The music was playing softly at the background; a beautiful hymn with a sad touch in it. Almost everyone in the church was crying or even sobbing. There were people who looked like their hearts had just been broken, there were people that looked like they desperately wanted to bring the man in the coffin back to life.

But Francis didn't cry, he didn't frown, he didn't tremble. He looked like he was unable to understand anything around him, he looked like he was just frozen there in the front row. With an emotionless look in his eyes, he watched as the others, one by one, walked over to the coffin, placing flowers on top of it, whispering their last words to the man.

A warm hand was placed on the Frenchman's shoulder. Even though he was unable to express his pain and sorrow, Antonio knew what he was feeling. "It's going to be alright someday, mi amigo", the man whispered, but Francis didn't answer. He let the other keep the comforting hand on his shoulder, but he didn't react, he just stared ahead of him.

When everyone else was back sitting down, completely quiet, the Frenchman slowly got up from his seat and walked over to the coffin. It wasn't open, but he knew what the man inside it looked like very well. He had been there when he died, he had been holding his hand, whispering the words of love until the other had left this world.

There was no emotion displayed on his face as he placed the bouquet of beautiful roses and lilies on top of the coffin, then placing his hand on the wooden coffin. The coffin was beautifully carved from wood, painted white. White was such a pure color, it reminded him of an angel. It reminded him of Arthur.

It felt like just yesterday the two of them had been small children, running in the woods, playing and laughing and just having fun with each other. Even if they fought a lot and argued about every smallest little thing, they still had been the best friends. They were always there for each other, they were always ready to support one another.

They had gone to the school and together they had gotten through the tough years of Arthur being bullied. Together they had gotten through the harsh times when Francis' father had beaten him up. Together they had conquered every bad thing in their lives, together they had managed get through all of it.

But now, Francis was supposed to get through all the pain and sorrow all by himself, without the help of his beloved one.

"Arthur…", he whispered quietly. In the silence of the church, it felt like even the smallest sound could be heard by everyone. But at the moment, he didn't care. At the moment it was only him and his thoughts of the Briton. "Why did you leave me?"

The emotionless expression was long gone. Everyone stayed quiet as he collapsed onto his knees, tears falling down his cheeks, furious, desperate. He just wanted Arthur back. He wanted him back into his arms, he wanted to hold him again, to tell him how much he loved him. He wanted to make sure that the two of them would not be separated, not ever.

"I'm not able to go on without you… I can't… I… I can't live if you are not there…", he whispered, slowly pressing his forehead against the coffin. The wood was cold and hard, but that way, he felt like he was closer to Arthur. But it was not close enough, he needed to have Arthur there right beside him.

Once again there was a hand on Francis' shoulder. It wasn't as warm as Antonio's hand had been, but the touch of it warmed him from head to toe. It was such a gentle, tender touch. Arthur's touch.

Francis didn't dare to turn around. He didn't know what he feared the most; seeing the ghost of his love or not seeing anything at all. Completely silent, he just stayed there, staring ahead of him at the whiteness of the coffin, letting the hand stay there, wishing that it would stay there forever.

"Francis… Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'm with you. I've always been with you and I always will. My love for you knows no boundaries. It will be in my heart, and in your heart, forever."

The voice was so soft and gentle that Francis felt like he could drown into it. But he didn't. He stayed in the reality, in the coldness of the floor underneath his knees, in the silence of the church filled with sadness. "Not when you are not here", he whispered.

There was a sigh, and arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. "Love… I'm always there for you. I'll look after you from heaven. Just don't give up now, please… Live on and be happy… At least try, for me…"

For him. For Arthur. In his whole life, there had not been a thing that he would not do for his sweet Arthur. But this… This seemed to be something too difficult to do even for him.

"Please…"

Francis swallowed, hesitated. After a small moment, he gave a nod. For Arthur, he would do anything he could to make himself happy again, to continue on with his life.

The arms around him faded away, but the warmth stayed. The warmth that was there because he knew Arthur would never leave his side, no matter what.

He got up from the floor, placing his hand on the coffin one more time, tracing the edge of it with his fingers. He shed a few tears, letting them fall down on the flowers, like dew on the petals of the rose.

"I love you and I always will."

He walked away from the coffin, he walked towards the future, but he didn't walk away from the past. Arthur was always going to be in his heart and his mind, wherever he may roam.