Human AU

FrUs

The time was the American Revolution, and Lafayette had just gone to the British colonies to engage in combat against the British. A soldier by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, young and eager to fight his enemies, had gone overseas as well. While training, he met another young soldier named Alfred Jones. The two quickly grew close, learning each other's language and sharing stories of home.

"Say, Francis!" Alfred called.

On their brief lunch break, they always sat on the grass together.

Francis turned his head toward the sound of Alfred's voice. Tears were in his eyes; he had evidently been crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Alfred plopped down next to his friend.

"We're moving out tomorrow." Francis mumbled.

"What?"

"We're going to battle." He sputtered, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"What's wrong with that? We're soldiers, that's our job."

Francis wiped his eyes. "I joined the army because I wanted to die and escape my cruel family. That is, until I met you. I love you."

He kissed Alfred. Alfred kissed back.

"I love you too." Alfred murmured.

The whistle startled them out of their brief moment of peace.

The next day, the troops moved out from their camp and marched toward the British camp they knew was a few miles away. When they arrived, however, it was deserted.

No one was there, save for the lifeless bodies of the three scouts that had been sent ahead.

"It's a trap!" Someone yelled.

Shots came from every direction and struck down dozens of soldiers simultaneously. No one could see the red uniforms hidings in the trees over the massive amounts of red blood spilling from almost everyone as they retreated.

Amidst the chaos, Alfred was frantically searching for Francis among the few who had escaped to the forest. As if in a daze, he took out his rifle and climbed a tree, hoping to get a better view of the situation.

"I see a few rebels near the campfire!" He yelled.

He had successfully distracted the regulars, as they descended from the treetops and ran out into the open area toward the other side of the camp. Alfred gave a quiet command to his fellow soldiers to fire at them, and one by one they dropped dead.

Horrified, Alfred remembered Francis when he saw a familiar man lying near the base of a tree. He was Francis and he was alive.

Alfred tried to stop the bleeding from the wound in his lover's shoulder with a strip of fabric he tore from his uniform. Francis opened his eyes. He saw Alfred's worried expression and tried to sit up.

"No, don't get up. You'll make it worse."

"Alfred, I'm dying..."

"N-no, y-you can't be!"

"I'm dying, Alfred, you have to let me go."

"I-I'll get help, just wait a moment!"

"I love you, Alfred," Francis closed his eyes and whispered, "But you have to move on..."

"It's going to be okay, just hang on!" Alfred yelled.

A medical team arrived shortly thereafter, and found Alfred still trying to stop Francis' bleeding. He was still alive, but he was slipping away. On the long walk back to the camp, Alfred and the other survivors stayed in complete silence.

The words of Francis still rang in Alfred's head.

"I love you, Alfred, but you have to move on..."

In the medical tent at the camp, Francis' condition became better with each passing day, but Alfred was not allowed to see him until three days after the ambush. Alfred ran to the tent to find Francis sleeping. Francis opened his eyes and Alfred was right there next to him, crying tears of joy.

The two embraced and kissed, vowing never to leave each other's side.