2p!Hetalia Boyfriend Scenarios

35: The Tales of Yesterday

||35: The Tales of Yesterday

You find out about your past life

::Warnings::
There may be a need of tissues, you have been warned—I sprinkled this with extra angst feels

Notes: The idea was given by a wonderful reader from the comments section :DDD And from what you can tell from the title, this’ll be in reference to “Scenario #24: In Another Life” along with little snips from “#26: Look at What You’ve Become” and “#27: Unpleasant Hallucination”. Enjoy!

Francois Bonnefoy
(Ok. Ok. Ok. Let’s fast forward or go back to May a little here. Just for this little thing.)
It was impossible for such an event to go by without catching your attention—it was very odd that every 30th of May, Francois always clears his schedule and disappears into his office, only returning back at the break of dusk. Whenever you confront him about it, you always receive the same ‘it’s nothing’, along with the same kiss on the forehead. Truth be told, it terrified you in ways you’d hate to mention. It’s not that you’re thinking it’s another girl but, is it another girl?

Well, that thought, per se, holds both the truth and lie.

You find this out as you miraculously survive sneaking into his office and slipping into the secret room along with him. As he remains unaware of your presence, you managed to hide yourself behind a wall with just enough room to move and see or hear what he plans on doing.

The secret room was rather simple—much ordinary than the rest of the house (if you even call mansions that). There were no extravagant windows to let in sunshine, only light from a small single-crystalized chandelier that set the room aglow. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much, save for the pretty light (f/c) colour on the wall, white marbled floor and a massive painting mounted on one wall. Speaking of which, it certainly caught you off guard, with it occupying most of the wall’s space. It was brilliantly framed by elaborate designs in gold and bits of jewel twinkled every now and then.

But it wasn’t just that intricate detail that left you speechless—no, it was the lady in the painting.

Her figure stood out against the warm field of (f/c) flowers and her dazzling smile made her simple white dress seem deceivingly elegant. Still, it wasn’t those features that shook you to your core—it was the fact that the woman greatly resembled you and yet, you don’t recall any moment of you being painted at any point of your life.

“Hello again, Vivienne,”

You hastily recoiled back against the wall and listened to Francois as he spoke to the painting as if the woman, ‘Vivienne’ was real. “It’s been another year, hasn’t it? A total of 586 years since your death—if I counted correctly,” his tone was bittersweet, you could hear it clearly, but it had a hint of pain and suffering as well. Your eyes widened at the information your brain received, unsure of what to do but eventually, you sat back and listened.

“And Francis still thinks that I do this for Jeanne but he couldn’t be more wrong… I don’t blame him though, no one knows about the fact that truly I loved you back,” you then hear the faint sound of something liquid pouring into a glass whilst Francois chuckled at his own words. “Forgive me, cherie... I know I say that every year.”

Finding the courage to look, you see him take out the contents of the basket he brought with him, pulling out sandwiches, grapes and berries while he placed the bottle of beer down. “Remember the belle femme I talked about? (Y/N)? She becomes more like you day by day,” barely, you see him smile at the mention of you. “It breaks my heart sometimes to think of the chances of losing her… I even broke my own vow when I met her,” he half-heartedly laughed before running his hands through his hair as he sighed. “She really is like you; strong, beautiful, kind, sassy, too. She even had me quitting the so-called ‘cancer sticks’… It just makes me think that there is a God up there that’s kind enough to give me a second chance—even after all the things I’ve done…” you could sense the lump forming in his throat by the minute—you could say the same for yourself, too.