Letting Go

"You were once so great…"

Arthur groaned as the American's words echoed throughout his head. He didn't want to be thought like that… to be thought of some sort of washed up hope especially by his little brother.

He scoffed at the thought. Little brother. He had left the boy to fend for himself for a short amount of time and he had sprung up, towering over Arthur. He had become so strong. At first, the Brit was pleased that he was progressing and growing up so fast. Then Alfred decided he didn't need him anymore. His own little brother had passed harsh words and declared himself independent. He didn't need Arthur anymore.

And now here he was. Alone. Bundled in a mess on the floor of his house and silently suffering. If he was an onlooker, he would sniff and call himself pathetic. He knew he was being idiotic, that he had to let go but it was as if there was something inside that was holding him back from doing so.

He looked up as a few fluid knocks from the door invaded his ears, he ignored it for a while but it became persistent. In the end, the forever flamboyant and pestering Francis Bonnefoy let himself in with a flourish. He tutted and drew back all the curtains letting light in before settling in the centre of the room and standing with his arms crossed around his chest and a concerned expression on his face.

"Really Britain, I thought you vanished from the face of the Earth. What is the matter, eh?"

Arthur scowled and turned away, cursing underneath his breath at the French man. Francis sighed and turned on his heels,

"Alfred said you'd be hard to talk to…"

"When did you talk to America?"

His response was so sharp it made the blonde stop in his tracks. He sighed and his shoulders sagged.

"A few days back…" he paused and gulped, "He's been really worried. What's happened, eh? He wouldn't tell me…"

"It's none of your business, frog."

"Now come on, Arthur, I'm just trying to help…"

"I don't want your help."

"Zut alors," Francis said, grinding his teeth together as his temple started to poke out of his forehead, "Why do you do this every time? I try and try…Every fucking time…"

"He left me, Francis," Arthur yelled out. He finally got to his feet, his own face was a picture of weariness mixed with aggravation, his usual neat blonde locks were touselled and his skin was pastier than usual. Now that the French man had a clear look at him, he saw that he looked positively awful, not to mention that his eyes were bloodshot and the smell of liquor danced with his words.

"He doesn't need me any more. He fought against me and declared himself independent. I don't want or need yours or anyone else's help."

Alfred was Arthur's pride and joy. He looked upon him as though he was his own, when he came back from his visits he'd often boast about how well he was progressing and learning. Francis sighed and took a few steps towards the Brit, he noted that his green eyes were full of tears that were threatening to overflow and fall down his cheeks.

"And don't you dare feel sorry for me," Arthur murmured vehemently, the French man stopped for a split second before shaking his head and giving his friend a soft smile.

"I know how you feel, Arthur. I watch how far away from me Veneziano and Lovino get and it upsets me, I remember when they were so small and sweet. However, now they don't need me either," the Brit locked eyes with the other man before stuttering,

"I-I didn't know…"

"But you have to let go," Francis said cutting him off, "I've learnt to. I can help you to forget Alfred if you need me to and you don't have to worry about me pitying you. I don't hold any sympathy…I simply… Empathise with you. Yes, that's how to put it."

Arthur stood there for a few seconds. His body abruptly began to shake and the tears that were previously taunting him flooded down his face in silent sobs, his heavy brow furrowed as he took a few hesitant steps towards Francis before throwing himself at the other man and doing something that felt so wrong and undignified but completely right at the same time.

He buried his head into the mans chest and just cried.

Francis smiled lightly as he stroked Arthur's hair gently, he rocked him as though he was a child and whispered soothing words as though he was a child.

"What would you like me to do?" he murmured.

"J-just stay here for a bit… I-if you wouldn't mind."