I do not own Hetalia or "You Could be Happy" by the Snow Patrol

You Could be Happy, Part II

"Is it too late to remind you how we were? But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur. Most of what I remember makes me sure I should have stopped you from walking out the door "

Arthur Kirkland sat numbly on their bed. He had the covers drawn up around his shoulders, the curtains closed and the lights out. He sat in complete darkness, willing his exhaustion to take over, and his thoughts quiet. It had to be close to four in the morning, and he hadn't slept properly in two days. Guilt was eating away at him.

He itched to call his lover. Hear his accented voice, and ask him to come back to him. To forgive him for what he had done and said, for what he had accused him of in the heat of the moment. He wanted to be back in Francis' arms, warm and secure. He wanted to feel his lips against his own. Against his jaw, and his neck, anywhere they could reach like they did while he was trying to fall asleep.

Arthur was completely alone, and he was scared it was going to stay this way. He wanted to fix the wrongs he had done. Would Francis even listen to him if he called? He doubted it. The Frenchman could be so stubborn, and stay angry for a long time. Arthur was sure he wouldn't hear a word he had to say. He wished though. He didn't want to live in a country where he had no one.

Canada was a lonely place from him. He had come over on an exchange for school in University, not knowing anyone or having a place to stay, save the ratty apartment they provided him with. He could remember the stench of drugs and the stale air in the building. He had only spent a few days there, however. He had met Francis at a bar, as cliche was it was, and the two had come to an agreement almost immediately that Arthur could spend the remainder of his stay in his nicer apartment.

At the time, Francis was graduated from college, doing well at his work, and had enough money to support himself and others if he son chose. He was living a good life for a man of twenty-eight. Arthur, who was only twenty-one at the time, wasn't going to deny the offers he made.

He had felt safe with him. Francis taught him the way things were different in Canada then they were over in Europe, having lived in France until he was eighteen, and he helped him with his work at the university as well. Arthur had taken an English major, hoping to become a teacher, or professor of some sort. The Frenchman had poked a little fun at him, but helped him none the less. When he would go away on business trips he would call, and make sure that everything was alright at 'home', as he called it. Arthur wasn't sure why it had always warmed his heart, but it had. He suspected it was because 'home' had always been reserved for a place where he felt completely comfortable, while a mere dwelling was a 'house' to him. He didn't imagine Francis shared the same belief.

That aside, Arthur really found it to be no wonder how quickly he fell in love with Francis Bonnefoy. He fell in love with his annoying habit to ridicule his cooking, and leave his laundry all over the house. The way he smoked in the living room after dinner without so much as opening a window. Arthur loved the way Francis would pull his long blonde hair back into a pony tail at the nape of his neck, and push his glasses up his nose every few seconds while he was trying to do paper work. Everything about him had captivated Arthur, and he loved even his flaws.

Why hadn't he been able to hold back his temper a few days ago during their argument? He wanted to remind Francis of how happy they had been before. When they spent time together. At dinner, after work, before going to bed. Everything they did together, he wanted Francis to remember. He wanted Francis to know how sorry he was, and that he took his accusations back.

Arthur knew he shouldn't have said any of it. He should have taken a deep breath, a step back. He shouldn't have slapped him, and he shouldn't have yelled.

He should have stopped him from leaving, and he understood that now that he was gone.