"Why Don't You Call Me Yet?"


Going into town on a cold and busy day

With a brand new jacket on, you ran and did not come home to me

And I don't know where you said you went off to

I don't know where to begin; I have no hope of finding you


A busy, yet, freezing day it was. Cold snow fell from the sky, as they drop on roofs, and gather, making a thick, white sheets of it cover the whole city. People were busy, crowded in all places. French toasts, French bread, and French people filling each corner. Yes, this is France.

Yvelissa, the personification of the Republic of the Philippines, wearing thick clothing, to protect herself from the cold, was having a date with her boyfriend, Francis, the personification of France.

It's weird on how they fell in love and made a relationship. It is quite out of character for Francis, but, not with Yvelissa. Even so, he was Yvelissa's very first boyfriend – Oh, about Alfred, it was just one date, no relationship continued. So, she was still nervous, especially having him as her boyfriend. Francis dated men, women, as long as they were, as he describes, "beautiful". So, this means, Yvelissa does not trust Francis fully, but she tries her best to.

As they wander around the cold streets of France, Francis, who was wearing a new violet jacket that was given by his lady, excused himself from her, politely: "Excuse me, mon amour, I will just go for a while." He said, with his difficult-to-understand French accent.

"Ah, okay, sure." Yvelissa nodded, completely understanding his thick accent – she got used to it. Before he left, he grinned, giving her his thanks. Then, she just watched her love one run away from her. She sighs.

Four minutes passed, and her lover still was not here. She is now sitting on a nearby bench, tired from standing. She was worried, anxious, nervous – probably other more synonyms for those words. She decided to wait for his call; if ever he'll be late, or whatever. No call, no ring, no message, she felt nothing in her pocket.

She began to doubt. Oh, she hates doubting. She tries her very best to avoid it, and think of happy thoughts. But, no matter what, it is still there.

She began to wonder where he went, and why so long. If it was a bathroom break, he would have gone for only a minute. If he only bought something, three minutes probably. She wonders on why she did not ask on where he went. If she knew, she has no reason to worry then. If ten minutes already pasts, she would begin looking for him. But, she doesn't know where to start; where to begin. She doubted she could find him; she doesn't know where he is. Where are you, Francis?


"You should know that I do really love you."

That's what you said, that's what you said

I want to believe you, but it's hard to do

Will I find relief if I choose not to believe?


Suddenly, one of Francis' special words crossed her mind: "You should know that I really love you, mon amour," with sincere eyes, and a sincere smile.

She closed her eyes as she thought of those words deeply. Then, her eyes opened, when a feeling that she dreads passed by. Doubt. Oh, mother of Sampaguitas! She saw with her own open eyes, heard with her clear hearing, those sincere words, with honest eyes and a truthful smile. Why wouldn't it be true? It was true. It is true . . . isn't it? She wants to believe it, but she cannot. It was so difficult.

Then, her eyes became serious as she looked on the cement sidewalk, would she feel relief if she accepted that she couldn't believe him? That she doesn't trust him? Would she?

This is so hard.


I want to see you; don't you want to see me?

You know that I've been waiting all this time just for your call

I'm afraid you won't stop to remember me

That's why I cannot bring myself to send the call


She wants to see him, with those honest eyes and trustful smile. Or just with that mischievous face. She would be happy to see that. In fact, she wouldn't stop smiling to see that.

To avoid these thoughts, she remembered her cellphone. She grabbed it from her pocket and opened it. No message; no call. Nothing. She was waiting for it; she is waiting for it. She was waiting for him; his call; his message; whatever things that'll come from him. She stared at her cellphone. She went to her contacts and looked for his number. She presses it, and stares at the information: the name, & the number. She wanted to call him; but, she might think that she might disturb him. It might embarrass him.

Maybe he left, to go home, and forgot about her...

What, wait! No. He would never do that; never.

...Will he?

Why must this be so complex?


Then you came around and you stood in front of me

Said "I'm sorry that I'm late, I'm sorry that I made you have to wait."

But you know that I won't forgive this refrain

'Cause I know how this thing goes, I know you will be late again.


She sighs, simply closes her phone and places it back in her pocket. She stared at the cement sidewalk, thinking of her love one; where could he be?

Then, she saw a familiar shadow. She blinked in surprise and glanced to it. She followed where the shadow came from and there, she saw her love one. She smiled; delighted to see him.

He chuckles, "I'm so sorry I took so long; I'm sorry I made you wait for me," He apologized. She did not see the sincere eyes nor the honest smile. She frowned. Was he lying?

She blinked and ignored the thought. She decides to express what she feels, but, in a childish way, so it won't offend him. Because, she knows he will do it again – but, so she thought. She turned her head, with a loud 'humph!' her cheeks puffed, cutely.

Francis blinked at his lover's action, "Are you mad at me, mon amour?" He asked, his eyebrow rising.

She stays in her position; glancing at him once in a while, letting out another loud 'humph'. She saw her lover smirk mischievously. She smiled mentally.

"Ah, so you are." He said, in his accent. He sat next to her and hugged her from behind, "I already said sorry, did I not? Please forgive me, mon amour, I will gift you with my love tonight as an exchange for this inappropriate act I have done." He said, softly to her ear.

She blushed at the thought and ended up hitting him on the head for such a dirty idea. But, she forgave him about it anyway; not fully though.

The date ended with a kiss – though, I won't be specific on what kind of kiss –coughFrenchcough. But, Yvelissa was still bothered. What shall she do?


The next day came, yesterday night, Francis did what he promised, though, he was late, for some reason he did not say. Before did he leave the next day – which is today – he promised, once again, to his lover that he will call her later, afternoon, and come back to her before the sun sets; and left with a kiss on her forehead.

She sat there on her bed, her white blanket covering her body. She thought about what happened last night:

After what they did, she didn't realize that she was staring at air, due to deep thinking. Francis noticed this and smiled, bringing her back to reality. Seeing that truthful smile with that honest eyes stopped her from worrying.

She sighed, and just jumped off her bed to wear some clothing.


I want to see you; don't you want to see me?

You know that I've been waiting all this time just for your call

If you no longer have feelings left for me

I wish you'd tell me why if you recall


That afternoon, she waited for his call as she sat beside her fixed bed, while her phone lies there, in front of her; only a few inches away. She waited for him. She always checks her phone. No message; no call . . . again. She sighs. This was probably the hundredth time of her to check her phone. She was excited to see him. She was excited to hear his voice with that accent which she admires.

She waits, and waits. No call has come yet. She frowned as she stared at her phone. Why hasn't he called? It was already quarter to five in the afternoon. Before the sun sets? The sun sets at six, if I'm not mistaken.

Doubt once again crosses her mind. Oh, how she dreads this. She tried thinking happy thoughts, but, none worked. Though, she knows the reason because of all this doubting. It was because, as I have said before, she doesn't trust France fully. She tried to, but failed. Oh, what must she do to take the doubt away and just honestly say that she trusts her lover with all her heart?

...Maybe, he no longer has any feelings for her. Could that be? Oh, if so, she must know why. She wants to know why. She needs to know why.

Could that happen anyway? Is it happening already? Or will it happen?

She closes her eyes; wishing to forget this doubt.


But maybe

It's 'cause I don't know how to speak my mind?

Or because I'm too restless and loud?

Or maybe my language is too unrefined?

I get jealous and too damn proud

I don't act maturely enough

I know that I'm not tall enough

Maybe my body's not sexy enough?

Or maybe my hair color's not good enough?

Or maybe 'cause I lack a sense of self-control?

Please... whatever it is... I'll change, I promise!


Oh, but this just made more disbeliefs come. Her eyes suddenly opened wide, why is he always late? Why doesn't he call? Why?

Was it because she doesn't talk openly?

Was it because she can sometimes be too loud?

Was it because of her language when she's mad?

Was it because she gets jealous easily and gets too proud?

Was it because she doesn't act maturely?

Was it because she wasn't tall enough?

Was it because she wasn't sexy enough?

Was it because her hair color isn't good enough?

Was it because she doesn't know how to control herself?

Oh, but whatever it may be, she will change; she will change for his sake.

I promise! She screams mentally, as tears suddenly burst out of her eyes; she can no longer handle the pain; the doubts; the changes happening to her.

She will do it all just for him.


I want to see you; don't you want to see me?

You know that I've been waiting all this time just for your call

I'm afraid you won't stop to remember me

That's why I cannot bring myself to send the call


She wants to see him; to hear him; to feel him; to touch him. She needs him. Does he want to see her back? Does he want to hear her too? Does he want to feel her also? Does he want to touch her as well? Does he need her as much as she needs him?

She waited for his call; his message; his visit. But, why has he not call? Why has he not texted? Why has he not come?

Doubts came more and more as she cries, her hands gripping tightly on her blanket. She fears to call him; thinking that she might be a disturbance, that she will embarrass him, that she might distract him, that she is over worrying, overacting, or whatever more.

Francis, why don't you call me yet?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

She heard her phone rang continuously.

She immediately stopped crying and wiped her tears. Blew her nose, and threw her fears.

She grabs the phone and answers it immediately, "Hello?"

A smile grew on her face.


Based on the song, "Why Don't You Call Me Yet?" by Rin Kagamine.


A/N: Yes, a France x Philippines songfic. I'm a fan of that, really. I don't know why, I just am.

So, yeah, Yvelissa is my Philippines-OC's name. It was hers before I made it my username.

Anyway, I did this a long time ago (that's why it sucks slightly) and thought I should post it here. Edited it a little bit too.

FOR THOSE FRANCExPHIL FANS! (Am I the only one? D:)

I don't own everything, except for the story and my OC, Philippines, Yvelissa. (: