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@illusionistfran-blog
Bluebell looked down between them and her breath hitched with embarrassment. “S-sorry,” she whispered looking up at him and giving the boy a shy smile. “Sh-should I go…?”
Fran nearly begged Bluebell to stay, but he gave her a quick peck on the forehead. "I just need to get dressed, and then we can go get something to eat." he assured her, as he ran a hand through his hair, smiling softly. "So I don't get strange looks when I leave the room."
Cupping his face in her hands, Bluebell kissed him again, pressing herself closer to the boy.
Fran pulled away after a while, a bit breathless. His face was a few centimeters away from hers, and feeling Bluebell's breath ghost across his skin only sent shivers through his body.
"B-bluebell... ease up down there, please?" He gestured to how close her hips were pressed to his.
Wrapping her arms around the boy’s neck, Bluebell breathed into the space between his neck and his shoulder and closed her eyes tightly, feeling more tears spilling from her eyes. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t have faith in you—!”
Fran silenced her words as he pulled her chin up and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Shh, Bluebell! I forgive you... And I'm sorry, too. For disappearing without notice for so long..."
Fran’s voice cracked and Bluebell realised that she couldn’t fight back some of her tears anymore. He was feeling guilty because she had blamed him without knowing what happened first. She was a horrible girlfriend.
With that in mind, the girl knocked on the door and opened it gently, careful not to hit Fran in the face. She looked at him for a few seconds, disregarding his almost naked state, and flung herself into his arms.
Fran let out a startled noise at the sudden action, before wrapping his arms around Bluebell's waist. He missed this. He missed it completely. He pulled her closer, completely forgetting the fact that he was naked -- and that the towel was threatening to slid off his nonexistent hips -- and pressed a kiss into her temple. At this point, Fran didn't care about the tears that stained his reddened cheeks, as long as he felt the warmth from Bluebell's body.
She tapped one finger twice against the wood and bit her bottom lip. “Where were you, Fran? I thought… I thought…,” Bluebell took a deep breath, eyes watering. “I thought you got tired of me.”
Fran hesitated. He could feel guilt choking him. "Bluebell... you," his voice cracked, "should know I would never..." He sighed and tapped back.
"There's no excuses, though. But it wasn't because of you..." In fact, you were the only thought that kept me going, he thought as he bit back the tears.
Instead of scolding the young man, Bluebell smiled softly and rested her forehead against the door with a small thud. She hadn’t realised just how much she had missed his antics.
Hearing the small thud on the door, Fran walked up to the door and repeated Bluebell's actions. Smiling softly.
"You know... I missed you. A lot." Fran whispered, as he tried to fight back a blush he knew his voice would expose.
Bluebell returned to the room as silent as she left, a bundle of clothes cradled in her arms. She placed them on the bed and realised that she couldn’t hear the shower anymore, so Fran was probably already done with it. Hesitantly, the girl took a few steps towards the door and knocked.
“I’m going to the kitchen to get some food. The clothes are on the bed, nyu.”
"You're welcome to join me in here, y'know.~" Fran teased through the door, "I'm only completely naked."
Fran, although Bluebell wouldn't be able to see, shook his hips as he wrapped a towel around his waist.
She had so many questions, and wanted to hug him so badly; but the boy was probably hurt and exhausted and Bluebell hoped he had one hell of an explanation for that.
“You can use my shower. I’ll bring you some clothes,” she whispered, hands leaving Fran’s arms. She didn’t dare to lift her eyes to his, though.
Yep. Bluebell was totally mad at him. Fran's shoulders dropped as he watched her walk away then went into the bathroom. He laughed at how organize Bluebell's bathroom was and looked at all the stuff she had in it. Her ribbons all bundled together in a massive collection, unused bottles she probably got daily from her fans or family, cute accessories lining the counters and even some make-up cases. It totally fit Byakuran's 'princess' image of Bluebell. Though the boy didn't dare to go through her drawers. Privacy for women is a BIG thing, he assumed.
It wasn't until he saw his reflection in the oversized mirror that his jaw dropped. He looked horrible. Groaning into his hands, Fran turned on the water and splashed it into his face to hopefully wash off both the wet and dried blood. The next thing he did was started stripping to the black tank-top that he wore under his turtleneck, and his boxers-- That is, after making sure the bathroom door was closed.
Bluebell went silent at that. Fran had twigs in his hair, blood on his face, and he was still trying his best to make her feel… well, loved. She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
"Alright..." Fran tried not to let the disappointment in his voice show. He was hoping for a kiss on the cheek (at least) for their reunion, but maybe Bluebell was still angry with him. He had no excuses, really. So trying to explain why he disappeared would have been entirely pointless. Considering he didn't know what happened, either-- Well, at least the second time was a mystery.
Or it was due to the fact that he probably wasn't that attractive to look at. Hopefully it was the former.
Bluebell yelped and cursed under her breath when she spotted Fran outside her window. Opening it, she glared at the boy and then blinked at his disheveled appearance.
“A-are you insane, nyu?! What are you doing?”
It was a surprise that the boy managed to climb the wall without attracting the guards’ attention, though. They must have spotted him. Bluebell sighed and tried to hide a blush as she helped the young man inside.
They probably knew about them.
Fran gave her a questioning look. Was he insane? Clearly he was, given his profession and his appearance.
The boy's smile only widened as he felt Bluebell's hands grab at him and tug him inside. He must have looked like he was beaten, because Bluebell's expression went from frustration to worry in a matter of seconds.
"'What am I doing?' Isn't it obvious?" Fran coughed out at the girl, as he felt blood from his nose tickle down the back of his throat, "I came to see you."
His next text message made the girl gasp out loud, and for a few seconds she forgot about her anger and stumbled to her bathroom to change and wash her face. It didn’t take too long, so she spent the rest of the time pacing around the room and thinking about what excuses the boy would offer to her and how she’d find a way to punch him in the face (and if he was sincere enough, she might kiss the bruise later).
Right as Fran managed to make it to the front of the mansion, he tripped on a crack in the ground and fell face-first into the cement. Looking down at the ground, he realized that he had a bloody nose. After wiping the blood from his nose and cursing under his breath, he tried to hide the pain from his face and failed horribly. He was too excited to concentrate on making himself look good for Bluebell. The boy just wanted to see her more than anything, EVEN his well being.
Getting back on his feet, he jumped up and over the wall that surrounded the mansion. Though with Fran's luck, he landed with bad footing and ended up falling into the bushes that lined the walls. He cursed again as he stood and brushed himself off. Not minding the twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair.
He managed to make it to the front door, before he realized: He still didn't know how to get to Bluebell's room from the maze-like hallways. So, he settled for window climbing and wall scaling. Running back out the front door, he ran around the side of the mansion until he saw the window that lead to Bluebell's room (if the curtains were anything to go by), and scaled the wall. He looked through the window and spotted Bluebell pacing around her room, deep in thought.
He tapped on the window, with a shy smile on his face to mask his racing heartbeat.
Smoothing a hand over her new braid (who knew that Spanner would be so good at this?), Bluebell let her finger get tangled in the bow and sighed. Both furious and worried, it was hard to think about what Spanner said that afternoon, but the girl wanted to believe him; wanted to trust Fran.
But the girl wasn’t a very patient person, and she rarely dealt with this kind of heartbreak. Turning in her bed on her stomach, she noticed a low sound coming from her phone. A text message?
Where are you?
With shaky fingers, Bluebell typed in an answer and held her breath.
…home.
Feeling his phone vibrate lightly in his palm, Fran resisted the urge to smile as he looked over the name. Of course it was Bluebell-- If it had been anyone else, Fran was sure they'd regret texting him at this important moment. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, as he tried his hardest to remain expressionless while he texted back.
Be right there.
Fran was a little ways off from Bluebell's home, and if he ran, he would probably be there in a few minutes. Giving into his anticipation, Fran shoved his phone into his pocket after the message sent, and darted towards the mansion. He wasn't about to care what people thought as he sped past them, or what Bluebell would think when she saw him breathless. He would probably use some corner pick-up lines, like "You leave me breathless." if she asked.
The fact that he was about to see Bluebell soon-- despite the fact that she might kill him -- was more than enough motivation for him.
A light from the hole in the ceiling beat at Fran's closed eyes as they forced him back into consciousness. Groaning quietly as he lifted himself on his elbows, he looked around and found himself in an abandoned warehouse with no living being in sight.
Shrugging off the gut feeling, Fran pulled his cellphone from his pocket (shocked to see he still had it where he last left it) to a billion-n-two text messages and phone calls from a worried reptile. He knew he was dead. Bluebell was going to kill him. Fry him up and serve him to the entire mafia, who, might I add, would be more than happy to eat him up for hurting their favourite Millefiore.
Going through the messages on his phone, dread quickly took over his entire being, as he groaned again. He was going to die. He totally was going to die. Fran was a dead man. Killed a hundred times over by the entire mafia. Oh boy.
Slowly gliding his thumbs over the keys, he sent Bluebell a quick message: "Where are you?"
The amphibian boy ducked through the endless back roads of the city, hoping he could make it to Bluebell's place without being spotted by anyone. Having no memories of how he ended up in that old abandoned warehouse, or anything prior, Fran was sure that he was knocked out and kidnapped. Again. This was totally going to become a thing, wasn't it?
Though finding out who did this to him was not on his priorities list. He had to go explain to his (probaboly furious) girlfriend about two-- maybe three -- of his disappearances. He was certain that she wasn't going to let him speak, until she took her frustration out on him, beating him to a bloody pulp. He wouldn't mind, though. He was the worst boyfriend in existence.
Every few minutes he would check his phone to see if Bluebell replied. Fran feared the worst. What if Bluebell found someone new-- No. Bluebell wasn't like that, and Fran wasn't going to think of those things. He had to trust his girlfriend, and believe in her.
The boy exhale sharply as he stepped out of the building where he was previously occupying. For quite some time, he was dead-set on avoiding civilization. Unsure of how to take in the chances as he was away, Fran looked around at his surroundings. He proceeded to leave the Hotel and walk further into the city.
How long has it been since he set foot outside? For days he relied on Room Service to supply him with his needs, but there was no reason for him to hide anymore. Sighing, he shrugged off the feeling in his gut, and began his exploration of the always-changing city.
The boy struggled against the bindings, after being abducted by an unknown force (a.k.a. the typist). Whoever kidnapped him made sure that he lips were sealed with military duct tape, and that his arms and legs were tied by old rope that was then soaked in water. Making it even harder to escape. The ropes were tight enough to tear away at the skin on his wrists and ankles.
Being abducted at the break of dawn, the poor boy was still in his pajamas. A black tank that made his skin look paler, and his green frog-print boxers. And fortunately, his obnoxious frog hat was still M.I.A.!
The boy sat on the cold ground in a hidden ally, just waiting for someone to come by and save him. Mumbling through the tape, with tears in his eyes, the boy cursed and hoped someone came by quickly. Someone, say... specific.
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Fran couldn't help but laugh at Bluebell's actions. Be pushed over, then climbed on. And all for a bra! There wasn't any sexual tension at this point, but just Fran laughing at how cute Bluebell was being. He could feel Bluebell's weight shift on him, and he figures she was going to retrieve her bra.
"Okay, okay! I'll look away so you can put it back on. I won't do anything else, I promise!" Fran placed his hand over Bluebell's in an act to cover his eyes. "It's still a cute bra, though. Just wish I could see it on you."
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"Ehhh? You mean you won't let me see, of all people?" He playfully frowned.
Shrugging it off, Fran finally freed his wrists from her grip and yanked the bra off of her arms, and then pulled the bra out from under her shirt. He raised it in the air, leaning back to avoid any of Bluebell's swipes. "Ehh, this is a really cute bra! I'd like to see it on you next time."
"Better be careful, or your shirt might come off. Though if you ask me, I hope it does. Here! Let me help--" Fran threw the bra behind him, and then grabbed the bottoms of her shirts, and started lifting it. It was obvious that the frog had crossed the line.
