Little warning: Small bits of Franada in this part~
It took quite some time, but Arthur managed to get Ludwig to agree on finally getting out of that building and back to camp. It was well barricaded, so everyone thought it was safe for now. Once they arrived, the little leader of this group, and his next hand man came over to talk to them. Francis looked over the two, frowning once he noticed that not even a single bag of theirs was filled. "…Did you run into trouble?" He asked, French accent flowing thickly. Arthur glared at the man, only shrugging. "I suppose so." "What does that mean?" "It means we might or might not have run into trouble." Gilbert, Francis' second-in-command sighed and rolled his red eyes, "Just tell us what happened out there, prissy Brit."
Arthur took in a deep breath, using all of his will power to make sure he didn't snap at the albino. "Look, someone was already there, and I didn't want any trouble." Francis' face lit up softly, but with annoyance, "But you just left? Arthur, that was so stupid of you! He could have had a lot on him!" He glared at the Briton, getting annoyed with every second of this conversation. Arthur and Francis never… really agreed on anything that each other said or wanted.
"He had a bloody knife to my throat, you frog!" Arthur spat back, feeling the same annoyance building up. Francis sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and calm down before replying, "But still- you made no move to try and find supplies for the camp-" He was cut off by a small voice behind him. "Ah, um, Francis?" Francis turned to look over at a rather small Canadian, and his face lit up with a smile. "Oui, mon petite?" (Yes, my little one?) The Canadian, Matthew, if Arthur remembered correctly, looked down at the floor before mumbling, "Pourrais-je vous parler un instant? C'est assez important ..." (Could I talk to you for a moment? It's rather important...) "Oui, tenez-vous s'il vous plaît, mon amour." (Yes, hold on please, love.) Francis quickly answered back. Francis turned back to Arthur, smile completely gone.
"Come and talk to me after this. We need to talk." Francis grumbled before he draped an arm around Matthew's waist and walking away while talking back and forth in French. Gilbert and Arthur watched the other two walk away, and once they were out of sight, Gilbert turned to face Arthur. "You're fucked." He said with a smirk. "But I'm serious; you should have gotten some sort of message to him. You can't let people walk up to you and threaten you. Shoulda' shot him with your rifle."
Arthur took in a deep breath before shooting his deep, defiant stare to the Albino in front of him. He took a few steps forward, getting close enough to Gilbert so that he could talk to him without anyone else hearing. "I've gone through too much- and lost too much as well. It's a living hell for me to continue living, and I wouldn't want to make someone feel the same way. I'm not willing to kill anyone unless they're an inclusive threat to me, or someone I hold dear." He said harshly. He then took a few steps back, and marched over to his tent in anger.
This was true. With his mother dying in a car accident, and then his father dying of alcohol poisoning only seven years later, it brought a large toll on him. In middle school up to high school, he was in a form of depression. The only real thing that changed his view on life was his boyfriend, but he was long gone by now.
Arthur got into his tent, zipping up the door quickly and laying down on his cot and pillow with a sigh. He closed his eyes, trying to think of what to do. Now that he had mentioned someone else's territory, Francis is most likely going to send out a group to go and make the person surrender, give up all their supplies, or fall to the floor with red stains all over them. He felt awful. Killing people was not his specialty- nowhere near it. He just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day and hopefully feel better after he woke up.
So, he did just that. He rolled over to the side, to which he found was most comfortable, and forced his eyes shut. Forcing yourself to sleep was difficult, but he always managed to do it once the world went to hell. He couldn't sleep with the cold feeling resting on his shoulders.
Arthur didn't know how long it took for him to sleep, but he knew it wasn't a short time. Sleeping made him feel at peace, but this time, he felt an odd numbness as he wandered in the dark…
Eheh... sorry! My chapters seem to keep getting shorter and shorter- but I have an excuse this time! c: I've been needing to continue this music video and painting, along with tons of homework... So yeah... longer chapters promised soon...