Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.

..

"Bonjour," Françis nearly purrs.

The Frenchman quickly decides to use Arthur's alias. "Have you seen Will—" he stops and raises his eyebrows as he notices that Kiku has become more awake. The smaller man's face becomes red and he looks down at his feet. The other repeats his question; he is answered with a stuttered "no".

Ah. It's something real, then. The taller man smiles and believes that he has a lead about the running Englishman. Now that he knows about this, it is safe to talk about this more seriously. "May I come in?" Françis is shown inside. He briskly walks in; he turns around just as Kiku closes the door.

"Has Arthur told you where he went?" he immediately asks. Kiku turns to look at the other with a confused expression on his face; sleep has not completely left his mind.
"Who?"

Françis raises his brows once more.

--

Most of the people in the plane are asleep. The lights still turned on are scattered and dim amongst the sleepy darkness. One of those lights shine on Arthur's seat; the Englishman is looking at a necklace he was able to get ('steal' does not meet up with his standards) from a girl that was as clueless as one can be.

"It is a gift from my brother," she told him politely. The girl was blushing, thinking that the Englishman was flirting with her. As the two of them went off to their own ways, the trinket is already snug inside Arthur's pocket.

The thin, silver chain and the small diamond heart felt like paper; it isn't something fake, no. He could tell what's what. The thing is just so uncomfortably light and delicate. One of his fingers randomly move up and down in the air—

"A gift for the heartbroken woman, hm?" a man beside him grins as if they are already friends. Arthur goes along with it and answered that it is. The stranger laughs a little loudly and stirs awake the few people around them; one is the sleeping person on his other side. The large hat that the previously sleeping other wore falls down to his lap and reveals blond hair that is nearly the colour of snow. It was nearly the same as the smiling man's.

The sleepy one scowls deeply and groggily punches the stranger then goes back to sleep. The Englishman is completely ignored as his seatmate turns his attention to tease his grumpy friend. The grinning man is messing up his friend's hair to match his own hairstyle.

Arthur looks down at his table. A small pixie is moving his finger out of boredom; it almost looks as if it is thinking that something would happen if it did so. The winged creature stops and reaches for the diamond heart to see into it as if it were a mirror. The small thing soon gets tired of it as there is no reflection found and flutters away to the other two beside the Englishman.

Arthur, with nothing else to do, thinks of his past days in Italy; most of his memories are filled with Kiku's image—he makes a small smile. Catching himself thinking of the smaller man, he suddenly frowns. His face turns red at the moments where he hadn't had a clear mind (he would call it nothing else). The Englishman tries to make explanations and reassurances to himself but fails to do so.

He slumps down on his chair as he faintly recalls the feel of the other's touch and shaky breathe. Arthur looks at the diamond heart as if it were to tell him something. Nothing is told, of course. A thought comes to mind, and he tries to think otherwise.

Finally, he's given up. Arthur starts to miss the smaller man.

He's in love with Kiku.

--

Françis looks at the smaller man with slight pity. "He was just using you," he blurts out. Kiku eyes the other incredulously but does not say anything about it; he is already fully awake but the words are vaguely understandable to him. The Frenchman frowns.
"How…?"
"He needed to hide somewhere."
"He used to live here."
"Mon ami, I've known him for a long time."

There is a small, threatening silence in the air (though it doesn't feel like it's coming from either of the two). The both of them are still standing in their places from when Françis has walked into the great room. As more minutes of silence pass by, the Frenchman sighs and excuses himself to go back outside.

"Why is he hiding?" Kiku asks in a monotonous voice and clears the way to the door. Françis studies the other for anything suspicious but decides that it's just mere curiosity. "He's a criminal."
"What has he done?"
"Very many things."

Françis walks out as the other says nothing more. He hears an immediate click of the door closing behind him. He turns back to make sure that the door doesn't open again; it doesn't. Not happy with their conversation, the man walks out into the dark streets of another random, romantic Italian night.

--

Kiku slowly walks up the stairs and goes into the bedroom to sleep. The bed is inviting but minutes into it is making him feel otherwise. His mind bitterly swirls of Arthur but he understands the man's actions. Well, he probably does.

The Japanese man mouths the other's real name—it feels strange. This time, he says it aloud—it's still strange but it also pricks him in the inside. His eyes are blank. He feels rather humiliated; he is humiliated. Recurring images of that fateful morning bring him both joy and disgust.

He feels disappointed of something. What is it of? He doesn't really know. It's probably because he has been tricked into loving the Englishman. No, it must be of something else. His feelings for the man weren't love. He is disappointed because his pride and honour as a man is sabotaged.

It was lust; a common animalistic urge that every man has.

It was just a complicate desire…?

Kiku buries his face into the pillow. He turns to the other side of where the Englishman had lay on before. He stares into the empty space as if Arthur would suddenly come in and just be there. The smaller man doesn't like the upsetting feeling in his chest.

His disappointment gradually turns into something darker and deeper. He shuts his eyes as if to tell himself that everything is just a twisted dream.

It is love.