Author's Note. Based on an RP france_b was telling me about. I may have changed some details (as I was not there) but it's still the same basic gist. France and Lithuania are into each other, but Russia takes Toris away, threatening Francis with nuclear war if he tries to see Toris again.
Francis, feeling helpless, went to the Eiffel Tower and, in front of Prussia and Canada, threw himself off. Luckily the police were there and caught him, but he was severely injured anyway and ended up in the hospital. Being me, I obviously immediately went for a LietFrUK side angst story.
Stab Your Back
Fuck.
Arthur's boots echoed harshly on the floor of the hospital as he strode down the empty hallways, trying to find the room a distressed receptionist had told him Francis was supposed to be in. A black plaque with white letters shined at him in the dull florescent lights.
Fuck.
Taking a deep breath, Arthur reached out a trembling hand, gripping the handle, but he couldn't open the door. Part of him wanted to see Francis, dead with a sheet over his handsome face or alive but stuck in eternal slumber, never to open his eyes. Another part wanted to turn on his heel leave the hospital, drown himself in a bottle of whiskey and cry himself into nothingness.
Fuck.
He thumped his head against the door and pushed it open. The room was in complete darkness save for the city light spilling in through the window, illuminating the quiet machines humming contentedly to themselves in corners. A figure sat hunched beside Francis' bedside and turned as Arthur opened the door.
"Toris?" He asked, recognizing the brunette only once Lithuania had turned around at the sound of the door. The olive eyes were puffy and red and his cheeks were a blotchy colour.
"Mr. K-Kirkland?" The young nation got to his feet, taking a hesitative step towards England, twisting his fingers with each other, "What are you doing here?"
England raised a hand, running it through his hair, peering around Toris, trying to get a better look of Francis, not that it mattered, the French nation seemed to be covered in bandages. "I'm here to visit Francis… Is he alright?" It was a dumb question, but Arthur felt it was almost completely necessary to ask in an attempt to keep his world sane. "I hurried over as fast as I can after Matthew called me." When Toris said nothing, Arthur walked to France's bedside, standing over him, trying to keep his breathing steady.
"The d-doctors sa-say he's st-table." The Lithuania sidled up beside Arthur, his stutter even more pronounced that usual.
Reaching out, the island nation clutched France's bandaged hand. The dressing felt rough under his touch, nothing like the smooth skin he had grown so used to. "You bloody idiot… Do you know how scared I was?" Arthur was talking as those Lithuania wasn't even in the room, "Why in God's name would you have jumped Francis?" There is no answer, but Francis shifted slightly, making both Toris and Arthur to suck in their breath, but the blue eyes do not open.
"I-I…" Toris' voice caught and kept his gaze averted to his fumbling hands, "R-Russia was hold-ding me and t-threatening F-Francis with n-nuclear war if h-he…" The voice trailed away and England immediately filled in the implied consequence.
A nervous chuckle. "You're the reason?" The leather glove tightened around Francis' hand. "Oh that's rich. I thought it was a joke. You and Francis, really?" Arthur continued to laugh, shoulders shaking.
Toris bit his lip. "Mr. K-Kirkland… Please listen." There was a silence, and Arthur turned his head to the side and it was as if the Lithuanian had suddenly discovered his balls. "Francis and I… we have… an understanding."
Arthur laughter became much lower and darker. "An understanding? How sweet." His voice was sharp and unkind, "You love him Toris. Just say it. You won't hurt my feelings." You'd just rip them into nothing.
"M-Mr. Kirkland, please, just-"
Arthur cut across Toris, voice snapping like a whip. "Look what your understanding did Toris." He was practically shouting now, eyes uncomfortably warm, "It drove him to the edge. It made him jump. It landed him in this bed, clinging to life. I can't believe you…"
Lithuania's eyes were tearing again. His fists clenched to his chest, he shook his head, brunet hair flopping from side-to-side. "He r-really likes me! Mr. Kirkland, I k-know you and F-Francis have history b-but he s-said he l-lo-" His voice faltered, "Me."
By now, Arthur's laughter was wavering on the edge of mad. He let go of Francis' hand, instead advancing on the Lithuanian, who automatically back up, closing his eyes. Arthur enjoyed the slight rush of power. "Don't be an idiot Toris." Arthur said snidely, reaching forward and clutching Toris' face in his leather glove. "France is a pervert through and through. He's never loved anything."
"Mr. Kirkland, why would you say su-" Toris' voice faltered as Arthur's thumb ran over his cheek and the Brit's lips were suddenly at his ear.
The grip tightened, trying to mask feelings behind brutality. "He watched you cleaning once." The breath was warm, but Arthur still felt the Lithuanian trembling. He moved his mouth closer to that Toris could feel his grin. "In a maid outfit. He loved it. He told me how nice your legs looked while we fuck-"
"Angleterre. That is enough."
Hand falling from Toris' face, Arthur whirled around, his eyes watering and at his absolute last wit. "Dammit Francis." He said, glaring at the Frenchman while his heart beat furiously, the joy of seeing Francis awake and saying his name no less, "Don't talk to me like a child!"
Tired blue eyes blinked at him and the Frenchman straight to sit up but only managed to hover an inch off the pillow before collapsing back on it. The machines around him started to beep furiously. "Then stop acting like one."
As Toris hurried to the Frenchman's side, fretting over him and the machines, clearly on the edge of bursting into tears, Arthur felt his hands clench into fists at his side. "I'm acting like a child!? I just trying to figure out why in God's name you tried to off yourself over this snivelling Balt!" He glared at Toris's back, watching the Lithuanian jump horribly, "Why Francis? Why would you do that to me? To yourself!" The emotions pent in him started to show in the tears forming in his eyes and dripping down his cheeks and the rasp of his voice.
"There are things you do not understand Angleterre." Francis said, still speaking in a maddeningly condescending air. Beside him, Toris placed a hand on his shoulder, the other covering the Frenchman's hands. "This is out of your control, you have no say."
Arthur quickly brought his sleeve against his face, but already knew it was too late to hide his tears. "I have a bloody fucking say!" He shouted, glaring hard at Francis, wanting nothing more than to punch the Frenchman and then kiss him senseless, "How can I not understand?! You want to shag Toris - probably already have - and Ivan won't let you! But killing yourself?! Off the goddamned Eiffel Tower not less!"
"Leave Francis alone."
The next pause was deadly. Arthur's hard gaze flicked from Francis to Toris. The brunet was trembling, but his face was set and Arthur could see him holding France's hand tenderly.
"What?" Arthur ground out.
"He's r-right." The Lithuanian cleared his throat, his next words coming out stronger and more assured, making Arthur blink in surprise. "There are things you don't understand Mr. Kirkland. Don't try, please."
The Frenchman smiled at Toris and England's world seemed to crumble slightly. "Understand…" He whispered, letting his gaze fall to the ground. His voice had lost the will to yell, to rage, to scream. Now he could only speak. "I don't… understand."
"That's right!" Lithuania continued, voice getting stronger. "You don't understand. You're just a spoiled little brat who's always gotten everything he's ever wanted! Francis and I have had to fight for it! You can just - just go to hell for all I care if you're going to talk to Fr-Francis like that!" Toris stumbled a bit at the end.
England looked up just in time to see Francis lift the pale hand to his lips, brushing a light kiss over the knuckles. It was as though Arthur didn't exist in that moment. He didn't matter anymore. France didn't need him. He had found someone else. Was this is true splendid isolation? And why did it make him want to curl up into a ball and never seen the light again? He turned on his heel, not hesitating the leave, slamming the door behind him.
Arthur only made it three steps before he lashed out, striking the wall, and sunk to his knees, sobbing.