It was a cold afternoon in London. Cold, rainy, foggy. Very typical. Almost routine. In fact it was routine. Never changing. Always the same scene. Everything appeared to move so quickly when you lived so old. Days were unclear to the memory. It seemed like yesterday that America was still your colony. It was a strange thing to think, but it was true. We all have that one day, week, month, or year that seems to pass so quickly. Nothing is set in stone it seems. The days blur together. You simply sit there asking when anything will happen. Something to change this monotonous routine. Something different. It seems stupid but, sometime you simply want to remember something. Have one thing stand out. With Francis though, Arthur felt complete. Days were fun. He felt accomplished even if sat by the fire all day reading, if Francis was there of course. If only he was here right now.
Being a nation was so annoying sometimes. Always being in meetings. No personal time it seemed, even though you had all the time in the world. Afraid to have a relationship with someone because if they were human you knew they would die before you and if they were nation like you, then you had that nagging though in the back of your head that your governments wouldn't approve and would separate you. Arthur always was so cautious in any relationship he would have with anyone. It seemed that everyone he ever associated himself with, one day wound up hurting him. He didn't want this hurt anymore. He couldn't deal with it anymore. He never wanted to ever let go of Francis.
Now this seems so weird to others because, I mean, England and France? Don't they hate each other? Haven't they always hated each other? It was so complicated. Japan would always call it "tsundere", whatever that meant. Yet, when he was with Francis, he felt complete. Like the part of him that he wished he still had, the wildness that was France, was finally fitting into place. An unfinished painting. Maybe you might say, a girl with a perfect outfit, however, no accessories. That one thing he knew he wanted, yet he was always to shy, or scared to say he wanted. That's what Francis was to him. The Horcrux that needed to be joined to him again. That little piece of soul that would keep him tied to this world forever. It was so right being beside Francis. Arthur can't imagine what it must have been without him now. It was natural to be in love. And he hoped, just this once, that it would work out. Be eternal. Beautiful in all the innocent ways. If you could ever achieve innocence with Francis that is!
Arthur could tell about the many ways Francis was so different from his usual horny, perverted self. The times he was so gentle, caring, and compassionate. Moments when the world seemed to simply dissolve like sugar does in coffee. Moments he would never, in his living memory, allow himself to lose. Those simple things he does that causes Arthur to melt. Like bringing him a gift spontaneously. Or remembering the little things that he, himself seemed to forget sometimes. Other deeds as simple as trying to understand a new book that he was enjoying, better yet, simply sitting down to watch an old movie together with him. Such easy things, yet, they made all the difference in the world to Arthur. They demonstrated that he cared. That he truly was a master of love. No matter how many time he would go off and get drunk with Antonio and Gilbert, he would always be sober enough when he came home to cook a nice dinner for Arthur.
The simple things in life really do make all the difference. You could say Arthur was a romanticist, but really, he was only caught in a spider web controlled by Francis. Would up and ready to eat, but still, he never wanted to get out of this mess. It was his sanctuary. His life.