2p!Hetalia Boyfriend Scenarios

48: Clarity is Painful

With that, Francois decides to let of go a few more words.

"If you want to leave," he dares to say, "then so be it. I'll accept whatever you choose."

At this point, the Frenchman came to the realization that letting you go was a far better occurrence than holding on to you with all the dangers of his past close by. Perhaps in another life, should the heavens be kind, it'll all be better than this lifetime. In the meanwhile, he prays.

Please, please, cherie. Just leave me.

[OOF. SO DRAMATIC.]

ALLEN JONES

Your mind was fogging over, filling with all sorts of questions that you had no answer to. You couldn't understand anything that happened to you for the past few hours. You don't know why a stranger followed you, why Allen was so bothered about it, or why he quickly took you to his motorcycle and told you to put the helmet on while he revs the engine to life. Heck, you didn't even know where you were going.

"Al," you groaned for the nth time, "Where the hell are we going?"

The two of you had taken a little stop at a gas station, since his motorcycle needed more fuel from all that riding. From what you gathered, you two were nearing Oregon, but Allen still wouldn't open his mouth about what's going on.

You were beyond exhausted at this point. Besides, everyone would agree that travelling around in a white button up shirt and a black pencil skirt isn't ideal for riding in a motorcycle. Even with the black leather jacket, you still grew cold. You were even wearing heels, too!

"Just trust me, doll," Allen tells you, giving you that same smile that made you worry beyond all accounts as well. You knew, at the very least, that something was wrong. His smile wasn't mischievous or sincere, it didn't reach his eyes nor did they gleam with joy. They held something more and it frustrates you to no end when you couldn't figure out what or why.

"Be honest with me, Allen. I'm cold. I'm hungry and I'm so tired. I nearly got harassed for fuck's sake! I think I, at the very least, deserve to know what's going on!" you screeched, hauling him to the side, even after his fuel tank was filled. An outbreath escapes your lips as you ran your fingers through your hair and buried your face in your hands. You wanted to cry a little, but you didn't want to appear like a crybaby, so you sucked it up and blinked the tears away.

Allen stared at you, starting to finally feel the guilt for dragging you along without even clearing things out. He only wanted to take you away from the city as soon as possible. He forgot about the fact that you came from work when the incident happened.

"Look," you told him, looking straight into his eyes. "I want to know the truth. Please," you were begging him and fortunately, Allen succumbs to the remorse that his conscience was nagging him about.

Your boyfriend positions his motorcycle on the parking lot and leaned against it as he contemplated his words. "I ain't a goodie two shoes, you know that right, doll?" he starts, his smile ending with a grimace. You say nothing, crossing your arms as you expect him to proceed. At your silence, the American does continue. "I may or may not have some bad blood with this gang that been searching for me for quite some time now, and the dude that attacked you was a member of them..." he looks down, as though he was a kid who got caught stealing cookies from the jar.

"So, what are you planning to do exactly?" you placed your hands on your hips, scowling at him. "Well..." he pauses, "we're going to Washington, and I'll leave you to porkchop for a while, just until I sort out my problem with the gang."

"You're leaving me to Alfred?" you ask in disbelief, not expecting that he'd leave you in the hands of one of the people that he so insistently despises.