"He w-wanted to see you," Alfred murmured as they drove up to the deserted stretch of road that was bathed in flashing red lights. He wiped furiously at his eyes.
It didn't look good. Francis's heart was pounding in his throat, his stomach suddenly churning with fear and his ears barely registering the words when Alfred spoke. "I've already talked t-to him, but h-he just wanted y-you..."
As soon as the car had slowed, Francis leapt out and ducked under the yellow caution tape that had roped off the area. A huge semi truck was twisted off the road, its entire front smashed in on itself and the trailer on its side. Francis's heart stopped again, and it was only sheer willpower that kept him breathing in the shock. He was only vaguely aware of Alfred next to him, or of the policewoman who was approaching with tears in her eyes.
He looked around desperately for Arthur, wanting him to come walking out to them yelling at Alfred for bringing 'that frog' here, and then he wanted Arthur to come and smack him across the face and demand that he leave. Francis wanted Arthur to be okay. That was all. Please, God, if you even exist, please let Arthur be fine. Let this all be some cruel prank. Please, please, let Arthur Kirkland be okay! Do you know Arthur Kirkland, God? But as he scanned the desperate scene, he felt hot tears pricking his eyes when no feisty Brit came stomping toward them.
On the other side of the road, closest to them, was a smaller car, this one with the driver's door smashed open and the body almost completely destroyed. He knew whose car that was, sitting crushed on the side of the road. A soft hand on his shoulder was all that kept him from breaking down.
Francis turned to see the policewoman, looking up at him with tears in her light brown eyes. She didn't seem the type to cry.
"Are you Arthur's boyfriend?" she asked quietly.
Suddenly it all hit Francis in the face. Arthur wasn't okay. He was probably dying. And he'd wanted to see Francis. Free, glassy tears began sliding down his cheeks.
"Oui," Francis murmured.
He followed the woman through the wreckage in a daze, the sirens and flashing lights all fading to background noise. His vision swam with tears, and he bit his lip to keep from crying openly as suddenly the woman stopped in front of a place where the pavement was clear except for a dark figure, lying there with his body twisted at an angle that shouldn't have been possible. The woman turned to Francis, taking him by the shoulders and meeting his eyes.
"Arthur is hurt in a way that—that he shouldn't be alive and talking. If we move him..."
Francis nodded, tears streaming down his face again. He understood. The woman looked like she was about to cry too, seeing him so heartbroken, but she forced herself to continue in a shaky voice.
"The way he was hit, his back and hips are broken. He—he just wanted you. Said it was important..."
She shook her head helplessly. "I'm so sorry."
Francis nodded, shoulders shaking as he turned his back on the woman and started toward Arthur. His face was bathed in the red lights, green eyes fading. Francis fell to his knees beside the Brit who suddenly seemed so weak, when he normally refused to give in.
"Francis?" Arthur whispered, his voice rough and weak. Francis nodded, his tears leaving little dark spots in the fabric of Arthur's shirt.
There was a moment of silence as Arthur reached up to touch Francis's face, his weak hand brushing some of the tears away.
"D-does it hurt?" Francis finally asked, placing a hand over Arthur's and suddenly feeling how cool it was. The pulse in his wrist was weak and irregular.
"A little," Arthur replied, and with a jolt, Francis realized that there were tears streaming down his face as well.
"I'm so sorry," Francis forced out, shoulders shaking with a quiet sob as he bent over Arthur, desperate to find the familiar light in those green eyes.
"I am—am too," Arthur whispered weakly. Francis shook his head, crying harder.
"You shouldn't be," he murmured. "It was a-all my fault."
More light faded from Arthur's green eyes, and he struggled to keep Francis's face in focus. He couldn't feel the warm, sweet breath on his face but knew he should. A shaky gasp, he forced himself to breathe. Breathe. Breathe for Francis. He smiled weakly, desperate tears sliding down his face as he felt his own heart begin to fail.
"K-kiss me, you frog..." he pleaded.
"As you wish," Francis whispered, openly sobbing now.
Francis leaned over him, cheeks soaked with tears, and took Arthur's face in his hands as he brought their lips together for the very last time. Arthur kissed back with the last of his strength, crying too, but his tears were cool against Francis's face; not warm, like they should be. Each movement was loving and drawn out, before finally Arthur fell back. His green eyes were nearly lifeless, and he looked up at the blurry shadow that was Francis, not feeling the hot tears dripping down onto his face.
There was one more thing he had to say, as the world was slipping away into blackness. His heart sputtered and stopped.
"I-I..." he whispered with his last breath. "love y-you..."
Arthur didn't hear Francis sobbing his name, didn't hear the stream of whispered je t'aimes, didn't feel the kisses all over his face. Francis's body shook with sobs as the last of the light in those green eyes went dormant, leaving him alone on the street.