Chapter 7

It was a blustery day. The kind that made you want to wear a scarf just to see it dance in the wind. Which was why Francis was currently trying to untangle himself from tartan as Arthur's muffler attacked him for the fourth time that morning. The Brit wasn't helping, rather he laughed, using it as a blatant excuse to stay close to the Frenchman for warmth.

After stopping by Lizze's and grabbing a coffee and tea, Arthur had dragged Francis to the nearby park, intending to see some of the fall colours. It was odd to see the angel in such a chipper mood and Francis wasn't to keen on asking him why so they walked in a mutual silence, not quite enjoying each other's company, but not disliking either. And the Frenchman was positive that Arthur's continued scarf problems were not entirely accidental.

Plopping down onto a bench, Arthur sipped his tea as Francis took a seat beside him, shivering slightly. "Merde," the Frenchman muttered against the lid of his coffee before taking a long drink trying to stay warm, "Why have you dragged me out here? We should be inside and staying warm."

"Falling in love." Arthur said simply, "I mean, girls love this kind of shit. Meeting them in a park is the most goddamn romantic thing I can think of."

"Women don't go out when it's below freezing Arthur."

Arthur glared and looked away angrily for a moment before turning back slowly and grinning. "Oh don't they?" He snapped his fingers and from behind a tree appeared two very beautiful women. One had very short blond hair but Francis really wasn't paying attention to that but rather her large family jewels that she was trying to hide behind folded arms. The young lady beside her had tanned skin, dark shiny hair and a very feisty walk. "What do you call those?" Arthur asked, smirking.

As Francis watched, his throat feeling a little dry, the girls seems to shimmer slightly before wandering off, looking very confused. "Don't do that! Ça c'est pas drôle!" The Frenchman snapped, folding his arms over his chest and pursing his lips as he flushed, "You are a tease."

"What?" Arthur laughing, finishing his tea and tossing it to a nearby bin, "You said girls don't come here and I made some appear! You need to fall in love Francis, I want to go to heaven already!"

Getting to his feet and pacing away from the angel, Francis scowled at the ground. "It's not easy you know," He said quietly, "It's not like I can just force myself to fall in love with someone. Amour is more complicated than that."

In an instant, Arthur was at his side; elegant black boots clicking on the sidewalk. "I don't know," He said, bringing his hands to his mouth, blowing into them and rubbing them together, "You seem like a pretty good guy, I bet we'll find you a girl in no time. That waitress was into you." He added, his cheeks flushed a bright pink from the cold.

Francis shook his head. "Elizaveta?" He smiled, the woman had been completely fine this morning with him not awkward in the least, which he was beyond thankful for, "No, our date was nice, but we both like being friends better than a couple. That, and I've had my eye on someone else for some time now." Carefully, Francis reached back, grabbing his hair and pulling it back into a small ponytail.

"Well this makes things easier." Arthur said, stretching slightly, clasping his hands behind his back and thrusting his chest out, "We should go meet this girl." A series of cracks followed by a satisfied sigh.

Cringing slightly, Francis carefully placed his hand in his pockets, hunching his back against a small, but bitter wind. "I haven't known them for a long time."

"Oh, have I met them yet?"

"You know him pretty well." Francis said, stopping.

Arthur's face turned hard and he turned back to Francis slowly. He suddenly had gloves on his hands and was pulling them down, fingers flexing against the leather, forming a fist. "Don't tell me its Matthew," He said darkly, "Or I will kill you."

The threat in the angel's voice was impossible to ignore. Francis swallowed slightly, holding up a placating hand. "Wouldn't killing me go against the rules?" He asked weakly, knowing full well that wouldn't stop him from driving a stake through the Frenchman's heart.

"It would." Arthur said, nodding as he examined the leather of his glove, "But I wouldn't care. You are not touching Matthew. Or Alfred for that matter." The green eyes were burning.

Francis sighed, grabbing Arthur's fist, pushing it down. "It's not them." He said.

"Then who?" Arthur asked, frowning in confusion.

Perhaps not the smartest thing Francis has ever done but he couldn't help but feel enthralled in the way Arthur's narrowed eyes widen and the way his fists relax when Francis pressed his lips to the Englishman's.

-

"I'm moving to Italy with Lovino."

When Antonio says this, Francis looked up from his now-cold cup of coffee. The green eyes are looking at the ground and browns curls are tugged in every which direction by a strong wind. On Francis' other side, Gilbert leans forward slightly, eyes wide with amazement and shock.

"We want to open a tomato farm together," Antonio continues, his fingers clasped tightly in his lap as he finally looks at his two friends. There is a deep sadness in his voice, but Francis can't help but hear the tones of hopefulness and change there as well, "I've finally made enough money and the Vargas aren't poor… I'm leaving next week."

It wasn't surprising. Francis has seen the tickets, heard the phone calls and seen the bags tucked away, slowly swelling as Antonio's closet emptied. That didn't make it hurt any less but Francis still found himself smiling. This was good he tried to tell himself. Antonio needed this and Francis would only be happy for him.

"I guess it's just you and me then, Gilbert." The Frenchman finally says after a long pause, turning to the Prussian and giving him a weak smile. The smile only falters more when he sees the red eyes averted.

"Actually, I've just been accepted in the Berlin Philharmonic." Francis' eyes go wide as Gilbert looks at him, apology written in every line of his pale face, "I'm going back to Germany with Roderich next week."

Francis can't help but laugh nervously, his voice trembling with emotion (hurt, desolation and the bite of envy) as he asks, "But what about Ludwig? And Elizaveta?"

Gilbert runs a hand through his hair, and the Frenchman doesn't miss the look he shares with Antonio. They are having second thoughts about tell him. "He'll be fine in England. He says he loves it there."

"And Liz?" Francis asks, her name coming out harder and rougher than he intends. He glares at the Prussian, questions on his tongue but left unsaid and he knows that Gilbert's answers also go unuttered.

"I… haven't told her yet…" I'm sorry Francis, but we can't be together, I don't love you the way you love me.

"And you plan to?" This is all happening too fast. I hate you Gilbert.

And you have every right to. "I actually wanted to ask her to come with me." The Prussian says, smiling slightly, a touch of his old charm and cockiness coming back to the toothy grin. Francis holds back a scoff. "Roderich's got an apartment that has enough room for all of us. And between the two of us both working for the orchestra we should make a steady living, maybe even open another restaurant for Liz…"

Francis is the first to talk after the awkward silence that follows. He does not know why it is he that speaks first, that breaks the hurt and torn feelings inside of him. Beside him, Antonio places a hand on his arm and Gilbert copies the motion. Their warmth goes unnoticed by the Frenchman as he rubs his eyes on the back of his hands. "I guess… this is our last outing then."

The feelings of betrayal growing in his stomach were eating him alive and Francis wants nothing more than to grab their hands and stay in the park forever, but he knows better than that. His better half, his less selfish half wants, knows and needs to let them go.

"Yeah, I guess so." Gilbert says, his fists clenching around the fabric of Francis' coat as he looks away, muttering a curse under his breath.

Getting to his feet, Francis shakes the comforting touches away as he forces a smile onto his face. "Are you guys free tomorrow?" Turning, he looks down at them, trying to hold himself together, to not breakdown, to not be selfish. He can see they both want to say yes and he knows they are probably busy, packing up their lives into little boxes and leave his side.

But they say no anyway.

"Good." Francis feels his smile fall slightly and he can't help but wonder when they grew up from the small children hiding in a bush, trying to catch a beast of legend into adults and leaving him behind as they moved on in the world. "I'll… see you tomorrow then."

"Bye Francis." Antonio says, also getting to his feet.

"Stay sharp Frenchy." Gilbert holds out his hand, and then Antonio places his on top. They both look at Francis. The Frenchman feels his heart squeeze painfully as he places his hand on top last.

This was not the end Francis tries to remind himself as the Prussian and Spaniard throw their arms around him, pulling him into a close hug.

It wasn't like he wasn't going to see them again.

-

Arthur pulled back quickly, pushing the mortal away quickly. His cheeks were an even brighter pink. "Francis. I-I, we can't do this." He said quickly, "Fuck, seriously, what is wrong with you?!"

"Why not?" Francis said, following Arthur, ignoring the way the Englishman backed away from him, "I'm in love with you Arthur!"

Arthur was sure to keep his distance, shaking his head violently. "No you don't. You can't."

Lunging slightly, Francis wrapped his arms around the Englishman's shoulders. "Arthur, you saved my life and made me realize how much I was going to throw away." He closed his eyes, burying his face into the blond hair.

"That's not love! That's just gratitude!" Arthur fists tightened around Francis' jacket, trying to push him away, "Look at me Francis. You can't fall in love with me, I'm just going to disappear! Do you know what that would be like? Falling in love and then that person just disappears? I can't do that to you Francis!"

Francis pulled back slightly, looking into Arthur's pleading eyes. "Why not!?" He demanded, keeping his hold of the Englishman, refusing to let him go.

"Because I love you, you bastard!"

Arthur stared at the ground, hands falling from the dark jacket to cover his face. Jaw unhinging slightly, the Frenchman's eyebrows frowned slightly. "Quoi?" He finally managed, bending down slightly to try and see the angel's eyes.

"They made me watch you before I came down." Arthur said, talking to his feet, voice trembling and fast, "I saw how sad you were, how broken you were inside, and yet you put on this smiling face for the world to see. It was the stupidest thing I'd ever seen. And then you go and try to kill yourself. You just… It was so stupid! You were throwing so much away and it was like everything Antonio and Gilbert had done for you didn't matter in the slightest. I had to stop you."

The green eyes locked with Francis' and the Frenchman's hand tightened on Arthur's shoulder. "You… gave up your wings for me, didn't you?" He asked quietly. It was all clear now, why Arthur was so keen on helping him. It wasn't just about Francis, it was about everyone Francis was going to leave behind.

Arthur leaned his forehead against Francis' chest, laughing feebly. "I did. I wanted to make you see everything you were willing to throw away. It was so stupid…" Again, the gloved hands clutched at the heavy coat as the angel shuddered slightly.

"Arthur…"

"Francis, look," Arthur's voice caught slightly as Francis hugged him closer, "I don't believe in love in first sight. I never have and never will. But… I know that I feel something for you, love or just caring. And if you love me for some inexplicable reason, then…" Looking down, Francis saw Arthur fingers, now gloveless, playing with the frayed edges of the tartan scarf. "I guess I can pretend to feel the same way."

Francis' shoulder slumped slightly. "I don't want you to pretend." he said quietly, pulling away from Arthur slightly. For the first time in five minutes, they weren't touching.

Fingers weaving into the strands of cloth, Arthur kept his head down. "And I don't want to stay here forever." He confessed.

"I love you Arthur."

"I don't know how I feel about you Francis."

The Frenchman growled in frustration, burring his hands into fists. "You already said that you love me!" He said, shaking his head at the Englishman. Was he always this fickle?

Arthur was quiet as he tried to untangle his fingers from his scarf, cursing quietly. "I-I wasn't thinking straight, I was just blurting out things."

"But that doesn't make it untrue cher." Francis reached forward, taking Arthur's pink fingers and carefully pulling the tartan away, "Just because you say something quickly doesn't make it wrong." Still holding the Englishman's hands in his, Francis smiled at him.

"I don't want to love you Francis." Arthur said as he gazed up at Francis, shivering and blinking quickly, "I'll just hurt us both."

"Can't we at least try?" He squeezed the small hands, watching green eyes relax as the angel nodded slowly. Francis grinned, kissing the Englishman against, curling his fingers into the scarf.

Somewhere deep inside his mind Francis knew that it was a bad idea, he knew that it could only end badly and he knew it would probably end with his heart being wrenched in two.

Francis couldn't bring himself to care as Arthur came closer, green eyes closed as his cold nose brushed his.


Author's Note

Mmm~ FrUK 3 and Bad Touch Trio angst... I love writing them.