"Angleterre?"
"Yes, Francis?"
The Frenchman took a moment to reply, gazing out of the window at the full moon.
"Promise me..."
"Promise you what?"
He bit his bottom lip before replying.
"Promise me that you won't leave like Jeanne did."
It was Arthur's turn to look away. He bit his bottom lip, knowing that Jeanne's death had been his fault. France reached over, gripping his shoulder gently.
"Angleterre?"
"I... I have to go."
Francis put on a strained smile. "Okay..."
"Is something wrong?"
"No. I'll see you again, okay?"
"Okay." Arthur hesitated before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Frog."
Francis' smile became less strained for a moment as he touched his lips to his softly. "Oui."
Arthur smiled and kissed him back before crawling out of bed and collecting his clothes. Francis laid back in bed, watching the other get dressed, not wanting him to leave. He pressed his nose against Arthur's pillow, breathing in the familiar scent of burnt scones and strong tea. He wanted, more than anything, to be more than just England's fuck-buddy. He loved him for more than just his body, not that it wasn't impressive already.
He looked up as the Brit was walking towards the bedroom door. "Angleterre?"
Arthur looked back. "Yes?"
"Je t'aime."
The Englishman froze, his hand clenching around the doorknob. "R-really?" he asked, a bit nervous.
France sat up and nodded, not meeting his gaze. "Oui," he replied. "I'm sorry if you don't feel the same... I just had to tell you..."
England shook his head. "No, it's alright."
"Angleterre?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you feel the same?"
Arthur hesitated before answering. "I don't know..."
France nodded. "O-okay... I'll see you at the meeting."
"Yeah, I'll see you at the meeting," Arthur replied before opening the door and stepping into the hallway. "Goodbye."
"Au revoir, Angleterre."
The door closed behind him, and France let out a sigh, falling back onto the mattress, which was still damp from last night's... 'shenanigans.' Tears started to well up in his light blue eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. The bed always felt so empty when England left. He would always end up missing him too much...
"One day I'll may you mine," he murmured, burying his face in the pillows. Dammit, they still smelled like him. "Arthur, mon amour, Je t'aime."
Before you ask, yes, this is going to be a series. I'll have the next chapter posted ASAP. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!
