Rebirth (Hetalia X Reader)

Chapter 13

My waking is peaceful. Francis had turned onto his back but I had stayed on my side. I watch his face as he sleeps, matching my breathing to his. What is it about this man that makes me feel so...

I am unable to think of a word that describes the sense of well being, belonging, ease, that overwhelms me whenever I'm with him.

Perhaps it's that there's a certain familiarity to him. Something I can't quite place. If I believed in reincarnation, I might even say I knew him in a another life... but not as a lover. As a friend.

I shift onto my back and rub the sleep from my eyes. White sunlight trickles into the room from the gap between the curtain rod and the ceiling, giving me just enough light to make out a painting hanging on the wall to my left. Curiosity takes hold and I immediately become transfixed.

It's a panting of Joan of Arc, leading the French to what I assume was a battle against the English. It was an incredibly detailed scene, each face holding emotion and each body tensed for what was to come.

But it was a figure standing off to Joan's right that held my attention the longest. It was a man riding a horse, blonde hair tied up and away from his face. The way he held himself sparked something in my mind, like a tingle, or and itch that I couldn't scratch. I sat up and moved to get up so I could get a closer look.

As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me gently back. "Bon matin." Francis greeted me in a sleep-strained voice.

I was knocked out of my trance and let myself be pulled back against his shoulder. My eyes met his for a brief moment before he leaned down to kiss me. Blond stubble scratched against my chin as our lips danced together. He pulls away and rests his head back against his pillow, blue eyes staring up into mine in a way I could only describe as adoring.

"Did you sleep well?" I whisper. He smiles and leans up to kiss me once again.

"Much better than I would have on my own."

My fingers had moved into his silky hair on their own accord. I fingered it gently, biting the inside of my lip. "I should probably get back before Marianne notices that I'm missing."

"Probably." Francis concedes. Neither of us moves for a long moment.

I have never woken up next to a man and stayed until he too made his return from slumber. I'm not sure I would have wanted to. And now, here with Francis, I understand that I only would ever have done so with him.

"Would you like to go for breakfast?" I ask.

Francis smiles. "I think that's a lovely idea."

I force myself to get out of bed even though ever atom in my body feels like it's being tugged back into Francis' warmth. "In an hour?"

Francis hums, a smile playing across his lips. I turn to the door, pause, and turn back to kiss him one last time before taking my leave.

The appartment is still when I enter. A chill runs length of my spine. I pad over to the thermostat in the kitchen and knock it up a few degrees. That's why I see the plate Marianne must have shattered last night. It's a spray of red porcelain across white tile. With a sigh, I crouch and begin to pick up the pieces, place them in the bin, and return to sweep up the finer grains with my hands.

As I wash my hands, I glance into the living to see Marianne's motionless body laying on the couch. Two empty wine glasses and an open wine bottle sit on the coffee table. With a sigh, I move towards her. She must have noticed I was gone last night and I figured I'd better apologize.

She lays facing the back of the couch, her face burried in the colourful throw pillows. "Marianne," I call gently. She doesn't move, probably due to a hangover she must be nursing, taking into account the amount of wine it seems she drank last night. I sit on the coffee table. "I'm sorry for sneaking out last night." I say softly.

My eyes settle on a red stain against the cream cloth of the couch just beneath Marianne's shoulder. I let put an exasperated sigh and stand, moving towards her. "Look you've spilled some wine on the cushions," I begin to turn her over in the hopes of waking her up. "That's going to be a pain to wash out."

Marianne flops onto her back with no resistance and I let out a gasp, stumbling away from her. Her beautiful eyes stare into space, dead.