This… was not how it was supposed to happen. It was inconceivable. Unbelievable. Impossible. So impossible, that there couldn't have been rain pouring down, that he couldn't be crouched in the middle of the road, that there couldn't be the remains of his love strewn across the concrete. This couldn't be happening.

"Francis Bonnefoy, I swear, touch me again and I'll-"

"You'll what, cher?" he purred. Arthur shuddered in his arms.

"Bleeding frog!"

"Ah, but I am your frog, non?"

Arthur flushed, finally giving in and placing his hands atop the other's and leaning into the warm body behind him. "I suppose you're right."

He was numb. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? Did he do something wrong? He had been nothing but faithful, why was he being punished? The anniversary of his twenty-sixth year on Earth, and this had to happen? Now that was just cruel. He clutched the body in his arms so tightly that had he been in his right mind, would have worried him that he would break the other in half. A short laugh escaped the body.

"Hmm… You know, Arthur, that I love you."

Arthur moaned in his throat as Francis trailed feather-light kisses along his skin. "Nnh, y-yeah, you tell me every, ah!, day…!"

The elder blond pushed Arthur's shirt from his shoulders, kissing the mark he had just made. "Let me hear you… say the same…"

"Ah… nngh, fuck… I love you…!"

He pulled back with tear-stricken eyes. His love was still here! Dull green eyes stared back up at him from a face marred by blood. He found himself wiping away the water drizzling down the other's face. Oh please, if only he could hold on! Where was that damn ambulance? Surely by now…

"F-francis…"

"Ssh, ssh, d-don't talk, mon amour," he said, fighting back his tears.

"I'll talk… if I bloody well… feel like it…" Arthur's words were silent, laced with pain.

Oh, to hell with it. He allowed his sobs to come freely. Oh, his Arthur, his beautiful Arthur in such torture…

"H-hey… look in my pocket…"

"Hm. Not sure I like it there."

Francis moved away from the wall, taking the painting of the English countryside with him. He eyed Arthur as the smaller man put a finger to his chin in thought, staring around the nearly-empty apartment.

"There!"

He set the painting against another piece of wall, rolling his eyes when Arthur shook his head again. Above the fireplace?

"No, no, move it over there."

"Arthur, amour, please…"

"Alright, alright! Move it over there."

"Here?"

"Perfect!"

Francis stared at Arthur before obeying, choking back a sob. He reached into a blood-stained pocket, procured a small black box, and smiled as best he could.

"Well, open it… git…"

He did so, and felt an onslaught of more tears appear at the sight of the shimmering Celtic heart.

"H-happy… happy birthday… love…" Arthur was smiling, smiling that awkward smile through bruises and blood coating his bottom lip.

"Arthur, mon amour, mon cher… don't leave me…" Francis was crying again, damn himself. He clutched the necklace in his hand, oh such a beautiful necklace, he would never take it off. "S'il vous plait… ne me quitte pas…" Tears upon tears, mixed with the rain.

"I'll always… love you… you know?"

"I know, cher, I know…"

"I don't have anything special to say to you, Arthur, other than that you have made me the happiest I could ever hope to be. You are the only one who has made me feel this way. I am… so very lucky to have you. And I hope and pray that you shall always feel the same."

"The same, Francis. I love you, and I always will."

They stared, sapphire into emerald, and only registered when they were given permission. The first kiss of their new life, and they would spend none of it apart.

The body was cold, colder, by the time Francis heard the sirens. He was numb. Oh so numb. Such a horrible feeling. He was torn from Arthur, watched as they slid him into a black bag, the final glimpse of Arthur's beautiful, marred face, dull green half-lidded to the world.

"I'm his husband."

"I don't know."

"He was crossing the street. We were… going to dinner."

"I don't know."

"It's… my birthday…"

Oh man. I'mma get shot for this, huh?

I need to do something different.

Happy birthday, Francis!... -cries-

I'll write a happier one... later...

-dies-

What's awkward is that I'm working on a France cosplay right now.

Reviews appreciated, not demanded, and flames shall be used to stoke the fire of Mrs. Lovett's oven. I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia, and any copyright privileges belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.