2p!Hetalia Boyfriend Scenarios

43: The Sweetest Serendipity

43: The Sweetest Serendipity
A very L A T E anniversary special <3 hart hart lol
When you two meet (His POV)

Warnings: Fluff, Nostalgia, FeELs—also, profanities, because I said so (I will be paying for my consequences though, donut worry)
Author's Note: Originally, this is meant to be with a multiple update special on the third anniversary, but my phone broke and had to be reprogramed and I lOsT A LOT OF THE SHIT MEANT FOR THIS BOoK thiNG aND I aM GonNA CRY AHkfadfjhJ the plotline data has sunk into the abyss and the only thing info left is saved in my rusty head. HElP mE Y'aLL. Anyways, read what I have sacrificed my sleep for <3 Enjoy!
P.S. Some references are from scenarios "01: How You Met" and "26: Look at What You've Become". Feel free to reread them <3

Francois Bonnefoy
The usual lethargic ambiance lingered around the sluggish Frenchman as he stormed out of his mansion, approaching one of his many sleek black vehicles. Simeon Durand quickly takes his rightful position on to the driver's seat, not wanting to further agitate his boss. As the engine roared to life, the windows were drawn down as Francois placed a cigarette between his lips.

"Poisonous Rose," Francois nonchalantly tells Simeon the club, leaning on the leather car seat. "Make it quick," he then adds with a cold stare towards his underling.

To say the day had gone terribly wrong would be an understatement. Everything was terribly out of place when he first took care of work early in the morning. He couldn't believe that he even considered leaving the comfort of his bed for an unworthy proposal from a feeble business man. Not only that, but a stripper from one of the clubs he visits came around, screwing up a few files and attempted to 'fix' things with a little 'massage'.

She was absolutely delusional, Francois thought. Just because he paid her a little more than the usual, does not mean that she's any different from the rest of the women he's been with. There was not a single sensation that moved him after she had her fun with him. He was alright with it, of course, but the only thing he didn't stand was the fact that she thought it was alright to blabber on and on about some bitch that ticked her off earlier. Hell, he doesn't even remember her name. Fortunately, he instantly had Simeon escort her out.

Eventually, Francois finds himself entering the club that he often visits when he's in a need to cool off the stress that comes to dread his immortal life. His feet automatically bring him to the bartender, asking for the usual bourbon. He waits, leaning against the cold marble counter and puffing his cigarette.

Suddenly, he felt eyes on him, as if he was a museum piece to be observed. He sees a (e/c)-eyed woman, staring at him with utter curiosity. Francois resists rolling his eyes before confronting the woman. "What are you looking at?" he grumbles, purposely blowing smoke towards her direction. She coughs lightly before shrugging, turning her attention elsewhere.

Francois has seen people like her before, in places like this. Often, they were victims of sick perverts or victims of general ditching 'friends', usually getting in trouble or waking up with the biggest regrets of their life. "You don't do parties," he assumes, "do you?"

"Nah," she denies, "I just don't like socializing at all. I'd rather sleep around all day, but my friends dragged me here and left me."

His eyebrows lightly rose in interest at this confession. Though you two had different definitions of 'sleep around', he understood the feeling that you meant. "I'm Francois Bonnefoy," he introduces with a light tilt of his drink towards her.

Unexpectedly, she flashes a kind smile, gently raising her drink as well. "(Y/N) (L/N)," she replies, turning her seat to face him.

"So, what brings you here, Mr. Bonnefoy?"