I'm Back! I was on a 19 day journey to the UK and while I was gone a bunch of fics sprung up in my mind. This was one of them! It's a bit sad and depress but I hope you like it none less…I promise I write more than fruk fics I just got the inspiration and bam this appeared XD
Disclaimer: I don't own anything about or to do with hetalia AT ALL. So don't worry.
He was able to slip through the line without anyone noticing. They were too caught up in the victory celebrations anyway. He knew who he needed to find. The one person who wasn't celebrating. The one who just lost everything important to him. The Frenchman found him hunched over on his knees on the muddy field. The red uniform stained with mud and drenched in the rain that continuously poured from those depressing clouds above them. The man looked so broken. Shoulders slumped, head bent in defeat. The blonde hair Francis has always loved to play with and make fun of was so messy and drenched with water and sweat. Just sitting there in silence, in tatters, was none other than the defeated United Kingdom of Great Britain.
He knelt down beside the torn soul afraid to touch him, as he would shatter if was touched to roughly. Gently, a hand was placed on his shoulder. He waited for any acknowledgement, but didn't receive any. A chin was lifted. Dull green eyes, full of pain, met bright blue ones, full of worry. They were so empty…those eyes that were always so bright and sharp…now had nothing in them. He watched as the Brit simply blinked, not looking away, but now seeming to look at him either. There was a whispered "Arthur…" and the other seemed to snap to attention. A small spark flickered in those eyes but it soon faded. He only looked at him. Emotionless. They could only stare at each other. One full of pain, no understanding, anger, betrayal…the other apologies, grieve, worry, sympathy.
He knew it was to happen this way. He was so willing to help his Anglettere's beloved get what was needed. But at what cost? He had never thought of it until now. He wasn't expecting this…but how did he not know it was likely? How could he have been so ignorant of the one person who kept him sane? He knew the other was in love with the American…He knew that Alfred was his life line. How could he not have seen the damage that would be done when he sided with him? He couldn't even picture what would happen if the others had ganged up on him. Why hadn't he noticed? He devoted so many years and centuries of his life making sure the man before him was happy, secure, and safe, even when at war with him. How had he not seen now, how broken the man he was in love with for so long would be if he helped the person Arthur loved most leave him forever?
He watched as the other slowly moved, suddenly slumping against him. He could only wrap his arms around the trembling form, stifling the wails that echoed into the empty air. No one but he would hear this sound of pure agony. The rain was too loud…he was holding him too tight. He would never forget the sound…Slurred words were mixed in but were just barely audible. Why…come back….im sorry….please….stay…. It broke something inside him. He never wanted to see anyone at all this distraught. It changed him. He could only hold the other practically in his lap. He knew there was nothing that could be done about this…he couldn't get the American back for Arthur after he had helped him break free.
There was no end in the sadness. The great empire…the most feared in the world…had just been defeated by the makeshift nation that had been created to make him even more powerful. This would spread all over. Britain could be defeated. He knew he would never be as powerful as he once was ever again. But this was so inevitable! He felt the other stir from his spot buried into him. He met those eyes again. Those empty…empty eyes. He stared into them, looking into the soul of the man who was so confident and strong…who was no more. He felt a pair of arms around his neck, clinging to him. Was he his only lifeline now? What would happen if he just left his beloved like this…
The other leaned closer…what was so intriguing about him? Francis jumped and tensed as soon as those cold lips touched his own. His eyes were wide, what was he doing? This wasn't how it should be. He wasn't the one who Arthur wanted. He didn't love him. Even If that's how he so desperately wanted it to be. It was Alfred. Arthur loved Alfred. He didn't know what he should've done. He couldn't push him away. Not after what had happened. He refused too. But would he just simply let the other do this? Arthur didn't pull away, but simply got closer. Francis thought long and hard before finally deciding that he would give in…no matter how much pain it caused him.
He let himself give in to the pleading from the other. He gave into the kisses…the touches… everything. He let him do whatever he wanted. He tried his best to hide the passion he contained for the British empire…but the other wouldn't have noticed anyway. He knew his thoughts were…and always would be on Alfred.
This went on for a while. Arthur was in shambles. He would always find him on his doorstep. It would be the same routine every time. He would let him in, serve tea, or whatever it was that was available. They would sit. Arthur wouldn't talk much. He normally stared into the tea…eyes never as sharp as they were before. He would come and sit by him when the tears would start to fall, he would hug him, and try to comfort him in the best way possible. But it always would turn out the same. Arthur would always want more from him. He was always more than willing to give what he wanted. He didn't bother to hide the passion anymore, even if he knew the other wouldn't notice. Arthur wouldn't remember anyway. He always just tried to think of what it would be like for the Brit to return his passion…it always distracted him from hearing the other moan or scream the American's name.
It stopped After the 1850s. Arthur never really came around anymore. But he knew he was alright. All the wars they had gone through against one another had gotten the Brit at least back to his confident and defensive self. But Francis wasn't stupid. He knew that if he were to simply mention the American's name, Arthur would become sad again…So all he did was go along with the path of time, letting himself be beaten by his beloved. He never lost any of the affection he had for the British nation. Even if he was used. His love would never fade no matter how much it would hurt in the long run.
It started up again during the World Wars. When Alfred returned to the big picture. He let himself be used again by Arthur. When the Englishman came to his door in sobs he couldn't help it. He promised himself that he would help him right? He let this happen a few times during the war. Only once did he send Arthur home. And only once did he let himself cry when the other said Alfred's name. But he became infuriated with himself for being so selfish. He didn't matter. All that mattered was that Arthur would remain stable. Even if he had to be used and use sin for it to be so. He was supposed to be selfless. He shouldn't feel anything. He should just let it happen. He knew this. But why did it have to hurt so badly? Why did every time feel like a million daggers piercing his heart over and over again?
The wars were long done. It was now the 21st century; things went on as they should. Arthur recovered and probably forgot about what he had done for him. It wasn't that big of a deal. He knew it wasn't important. He just made sure Arthur remained stable no matter what. He didn't need to take his own feelings into account, they weren't important. He just was a bystander in the game of life now.
Things had gotten better between Arthur and Alfred and as fate would have it they ended up falling in love. Everyone was pleased. He even was really happy for them. He wouldn't be selfish if the love of his life was happy. And he was. Arthur's eyes always sparkled now. It would always make his heart warm. But he himself didn't go searching for anyone. There was Joan…but he would rather not think about that…He just merely watched the other live his life. He didn't need his own happiness. Seeing England happy was good enough for him.
It wasn't always easy though. He knew that. How easy could it be to watch you love with someone else? He could never sit with them at the meetings. It was too much for him when they would pass their notes or whisper sweet nothings. He would always have to scold himself for being selfish. He would sit next to Matthew. Hoping the presence of his son would lighten things. It did for the most part. It always did get hard during July 4th or the anniversary of the two love birds. He tried not to give into his emotions. He usually tried to go out. But when he didn't it did get hard. Sometimes it was just too hard to not cry. He hated to cry. He was supposed to be the rock for everyone else.
He knew the other had probably long forgotten. He had to accept that. He was big brother France. That was it. Sure things had happened, but he needed to move on. He was acting childish for dwelling on the past. It was just a small thing to make Arthur better. It didn't mean anything! But why was it so hard? It shouldn't have been this big to him. He was only helping, feelings aside.
He sat alone in Paris. Another anniversary he had to be alone for. He tried reading, singing, cleaning cooking. But it was one of those times his emotions simply got to him. He would curse and just give up on what he was doing, sit with his wine and just think. Could he call someone over? Everyone had special others now a days…He gave up on that idea.
He didn't know why Arthur was so important to him. He had taken a liking to him as soon as he originally saw him. He had gotten close a few times but as soon as Alfred came into the picture he knew all chances with him were lost. But that was ok, right? He knew the other was happy and that's all he wanted. He shouldn't give into these stupid emotions! He had gotten through about three or four glasses of wine. Why was his alcohol tolerance so high? He lay on the couch just staring at the designs in his ceiling. All the memories of those times with Arthur came to him. He felt a tear stream down his face but didn't bother to brush it off. Why should he? No one was around. He was simply too tired to care at the moment.
He acted so happy for everyone. Papa France. Big Brother France. Pervy France. The Frog. Whimpy France. Everyone had their own name or preference. But everyone knew he was happy. Or at least that's what they saw. He wasn't fully depressed. He was happy for the most part. It was only lost love…But it did all just hurt so badly. There was always that pain in his chest whenever he was around Arthur.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of someone on his porch. He had become able to hear things that occurred outside of his home ever since the Second World War. He slowly decided to get up and check. He wiped his tears and made himself presentable. Opening the door he found no one. Looking around, the corner of his eye caught the bouquet of roses at his feet. Bending down to pick them up, a soft breeze blew and a small card fell out. He could just make out the familiar cursive that he knew too well on the white parchment;
"I haven't forgotten"
I hope you enjoyed that! Reviews would be much appreciated!
-ClassyAnimeNerd