyfriends come and go, and she was there to comfort me through every breakup I had. Personality, Humor, Culture, she had it all. The two of us were almost perfect for each other." A small frown crawled upon your face, but you attempted to cover it with a smile. "The only thing that seperated out relationship, was timing. The two of us had never been single at the same time, and what we loved about each other was never enough to leave who we were with at the time. This was something we had to face and accept, that we had to leave behind the small thing we had."

"When I loved, was my first girlfriend. It was a bit unfair, because she bodied the combonation of both love, and youth. The feeling of first love seemed so special, and was very hard to replicate, because we could only be that age once in our lives. It was a time of innocence, discovery, and adventure. We shared the three feelings together as one, along with things like out first kiss, late night parties, all of which now had become an nostalgic love, preserved in a time neither of us could ever seem to touch, but know was there. Even though we were young and foolish, there's no doubt in my mind that when we were there, together, us against the world, we were in love."

Giving a small smile, you waited for him to continue. Why had he never said such kind things like this to you before? It stung you a little to think that he had loved these girls so much more than he had you, but it was a warm feeling. He seemed happy talking about his past loves, so you wern't about to go and stop him from telling you about them.

"Where I loved, was the girl I had met while visiting America. I never wanted, or planned, to stay there that long, but she seemed to draw me in. I had only wanted to stay there for a few months, learning about the different cultures spread around the world. But that all seemed to change when I met her. Soon a year had passed, then another after that. I couldn't leave the city behind. I couldn't leave her there by herself. Maybe it was a desire to be on my own, or to prove something to people back home, but she helped me accomplish my goals over there, with a relationship reflected in the city we were in. A new energy, new light, and new experience that pushed me to mature even more than anyone had before. When people ask what my favorite place to go is, I tell them about the city I visited while I was there. The city where I loved the most."

You awaited for him to tell you about the final girl, thinking she was one of the ones he cherished near and dear to his beautiful, kind, and loving heart.

"Why I loved, was a close friend of mine who passed away long ago. She had told me after she was diagnosed, that death was not the thing that saddened her the most, but the fact that she had never really felt like she had fallen in love. She wouldn't get to feel those emotions, good and bad, of being hurt, or of being held. After she had passed away, those words she had spoke so softly to me stuck the most. I could never quite seem to get them out of my head. Teaching me to see that, those gifts that we have of being alive, is the ability to give, recieve, and even lose love. There are so many people like her, whose lives end before they can have any of those experiences. It's a waste if we don't strive to have love in our lives, and she helped me to understand why." He looked into your pain stricken gaze, pausing a moment to let his words sink into you. "Why waste this life, not loving?"

You looked down, a small sigh escaping your lips. Silence once again filled the room until you looked up at the blond who waited for you to speak, for you to answer to his words.

"I..I think I get it now." You said, giving a small nod, different emotions swelling inside you.

You had thought that was where his story ended, so you attempted to get up out of the jumble of white, fluffy comforter that surrounded out. Before your bare feet could touch the carpeted ground, Francis caught you, causing you to look back to him in surprise.
"You are the sixth." He said, his grip on your wrist loosening.

"The..sixth." You said, not moving an inch. "So which one am I, then?"

He shook his head, his ponytail bobbing behind his head. "You are none of them."

You frowned, the feeling of confusion and sadness being replaced by your one of content. You tried squirming away from him, a little hurt that the man you loved would tell you something like that. After all, he did love you...didn't he? The hard stare he gave you when seriousness overtook him came to his face, and you immediately stopped where you were. "Because, mon amour, you are all of them."

You could feel your heartbeat increase, your cheeks and ears warming at his sudden words.

"You are who I love. The girl on the pedistal, the fantasy, the make believe things that are actually true. You are what I love. The depth, the inside jokes, the best friend. You are when I love. A new history is being started with you. We are the young lovers who our older selves will someday remanice about. You are where I love, because i'd go anywhere just to be with you. You are why I love. Because before you, I didn't truly understand what I was looking for, and now that we've found each other, you've given my past, and future, meaning. You are the sixth."

You climbed back into the bed, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder, silent tears and a warm smile coming to your face. Francis smiled silently back to you, and put his mouth directly next to your ear as his arms snaked around your waste and pulled you closer to his chest. "And you are the last."