A/N - Just a lil Valentine's Day story! I got the idea when my English teacher showed my class the Google commercial titled "Parisian Love"! I hope everyone has a fantastic week!

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There was something about the start of the new day that made Alfred recall his first morning in Paris, France.

He'd woken up that morning, chilly air sweeping across his small bedroom and warm sunlight filtering through the thin curtains, with no regrets. No, this summer in France, he'd thought, was going to bring an adventure.

Something about this morning, wrapping him up in chilled breezes and warm light, told him that this adventure would start today.

Something about this morning had him thinking about a new café, where he could enjoy a breakfast item that he had yet to learn the name of.

Something about this morning had him tuck his notebooks and his pencils into a bag after he was done getting ready for the day, and then he was off.

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Alfred walked the distance from his apartment to an appealing café he'd discovered. He sat down at an empty black table, the chair steady on the square of patio that bordered either side of the entrance to the small, cream brick building.

For several minutes, he gazed at the menu, before a waiter with his blonde hair tied back was at his side and writing down his order. Alfred spoke his French hesitantly, though it was something that his waiter smiled sympathetically at.

Alfred enjoyed his breakfast almost carefully, going from eating to drinking to writing.

He remained writing peacefully after breakfast at the cafe, occasionally sipping from his peach beverage.

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Alfred noticed the girl's glances halfway through breakfast, though made no note of it, yet now as he wrote, he found himself glancing back at her every now and then too.

Taking a sip of his drink, he went back to writing. After several minutes, he glanced over to the other square of patio to the girl.

She was reading a hardcover book, thin and beige with a black binding. The title was scripted out in gold, engraved along the spine, though Alfred couldn't make out what it said.

The girl, however, she was tan and she had dark hair that trickled in ringlets and curls down her back, though several locks were tied in the back with a baby pink ribbon. The bodice of her dress was white, and her flowing skirt was only slightly darker than her ribbon. Every time they caught each other's glances, Alfred found himself captivated with her crisp golden eyes.

She looked up over the edge of her book, finding Alfred looking at her. Momentarily, she foolishly hid back behind the book, but Alfred noticed her blushing cheeks and how the corners of her lips turned upward.

For the several seconds that the mixture of excitement and embarrassment sparkled in her fiery eyes, Alfred was dumbfounded as she began to look amused. He tipped his head to the side slightly.

The girl bookmarked her page with a pressed flower, before reaching into the bag that rested at her high-heeled feet. She placed a large sketchbook on the table, tearing out a clean sheet. She scribbled something down before folding the sheet of paper into a paper airplane. After several moments of hoping no one would cross her path, she let the airplane fly the distance to settle on Alfred's table.

Startled, he glanced from the airplane to the girl. She grinned crookedly and made an action of dabbing her chin with a napkin. Quickly, Alfred cleaned away the thin layer of foam he didn't know had been on his lip.

The girl looked pleased when he looked up again, and she mimicked opening the paper airplane.

It was Alfred's turn to blush, having read her message.

You are very cute.

So was the start of Alfred's adventure.

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Chiara giggled in delight at their new, dizzying view. It sounded magical and crisp, smooth and twirling like flower petals or leaves caught in the wind. Her giggles left Alfred feeling numb but happy.

It had been a week since meeting Chiara Vargas, having introduced each other when going to leave the café. He was delighted to know she spoke English, even if a bit rusty, it was someone he could understand.

Alfred had asked her if she would like to meet up again some time, and they decided on the Eiffel Tower. Now they stood together.

"So why are you visiting France?" Chiara asked curiously, voice delicate with an accent Alfred had yet to name. She was leaning on the railing. The wind captured her curls and they fell down the side of her neck, draping over her shoulder. Her floral skirt rustled.

Altogether, it reminded Alfred that he was terribly in love with her.

"I decided to go abroad for college, during the summer. You?"

"Vacation. What are you in college for?"

"Writing. Creative writing, really."

Chiara's eyes lit up, and she was absolutely dazzling. "You write stories?!"

Alfred laughed a bit. "I try."

"Could you tell me a story?" she continued hopefully, and Alfred grinned.

He cleared his throat. "You're like an… autumn fairy." he began.

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Several more weeks had passed since, and Alfred found himself wondering where he could take Chiara on their first date.

Alfred sat at his desk in his bedroom, scribbling down his possibilities and crossing out his possibilities. Nothing seemed fitting for an autumn fairy like Chiara.

But she would be coming by his apartment any minute, and he wanted only the best.

Alfred jumped at the delicate knocking on the door, his pen flung to some lost corner of the room. He swore under his breath, shoving the notepad into the drawer should Chiara somehow see it.

"So," Chiara chirped when he opened the door. "where are we going?"

Looked like his first date would consist of treats and movies.

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"You know we don't have to do anything special." Chiara murmured. Her bare shoulder bumped against his as they walked across the cobblestone bridge, water rippling beneath them. The sun was setting in shades of pink and orange, turning everything rosie. Half of the sky looked like an inkspill. The tinged water fell apart like a breaking puzzle in waves.

One of the small corner shops bathed the streets in gold light, and Alfred noticed how Chiara looked at it longingly as they walked passed it. A chocolate shop. Something told Alfred that she favored this one. Before the shop could be lost behind them completely, Alfred took Chiara's small hand in his, and guided her inside.

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They watched an old movie, Fahrenheit 451, and Chiara fell asleep on the couch with her head on Alfred's shoulder.

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Alfred couldn't believe he had honestly just looked into finding advice for a partially broken heart while sitting on the hallway floor of his apartment in New York with tears running down his face.

It had been months, and he was suffering.

How had their summer gone so fast? How did the first day in Paris become the last day in Paris, in which he also watched Chiara leave for her home in Italy?

Chiara had said they'd be alright, everything would be okay, but he had just talked on the phone with her that morning and she sounded just as broken.

It was nothing like Paris was. He wanted Paris. No, they could leave that summer in Paris behind. He wanted Rome - he wanted an adventure.

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His attempts were useless.

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Chiara was there to greet him in the airport. Rome was busy - it was kind of crazy. They accepted each other with open arms.

Alfred twirled her

and he got down

on one knee.

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Something told Alfred that this was the start of another adventure. Chiara had her hair tied back with a baby pink ribbon.

Their kiss was like Paris.

…

…

…

…

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