"I know it's probably far too late, and I'm sorry," Francis says, fidgeting in the hard cushions of a hospital chair. There is no response, and Francis sighs, turning away, "but I really just want to tell you that I love you, Arthur..."

Francis stands up and begins to pace, the words coming to his lips in a jumbled mess, "I love you so much, and that's why I took you out to that fancy restaurant. I wanted to propose to you. I wanted to hold your hand and I say 'I do' and kiss you senseless, despite how corny it sounds. I wanted to hold you forever, until death forced us apart. Death came much sooner than I would have liked. I'm sorry."

Francis can feel the tears forming in his eyes as he bends his head, shoulders shuddering with sobs. That night replayed in his mind; he had slipped onto one knee, a ring offered to the stunned Englishman, and then the gunfire had started. Only one of them left alive.

"So, since I never asked for your proposal, and you never got to answer...," Francis looks into the emerald green eyes of the man sitting in the hospital chair next to him, "will you marry me?"

There is no response. Arthur is incoherent, staring at the limp form in the hospital bed, covered with a thin sheet. His hand is clamped firmly over his mouth and he is trembling with sobs.

Arthur stands and moves over to the bed, Francis following him. The Englishman pulls back the sheet, revealing the blissful face of Francis Bonnefoy.

"Of course. I'm dead - a ghost," Francis chuckles bitterly, his sapphire eyes staring sorrowfully at the wailing Englishman, "You can't see me anymore."

Francis takes a few steps away when Arthur weakly says, "I would have said yes."


TAKE THE FREAKING TISSUES. *shoves the box* If It wasn't clear, Francis was shot at a shooting and he was a ghost. Arthur was grieving. Arthur can't hear Francis; that was just a coincidence. ANYWAYS I'M GOING TO SOB HYSTERICALLY NOW BYE!