my
baby
is kinda sad
❥ stop being so fucking upset
kinda connected to my "love is stupid" story
o
Arthur notices him- everyday, 24/7, from the way he's always so fashionably late, with such lively hair and vibrant clothing, to the little flirtatious wink he sends- it's as if he's trying to cover up his sad dull eyes. They were such a pretty color, a shade of lavender sprigs and royal robes, but they looked so lost. Maybe it was because France was always in his own little wonderland- Arthur wondered, was he in that wonderland too?- where Mattie still thought of him as a papa, where everybody still loved him, when the nations talked more and weren't so tired and bored of their never ending lives.
Francis notices him- everyday, 24/7, from his mini permanent scowl that was so utterly gorgeous to him it made him want to slap himself in embarrassment, to the exact way he sipped his Earl Grey tea, his slim fingers curled elegantly- it's as if he's trying to cover up the fact that he has also succumbed to the melancholic feeling of immortality. He notices the way he tries to speak to the others- Italy was always crying about how horrible it was to live so long, Germany went silent, and Alfred always gave a small smile. Perhaps the meetings were less annoying, but it hurt both their hearts more than words could ever describe.
"I love you."
The mirror doesn't respond. Of course not- but France can see the way his reflection curls fingers around his neck, choking and choking and strangling with all his strength, as tears stream down his eyes as he screams, "Why won't you die? Why are you still alive? Die! Oh, God, if you're out there, please- mercy on our souls…"
He's not insane.
Maybe, if the mirror couldn't reciprocate 'I love you' (Francis doesn't really love himself anymore- but he's trying. He won't become like them. He won't. Trust me.), maybe Arthur would? Infinity more years ahead, and it's just three little words. What was the worst that could happen?
So, he goes up to Arthur- he's so upset that France wishes he could make up for all their years of fighting, somehow show him all the love he held in his heart- but that would be lying.
Would it?
"I love you."
Arthur doesn't respond.
Arthur doesn't respond.
Arthur doesn't-
"Lying frog," Arthur snorts, giving a small smile- Francis lights up at this, although he was hurt, it was much more satisfying to see him finally smile again- "stupid, stupid bloody fucker. Piece of absolute shit-" the insults, Francis craves for them, sews them into his ichor-leaking blood vessels, until his body cries with misery and pain, but oh, hearing them reminds him of the good old days.
"No, Arthur, I really love you." He states firmly, using the most serious voice he could muster, although it was quiet. I suppose all those years crying makes your voice go away a bit.
There is only silence between them, and Francis is crushed to the useless dirt he was before- he's fucked up, hasn't he? He just wanted to make Arthur smile a bit, wanted them both to laugh a tad more, to make life more bearable- but he never meant for this to happen. Silence hurt more than insults, because you were also scared. You aren't so much angry as you are frightened by silence.
"I'm sorry."
There is nothing to be sorry for, my dear Arthur, I just needed you to know I love you- love, not loved- for I am living to no end, and my passionate heart only belongs to you.