Hello! This is a sad one shot about France and chibi Canada. I wanted to write something sad, for once. I'm hoping it will be better writing quality than my first fic. That was awful. For those of you wondering about Red Balloon, the next chapter is coming along soon! I just have to get working on it with coffeeandlicorice.
Please tell me if I make any mistakes. Additionally, this might not be historically accurate. I didn't write it for accuracy.
Matthew awoke to the sound of desperate crying. He rolled out of his bed and toddled to Francis's room. "P-papa?" he called timidly, rubbing his sleepy eyes.
Francis sat on his bed, tears rolling down his face. "Matthew," he said, clearing his throat, "come in, petit." He quickly wiped away the tears and smiled, lifting up the little boy who toddled over to him.
Matthew looked up at his Francis's confusedly, wiping a tear off of his papa's face. "What's wrong, papa?!" he cried worriedly, putting his chubby little hands on either side of the man's face. "Don't be sad, papa," the little boy said, starting to tear up himself.
Francis smiled sadly and held the child close to him, petting Matthew's hair. "Oh, Matthieu," he murmured, kissing the young boy's head. "Papa is going to have to go away for... a while," Francis said in almost a whisper.
Matthew looked up at the older man with wide, confused eyes, "A-away?!" he cried, shaking his head. "No! Papa, you've gotta stay," the little boy said, clinging desperately to Francis's shirt. "P-please," he said starting to cry, "don't l-leave me!"
At this, Francis started to cry again. "D-don't worry, petit," he whispered through tears, "M-monsieur Arthur will be taking care of you."
Matthew looked up at him with wide eyes. "No! P-papa, you said he wouldn't take me, you said you'd win," he sobbed, clinging to Francis as if he'd float away.
As Francis was about to answer, there was a knock at the door and a voice calling with an English accent. "Francis. It's time ."
Francis got up, holding Matthew protectively to his chest. He opened the front door, and sure enough, there was Arthur. He looked semi-triumphant until he saw the sobbing infant clinging to Francis and staring accusedly at Arthur.
Arthur shook his head. "Francis. Say goodbye now."
Francis lifted Matthew to look at him, smiling sadly. He kissed the little boy's forehead and nuzzled him slightly, then looked reluctantly at the English man standing nearby.
With a look full of pain and sadness, Francis handed Matthew to Arthur. Arthur nodded, taking the little boy into his arms.
As Arthur was about to walk out the door, Matthew screamed. "Stop!" he cried, trying to leap out of Arthur's grasp and reaching his arms toward Francis. "Papa, don't let him take me! Papa, please!"
Francis broke down into tears, reaching for the boy as well.
Their hands touched one last time before Arthur pulled Matthew away.
"Je t'aime, Matthieu!" he cried, to which the boy replied, "Je t'aime! Papa! Noooo!" as the door was shut.
Francis was left standing, one hand over his mouth and one hand still outstretched, before he broke down on the floor sobbing.
It was all over.