Word count: 269
Pairings: FrUK
Warnings: Character death
The Calendar
Canada cried. Seychelles had been reduced to shaking sobs. Even America, the self-proclaimed hero who claimed he could handle anything, was tearful. So many of them stood gathered around the hole in the ground, in the middle of a field that only a certain green-eyed man knew was significant. A coffin was lowered. Beautiful roses were etched into the dark wood. As dirt was filled, the crowd dispersed, leaving England alone at the fresh grave. He stared at the headstone, anger and hatred flashing in his eyes, right alongside emotions he refused to admit.
"Damn frog," he whispered. "You have a lot of bloody nerve leaving me here like this."
The angered nation thought back to their last meeting, his heart twisting at the thought that he'd been the last to see the Frenchman alive. It hadn't ended well, to be honest the Englishman was more shocked than angered at his lover's request. Their relationship had never run smooth. They had a history of wars and breakups, of alliances and passionate nights. But England assumed that was how it would always be, lovers one day and enemies the next. Marriage just wouldn't work between them.
The thought made England panic. He thought his old friend was joking. He hadn't realized how dire the circumstances were. But now it was too late. All England could do was lay a bouquet of roses at the base of a gravestone. As he stood alone the anger and hatred melted away, revealing the love Arthur could never show while France was alive.
"I'll sign your damn calendar. Just come back, Francis. Je t'aime."