Francis left to go into the bathroom for medicine. Arthur, meanwhile, laid his head back as he stared at the ceiling, panting. He closed his eyes slowly as he waited. Francis quickly returned with medicine in a little cup. "Here you go." But Arthur didn't respond. His head bobbed as he tried to remain conscious. He barely registered France's presence and his breathing had become quiet now.
"Arthur," Francis repeated. This time around, Arthur mumbled words that seemed to fade in and out of modern English to possibly Italian. He didn't register the reality of the situation. His mind floated elsewhere as he continued to his speech.
"Oh, how many memorable pedigrees, ample estates and renowned fortunes were left without a worthy heir? How many valiant men, lovely ladies..." he began.
"Arthur! Stop it!" Francis demanded in a panic. He had to keep himself from shaking frantically to British man on the bed.
"…And handsome youths whom even Galen, Hippocrates and Aesculapius would have judged to be in perfect health, dined with their family, companions and friends in the morning…"
"Stop playing around," he said in a shaky voice.
"…and then in the evening with their ancestors in the other world?"
"ARTHUR!" he shouted, shaking him now.
His eyes snapped open and he looked at Francis in a state of confusion, completely unaware of what had occurred. Then he curled up, coughing harshly into his arm. His body still shook from every cough he did. Finally, he turned back to Francis and with a weak voice, inquired, "What happened?"
"You were muttering something from the plague," he said warily, brushing the bangs away from the sick man's face. He could feel from that mere activity how hot he was. He frowned and took the medicine and handed it to him.
"Oh… I'm sorry. I use to… memorize literature from then… to keep my mind off of the death outside of my window. It's involuntary now," he explained and cough into his shoulder before weakly taking the medicine. Francis noted the pain in the other man's face as he swallowed the pills. He took a large gulp of water to force the medicine.
"You won't get sick… Will you?" Arthur struggled to say through his sore throat and lack of breath.
"Non, I'll be fine," Francis answered.
"Then… do you mind?"
Francis smiled and moved closer to the other. Arthur allowed his head to lie on Francis' side. He curled up in a ball next to the French man. It was quiet for the moment, minus the heavy breathing of the British man. Francis petted the other's head gently, watching him slowly fall asleep again. He looked so vulnerable, so weak. Arthur was still pale. His body shook with every motion, most of the time it was shivering though. Francis had to tuck a blanket around the two of them to stop it. Even then, Arthur looked ill. It hurt Francis to just sit there and watch the nation he had shared so much history with, be it good or bad, struggle to merely breathe.
"Fr-Francis," Arthur said in a whisper.
"What is it? You need to rest," he said and brushed some hair away from Arthur's face to see his dulled, green eyes. He frowned as he pulled the other a bit closer. He knew there was no way to protect him now, but he felt like he should at least try.
"Will you sing me a song… or at least hum?" he asked like a child. He weakly nuzzled into Francis' side. He shifted so that he lay on his stomach. He was most comfortable like this, even if this made the situation worse. It was hard to breathe, so he shifted so he was partly resting on his side. It was a habit from his childhood, and now it was so ingrained in him that he rarely slept any other way.
Francis watched him get comfortable. He didn't plan on leaving Arthur for awhile, so he got into a comfortable position as well. He rubbed Arthur's back tenderly. "Let me know if there is anything else, cher," he said. He took a breath, and began to sing. The calm, majestic voice relaxed the sick British man next to him, as he soon began to breathe more naturally and close his eyes. By the time Francis had finished the song, Arthur was asleep again. The Frenchman continued to rub his back for several long minutes before getting up. He glanced around the room and found another blanket. He tucked it around Arthur. "Get well," he said softly and kissed him on the head. Silently, he left the room and went to make some soup for Arthur when he woke up.
Thanks for your comments guys. Yeah, this was based off a role play that my friend and I did. The first half and the beginning on this section we both role played. The reason it took so long was because I had to finish it for everyone who complained for an ending. If anyone is interested, I also have a squeal I have to dig up but please leave your comments and review. Let me know how you liked it. Thanks everyone who did so before!