by ~LizzyisEarth on deviantarts
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You Don't Know How Many Times I've wished…
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Blonde haired was brushed to the perfect wavy look. Sapphire eyes were bright with a style that shown that he had motivation to impress the ladies. He was clad in only the most chic clothing, nothing like the clothes Alfred and Arthur wore, oh no.
Not at all.
He was a flirt; one who would flirt with just about anyone. But it was all out of the fact he felt alone. He never had anyone to stick by his side; they all eventually came to hate him.
His former colonies?
Long gone.
Friends?
He was lucky he had two.
He was a sadden man at heart.
A pitiful man was Francis Bonnefoy.
He sat in his spot at the world meeting and today, he was not even up to argument with Arthur and Alfred, which is what he usually ended up doing.
"What's up with you, Frechie?"
"Did you finally just give up, Frog?"
"I am simply not interested in the useless fighting today, that is all," explained Francis.
"Whatever dude."
"I honestly do not care that much."
"Oui… Oh course…" the Frenchman sighed as he glanced around the room. His gaze fell upon the woman he cared so much about: {Name}.
He admired her so: She had many friends and her laugh was always cheerful. She had silky, {h/c} hair that shone whenever the light hit it. {e/c} sparkled constantly.
There was just one problem: As much as Francis Bonnefoy cherished {Name} {Last Name}.
She did the opposite to him.
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…I Could Mold You into someone who could Cherish Me...
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If he were to ever get her to love him, then he vowed to give up pointless dating. He knew she wouldn't be like the other girls; she would stick by him through thick and thin. That was a virtue of hers; she was loyal. A sweetheart. She was like an angel. Her vocals were light and gentle. She caught his attention, but not like the others did. He really thought that she could change his ways.
But she didn't see him like he saw her.
Why must she 'ate moi?
She saw him as a low life; a piece of garbage who didn't care about people's feelings. She saw him as a ruddy frog, all because of what Arthur told her.
She saw him as strange; a man that would flirt with just about anyone and making the grossest comments. She saw him as a weird creeper, all because of what Alfred told her.
Why must they tell her such things?
The truth was, she had never even talked to him. She never got to know him. He cared about her so much. He only wanted her to be happy. He wanted to talk to her, but anytime her tried Arthur would stop him.
"Do not go near {Name}! She is too good for you! Leave her alone."
Francis sighed at the memory. He wanted her to be his and only his.
She will one day talk to me with her own voice and get to know me…
He continued looking at {Name}, taking in her delicate features. He admired how she always determined to move forward. He knew about every single one of her break-ups and depressions. He hated seeing her upset and he knew he could make her feel better.
If only she would pay him any mind. If only she how many times he tried to get her to appreciate him, his existence and who he really was.
If only, if only.
I will wait for her…
Francis wanted to help her, to be a comfort to her. Yet; he didn't want to be one of those ones that could break her heart. He liked her… No.
He loved her. He cherished every moment he got to look at her.
He cherished her personality, her looks. Everything about her.
One day, I will get her to cherish me…
Until then, he would have to stick with trying to impress her, trying to make her know him for him, and not just the remarks Arthur and Alfred made.
He would wait. A patient and hopeful man was Francis Bonnefoy.
…And then we will both be happy.
__________________________________________________
…As Much as I Cherish You.
_________________________________________________
__________________________________________________
You Don't Know How Many Times I've wished…
__________________________________________________
Blonde haired was brushed to the perfect wavy look. Sapphire eyes were bright with a style that shown that he had motivation to impress the ladies. He was clad in only the most chic clothing, nothing like the clothes Alfred and Arthur wore, oh no.
Not at all.
He was a flirt; one who would flirt with just about anyone. But it was all out of the fact he felt alone. He never had anyone to stick by his side; they all eventually came to hate him.
His former colonies?
Long gone.
Friends?
He was lucky he had two.
He was a sadden man at heart.
A pitiful man was Francis Bonnefoy.
He sat in his spot at the world meeting and today, he was not even up to argument with Arthur and Alfred, which is what he usually ended up doing.
"What's up with you, Frechie?"
"Did you finally just give up, Frog?"
"I am simply not interested in the useless fighting today, that is all," explained Francis.
"Whatever dude."
"I honestly do not care that much."
"Oui… Oh course…" the Frenchman sighed as he glanced around the room. His gaze fell upon the woman he cared so much about: {Name}.
He admired her so: She had many friends and her laugh was always cheerful. She had silky, {h/c} hair that shone whenever the light hit it. {e/c} sparkled constantly.
There was just one problem: As much as Francis Bonnefoy cherished {Name} {Last Name}.
She did the opposite to him.
___________________________________________________
…I Could Mold You into someone who could Cherish Me...
¬¬___________________________________________________
If he were to ever get her to love him, then he vowed to give up pointless dating. He knew she wouldn't be like the other girls; she would stick by him through thick and thin. That was a virtue of hers; she was loyal. A sweetheart. She was like an angel. Her vocals were light and gentle. She caught his attention, but not like the others did. He really thought that she could change his ways.
But she didn't see him like he saw her.
Why must she 'ate moi?
She saw him as a low life; a piece of garbage who didn't care about people's feelings. She saw him as a ruddy frog, all because of what Arthur told her.
She saw him as strange; a man that would flirt with just about anyone and making the grossest comments. She saw him as a weird creeper, all because of what Alfred told her.
Why must they tell her such things?
The truth was, she had never even talked to him. She never got to know him. He cared about her so much. He only wanted her to be happy. He wanted to talk to her, but anytime her tried Arthur would stop him.
"Do not go near {Name}! She is too good for you! Leave her alone."
Francis sighed at the memory. He wanted her to be his and only his.
She will one day talk to me with her own voice and get to know me…
He continued looking at {Name}, taking in her delicate features. He admired how she always determined to move forward. He knew about every single one of her break-ups and depressions. He hated seeing her upset and he knew he could make her feel better.
If only she would pay him any mind. If only she how many times he tried to get her to appreciate him, his existence and who he really was.
If only, if only.
I will wait for her…
Francis wanted to help her, to be a comfort to her. Yet; he didn't want to be one of those ones that could break her heart. He liked her… No.
He loved her. He cherished every moment he got to look at her.
He cherished her personality, her looks. Everything about her.
One day, I will get her to cherish me…
Until then, he would have to stick with trying to impress her, trying to make her know him for him, and not just the remarks Arthur and Alfred made.
He would wait. A patient and hopeful man was Francis Bonnefoy.
…And then we will both be happy.
__________________________________________________
…As Much as I Cherish You.
_________________________________________________
