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September 12, 2012
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  It felt hollow when you danced now. Just emptiness as you twirled and plié in practice. You could hardly hold form anymore, usually stumbling as you repeated the basics after practice. You could barely dance en pointe without stumbling. No matter how hard you tried, you lost the spark that made you enjoy dancing in the first place.

  In frustration, you came home and threw your worn pointe shoes to the corner with tears ready to spill from anger. Your passion had vanished until there was nothing left for you to work towards.

  Not even caring, you took the nearest thing to you and chucked it at the wall. A vase with an assortment of beautiful flowers crashed into small pieces in front of you, the water dripping down the walls.

  You continued this, grabbing anything that broke and several times, accidentally cut your hands with broken shards of glass. When your senses regained, you stared at the mess for a long time before noticing the red liquid dripping from your hands.

  Bringing them up for closer inspection, you collapsed and screamed. As the anger vanished, you felt sadness and anguish wash over you, causing sobs to irrupt. Something had finally snapped inside of you, all those times when you realized this was to happen just finally spilling.

  Moments passed before you blindly stood up and walked to the hall closet, grabbing a broom and dust pan, quickly sweeping up the mess and throwing it out.

  Second, you scrawled a note to your roommate, explaining that you were leaving her in charge for awhile. You needed to get away from (Home town), from everything that was suffocating you.

  Grabbing your pointe shoes and a suitcase, you began piling in clothes and necessaries in your bag before shutting it close and leaving without a trace. You drove in the dead of night to the nearest airport and bought a ticket to Paris, France.

  While waiting in the terminal, you looked at one name on your phone that you needed to call. Francis Bonnefoy. He was a close colleague from a job you once had. Eventually, he was transferred to the city and you rarely spoke.

  Yes, you once had a crush on the man but you knew he was a womanizer. You gave up on him a long time ago. For all you know, he was married. Sighing, you dialed the number and listened to it ring for a moment. At this point, you weren't even able to breath in anticipation.

  "Bonjour?"

  "Francis..." You said in a soft voice, almost ready to hang up. "I know this is short notice but...can I stay with you? I'm waiting in the terminal...my flight is leaving soon."

  "__________, is zat you?" He asked, his voice full of surprise.

  "Yea...but I'm being serious Francis. I just...needed a break." You mumbled into the receiver. "Please...?"

  "But of course. I 'ave a free room for you to stay in."

  Breathing out in relief, you let a smile creep on your lips. "Thank you Francis. I'm supposed to be landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport at around 10 in the morning. I'll be in flight B376."

  "I'll be sure to come get you mon ami." His voice sounded rather happy, almost relieved in itself. "Do not worry a zing."

  A woman's voice interrupted your conversation. "I have to go Francis, they're calling my section. I love you-" Suddenly, you froze, realizing what you had just said to him over the phone. "I...I mean..."

  His chuckle was heard over the phone,"Don't worry mon ami, it 'appens to all of us. I'll see you soon." With that the line went dead, leaving two flustered beings standing on two separate slates of the world.

_________________

  It was scary to face Francis for the first time in a handful of years. Neither have changed much over the course of time between you and him. The second he saw you, both your eyes shone in delight.

  You were quickly in his arms, holding him tightly in the fear that if you released him, he would leave. "I've missed you so much Francis. You have no idea..."

  "I can tell. Come on, I can tell zat you're tired and I want to 'ear about 'ow you've been since I've last seen you." As a gentleman would, he took your things and led you outside.

  He had a small car, rather nice but not fresh off the lot. Slipping into the passenger's seat, you started to nod off. The unbearably long flight had left you surprisingly tired. Maybe it was just jet lag.

  Francis got in beside you, shutting the door and turning the car on. The weather outside was heavenly, the warmer spring temperature now settling in and new flowers blooming. It was hard not to keep your eyes open as you drove around aimlessly.

  "So 'ow 'as zat dream of yours been going?" He asked genuinely,"You wanted to dance in ballet, non?"

  Tears surfaced once more, you could feel your throat burn. "I...I...left because I'm frustrated. I can't dance anymore, like it's hurting me more every time I try to dance..."

  The car fell silent, making you worry that you had said something wrong. "Did you bring your shoes wis you?"

  "Yea...why?"

  Turning to look at him, you saw a smile on his face,"I'll show you when we get 'ome. Zen you can get some rest if you would like."

  After that, neither of you spoke. You just watched and tried not to fall asleep. When you had arrived at his apartment complex, you got yourself out and waited as Francis retrieved your things.

  Both of you entered the building, getting into an elevator and going up to the penthouse. Looking over at Francis, he chuckled softly,"I make quite a bit of money 'ere."

  You stepped out and gasped at the beautiful apartment. It was so open and beautiful, the backdrop of this scene being the Eiffel Tower sitting perfectly in place.

  Francis gripped your shoulder, forcing you out of your dazed state. "Can you put your pointe shoes on for me?"

  Doing as he requested, you took your bag and dug through it, fishing out the old shoes and slipped them on. You were prepared to move the luggage but Francis stopped you,"We can pick zat up later. I'll bring it into your room."

  Nodding, you looked blankly towards him. What confused you more is when he went behind you, firmly gripping your waist and raising you up. A warm feeling spread through you, a blush creeping on your cheeks. "Pas de duex...?"

  "I zought maybe it would make you feel better." He lowered you down, immediately en pointe. Only this time, you could hold yourself stead. As you continued your dance in silence, you found yourself smiling more, flowing more into his rhythm.

  He allowed your back to bend as far as you possibly could, holding your weight in his arms before pulling you up and into a passion kiss. You didn't fight it but rather strengthened its depth by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer.

  Pulling away slowly, you looked deep into each other's eyes. "Je t'aime __________....I was so 'opeful when you told me earlier. Apparently I wasn't zat off, non?"

  Sitting on the ground, you stripped your shoes off and yawned. "Non. If you don't mind...I'm still kind of tired..."

  "But of course mon amour." Lifting you off the ground, he carried you to his room and laid you down before resting himself. You snuggled closer, burying your face in his shirt.

  "Thank you Francis...I think I found the spark to light the fire in me." A quick yawn passed before you spoke one last word and feel asleep peacefully,"You."
[link]
Song used for the song.

An entry for :iconheta-therapy:s contest entry. I'm not allowed to use the song in the story but I can use it as inspiration. I kinda wanted to try out ballet with this.
Yeah.

I don't own you or Hetalia!
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:iconrhivolt:
RhiVolt May 1, 2013  Student Writer
Wait…I can actually dance?! What is this magic?!
Reply
:iconmoharri:
MoHarri Oct 1, 2012  Student General Artist
this is really sweet. I love this side of Francis ^-^
Reply
:iconmoharri:
MoHarri Oct 1, 2012  Student General Artist
you're welcome
Reply
:iconsaskia-tsukimi:
saskia-tsukimi Sep 13, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Just to point it out, the move is called "Pas de deux" (not Pax de duex)
Reply
:iconwiralin:
I don't like ballet but... I guess it suits Francis xD
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