"Oh, Angleterre…"
The Frenchman grabbed Arthur's chin and turned it towards him. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, mon cher. Really."
"Get away from me, you git!" Arthur pushed Francis away from him and took a step back. "Y-You weren't the one who caused all this! I-It was me, alright?!"
Francis stopped, his eyes widening. "But...mon Angleterre...I thought we had agreed it was my fault." He brushed his shoulder-length blond hair out of his eyes. "I do not want you to feel hurt. I would rather accept the blame, than make you feel as if you must force it upon yourself."
Arthur blushed. Francis really feels this way? he thought. How could I not see it before?
Before he realized what he was doing, the Brit slowly brushed his lips against Francis'. Both countries' eyes widened in surprise.
"Je t'adore, Angleterre," Francis whispered, wrapping his arms around Arthur.
"I love you too, France."
I haven't written Hetalia fanfiction in several years...
