So close, being so near. It was peace, it was safe, and it was perfect.
A thousand colors, they flew and soared, exploded behind his eyelids, every color so bright and warm and welcome. One light was the brightest, a star.
Francoeur didn't want this moment to stop, the feel of her soft lips, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body, so close, so near.
The velvet of her lips, so gentle, so soft on his own. So perfect as he pressed further; just a little deeper, just a little longer. Trying to expand the moment, trying to make it last.
But it had to end…
Francoeur was sure this wasn't supposed to happen; this wasn't what he was meant for. So close…and yet so far.
She'll never want to, not this, not me- The wet things – tears- they were slowly dripping down the corners of his eyes, Francoeur pressed just a little deeper – please, please, please let me have this, I'll ask for nothing else, just let me…let me…- a little harder, just to taste her, so he can remember her. And she made a sound, a small yet nice sound.
Her hands, suddenly, they are cradle his face, the pads of her fingers tracing away the tears, nails tickling over the freckles, and then-they scratch delightfully around the two spikes on the side of his head, causing a trill!-The sensation is so hot, like boiled water racing through his veins, it awakes something primal in his blood, and of course the blood he had consumed only adds to the want and the longing and lust-
It takes all of his will power just to sit still, to keep his hands trapped between them, to stop himself from leaning forward and pressing Lucille into the soft mattress, to pin her and hold her down. To feel her soft body pressed tight against his own, feel her skin and taste it- He is so consumed with the feeling he forgets to breath.
She doesn't stop her scratching, the longer she draws her nails over those two sensitive bumps the harder it gets to hold himself back, he can feel something happening to his body, like it has a mind of its own it starts to tremble and raise his hands to cup both her waist and head, pulling her closer-
But he has to stay focused, for if it wasn't for his mind stopping him, he feared he might take her.
'This has to stop, this can't go on, I need to stop-I need-need, I-I need her.'
Francoeur pulls back, their lips make the tiniest noise as they part – smack- the world spins!
"Oh…." His head hurts, too light, too much. His chest, it hurts! He tries to breathe, tries to gasp, but there's something in his throat. Painfully he swallows the lump, and air rushes into his lunges. Grateful he keeps gasping, only aware of the fact that he's sobbing when he hears his own voice, it sounded like something being ripped apart. The sobs continue to wrack his body, so that's what was shaking him.
"O-oh." The sobbing doesn't stop, and for a moment Francoeur feels so lonely. He feels like he is completely and utterly alone. In the darkness the sudden warmth is sucked away , down a abyss of lost souls, drifting, drowning, dying and yet remaining conscience so that his nightmares continue to plague and taunt him in his solitude.
So utterly alone.
But he isn't.
Lucille is reaching out, her warm hands cradle his face, and her eyes are wide and beautiful and sad.
The rose patch in her cheeks has returned, but he's too enveloped in pain that he can't even appreciate the beauty of seeing it there.
One of his favorite things and it can't help him.
The sadness of this fact makes him cry even harder, and he's clutching Lucille to his chest before he knows it, whimpering nothings and pleadings as he cries.
"Please…please, let me stay, please just let me, let me…don't make me leave, don't hate-don't hate me, please Lucille, please, please, don't make me leave…" Not knowing that his whimsical pleas are being spoken out loud, Francoeur keeps a string of apologies, fears, regrets, most of all concerning her.
Lucille felt like she was breaking.
It was too strange, too open. Too heartbroken.
She held Francoeur's face as he cried, the odd, exhilarating sensation of the kiss is still making something zing in her veins, but seeing him so sad.
After all that confusion and happiness and anger and uplifting?
It really made her wish she could just slap him upside the head for being so confusing.
''Francoeur…oh mon ame, mon coeur…I can never hate you for what you are, please look at me Francoeur, please, dry your tears…'' Francoeur loosens his hold on her, only enough for her to lean back and pat at his eyes with the edge of her sleeve; the tears stinging and blurring his vision, turning Lucille's appearance into a prism of rainbow lights, a angel for sure, unlike anything he had seen before. Like nothing before.
'' I'm s-so so, sorree-hic- sorry Lucille…'' In between sobs he still tried to apologize, tripping over the tears and nearly blubbering like a child. Lucille shushes him with little coos, wrapping her arms around his head, feeling him shift their positions until he was cradled against her chest, sobbing into her sleep-rumbled and tear-soaked dress.
'' It's alright, it's alright, I forgive you mon coeur…oh Francoeur, how could you even begin to think that I don't want you near…'' She tightens her hold, feeling like she was at a loss, what could she do to make him stop this? What could she say? A million things raced through her mind at the implication, tell him you want him to stay, tell him you need him, tell him you love him!
"Oh!" A startled gasp clenches her chest along with her heart; what a moment to come to such confessions.
"…Francoeur…do you know what, love is…?" He stopped sobbing, only a little, pulling back from her embrace to look at her, and even then his eyes trailed down to a spot above her left shoulder, his expression bordering on bafflement.
"…I, I am not familiar with this…word, but. I think I would, um, recognize it…it's something from the books, isn't it?" He ached a brow ridge in question, his mouth twisting into a little frown. – what kind of question was that? It made no sense-.
"Well…maybe if I told you'-" Suddenly very nervous, Lucille licks her dry lips and folds her hands in her lap, trying to keep from fumbling and search for the best way to explain the complicated concept to a 7 ft flea. Really, and she thought it was hard when he asked how humans mated!
"Love is…well, L'amour is, something you share…with somebody very close to you, sometimes you can't help but care for this person or think about them on regular basis, longing to be beside them, wanting them to be happy, feeling sad when they are sad…and, it's something that many people can share, to an extent."
She waved a hand non-commentary, trying to hide from what her eyes saw ; He is a person like that. Francoeur is somebody she cares about, and somebody she wished she could tell all of this.
"Actually…"- Lucille's mouth closed with a snap, he had never interrupted her. Never had the reason to either. He was looking at their clasped hands with such concentration, she could practically see the gears in his mind turning, searching, finding the right words.
"...I think, I might have…Lucille, is 'love', this L'amour, is it…might it be the same…as the way I feel towards…you, Lucille?" After this he looked up at her, his eyes aglow with something more than his recent feeding.
"Am I…Is it 'Love', that I have, for you, Lucille?" He leaned just a little, moving forward to peck her on the mouth yet again, this time though he did it gentler, nipping softly and pulling back to stare at her. "Is this, this feeling, do you …return it…? To an extent, at least?"
And all she could do was stare, he had grown so much, learned so much and become so much more. How was it even possible for him to be this way?
Whatever the cause, the most important thing now was to speak, to open her mouth and say something!
Swallowing a dry lump Lucille grasped his face in her hands again, looking hard at him, trying to communicate her utmost sincerity and devotion.
She wanted to be perfectly sure that this was what she wanted, that he knew what she wanted.
If he felt this way towards her, his angel, his light…what stopped her from feeling the same for him?