You gently ran your fingers through Francis’ soft blond locks, a smile pulling at your lips when you heard the Frenchman’s content sighs that came with your soothing touch.
At the moment you found yourself in Francis’ house, seated casually on the couch while Francis sat on the floor directly in front of you with his back turned. His head rested comfortably between your legs, a clear invitation that Francis wanted his hair to be played with – after all, it was something he enjoyed quite thoroughly, especially when it was you doing it.
“Je t’aime, _____.” His words were a mere whisper, just barely breaking the silence as he leaned against your touch. “I love you.”
Those words alone were enough to make heat rise to your cheeks, and focusing your gaze on your fingers, you gulped before trying to reply without stuttering. “…I love you too, Francis.”
Words didn’t seem to be enough for the Frenchman as Franc