A/N: First time writing a Hetalia fan fiction!
I don't own Hetalia
Flames burn me but criticism is welcome just don't be an ass about it please.
Rated T for now but may change to M in later chapters
The wind was blowing softly through the open door carrying with it the sweet smell of roses. Light shined down through the stained glass windows filling the room with hazy colored light. Francis would have loved it. The thought brought unwanted tears to Arthur's eyes. The church was filled with almost everyone he had ever met. Francis had been loved and often hated. Everyone who mattered was there. The fact that it was open casket made it that much harder to bear. As if hearing his thoughts Gilbert mumbled under his breath.
"Of course that ass would ask to have it be open casket, couldn't go a day without displaying his good looks, even after death." The sentence was punctuated by a soft sniffle that the Prussian would later deny. Arthur scowled to hide a sad smile. It was true. It was time for him to speak but he wasn't sure if he could do it. He stood anyways and walked to the front touching the coffin as he passed it. Tears streamed down his face as he began to speak.
"I-I never wanted to h-have to do this. Francis was…" He trailed off, tears running down his face freely now. "Francis was a self-absorbed fancy clothes wearing frog. And I l-loved him, we all loved him… Everyone loved him." Arthur couldn't hold back the sob that escaped. He didn't know how long he stood there, hands braced on the podium, trying to calm himself down enough to continue but soon a large strong hand gently caressed his back.
"Come on Iggy, you don't have to finish." Arthur looked up and nodded. Alfred's usually full of life eyes looked almost a dark cerulean blue, tinted with sadness. Arthur hated that for some reason. Alfred led him back to his seat and sat him down. Gilbert went to the podium next but he didn't hear a word of it. Sadness overtook him and all he could feel was wave after wave of silent tears. Alfred's hand moved in slow circles on his back but it did nothing to calm him down, only bring back sad memories of another time he had felt this emotionally unstable. At some point Alfred had put his arm around him and had pulled him against him. Finally coming out of his thoughts Arthur tried to squirm out of it but instead the grip around him tightened.
"Please don't. It's okay to need comforting." Alfred whispered. Arthur stopped and just accepted the fact that as long as he was crying the American wasn't going to take no for an answer. Arthur took a few steadying breathes as the ceremony finally ended. Alfred finally let go of him but didn't leave his side as he stood up and exited the row.
"Alfred, can you please give me a moment. I thank you for being here but I just need a moment of grieving by myself." Arthur put a hand on the other man's chest and pushed gently, looking up apologetically. Alfred simply nodded and walked towards the exit talking softly with Mathias. Arthur quietly walked to the front plucking a rose out of one of the bouquets. He stared down at Francis and lifted the rose to his nose. Taking a deep breath he found himself crying again.
"I'm so sorry. I wish that things had been different. I wish that I had been the one to…" Arthur knelt down and rested his head on the coffin. He stood back up and with shaking hands slipped the rose into the dead Frenchman's hands. He knew something had been off about the open coffin and now looking down at it it felt complete. He should be buried with the roses he had loved so much. "Goodbye love." Arthur took another gulp of air and nodded before turning around. Standing in the door way was the tall dark figure of a man illuminated behind by the blinding light of day. Alfred, always the protector. Arthur slowly walked forward and nodded. Without a word the two walked out front to the throng of people and got into one of the many cars now headed to the cemetery. Alfred's hand found his and wrapped tightly around it. They walked hand in hand to the grave which was just now being set up for the coffin to be lowered. Time passed and soon they were all gathered around. Matthew, Gilbert, Antonio, and finally Alfred all threw in roses. Arthur went up to scoop in the first bit of dirt but froze. The shovel shaking in his grip, hanging over the grave. "I… I can't." He shook his head before tossing the shovel aside and walking away.
He kept walking and ignored the hands attempting to stop him, ignored the alarmed sound of Alfred calling out, ignored everything. He walked until he knew Francis's grave would be well out of sight and sat down under a tree. He was such an idiot, such a sap, such a… he ran his hand though the grass running out of insults for himself. He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the tree looking up at the slowly graying sky. His brows settled into a scowl and he stood, furious anger rolling off of him.
"NO! It will not rain! It won't! Francis deserves a funeral full of sunshine not one full of storm clouds!" He shouted at the sky and raked a hand through his messy hair. As small droplets of rain fell from the sky he dropped to his knees and stayed there, hands locked in his hair and tears running down his face mixing with the rain. And then he felt nothing.
Alfred looked up at the hill to see the outline of Arthur yelling at the sky and then dropping to his knees as rain began to fall. Alfred's heart hurt at the sight of him. He would never romantically go after him all things considered but he couldn't deny that he had always had feelings for the Brit. Today had been doubly awful in that affect. He had not only lost a friend but had to endure watching Arthur tormented by the loss of his lover. Though the two had never married he knew Arthur was now as much a widow as any. Slowly he made his way up the hill, the rain almost slicking down Nantucket by the time he reached the top.
Arthur looked at him and Alfred almost shuddered at the look in his eyes. Alfred carefully knelt down and picked the man up bridal style. It was definitely bad if he wasn't being fought. Alfred walked back down the hill towards the car that was waiting for them and slipped into the back Arthur still in his arms. Arthur just laid there in an almost catatonic state, his hand clenching Alfred's shirt. Alfred took them back to his apartment and sat the man down onto a chair in the kitchen removing his hands from his shirt. Alfred knelt down to eye level and looked into dead green eyes.
"I'm going to run a hot bath for you. You're freezing and I don't want you to get sick on top of this." Alfred really didn't want to leave him in that state but quickly went to his bathroom and turned on the hot water letting the bathroom steam from the heat. When he returned the Brit hadn't moved an inch. Once again he picked up the Brit and took him to the bathroom. Alfred sighed and began to work the man's wet clothes off of him. This could have practically been one of Alfred's many fantasies about the Brit but not in these circumstances. Instead Alfred tenderly picked up the man and put him into the warm water of the tub. He left for a second to grab a cup and a wash rag and returned. Alfred slowly poured warm water over the Brit then took the wash cloth and poured soap onto it. Rubbing slow soapy circles on the Brit's back the man in question finally kind of responded and leaned back into Alfred's touch.
Next Alfred took some of his shampoo and began to lather up Arthur's messy hair massaging his scalp and smiling when the man let out a content sigh. After he had Arthur all washed off and warmed up Alfred grabbed him by the shoulders and stood him up then began drying him off with a big fluffy towel. Arthur grabbed the edges of the towel and held it, wrapped around his shoulders, while Alfred went to find something for the man to wear. He managed to find an old pair of pajama pants with superhero's on it that he was pretty sure he had as a teen and an old sweat shirt that was a little small on him. He came in glad to see Arthur had moved and was now sitting on the toilet with the towel still firmly wrapped around him. He looked a little bit like a child. Alfred handed him the clothes and left the bathroom.
The bath seemed to have at least gotten Arthur to liven up a little bit. Alfred rummaged through his cabinets and cursed. He had been meaning to get some tea but didn't have any. He looked up when he heard a noise and couldn't help the blush that lit up his cheeks when he saw the smaller man, his pajama pants were surprisingly form fitting on Arthur which only added to the bagginess of the sweater practically hanging off of Arthur's shoulders.
"Sorry I didn't have anything better for you to wear." Alfred walked forward and grabbed Arthurs arm gently and led him to bedroom. "You should rest, it's been a long day." Arthur nodded and climbed into his bed. Alfred smiled softly and pulled the blankets up around the man now curled up on his mattress. Alfred fought the want to run his hands through the other man's hair and instead changed into his own pajama's and grabbed a pillow before heading out to the living room to sleep on the couch. Hopefully Arthur would be more expressive tomorrow Alfred thought as he fell into a fitful sleep.
So I was writing and If I Die Young by The Band Perry started playing and then I was crying as I was typing and it was bad, and then to top it off Fix You by Coldplay started playing when Alfred saw him on the hill and I was just like asdfjkl;.
Any who I've never been to a funeral so this was kind of just me bullshitting it and I'm sorry if I got it wrong. (I've actually been to a funeral once I was just so little that I don't remember much besides my aunt crying a lot.)
REVIEWS WOULD BE NICE :D