France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Twenty-Eight- Stranger Danger

"I have high tolerance, my little sun", He pats my head.

I pout, kicking my feet wildly. "I wanna be a sunflower!"

"You can't be my sunflower, дорогой. That's Yao"

I lean in close, and fall into his chest unintentionally. He giggles, patting and rubbing my back slowly. "You're so nice..", I slur, my voice muffled from his hoodie. "You're my best friend"

I feel his heart beat speed up rapidly, and grin to myself. He's probably happy to be called someone's best friend. I mean, everyone's lied to me about Francis, but Ivan never really had the chance to lie to me. I never see him. So, he's my new bestie! Screw Alfred!

 I giggle to myself, pulling away and staring at him. He looks so happy- eyes twinkling, cheeks bright red, a big grin- it's a nice sight. 

Then, I throw up. 

I can't stop it. I feel like shit. More so now that I realize I threw up on him. He doesn't seem bothered by it, just worried that I'm gonna dehydrate and die. When I finish, he takes off his hoodie, and wipes my mouth with it, his free arm slung around my waist. I can't help but trail his abs with my eyes. I never knew he has muscle- everyone just called him big-boned. He picks me up swiftly, and I cradle his hoodie tight, barfing my lungs out inside of it. I'm not sure where he's taking me- probably the bathroom. 

When I try opening my eyes, the light is harsh, and the whole world sways and spins. It's making me dizzy... Oh god, I have to puke again. My stomach churns and aches as I throw up into the cloth again. When he sets me down, it's on tile, and right next to the toilet and garbage can. 

He holds my hair back as I puke into the toilet. I feel like I'm dying. God..

I'm never drinking again.

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Three Hours Later...

12:23PM

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I lay in bed, sporting a fresh change of clothes and a cold, wet rag on my forehead. Ivan sits by my bedside, checking my temperature ever so often and setting multiple glasses of water on the nightstand.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Char, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okayyyy..", I groan, taking his hand in mine.

He looks pleasantly surprised. I guess he assumed I'd hate him forever and move out. Why would I, though? It was my fault I drank so much. Ugh.. Just the thought of alcohol is making me sick. I hold back a gag, and close my eyes tight. I can't open them, the ceiling will start spinning.

"Please distract me", I mumble, squeezing his hand. 

He pauses for a moment, then starts to speak. "One upon a time.. There was a little lynx named.."

"Lynn?"

He lets out a soft chuckle. "A lynx named Lynn. One day, Lynn's Mama left her in the forest, all alone."

"Why?", I ask weakly, opening my eyes just the slightest. 

"Nobody knows", he shrugs, giving me a smile. "..But, just when Lynn was about to die from the cold, a polar bear named- Fran found her!"

I groan, swiping my hand away. "I want a different story", I pause. "One that isn't metaphorical to me and Papa."

"You catch on fast."

I nod slowly, rubbing my temples. I can't get over this damn headache.. Oh god.. 

I'm gonna puke again.

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France (Francis)

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"If I have to pick you up from a bar one more time, I swear to God I'll kill you!!", England barks, driving sloppily home. "I mean, this is what- the fifth time this week!? You need to just call Russia's house, and demand to speak to Charlotte! This is getting out of hand, you just need to get her to come home!"

I lean back in my seat, blocking his voice out. The streetlights just look like smeared, fuzzy blobs floating from the road. Do I have my seat belt on? Is it just me, or is he driving unnecessarily fast..

"Slow down Angleterre", I groan, closing my eyes slowly. "You'll get us killed"

"I'll get us killed!? You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep doing this! Maybe alcohol poisoning will get to you, and you'll finally croak! I will not come to your funeral if you keep acting like such a bloody imbecile, what if something happened to you at the bar!?"

I sigh, and lean against the window, watching the road slip past us. I want to go to bed..

The past week hasn't been the best. Just when I got out of my depressive episode, I entered a new one. Gaining a lover means losing a daughter, I guess. I don't feel sad right now, though. I know it's just the alcohol, but I'm finally at peace. As soon as I sober up in the morning, I'll have a splitting headache and a horrible heartache. England moved back in, sure, but the house is still so lonely and empty without Charlie.

When I admitted she wasn't mine, she just sat there, saying nothing for thirty minutes. I tried so hard to get her to talk, I even made her an omelet, but she wouldn't budge. When she finally did speak, it broke my heart. The words still replay in my head when I try to sleep at night. 

"You're a stranger to me."

With that, she stormed upstairs, even when I pleaded and begged for her to stop, to talk this out with me. I don't know why she's so upset over the family who abandoned her. I'm her Papa! I always have been, since the day I found her. Yet, no matter what I do or what I say, I'll never be her father. 

She moved out that day, while I was at the store gathering ingredients for her favorite dinner. I only found out where she was through a phone call from Hungary. She gives daily updates to the girls, it seems. When I checked her room, the place was cleared out. The only way anyone could tell a teenager was there was the posters on the wall and the bed sheets. 

The next day, I bought Lola's cafe for 3.2 million euros. Mrs. Lola almost had a heart attack when I handed her the check. She retired, but is currently stationed at the hospital, receiving treatment for her lung cancer. I meant to visit her, I still do, but I wouldn't be able to bear the pain of her asking where Charlotte is. I guess I bought the cafe as bribery for when I finally call Russia. It's just.. I'd rather not talk to him. Just the thought if him answering the phone sends chills down my spine. 

I look at England, who's calmed down by now, releasing a bit of the pressure on the gas. He glances back at me, and sighs, relaxing his shoulders. 

"France, just call him."

I look away. I hate the thought of Charlie staying with him. She's so naive and irresponsible. Her stubborness will get to him one of these days- and who knows what he'll do to her then. She sees me as a stranger now, but I don't care. I still love her. Her safety is my top priority. Well.. next to getting home before I throw up in the car. 

I'll call her in the morning. I'll get my little Charlie back.