Months had passed since the last time France saw England's ghost.
The scary part was that there were times that England would not even cross France's mind, though that never lasted long, and, whenever France realized that England had left his mind, he panicked and would try his best to remember the other's face, his voice, his bad temper, everything.
Throb.
He was forgetting. Slowly but surely. It didn't make sense, countries weren't forgotten easily. They didn't disappear, they didn't die, just to be forgotten. Countries were always remembered. They were a part of history.
Yet, here France could barely remember the Englishman who represented the country, that was once an empire, and who once affected everything about his life.
France sits at a bench in a park where he was waiting for his friend. A friend who could help him or so he hoped. He leans his head back to look at the sky. It was cloudy. Cloudy like most of the days at England's were.
Throb.
He closes his eyes and tries to imagine England's smile.
"Love." he mumbles into the air.
It had taken him more than a thousand years to finally accept what he had and still felt for the English nation. The nation he could no longer touch, hear, nor see.
France brings a hand over his closed eyes that were threatening to overflow with tears. He hadn't cried. Not yet and he somehow felt that he wouldn't.
Not when the other had completely disappeared from his life.
Not when his memories of England were slipping away.
How could you miss someone you didn't remember?
How could you cry for someone you no longer knew?
Throb.
But was England really leaving his mind and his memories?
He couldn't help but wonder.
Was he really forgetting the one he loved?
Throb.
France looked up at the sound of footsteps to see Spain walking towards him.
"Hello." Spain greets with a smile and France tries to force one back.
Spain sits beside the Frenchman and waits for him to speak. France had called him out of nowhere and he had immediately known that this was serious, whatever was bothering France was important. He could guess it was about England though. Spain might be oblivious, or at least act as such, but he could tell France had had feelings for England and the fact that France never cried after the the other's death worried him.
It seemed everything would catch up with France eventually, if it hadn't already.
France looks at Spain from the corner of his eye and looks back to the scenery in front of him.
Taking a breath, he begins to tell Spain about how he used to see England's ghost almost everywhere and everyday. He mentions how he had ignored it the spirit.
"I didn't want it to be true," he whispers loud enough for Spain to hear, "I felt that if I talked to the ghost it would mean England was truly gone even though I told myself I didn't care."
Throb.
He sneaks a look at the Spain.
Spain isn't looking at him and he is thankful for that.
"I made the mistake of talking to him a few months ago and he disappeared. I told him I was glad he was dead, he starts to feel tears form in his eyes, I.."
France's voice wavers and both men wait until the blonde man composes himself.
"The truth is, I love him and I miss him."
Spain looks at France. A little relieved that he had finally admitted his feelings.
"And," France starts, his voice becoming shaky, "I think I might be forgetting him."
Throb.
Spain's eyes widen, "What do you mean? You can't forget him. He was a nation, it's impossible to forget him, especially so soon after his death." Spain was trying his best to comfort the other with his words.
France shakes his head and looks at Spain, his eyes showing a sadness Spain hadn't seen in years since the death of a woman that had meant quite a bit to France.
This sadness, though, seemed much worse.
Spain tries again, "You have just accepted the love you feel for him right? It's only the stress that's affecting you, don't worry. You won't forget him."
France listens carefully and takes everything into consideration. Maybe Spain was right.
France seems to be calming down with every word Spain says so the Spaniard continues, thinking of what made France realize that he missed the other. "You'll see him again." Spain moves an arm over France's shoulder. "You know he is too stubborn to stay away, even as a ghost. Why else would he have waited so long by your side even though you were ignoring him? He'll be back."
France smiles at the truth of England's personality.
Spain was right about everything. Forgetting England was part of his imagination because he was afraid of the hurt he felt for accepting the love he had for a dead man. Yet, now that he thought about it, he would rather have the memories than nothing at all. It was all up to him to remember the other.
France closes his eyes and can clearly see England and his grumpy expression again.
The Englishman would be back. They had unfinished business after all. France opens his eyes and stands up. He looks up at the sky before he looks back at his Spanish friend.
"I hope he'll come see me soon."
He turns away from Spain and closes his eyes to imagine England standing before him.
"I need to talk to you." he whispers.
End of chapter three!
I felt that France needed to talk to a friend and so this happened.
Sorry for taking so long to update, been quite busy with getting ready to go back to school. I've also been quite tired lately.
Anyway, thanks for reading!