Beautiful… that was really the only word to describe Roderich. Everything about him was flawless, his dark chocolate hair which was a perfect color to compliment his indigo eyes and his fair skin. Ahh… Seriously he's got a nice-looking face. Really nice looking, just his face is perfection. His long white fingers were pressing elegantly on the ivory piano keys, playing a rich and beautiful melody.

"Quell surprise… He's playing the piano as usual." Francis sighed. "That face… it's so handsome. If we were closer and he wasn't such a dick I'd make him a French territory in a heartbeat." He let out a sigh. "His face is so beautiful. I want to lick it. He has a certain je ne sais quoi about him. "

Roderich didn't notice Francis spying on him, watching every, elegant movement he made and absorbing each note forming the graceful, soothing tune he was playing.

The doorbell rang, and Roderich walked over to the door, his face slightly annoyed for someone had interrupted his playing. When he opened his door, that beautiful face lit up. Someone special was standing in the door step, he had silvery hair, although he was very young and his skin was almost the color of a freshly fallen snow. His eyes were like blood, with a hint of violet. This was Gilbert Beilschimdt, Roderich's significant other.

"What's up, Roderich? Did you miss the awesome me?" Gilbert smiled.

The Austrian responded by rolling those stunning, violet eyes. "You can be such an idiot sometimes, Gilbert. It hasn't been that long." Gilbert shrugged before pulling him into a deep kiss, smirking.

And this was proof that no matter what, the universe would have its ways of being a bitch and slapping him in the face. Every person he had fallen for had to be in love with someone else. He had fancied Arthur, but then he met Alfred. That dumb obnoxious American had stolen his Angleterre. Roderich steals his heart, but the Austrian is in a relationship with Francis's best friend. Even if they did split apart, Francis wouldn't do that to his friend. It wasn't right. Although he had noticed the spark in Roderich's eyes were missing, although he sounded like he was fine and most people thought he was happy at first glance, there was something more. The brunette was miserable, no matter how hard he tried to mask it; the Frenchman knew he wasn't content.

"Gilbert, as much as I love your visits," He started to say, his voice slightly strained. "I'm working on a piano piece, and I really want to return to it. Maybe we can do something else later?" Empty suggestion, Francis noted to himself, how is Gilbert not noticing it?

"You know you can't just sit here all day playing your fancy music!" Gilbert told him. "Why don't you get your ass off that piano bench for once and do something worthwhile!"

Roderich looked on the verge of tears. "This is well worth my time!" He yelled. "More than you are! Unlike you, music can properly express feelings, you obnoxious idiot! You narcissistic, cocky bastard… You can't say my music isn't worthwhile, it's my life." He seemed to calm himself down.

"Come on, Specs, I was just messing with you!" He smiled. "Although maybe you could drop the music for a little bit to spend a little time with your boyfriend." Once more, Roderich refused. Gilbert thought it was time to do something else; he took the sheet music Roderich had been using.

"Gilbert, I'm going to give you three seconds to give me my sheet music back." The Austrian warned him, frustration filling his voice, although he seemed to want to hold it back, and bottle it up.

"I'll give it back after we go out." He told him, a smirk spreading across his face. "You spend too much time on it, anyway. You don't even play goo—"

He didn't finish his sentence. It was a quick movement, although it left a bright red mark on Gilbert's otherwise pale skin. Francis didn't know what caused his friend to be so idiotic. No one touched Roderich's music. At least, if they valued their life they didn't. And they definitely did not insult the music he played. "Give me my sheet music back or else." He was shaking now.

"Come on! I'm just fooling around, stop being such a stick in the mud!" He ruffled Austria's dark brown hair and attempted to kiss him, only to have him turn away. "Is this about the sheet music? I'm sorry if I was being an ass." He rolled his red eyes and reluctantly took the crumpled up papers from his pocket and gave it to him. He gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek and left.

Roderich sat on the floor, his head resting on his knees. Francis heard a few sobs coming from him. He wished he could come over to him, wipe the tears off of that pristine face, and see that smile he yearned to see. Roderich started to talk aloud.

"Is this what it feels like to fall out of love?" He asked himself, standing up and pacing. He sat on his piano bench, playing a slow, sad song that pulled at Francis's heartstrings from hearing him play. He had a way of expressing his emotions through music and setting the atmosphere through the notes he played.

Francis walked to the front door of the house and knocked on the door. The musician let out a sigh as he opened to the door. 'I told you, Gilbert, I don't feel like going any— Oh, Francis… I thought you were someone else."

"Are you okay, Roderich?" Francis asked, placing a hand under his chin. "You look like you've been crying."

"What?" Roderich's indigo eyes grew wide. "I haven't though." He was lying, Francis had seen him.

"Why do you try lying to me?" He smiled, moving his lips a bit closer to the Austrian's, so they were dangerously close, but not yet touching. "I know, Mon beau fleur, but what's wrong?" He asked, although the answer was apparent.

"Nothing really," Roderich replied, although seemed to rethink it. "Wait, Francis, you know about love, right?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" Francis gave a slight smirk.

"It's not a big deal really. I just want to know how does someone fall out of love?" He asked, looking at the Frenchman, the lovely violet mingling with the light blue.

"Why? Is Gilbert not treating you right? Honestly, if I were lucky enough to have someone as beautiful as you I'd make sure to take care of them." He leaned a bit closer to Roderich, whose cheeks went a bit pink.

"Y-you think I'm attractive?" The other replied shyly, a small smile on his face.

"Of course I do… Tell me, when was the last time Gilbert called you beautiful?" He asked, brushing his lips against the Austrian's.

"I don't remember…" He admitted, disappointed eyes staring at the ground. "I mean, he's not exactly the one to compliment anyone but himself… I'm not sure what's wrong with me, it's just the feelings I have for him aren't really romantic anymore."

"Then, why don't you end it? I don't want to see you so unhappy, it hurts. You're much too handsome to have a face tinged with depression." Francis told him, wrapping his arm around him.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't want to end it with him. I thought I was in love with him… But lately all he's proven to be is a bastard…" He let out a sigh, slumping down on the first step of the marble, spiral staircase.

"I've been friends with him for a while; I could have told you that." Francis joked, hoping to spark a laugh from the Austrian. "They can't help it, Roderich; it's a habit by now."

This time he had heard a small chuckle from the brunette. Roderich didn't laugh a lot, but when he did it was cute. He'd give a tiny smile and his laugh was elegant, but not snobby. "I know it is. But, now he doesn't even try not to be a bastard… I feel like now I'm just something there. Like, I'm just something he puts up with, almost as if he doesn't give a damn about me."

"Now, mon cheri, that's not entirely true." He started to twirl the dark chocolate hair of the Austrian's in his fingers. "I think one of the biggest reasons that relationships end is that they stop doing those special thing for you once they have you." Roderich looked into his eyes, and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

He shook off the blush and slumped back down. "Um, I need to go take care of something." He walked upstairs, all choked up.

Francis followed, trying to figure out what the heartbroken prodigy was doing. He was crying again, out of confusion and frustration. Francis knocked on the door, entering the room he was in.

Roderich looked up at him, crystal tears streaming down his beautifully pale face. Francis knelt down, and wiped off the tears with his sleeve. "Don't cry." He whispered, coming closer. He noticed Roderich leaning forward as well. They were close, much too close. He could see every tear beading on his eyelashes, rolling down his cheek. Next thing he knew, Roderich's lips came to his, and Francis felt something ripple up his spine.

"I'm sorry…" Roderich muttered.