You Can Be My Simba

“So what’s the deal with us then?” I finally asked, most of my face hidden behind my bed covers. Through my crying I had managed to walk back to my house and beg France to stay over.

“We’re like some teenage drama” France replied, fluffing up his pillows before placing them back on the mattress that I had pulled out from under my bed for him to sleep on.

“I’m sorry” I mumbled, pulling the covers further up my face

“For what now?”

“Breaking up with you” my voice was quieter now, and I was surprised France had even heard me, but by the swift movement of his head he made towards me showed he heard me well enough. He stared at me as I kept my covers up over my face, only giving me room to see.

“Don’t remind me” he mumbled, breaking our gaze and crawling under his own covers. I sighed and pulled the covers from my face. He was clearly angry with me and I wasn’t surprised. I had hurt him and myself, all because I was being selfish. Gathering up some confidence, I climbed out of my bed and walked the few steps towards the mattress. I didn’t realise how cold it was and I was now shivering in my boxers as I knelt down so I could see Francis’ face.

“She doesn't have to know. Nobody has to know” I whispered into France’s ear. I watched him shift to face me before he replied

“Well, of course they do. Everyone thinks you're dead.” I smiled. It wasn’t the response I was expecting; this one was amazing, this was a respond I would understand.

“They do?” I replied. France sat up then and smiled at my crouched figure.

“Yeah. Scar told us about the stampede” and with that he engulfed me in a tight embrace, I hugged back even though I was in an uncomfortable position, I was just happy he wasn’t angry with me. I eventually pulled back, disconnecting our hug and sat crossed-legged in front of him

“Did we just recite the Lion King again?” I asked, a smile still present on my lips.

“Yeah” France replied, trying hard not to laugh. He failed as we both began to laugh. Eventually we calmed down and just stared at one another, not knowing what to do. France was the first to make a move as he reached over and gently caressed my reddening cheek; he moved his hand and put it around my neck pulling me to him. My heart began beating faster and faster until I could feel it through my whole body. I leaned in connecting our lips... such an embraced kiss...It was so passionate that I ached for more, I added more pressure into the kiss as I moved onto my knees, making the kiss feel more pleasurable. With the heat of our mouths together moving so slowly, little by little, bit by bit, I realised how much I was going to miss him. With that thought in mind I leaned in more, our lips began to move firmer, faster, expeditious, harder and deeper, I felt his teeth gnaw my lips as I did to him. I began to feel faint... the only thing keeping me up was his arms locked around me. I pulled away in the end, having the need for breath.

“I forgive you” France said, his lips swollen from the kiss. I smiled at his words and fell into him, so my head was leaning comfortably on his chest.

“Can we go back out?” I questioned, my lips smiling harder once I felt France nod his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Casper” a voice called. I ignored it. “Casper, wake up” the voice called again, I sighed in annoyance and peeled open my eyes. France was kneeled in front of me; his hands placed on my bare chest where he had shook me awake.

“What” I groaned, noticing it was still dark out.

“I’m really hungry” he replied. I furrowed my eyebrows and moaned, making it clear I was not happy with France’s excuse for waking me.

“Go get something then” I turned away from him, pulling the covers tighter around me

“But I’m scared”

“No” was all I managed before having my warm covers ripped from me, I shot up from the cold that hit my body and turned to face the idiot who woke me. “I hate you” I croaked

“Food” I kept my frown on my face as I climbed out of bed, grabbing a cardigan from my chair and heading towards the door.

“Come on then you bastard” I mumbled, turning my head to face France. He smiled at my words and skipped past me down the stairs. I yawned as I crossed my arms over my bare chest and headed into the kitchen. I hissed as the cold tile floor came In contact with my feet and ran over to the table to take a seat.

“Poptart?” France asked, opening the last packet of chocolatey goodness, I nodded my head and gave a small shiver. “Is somebody cold?” France added in a baby voice. I glared at the boy standing in front of me and tapped my feet on the cold floor,

“Of course I’m fucking cold, you woke me up to eat and I’m in my boxers and a cardigan” I whispered back, my eyes set firmly on his face.

“Aww, but you look good” France replied, laughing at me as I gave him the finger, I watched as he brought me the poptart and took a seat in the chair opposite me.

“So” France spoke. A smile still on his lips as he watched me pick at my food

“Be quiet” I replied. He laughed at my response, finding my mood to be entertaining. I closed my eyes while he laughed, trying to keep my anger at bay.

“Ahh, this is why I love you” he commented. All of a sudden my anger washed away at those few simple words, I looked up from my food, forgetting how tired I was and smiled

“I love you too Nala” I replied.