#belgianpiracy

20 years later.

The streets of Paris were crowded and busy on Monday, especially when everyone finished work at 2 in the afternoon. Without his own car, Francis was cursed to run to the closest metro station before it started raining (they haven’t had snow in a long time).

He descended down the Avern’s station stairs and was about to have his ticket checked when he bumped into a man, his suitcase falling from his hand and hitting the floor where it opened to leave his papers scattered on the tile.

Cursing, Francis bent down to pick his papers, but his hand met another’s. He looked up with annoyance in his eyes only to stare into beautiful green eyes, belonging to the man.They were…so familiar.

"…Nicolas?" he almost whispered, not being able to believe that fate planned this encounter.

"No way. Francis? But I thought—" the other man began stuttering, averting his eyes before he could continue. Francis only nudged him in the shoulder.

"Thought what, hm?"

"That you were a girl.”

Oh.