They were once in love.
Those days where over.
And so where Arthur's day of living.
Due to one man.
One who was thought to innocent to murder.
Francais Bonnefoy.
"Francais? Are you home?" Arthur asked.
"Of course I am." Francais rolled his eyes. For where else would he be?
"Hey. Sorry.. I was gone with Alfred for the day. I should have told you."
"DAMN WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE!"
"A-Ah? Francais.. Calm down, please, it was one mistake!"
"ONE MISTAKE OUT OF MANY!"
"H-Hey! It won't happen again.."
"It better not!" Francais growled.
"Hey." Arthur yawned. He had been with Alfred again, and it was honestly a tiring day if you hung out with Alfred F. Jones.
"Hey.. Arthur." Francais stared at the Brit with a glare.
Shing... Shing... Shing...
It was the sound of metal. It rang in Arthurs' ears,
Pounding in his heart,
A bad feeling arose inside of him.
"Francais..."
Shing...
"You're scaring me."
Shing...
"I order you to stop at once!"
SHING!
The knife was pulled out into view.
"P-PUT THAT DOWN!"
Francais didn't even hesitate when he swung the knife forward, aiming to stab and rip at Arthur's throat.
It must've been Arthur's lucky day, because he blocked the attack by grabbing Francais' arms to stop impact.
"What's gotten into you, bloody wanker?"
"What's gotten into YOU?" Francais hissed out.
"I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!"
"W-Wha?! Nonsense... I love you." Arthur weakened his hold on Francais.
Bad idea...
Arthur froze as he felt the knife make impact to his throat.
"G-Gah.. Francais..."
The Frenchman gasped and dropped the knife in realisation.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"
ARTHUR KIRKLAND HAS DIED.