[AN: This is my first fic and I'm a bit nervous about posting. This first chapter is more of a prelude really and things will pick up within the next few chapters I promise. I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters.]
"un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept…une semaine..*" Counting each square on his calender, the Frenchman circled the date. One week away… Setting his pen down, Francis leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. Soft footsteps coming up the stairs signaled that the tea was ready. Running his fingers through long blond locks, Francis moved his paperwork to cover the desk calendar as Arthur walked carrying a tray with two full tea cups. The Frenchman smiled up at the Brit and indicated to an empty spot on his desk where Arthur could set the tray down. He had to admit, although Arthur wasn't the best cook, he knew how to brew a good tea. "Merci, mon chér.." Taking his cup off the tray, Francis brought it to his lips and blew gently so not to burn his mouth. The blond set his tea down after taking a sip and picked up his pen again, returning his attention back to his paperwork.
Arthur frowned slightly and took a sip of his own tea as he turned his face to look out the window. Golden rays of sunlight poured down onto the lush garden in the Frenchman's backyard. Paris was simply beautiful in May… Despite the warm weather and cheerful atmosphere outside, Arthur knew that something was bothering the Frenchman. He knew as soon as Francis had said thank you. Normally the old frog would try to pull him into a kiss. Granted half the time Arthur would only pull away or snap at him for doing so.. But it was like this every year. Come end of May beginning of April there always seemed to be something off about the Frenchman. But Arthur could never figure it out. He didn't understand.. With such wonderful weather this time of year how could the old romantic be down?
"Angleterre?.."
Arthur's head turned back to where Francis sat. "Ah.. I'm sorry.. I didn't hear you.. What was that?" Arthur hadn't even realized he'd been spacing out. He knew he was a bit scatterbrained but never this much.
Francis gave a small smile as he began to stand up. "I was just saying that I think I need a bit of air.. I'm going for a walk. I'll take the tray and my cup down." Taking the items as he spoke, Francis turned and left the room before Arthur could even ask if he could go with him. The younger Brit stood in the large office listening to the other's footsteps grow fainter as he walked down the stairs and eventually out the backdoor. Setting his cup down with a sigh, Arthur continued to stare out the window as he watched the other walk slowly through the garden and pause as he reached the roses. Thick brows knitting together in slight frustration, Arthur turned away from the glass and looked down at the papers on Francis' desk. "How far did he get on his work?…" Arthur wondered aloud.
Picking up the papers to examine them, Arthur gave an irritated huff. "Not very far… damn frog." Arthur went to set the papers back in their spot as he rolled his eyes. It was the circled date that made him pause. Quirking a brow, Arthur stared down in confusion at the calendar that had been hidden beneath the paperwork. Emerald orbs stayed locked onto the date that was circled. May 30th. Arthur searched his brain for the significance the day may have. It seemed fo familiar.. He knew something had occurred on that day but he couldn't quite say what it was.. It was like a faint and distant memory… Whatever it was, it seemed to have a large impact on Francis.. And it could possibly be the explanation to his behavior. Arthur set the papers back down and wondered if he should ask Francis later… Maybe not.. He would wait until next month when Francis was in a better mood. But Arthur still could not deny that although the date was important to Francis.. It also seemed so familiar and he knew it had something to do with himself as well..
"Allô.." Francis smiled as he sat down amongst the roses. He sat beside the white roses, the only bush. Red roses surrounded him, their tempting beauty beckoning him with their radiant petals and half closed buds. But it was the white roses that captivated his attention. "It is only one week until that day, ma chère." The Frenchman's lips curled into a sad almost forced smile as he reached out and lightly stroked the soft white petals that shone with dew in the morning sunlight. "Je suis dèsolè*, I have not come out and watered you in a while.. You must have been feeling very hot out here in the sun.. almost burning-…" Francis cut himself off and frowned. "Pardonnez-moi*…I will bring you some water…"
[Translations: *"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.. One week"
Angletrre= England
*I'm sorry
*Forgive me]
[AN: I'd love some feedback on this and whether or not I should continue with it. If you know what happened May 30th don't spoil it for other readers _;;; Although I'm sure it should be fairly obvious or easy to figure out from the description. I have tons of ideas for this story and rating will definitely change as it goes along]