The Beautiful Word II (More Hetalia oneshots)

Hair Washes / 2p France

Character: Louis Bonnefoy / 2p France

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You were off.

That's all Louis thought as he walked down the aged sidewalk, sucking nicotine from a cigarette. For some reason you were different. Of course no one really considered your personality 'normal', but you weren't acting not yourself.

No one noticed, but Louis did.

You were normally inside your house, away from the world with your sketch book in hand. So it wasn't unusual for you to go days without socializing.

Louis didn't like the way you were doing it though. It had been over a week, and you hadn't even called to ask him over for dinner, or if he would like to watch your favorite TV show with you. You haven't even answered his calls.

When he came face to face with your door he droped the remaineder or his cigarette to the ground and squashed out it's burning life.

He knew you hated him smoking inside.

His scarred knuckles rapped against the worn wood of your door lazily. When you didn't answer he knocked again, and again a third time.

When you didn't answer by the third knock he called out, "Hey, (yn). You home?"

When no answer was given he twisted the door handle. When the brass knob released for him to open the door he huffed.

"I've told you a million times to lock the door." He calls as he enters the house, locking the door behind him, "It's not safe to leave them unlocked at night."

Your house was scarily quiet. The lights were out, and the curtains closed.

He flicked on one of the lamps that sat next to the couch, and his nose wrinkled at the sight of clothes, and garbage littered around the room.

You were never so messy as to leave the rooms fully trashed like this.

He walked into the kitchen and it was even worse. The sink was full of dishes, and left over food sat out on the counter.

This was not like you. You were a naturally more laid-back and borderline lazy person, but you weren't a slob.

"(Yn)?" He calls out into the quiet house.

"What?"

Louis turns around to see you standing at the hallway entrance with your arms crossed. You looked drained.

Your skin was way paler than normal, and the skin under your eyes was bruised. Your hair was a mess, and you looked like you hadn't showered in days.

Louis thought you looked pitiful. He sighs as his face twists in diastase.

"Did you come by just to gawk at me?" You also with a hard face, "I know I don't look that good, just take a picture and leave."

Louis couldn't help but to feel hurt by the harshness of your words. You sounded so cold compared to your normal soft tone.

"I came to check up on you," Louis says, "You've been off the grid for a while."

"I'm fine," you tell him pushing yourself off the wall, and running a hand over your face and through your messy hair.

"You don't seem it." He says.

You give a tired yawn, and shake your head, "Whatever, Louis. I'm going to bed." You turn around and start to walk away, "Do whatever you want. Stay or go. Goodnight."

You continue on to your room, leaving the blonde man standing on your kitchen. He just looked after you with concerned violet eyes.

You were definitely off.