tequila&vin (France)

if i don't say this now i will surely break

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
AS I'M LEAVING THE ONE I WANT TO TAKE. FORGIVE THE URGENCY BUT HURRY UP AND WAIT.
my heart has started to separate[/SIZE][/color][/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/color][/center]

[/i] reserved for his own good, too nice and too shy. She, on the other hand, was vicious when attacked and was especially loud around her family and when involved in things she believed in. (Frankly, she was afraid she had frightened him in 2010 after her vicious screaming over the phone to her lovely Argentinean friend about how she was going to find him and beat the living crap out of him until she got a rematch. Then again, she was satisfied a week later when he had gotten his butt handed to him, and she was sure to rub that in his face.) Teresa leaned back and closed her eyes. She loved him, she really did…she just didn’t know how to express it.

Teresa had had the great pleasure of witnessing a lot of things in her time. Her friends marrying other friends only to be divorced later; fights and wars waged between friends only to have the scars heal all this. She’d fought in wars and helped so many people, but she couldn’t do this most simple of things. She honestly pondered slamming her head into the table in front of her. There was no way she would be able to do this. She would need someone better than her to help teach her…and, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to be willing to get his help…especially since her accident. Honestly, she should have known better than to accidentally call him by that name. “Suegro,” She repeated out loud to herself. It meant “father-in-law” in Spanish, but she had never, absolutely never, meant to say it to where the damned Frenchman could hear her.

She finished off the rest of her drink and sat back, running her hand through her hair. Her hands felt cold as she glanced around the room.

“Why are you so hard to talk to, Mateo?”

[/SIZE][/ul]

oh, oh, be my baby

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO LEAVE OR TAKE.
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.
i'll look after you[/SIZE][/color][/font][/center]
tag. Resa&Francis
words. 544
music. Look After You//The Fray
notes. whoop! finally got this done. ^^'
credit. [/color]La-La-Lia @ Caution.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 370px; background-color: #EFEFEF; border-left: #242424 10px solid; border-top: #242424 70px solid; border-radius: 8px 8px 0px 8px;] WORDS 542 TAGS Mexico/Teresa NOTES Here we go. x) ❝ F rancis, for once in a long while, was alone tonight. It wasn’t necessarily rare, but it was rare enough for those who knew him to raise a few brows. He just… wasn’t in the mood today to be with a faceless somebody-or-other. Even those grew tiring after a while. A drink sounded good. But not from someplace that he knew. He wanted something a bit different—to go to a place that he had never once set foot in before. Sometimes there was a strange sort of comfort in having an aimless schedule. Where no one knew your name, knew who you were, even, or what you were doing. Sometimes the world just needs to stop for a moment. If only life would just ease just a little and the nations could just be themselves without the usual mess of politics. Sometimes, being Francis—not France—even just for a few hours, was enough to bring back a little more normalcy. In other words, he was stressed. Stressed and just a little tired. Normally, this was Francis’ cue to find a drink. In a small place where he wouldn’t have to answer to anyone. It took a bit of time, but eventually he found a small bar tucked away in the corner, almost hidden from view. It held his interest long enough, so he entered. Up front, Francis ordered a Trois Monts when he noticed in on their selections, slightly surprised to see it. Yes, it was beer. What a shock—France was actually going to drink beer. But such labels were also mass produced in his country. And it’s not as if anyone would comment on it. He wasn’t going to see anyone he knew. Everything about him was subdued tonight—even his clothing, muted tones that allowed him to merge in with the crowd. It was all an attempt to simply blend in to have his alone time. Everyone needed those. And so, he settled with his bottle, savoring the amber burn. His goal was never to get shit-faced at these nameless establishments. France was only drinking for pleasure. He rarely ever drank to forget or to feel numb. That was England’s department. And he would rather be the one dragging the sloshed idiots back to where they should be instead of the one left behind in a drunken haze. He drank from his bottle a second time as he briefly scanned the room. He didn’t see anyone familiar, but he did hear a very familiar voice at a table that he had his back to. Suegro? He only knew of one that called him that. Or—rather—accidently called him that, as she claims. France knew that she was telling the truth based on her horrified expression after the fact, but it always was a joy to tease her about it. Much like how much entertainment he got out of teasing his perpetually scowling neighbor. He glanced over at the nation slumped in her chair, looking about as happy as a sullen, drenched tabby. France paused, but it was only momentary after he heard her speak again. His eyes softened before he turned to face her. ”Teresa, chère, I didn’t expect to see you here.” ❞ THINGS. THE LEAVES AND FREQUENCIES, LOST BETWEEN GRASS AND SPLENDID EVENINGS, EMITTING THIS IS THE ROOM WHERE WE ALWAYS DREAMED OF

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] MADE BY AYU OF BTN [x]

if i don't say this now i will surely break

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
AS I'M LEAVING THE ONE I WANT TO TAKE. FORGIVE THE URGENCY BUT HURRY UP AND WAIT.
my heart has started to separate[/SIZE][/color][/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/color][/center]

[/i] She was just thankful that he hadn’t heard about the sheer amount of times she had had to be admitted into the hospital by passerby’s that didn’t know her. Teresa lost count of the amount of money the government had to pay at her expense – money that she generally paid them back for. She got it all from the cartels – got it all with the hideous look on her face that ensured her that Guatemala – and, some parts in America and Italy – were hers to keep and command.

In other words, he was stressed. Stressed and just a little tired. Normally, this was Francis’ cue to find a Teresa forced herself to blink and shake her head, snapping her mind away from that. It was a sensitive topic, and she always got depressed whenever she thought about it. This couldn’t be one of those moments. This had to be one where she thought about how to confront Mateo. He was just so…so frustrating. She had to approach it the right way, too. She hated to see the dread in his eyes, and she knew better than to make it sound as if she were complaining. Perhaps, she would invent maple-flavored tequila that would butter him up. When he was drunk – come to think of it, had Mateo ever actually gotten drunk in front of her? To her knowledge, he hadn’t…that would be a fun idea to entertain – surely he was easier to deal with. Besides, even if he was one of those (weird) rare countries that were unable to handle their liquor (England), she had the perfect cure for a hangover. Menudo, after all, wasn’t that hard to make.

Soon enough, the Mexican nation got lost in her thoughts once more. It wasn’t that hard for her, especially when she got off of the topic in her head. The only thing she could do was distract herself, and that wouldn’t be too hard for her. She knew, for a fact, how good she was at getting lost in her head. Really, all she needed to do was start chanting the ‘Our Father’ out loud in her head and she would forget about what she was doing. That was how she got into a lot of mistakes. That was how she had gotten stuck with Francis teasing her constantly about calling him Suegro.

Her eyes snapped up at the French – for some reason, and she wasn’t entirely sure why, a small part of her was hoping that it would be the Canadian. She blinked at the oh-so wrong shade of blond before her mouth twitched into a small frown. Damn, she really had to work on not saying anything out loud or even crying. It was how Okinawa had found her, as well as Francis and the rest of them. “Hola,” Teresa greeted easily enough. No one could ever tell her that she was never civil. Violent was another story. They could tell her she was violent all they wanted; so long as she was also civil. Her mouth twitched upwards in an amused look before she bent her head to the side, acknowledging the fact that there was nothing else she could do about the situation. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but tú me conoces.” She held up the tequila bottle she had been playing with previously before looking at him, staring at his drink. “I can’t stay away.”

[/SIZE][/ul]

oh, oh, be my baby

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO LEAVE OR TAKE.
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.
i'll look after you[/SIZE][/color][/font][/center]
tag. Resa&Francis
words. 664.
music. Look After You//The Fray
notes. Sorry it took so long. I blame my internet.'
credit. [/color]La-La-Lia @ Caution.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 370px; background-color: #EFEFEF; border-left: #242424 10px solid; border-top: #242424 70px solid; border-radius: 8px 8px 0px 8px;] WORDS 652 TAGS Mexico/Teresa NOTES God, that only took forever and a day. Life's been stiflingly busy. >> ❝ I t wasn’t exactly strange to find other nations a bit loosened by their poison of choice. They all had their preferences and they all had a certain weakness toward it. Liquor, perhaps, was a lubricant for their true interior and the on-goings of their nationhood. It was easy to lie to the others and it was far easier to pretend to the world if it reaped personal benefits. Especially in today’s climate, it was tough—it was tough to pull through economically. And some of the things that the nations subjected themselves to were horrible things, but they were necessary for survival. Few would view what the world considers the ‘straitlaced’ nations as nations that knew very little of the unfair rulings of the world. But they were all old. Very old and knowledgeable with their own harsh experiences. France was one of these, though he teasingly would like to avoid revealing how old he truly was, he was also deeply marred with scars that told ugly stories of things that he had done or things that others had done to him. France noticed the way that her expression seemed to lighten just a bit when she heard that scant bit of his native tongue. It wasn’t hard to guess why, so Francis wasn’t at all surprised to see the expression fall into her usual frown when something had inexplicitly displeased her. In response to her frown, his mouth tightened into a slight smile. It was half forced. She wasn’t alone in the long list of nations that he sometimes enjoyed teasing. Truthfully, he thought it was cute that she had a slip of the tongue and had called him Suegro once. Or was it more than that? Ah, he couldn’t remember. One had been enough in either case. He had jumped on the chance like a starving man would on a full-course meal. He wasn’t ignorant of what Teresa had been going through lately, but he wasn’t going to let on that he knew more than what was revealed concerning international issues. Francis took the seat opposite of the Mexican nation, one arm resting along the corner of the back rest and one leg languidly over the other as he relaxed. He settled his drink on the table; his finger idly tracing the mouth of the bottle. He also noticed the mildly amused turn of Teresa’s mouth, but didn’t comment on it. Whatever her thoughts were, apparently they were comical enough to draw a grin. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were, but while he was many things, intrusive was not one of them. Curious? Of course. But that was a poor excuse, in Francis’s opinion, to barge in on another’s space. Unless he knew them far too well… like certain neighbors. In response to her statement about not really planning on coming, he rose his bottle slightly in a mock toast with a brief, sardonic curve to his mouth. ”Don’t we all, chère,” he said before lifting it to his mouth. Almost every nation was notorious for their drinking or substance habits. It was something to ease away the years of pain, war, and death that they had the joy of experiencing with each turn of the decade. They had all seen far more than any single man could stand. They all had had their hearts broken repeatedly, and had all shed their fair share of tears, rage, and fear. Who wouldn’t have an unhealthy habit at this point? Alcohol was at least a common one. Francis had just made his habit an attractive one with the numerous bottles of wine that he kept in his cellar. But it still remained a compulsion that he continuously had to satisfy. ”What troubles you, ma mie?” His voice was a tad bit lower, more serious. He wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t heard her muttering a certain name just moments ago. ❞ THINGS. THE LEAVES AND FREQUENCIES, LOST BETWEEN GRASS AND SPLENDID EVENINGS, EMITTING THIS IS THE ROOM WHERE WE ALWAYS DREAMED OF

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] MADE BY AYU OF BTN [x]

if i don't say this now i will surely break

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
AS I'M LEAVING THE ONE I WANT TO TAKE. FORGIVE THE URGENCY BUT HURRY UP AND WAIT.
my heart has started to separate[/SIZE][/color][/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/color][/center]

[/b] The words came easy to her, as she swooshed her beverage back and forth in its bottle. “I mean, you have your normal drunks; like, Arturo, Louis, Gilbert, y aún Iván. Then, you have us, no?” She smiled at him. See, it was conversations like these that she enjoyed. Ones where he wasn’t teasing her; wasn’t making her blush and feel like an idiot. Teresa understood that France was older than her; more experienced than she was. (And, well, when she said older…she meant developed-wise. She hadn’t really gotten into the point where she tried to figure out just how old she and Juan were in comparison to the others since they weren’t particularly aware of their earlier days.) She was sure that the teasing wouldn’t have been too awful if she hadn’t accidentally called him “Suegro.” If she had wanted to call him father-in-law, she would have painfully tried to pronounce, “Père.” Except, that she couldn’t. She had tried, but there just weren’t enough French-speaking people living in her country for her to be able to pick it up easily, and her ‘r’s’ never rolled like they were supposed to.

But, she wasn’t going to be comfortable calling him that, ever. She had tried to do that in the mirror before, too. She had said it a total of three times before she shuddered and went outside. In her house in Nuevo Leon, she held a big enough back yard that she could go and play fútbol. It had been her salvation; her ability to be able to escape. But, here? It was harder to do so here when she couldn’t just escape. “I’m finding that I’m becoming a more frequent drinker. Soon, I’ll be like Arturo, and I’ll have to call Mateo or Alfredo to come and pick me up.” Because, except for that rare occasion when he had been with Benito, Juan was just as likely to get as drunk as she did. Neither of them could count on the other to pull them out of a bar; and, besides, Juan was twice more likely to pass out in the corner than she was.

And, with his question, her mouth snapped shut, and she focused her eyes on the table before them. What troubled her, indeed? It was a series of things that she didn’t feel like discussing, particularly with the father of her boyfriend and (at least one of) her “father’s” best friends. “Oh, a little of this and una gran parte de ese.” She answered, only somewhat vaguely. Teresa did wonder if she couldn’t just ask him. She had been married before; she had made alliances with other countries and had gotten to know her fair share of them intimately. It tended to happen when you lived longer than anyone else, but she hadn’t ever…gotten to the point of loving someone. With a slight blush, she ducked her head down. “Problemas de relación.” She muttered, hoping he would hear and understand her the first time. Teresa wasn’t entirely sure that she would be able to repeat that again, any louder. It was just so embarrassing. She couldn’t talk to Mateo, couldn’t tell him that she loved him even though she knew she did. Even though she hoped that he knew that she did. She was so stressed that she didn’t even complain that he called her sweetheart or darling or whatever the hell ‘mie’ translated into.

[/SIZE][/ul]

oh, oh, be my baby

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO LEAVE OR TAKE.
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.
i'll look after you[/SIZE][/color][/font][/center]
tag. Resa&Francis
words. 813.
music. Look After You//The Fray
notes. Oh, it's fine. I understand.
credit. [/color]La-La-Lia @ Caution.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 370px; background-color: #EFEFEF; border-left: #242424 10px solid; border-top: #242424 70px solid; border-radius: 8px 8px 0px 8px;] WORDS 652 TAGS Mexico/Teresa NOTES Up.. finally. xD ❝ F rancis couldn’t think of any country (at least the older ones) who hadn’t lost count of the number of times that they would drink themselves into oblivion. Every nation loved their own brand of alcohol and it certainly was a nice little escape. He couldn’t remember seeing Teresa lose control quite as often as the others, but that was a matter of actual distance between them, not to mention that he was surrounded back at home by quite an assortment of varying drunks. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself one, at least, not at this point in time, but he did have his moments. Judgment for something like that was far from the French nation’s mind. He did know; however, that Teresa was a very resilient drinker. She was known for holding her own, but that did make him wonder how much it actually took to make her reach that level… he probably didn’t want to think about that. Even immortal livers would cringe at the thought. His eyes were drawn to her, considering and thoughtful, and then he chuckled—soft and somewhat staid. ”What even constitutes a normal drunk? They all have their vastly different and odd patterns.” His question was a little dry, not really expecting an answer. Thoughts briefly touched upon Arthur, for example. He could function remarkably well for how dysfunctional his self-destructive habits were. But then again, he had been doing that for centuries. Probably perfected it, no doubt. Francis, while he most definitely could be an over exaggerated tease and flamboyantly odd, sometimes his age did show. Sometimes he wondered if the older nations simply became the way they currently were with time. The older they got, the more they developed their strange little quirks to keep their minds off of the bitterness, old blood, and rivalries that formed from living for so long. It was hard to endure the countless scars: both physically and psychologically. Francis believed that the reason why the vast majority of them were so odd at times was because they needed some sort of coping mechanism—anything to heal and breakaway from actuality in the most trying of times. Most nations turned to liquor, it seemed. Arthur frequently drank until he passed out in his cellar (of this, Francis had witnessed on a few occasions while bothering visiting him), while other nations overindulged in certain habits, such as Francis with his fashion or cooking. In actuality, Francis had been deeply flattered when Teresa had accidentally called him “Suegro,” but of course his automatic reaction was to revert into his teasing mode. He secretly (or not so secretly) loved when others used familiar terms with him. It made him feel connected. In a way, he supposed that’s how the nations should be (on rare occasions), as most of them did not have the luxury of traditional families. The familiarity and connections that they created themselves brought a small bit of normalcy to their hectic, eternal lives. Francis’s eyes softened slightly when she mentioned having been a more frequent drinker lately and even mentioned Arthur, echoing his previous thoughts of the unfortunate British nation—unfortunate for his own cocktail of circumstances that led him to reach for the bottle every night. The French nation probably knew him too well, being so close by, but it was by simply knowing everything that sort of made him understand the former empire in a strange, unconventional way. As much as he teased and mocked him, Francis could empathize. ”Yes… well, he can be quite unhappy at times,” Francis mumbled with a small, taut smile. He wanted to ask the obvious double question to that, but he remained quiet, listening and observing. He was quick to note the initial silence and subsequent reddened cheeks. Normally he would have teased or commented on it, but he remained in his somber moment, for once in a long while. He made a small sigh of understanding when she muttered her vague answer, and then the slightly more specific response. ”Ah—I see.” His thoughts immediately went to one specific individual who her ambiguity also involved, but he wasn’t going to say anything concerning that. At least not at the moment. Francis… being... himself, was notoriously good at picking up even the most equivocal of clues when feelings for one grew for another. Perhaps in the way they looked at the other a tad bit longer than they intended to, the barely noticeable blush, or even the way that the other reacted whenever the other was brought up in simple conversation. To Francis these were always so glaringly obvious, but of course, most individuals weren’t so easy to pick up on some of these feather light indications. Francis was carefully casual as he leaned just a bit, glancing once more over at the other nation. ”Our kind seems to have a penchant for difficulty with relationships. Perhaps it’s our age, que Dieu m'en garde,” the corners of his mouth cracked slightly in a small smile with the last statement. The scant amusement passed quickly and the solemnity returned. ”I understand if you decline—but care to elaborate?” ❞ THINGS. THE LEAVES AND FREQUENCIES, LOST BETWEEN GRASS AND SPLENDID EVENINGS, EMITTING THIS IS THE ROOM WHERE WE ALWAYS DREAMED OF

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] MADE BY AYU OF BTN [x]

if i don't say this now i will surely break

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
AS I'M LEAVING THE ONE I WANT TO TAKE. FORGIVE THE URGENCY BUT HURRY UP AND WAIT.
my heart has started to separate[/SIZE][/color][/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/color][/center]

[/i] seen him in a very long time…she had been avoiding him ever since her slip of the tongue.

She did have an answer for him, though. Sure, there were various drunks and she might have been able to clarify the point she had been trying to get across better, but she knew what she had meant. But, then again, she could also see what he meant. They did have different patterns, though she meant that those countries, in particular, did have a tendency to get drunk, or, as England put it, ‘sloshed’. Her own pattern for drinking was really weird. Teresa had days where she would go and sit in the bar, sipping on a tequila while she heard about what was happening in the world around her; the majority of the time, nothing that interested her much. And, then there were days that she would arrive in the bar because of some stress that she was living through. Then, she would attempt to drink until her mind could no longer focus on one thought in particular. To her knowledge, she had only actually managed to drink until she had passed out a total of…four times. The rest of the times, she had remained tipsy.

She remembered the reason she got drunk vividly. The first time had been when she had celebrated her independence from Spain. Or, rather, when he had finally acknowledged that she was her own country. As happy as she was that she no longer had him to command her, she had still been upset because…he had been her ‘Papa’. He had raised her into the young woman that she was now. It had been a gradual process – she wasn’t like Alfred. She hadn’t…just jumped up immediately. She had spent three centuries as Nueva España. Her relationship with her ‘Papa’ wasn’t something that she had wanted to lose, but it had been necessary. Not only that, but she had also lost her ‘father’. Miguel Hidalgo had perished in the war, but it wasn’t as if she had much time to actually mourn him. As badly as that time had been, it hadn’t been the worst time. The second time had been July 18th, 1872. Yes, she had acknowledged that it had been a stupid idea to fall in love with the President, especially they were fighting with each other, but that hadn’t stopped her.

Teresa felt like it was the curse of being a nation. There was always someone who was so…patriotic, that they were difficult to forget. She wasn’t proud to admit that she had been the reason Juarez had had an affair, but she didn’t care enough to stop. She had loved him – loved him in more ways than she had loved anyone else. Her face flushed slightly at the thought, and she focused her attention on the drink in front of her to be able to calm herself down. “Aren’t the majority of us?” She asked quietly, rhetorically. She knew that he probably had the answer for that, having been around the other nations a lot longer than she had, but she didn’t want him to answer. She may not have been optimistic, but she didn’t need another reason to down the tequila in front of her.

She snorted. It was unladylike, and Francis wasn’t Alfred or her other friends. Still, his statement had been amusing and that had been no reason for her not to laugh at what he was saying. Besides, even he was smiling. She was determined to turn this awful night into a good one, even if it did mean that she had to speak with France. “I’m not España, sabes? I’m not even like Argentina or Brazil.” The words were slightly bitter on Teresa’s mouth. She hated, more than anything else, admitting that the other two nations were better than her in any way. “I’m not…affectionate. I can’t…expresar mis sentimientos like they can, and it frustrates me.”

[/SIZE][/ul]

oh, oh, be my baby

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO LEAVE OR TAKE.
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.
i'll look after you[/SIZE][/color][/font][/center]
tag. Resa&Francis
words. 865.
music. Pokemon! (don't ask)
notes. I'm so tired...but I finished this in school and wanted to post for you :3
credit. [/color]La-La-Lia @ Caution.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 370px; background-color: #EFEFEF; border-left: #242424 10px solid; border-top: #242424 70px solid; border-radius: 8px 8px 0px 8px;] WORDS 652 TAGS Mexico/Teresa NOTES Wewt. I hope it's ok.. ='D ❝ P erhaps sometimes it did constitute as a bit of a curse to be a nation, but then again, normal people certainly had their own issues… some of which Francis was glad to never have to deal with. Though, then again, nations had their own stressors that no one aside from their kind could ever understand. Even then, however; there was a rift between some nations. Sometimes the older ones from the newer ones—based entirely on the weight of age and experience. Breaking a little from his thoughts, Francis noticed Teresa’s flushed face as she focused on her drink. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere… and he wondered about them, but he wasn’t going to push for now. Her response made him frown and his heart pinched just a little. ”No… I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” he admitted lowly. Even if it was a rhetorical question. He paused for a moment, swirling his drink before speaking again. ”It’s inevitable that many of us deal with horrible things, but I don’t think the majority of us are unhappy, per se. Some of us find ways to move past those moments... The ones that can’t move past are the ones who can’t find it in themselves to forgive the individuals or circumstances for having hurt them.” At least, that was from Francis’s personal experience… and he had seen the opposite put into practice as well. A portion of Arthur’s unhappiness (as Francis believed) stemmed from the fact that he still harbored a festering resentment for those who had wronged him. Francis, himself, was one of those who had greatly wronged him. To that, at least the Frenchman could admit. Francis’s smile grew when Teresa snorted at his statement. He didn’t really mind if the action was unladylike or not, as they weren’t exactly in a glamorous, high-end establishment to begin with. ”Being more affectionate doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else." France could almost laugh at that sentiment. "If anything, sometimes they open themselves up to receive more pain among other things.” Francis was a funny case with showing affection. He was definitely affectionate, but it usually wasn’t necessarily the sincere kind in certain moments. Sometimes he was that way to amuse himself by irritating others (namely England) or just to achieve his means. He rarely, if ever, truly opened himself to anyone. He couldn’t remember the last time he had. But he would rather not delve into that. Sometimes it was easier to give everyone the lighter, faux affectionate form of himself. Perhaps because he wasn’t sure what he would see underneath. ”And Antonio…” Francis chuckled at the thought of his other neighbor, just a little more distant than the others. Spain was another nation that he enjoyed teasing, if only because Antonio seemed completely unaware of his intentions most of the time, which made it all the more entertaining. ”His brand of affection can be odd at times… But it seems to work for him, apparently.” He shrugged, finishing his bottle before ordering another. ”In any case, you don’t need to be like them, Resa. You show affection—just a different saveur. A bit more… sévère than most… comme l'Angleterre.” Again, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though it wasn’t his usual teasing gesture. He was actually being a bit serious about this despite his casual displays of amusement in their conversation. ”Others who know you well enough can recognize it. That’s all that really matters, oui?” He paused for a moment to take another drink from his new bottle. ”I find your brand of affection a bit more refreshing than others to be honest. Ce n'est pas facile… more meaningful.” In Francis’s opinion, cheap affection, quick and effortless, like the kind he tended to dole out meant very little, as most would probably agree. For those who were perhaps a bit more wary with the prospect of putting themselves in a vulnerable situation, it took a lot more courage to show affection—thus it also meant infinitely more. At least to those who recognized it for what it was. ❞ THINGS. THE LEAVES AND FREQUENCIES, LOST BETWEEN GRASS AND SPLENDID EVENINGS, EMITTING THIS IS THE ROOM WHERE WE ALWAYS DREAMED OF

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] MADE BY AYU OF BTN [x]

if i don't say this now i will surely break

[/SIZE][/color][/font]
AS I'M LEAVING THE ONE I WANT TO TAKE. FORGIVE THE URGENCY BUT HURRY UP AND WAIT.
my heart has started to separate[/SIZE][/color][/font]
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She didn't mean it to come out insulting. She didn't mean it to make him sound old. She didn't mean it to come off with any negative connotation at all, and that was what had surprised her. She was almost always insulting whenever it came to him, except for rare occasions. This seemed to be one of those moments. Her eyes took him in with an almost resigned look, sitting back. Her hands never left her glass. “I hate to think that I would be one of those that couldn't forgive myself or those I've loved.” Because, however could she forgive the man she loved for dying? However could she forgive the blond in front of her for being part of the reason her time with him had been split for a while? She shut her eyes for a second, sucking in a breath. “I would hate to think it, pero supongo que soy yo. I never forgave you for anything; I've barely forgiven America, and what he did was worse.” Teresa sighed. “It's the only time I'll say it, and only because you're not being creepily weird, pero lo siento, Suegro.”

Yeah, France had done a lot of crap to her. She hated him for a lot of the things that had gone down in their past – but the biggest part of it was Maxi. She had never forgiven him – no Austria, nor by default England and Spain – for allowing Maxi to take the position of emperor under Napoleon II. She had never approved of the revival of the Mexican monarchy. She had hated it as Nueva España, and the hatred for those times of governments had continued on once she had made her own name. “I can see why you would say that, pero es raro no poder expresarse. If you look at the people I talk to, it's almost as if I can't.” Unless it was someone she knew – someone she had gotten used to and could function easily around – it was hard for her to express herself. Being insulting was easy, apologizing like she had done earlier took lot of work. She was pretty sure the only reason she been able to apologize was because he wasn't acting as weird as she was used to him acting. He wasn't trying to get into her pants, wasn't teasing her, wasn't harassing her in any way.

Yes, she supposed that he was right. She did have enough people who recognized when she was trying to be comforting – who shut up on the rare occasions that she felt free enough to admit something, but it was all circumstantial. Teresa wished that she could just go right out and say it. It wasn't hard for her to say it out loud; saying 'I love you' or 'Te amo' should have been easy, but it wasn't. “It's blunt. I find it would be easier to beat you in a boxing ring than it would ever be to tell someone that I loved them. Familia is one thing, particularly if I raised them – like Gabriella, pero Alfredo y Mateo?”


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oh, oh, be my baby

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WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO LEAVE OR TAKE.
WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS TO MAKE YOUR OWN.
i'll look after you[/SIZE][/color][/font][/center]
tag. Resa&Francis
words. 710
music. some song...with no lyrics...playing in the cafe
notes. yours was great! I loved it!
credit. [/color]La-La-Lia @ Caution.