“Keep your hands to yourself! There’s no sane person in the world who would want to be touched by you!”
England’s shriek is loud and audible, drifting through the whole conference room even better since the other conversations have tuned down to hushed whispers which stop abruptly when France’s and England’s talk gets too noisy to ignore.
Silence follows that sentence in form of a thick suffocating blanket, weighing overwhelmingly on the shoulders of the nations present in the room. Nobody dares to say something, only some shuffling of paper and throats being cleared can be heard.
Until an amusing laugh cuts the quietness and eases the invisible blanket away. France chuckles, smirking at England and stands up from his chair to trace a finger over the other’s cheek which makes England blush.
“I will not take pity in you when you realize what you are missing, my perverted English friend.”
And out he is, leaving the room while still laughing and waving playfully back at England. The conversations turn up again, Italy continues to eat his pasta not so secretly under the table, Greece slumps back onto Japan’s shoulder, Poland and Lithuania reassume their chat and Russia is back to eyeing Latvia, Estonia and all the other nations – who will be his one day – like he has before the fight. England is distracted from gazing angrily at the door through America who yanks suddenly at his arm and asks him something with Canada trailing behind him.
Only Germany cannot concentrate on his papers anymore. How weird since nothing out off the ordinary happened.
But the nagging feeling in his chest simply grows with each passing minute and after a last glance at Italy (who is now drooling on his brother’s papers) and at his brothers (Austria is unconsciously keeping Prussia occupied – with the help of an aggressive looking Hungary at his side) he leaves the meeting room silently.
He doesn’t have to search for long; a half open balcony door is enough to attract his attention as he walks through the corridors. Carefully Ludwig opens the door a bit more to check if he has found the right location.
And yes, there is Francis with his back to him, leaning small and inconspicuously on the balcony railings, shoulders drooped and his hair dancing with a gentle breeze from time to time.
Unsure if he should say anything at all, Ludwig waits a bit – for a sign or a word that either tells him to leave Francis alone or to approach him, he is not sure which he would prefer. But after a felt eternity, he is unwilling to not say anything at all when he is here to see if everything is okay with Francis.
So he steps on the balcony, still not noticed by the other nation. A grey cloud of smoke suddenly hits his face and he can’t stop from coughing loudly since he inhaled too much of the cigarette in his surprise.
Preoccupied with waving the smell away, he doesn’t see Francis turning around but faces him not until after a soft gasp drifts through the air.
“Ludwig! I’ll be back in a second, just let me finish this one.”
Francis lifts the cigarette with grace and sends him a small apologetic smile, nothing compared to his usual so energetic one. Ludwig doesn’t even try to smile back; instead he easily catches the lifted arm at the wrist and has the smelly object in his fingers sooner than Francis can even raise an eyebrow.
“You promised me to quit.” Is all Ludwig says in a low and clear voice, no accusation or anger in his tone, only a worried declaration. Francis sighs, leans back on the railings and laughs softly.
“Yeah, I did. But habits are hard to let go off, especially when they calm you down.”
This time Ludwig raises an eyebrow before he walks to the small trash bin next to the door and throws the cigarette away after he has put it out.
Re: 5 times
Fünf.
“Keep your hands to yourself! There’s no sane person in the world who would want to be touched by you!”
England’s shriek is loud and audible, drifting through the whole conference room even better since the other conversations have tuned down to hushed whispers which stop abruptly when France’s and England’s talk gets too noisy to ignore.
Silence follows that sentence in form of a thick suffocating blanket, weighing overwhelmingly on the shoulders of the nations present in the room.
Nobody dares to say something, only some shuffling of paper and throats being cleared can be heard.
Until an amusing laugh cuts the quietness and eases the invisible blanket away.
France chuckles, smirking at England and stands up from his chair to trace a finger over the other’s cheek which makes England blush.
“I will not take pity in you when you realize what you are missing, my perverted English friend.”
And out he is, leaving the room while still laughing and waving playfully back at England.
The conversations turn up again, Italy continues to eat his pasta not so secretly under the table, Greece slumps back onto Japan’s shoulder, Poland and Lithuania reassume their chat and Russia is back to eyeing Latvia, Estonia and all the other nations – who will be his one day – like he has before the fight.
England is distracted from gazing angrily at the door through America who yanks suddenly at his arm and asks him something with Canada trailing behind him.
Only Germany cannot concentrate on his papers anymore.
How weird since nothing out off the ordinary happened.
But the nagging feeling in his chest simply grows with each passing minute and after a last glance at Italy (who is now drooling on his brother’s papers) and at his brothers (Austria is unconsciously keeping Prussia occupied – with the help of an aggressive looking Hungary at his side) he leaves the meeting room silently.
He doesn’t have to search for long; a half open balcony door is enough to attract his attention as he walks through the corridors.
Carefully Ludwig opens the door a bit more to check if he has found the right location.
And yes, there is Francis with his back to him, leaning small and inconspicuously on the balcony railings, shoulders drooped and his hair dancing with a gentle breeze from time to time.
Unsure if he should say anything at all, Ludwig waits a bit – for a sign or a word that either tells him to leave Francis alone or to approach him, he is not sure which he would prefer.
But after a felt eternity, he is unwilling to not say anything at all when he is here to see if everything is okay with Francis.
So he steps on the balcony, still not noticed by the other nation.
A grey cloud of smoke suddenly hits his face and he can’t stop from coughing loudly since he inhaled too much of the cigarette in his surprise.
Preoccupied with waving the smell away, he doesn’t see Francis turning around but faces him not until after a soft gasp drifts through the air.
“Ludwig! I’ll be back in a second, just let me finish this one.”
Francis lifts the cigarette with grace and sends him a small apologetic smile, nothing compared to his usual so energetic one.
Ludwig doesn’t even try to smile back; instead he easily catches the lifted arm at the wrist and has the smelly object in his fingers sooner than Francis can even raise an eyebrow.
“You promised me to quit.” Is all Ludwig says in a low and clear voice, no accusation or anger in his tone, only a worried declaration.
Francis sighs, leans back on the railings and laughs softly.
“Yeah, I did. But habits are hard to let go off, especially when they calm you down.”
This time Ludwig raises an eyebrow before he walks to the small trash bin next to the door and throws the cigarette away after he has put it out.