Dull, clouded, rays of sunlight just beginning to peek out from the clouds of the early morning rushed and drifted through the small window of the apartment kitchen, bringing some light to the Frenchman's work as he smiled to himself, his hands making wonders that filled the room, though remembered to be quiet enough so the female that lay in the bedroom down the hall would not hear him.
The soft hum of a kettle over a burner, just barely starting to steam filled the small kitchen, while the gentle rustle of turning pages belonging to a hard-bound book was heard every so often.
Still asleep upstairs in the darkened bedroom Francis and _(Name)_ shared, the female lay restlessly in bed, still off dreaming someplace in her mind. Francis had expected no less of her thought, seeing that she could- and she had before- slept in until a good time past two in the afternoon.
He never complained thought, seeing that with the free time of this on his hands, he usually got the morning to himself, and enough time to normally prepare some breakfast for his lover while she was asleep still. Despite how odd it might sound, the blonde sometimes even just lay in bed awake and stared at her, drinking in her beauty, stroking her hair gently or just enjoying the soft sound of her careful, even breathing, watching as she slept peacefully.
Francis was especially glad that she normally slept in today, and hoped she would stay asleep for a while longer, lest his cover be blown. He was taking a break for a moment, seeing the place he wanted to stop by while he went to grab some small groceries for breakfast that morning didn't open until a quarter till nine and it was still only 8:21 at the moment.
With a small cup of coffee beside him, he held his book up to read, a pair of slim, black reading glasses rested on the end of his nose as he flipped the page carefully with his thumb as he delicately grasped his mug of coffee, taking a long sip before setting it back down, letting the taste sink into his taste buds as he continued reading.
Francis was always a true romantic at heart, and of course, how could he not when he had such a beautiful woman and also lived in the heart of France, a city of love. And even for a romantic such as himself, he still loved reading love novels and stories of the such, no matter how sappy some might say they were. They were like fairy tales, but the fine line between that was not there exactly, seeing how Francis tried to be the one to bring those romantic moments to life.
No matter how cheesy some might have believed some love stories he had in his collection of books were, he still read them. Where else was he to do his thinking?
As raised his cup to his lips once more, he paused, glancing over to the small clock on the counter top before taking one last sip of his coffee, sweetened only a bit with creamer so that its original bitter taste would not stain in his mind. Pushing the corner of one of the pages down gently, he closed the book, setting it on the small wooden table within the kitchen before grasping his casual, slightly worn out blazer, pulling it onto his shoulders and over his plain white v-neck that hung over his body.
Heading back down the hallway to the bedroom at the end of the hall, he opened the door as quietly as possible, barely being heard, smiling to himself as he saw _(Name)_ still fast asleep, looking so peaceful, so lovely in her sleep as always.
After shutting the door once more, he strode back down the hardwood hallway, out the apartment door quickly, remembering to lock it behind him before going along his merry way.
The small, convenient shops that lined the street were not too far away, and it gave him enough time in his head to mentally make a list to remind himself of what he was going down there for.
While the blonde Frenchman was a true romantic and lover at heart, also being fond of the subject always, he could never resist _(Name)_. At first he would have thought that he might easily catch her and no later had he attempted at swooping down at his prey, but as time grew on and he had the wonderful opportunity to get to know the girl better, he had realized that maybe he didn't stand a chance. What did he really have to offer? How was he even close to being worthy of holding such a beautiful, prized treasure such as _(Name)_ herself?
In the mist of his doubt, the female he had been after seemed to start falling for the man, even if she might not have wanted to exactly it wasn't long before she had truly fallen for him. And for a while, nothing exactly happened.
Francis hummed gently to himself under his breath, taking in the sweet morning air of Paris, the relaxation and quietness that enveloped him, without the large hustle and bustle of people or cars heading up and down the street. This was luckily one of the more quiet parts of Paris, but also held such secret beauty that not many would notice or even think of really. He was happy that they lived in such a nice place, not to mention the view of the Eiffel Tower they had from their apartment!
It wasn't long before Francis made it to the various small shops lining the street, some just opening, the sweet scent bread and baked goods coming from the bakery across the street. He only hoped in the back of his mind that _(Name)_ would hopefully sleep in today, maybe later than usual, and not notice that he was gone.
Coming up to one of the small, open shops, many different fragrances coming from the flower shop such as lilac while sunflowers and other plants and flowers crowded in a plastic tins, waiting to be bought.
"Ah, Francis!" A young, feminine voice called out, while said male only smiled to the young girl, giving her a simple wave as he stopped to talk to her for a quick moment. She was the only daughter of the owners, only now eleven, but a hard worker who adored the shop and loved taking care of the flowers. Francis was usually quite well-known throughout the city, or at least through this side of Paris anyways, and was a frequent customer sometimes to the small flower shop.
"Bonjour," the blonde greeted her, as he stepped closer to the young girl, currently sweeping around the inside of the store, cleaning up a bit before all the customers were to start coming by.
"You are here to pick up some more flowers, oui?" The girl asked enthusiastically, knowing well that the French male was a lover of roses and was quite always picking some up when there was an occasion, or just when he wanted to present them to _(Name)_ just to remind her of how he loved her.
The blonde nodded, smiling lightly, "But not now, mon ami. I will be back after I pick up a few things though, alright?"
Heading into the quiet store two buildings down, Francis walked in casually, grabbing a basket for himself. There weren't many people, nor workers rushing around at the moment, yet another thing he loved about early mornings such as the peace and tranquility.
Next, after picking up all of the desired ingredients from the store, he carefully made his way over the street to the bakery that had caught the attention of his nose earlier, being met with yet another one of his acquaintances.
"Here you go," the middle-aged male across the counter said as the handed the blonde a crisp baguette wrapped in a thin paper, still warm and fresh. "It's straight out of the oven, just for you!" The man exclaimed as Francis inhaled the scent of the sweet, fresh bread, thanking him while digging a few coins from his pocket to hand to the baker.
"Of course, Francis, have a nice day!"
Francis was finally back home after stopping back at the shop to be greeted once more by the young girl, all ready for him, four beautiful, long-stemmed, red roses wrapped carefully in plastic, held together carefully- perfect. She knew it too, as she had smiled warmly, handing them to him, and waving him off as she dropped the change into her apron pocket.
He was happy to find once he arrived back to the apartment that _(Name)_ was still not up and was hoping he would be given enough time to get everything cooked and ready for her once she did awake from her dreaming wonderland.
Quickly getting started right away, he began with breakfast, taking the groceries and things from the bags he had laid onto the counter, cracking a few eggs into a pan over the hot burner of the stove, humming a tune quietly under his breath.
Next, soon came some tomatoes, fresh and diced, green onions, chopped thinly, pieces of ham that was cut up into small cubes and lastly followed by some grated cheese. Letting it settle and lay in the pan a little longer after flipping it ever so often, he repeated the routine, before continuing with the rest of the work to be done.
The cool, chilled air seemed to only start thinning out, but it was still foggy, a bit gloomy outside, with small signs of frost or snow perhaps to come the next day while Francis worked tediously, making sure everything was perfect. Perfect for her, in high hopes that the French held that _(Name)_ would really like it and appreciate it.
It was the small, but sweet, romantic things that sometimes meant the most, no?
Walking down the hallway, still a bit dozed off, rubbing the remains of sleep from her eyes, _(Name)_ made her way to the kitchen, from the lingering smell of food and the feel of her boyfriend's hand tugging her along gently after carefully waking her up from her sleep, his warm smile and kiss on the cheek waking her from her dreams.
When they finally came to the kitchen, she couldn't help but gape at what Francis had done, surprised and amazed, albeit she knew well he was a true, hopeless romantic. It seemed to never cease to shock and surprise her when he did all the small, kind things for her. And this was no exception.
"Come," the blonde gestured to her, leading her over to one of the wooden chairs at the small, peaceful table that was beside a large window. Two single red roses sat peacefully within a thin, tall glass vase in the centre of the spacious table, filled with two plates, a neat, small basket with even slices of bread inside, whilst two plates held hot, mouthwatering omelets on each of them, still warm and waiting to be eaten up.
_(Name)_ , still in small shock of the small romantic gesture of Francis, glanced up to the said male to meet his cerulean eyes, but instead was met with the sweet embrace of his lips against her own. Blushing lightly as they both pulled away a moment later, she suddenly wondered how she was ever lucky to have met Francis.
He could have had anyone else in the world right now, she figured in her mind, reminding herself how any woman would be silly and a fool not to fall for the French man.
But he had chosen her, but how she still sometimes wonders even today and now even as she sat at the table, set up with a romantic theme by none other than her romantic French lover himself, overlooking the outside world of Paris- it's streets with vendors, artists and people and a beautiful, gorgeous view of the Eiffel Tower.
She felt a little insecure and a bit doubtful of herself with these thoughts, glancing down, examining her clothing silently, though still a blushing mess with embarrassment.
Inspecting her clothing, still straight from bed she noted she was just wearing a pair of thin, black leggings that clung to her calves, a long grey, knitted sweater that hung over her petite figure, hanging slightly off of her shoulder and sleeves that ran down her arms.
She could only imagine the bed-head she must have had at the moment as she reached up slightly to try and fix it the best she could.
Her movements were stopped suddenly though, a soft hand holding her wrist carefully as she once more met her boyfriend's loving, caring blue eyes staring right back at her with kindness and honesty.
"Don't,s'il vous plaît," he spoke gently, pleading her with a warm smile upon his lips as he looked at her, crouched down to her level in the chair she sat in as he pulled her close, into a gentle hug, pressing his lips to her forehead, then littering kisses along her cheeks and the corner of her lips.
"You're beautiful, just the way you are," Francis replied honestly, in that sweet, perfect accent of his that practically rolled out of his mouth wonderfully. His fingers wove through her hair, smiling against her lips as he pulled her back into another wondrous, tantalizing kiss that made her want more almost, now most likely awake.
And she was, whether she believed it or not. He would remind her all the time, every day if he had to, just to show how true his words were. He adored her cute expressions she sometimes made throughout the night, the way she blushed when she was embarrassed by something, her laughter, even the tangled mess in the morning that was sometimes her hair.
He loved it all, he loved her.
And beyond all the apartment walls and glass windows, the Parisian streets began to slowly, one by one fill with crowds and people walking along, buying groceries, stopping to look at a piece of artwork or listen to a street musician. Some continued on their merry way to wherever they were headed to, some stopping to smell the red roses and maybe even buy one, many hypnotized by the sweet smell of a coffee shop or the bakery, emitting such sweet fragrances of sweets, warm drinks, and baked goods being taken out of heated ovens alike.
Francis and _(Name)_ , however, enjoyed it all within the comfort of their shared apartment, watching the world go by as they spent their sweet time together, eating their breakfast peacefully, drinking their coffee mugs to drain them and soon happily helping one another to clean the dishes off, stealing some kisses every so often.
And as for the other two remaining red roses he had bought earlier that morning, along with the two that were situated comfortably in the middle of the dining table?
Francis figured he might just save those two for later tonight, when yet another romantic meal would be shared between the two, hopefully sometime during the evening when Francis would decide to pluck up his courage and ask her to be his forever.
In the meantime, it seemed that for now, a shower and maybe a good book or a movie between the two would be enough to satisfy them both after consuming such a nice romantic breakfast that morning.