A week passed.

England allowed France to remain at his house to continue catching up and work on paperwork. France seemed to return to his usual spirits, harmlessly flirting with England at every opportunity. The Frenchman even went so far as to offer him a rose from his own garden. England just about threw a fit at that.

Pretty soon England returned to normal, too, the shock finally wearing off. A few passerby's related them to a bickering elderly couple. They weren't wrong.

At one point France suggested that England should stay at the corners house.

"No," England said flatly, turning a page in his newspaper.

"But Angleterre~" France pouted, leaning across the table so his face was in front of the paper. "It will be easier to catch up on paperwork if I'm there!"

"Then go," England replied, giving him the cold shoulder, as per usual. "But I'm staying here."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why will you not come to France with me?" England stiffened. Memories ran through his mind like a river in a storm. Shouting. The groaning of wood about to give. The heat of flame.

"It's too painful." He replied with honesty. "I...I just can't." France nodded and stood.

"Very well, I will go myself."

England's head shot up. Panic clouded his mind. He stared at France's back as the flirt made his way out the back door and to the garden gate, his fingers brushing, almost lovingly, over the roses. He was leaving.

"Wait!" England cried out before he could stop himself, and France turned to face him in surprise as he caught up. He grabbed his wrist even though the other nation had stopped moving. France stared down at England with wide eyes.

"Don't." England pleaded, eyes equally wide. "Stay."

France smiled.

"Of course, mon cher."

England's heart fluttered. He dropped his hand as if he were burnt.

"Don't turn this into something it's not, you frog." he huffed indignantly, colour creeping into his cheeks. Turning back, he heard France reply sadly.

"I wouldn't dream of it."


England felt weaker every day.

The deterioration had started slow, about 2 years before. It had sped up considerably once France had shown up on his doorstep, haggard and in bad need of a shower.

He was happy the spell had worked. He wasn't happy about the consequences. He wanted to spend as much time as possible with France before...well. He didn't want to think about that.

Being so tired made him unusually cranky - even more than usual. He was pale and quickly losing weight. France seemed to be catching on, fussing over England far more than necessary. Though a slip of the tongue revealed that France simply thought him overworked. Thanks to his somewhat manipulative and flirty ways, the Frenchman had managed to get his boss to allow England a holiday. That was fine with him. It gave him more time to spend with his garden, and by extension, France. Well, that's what he had hoped. France absolutely forbade him to do anything, including one of the few things that calmed him. And yet he insisted.

England had expected the frog to butcher his garden. He was pleasantly surprised.

"You missed a spot." France looked up at England, confusion wavering on his face. England rolled his eyes and pointed.

"There. How can you expect me to keep my roses trim if you let unruly twigs sprout." France laughed, understanding, and he scowled.

"Angleterre, if you do not let something grow, how can you expect it to flourish?"

England had a feeling he meant more than the flowers.