Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
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'W' train station, 16:45 PM
Arthur was tired. This whole escapade had made his legs shaking like there was an earthquake. The revelation about Francis had made him even wearier. The fact that Francis was dead, and the fact that he always saw him with his own eyes, sitting on his usual bench, waiting for his friends—no, that was a possible lie since Francis lied about his own existence—Arthur couldn't think about anything for the moment. All he wanted to do was going home, and forget everything ever happened. He was tired of being toyed with.
The Brit went in the line of his usual locket to get his round-trip ticket. While he was waiting, Arthur put both of his hands into his jacket pockets. One of his hands brushed something unfamiliar inside one of the pockets. Arthur yelped silently as he checked what he just touched. He pulled out the thing, revealing that it was his paper bag gift, his apology to Francis; the blue ribbon that he thought would fit on the Frenchman's hair.
Arthur swallowed. He lifted his watch to check the time, then realized that the ghost of Francis must have arrived and waited on his bench. Arthur frowned, thinking on how to confront the bloody frog after this.
As soon as he took his ticket, slowly Arthur walked to the platform, where vacant benches were available. Arthur could see him—Francis was sitting on his bench, looking very much alive despite what had happened to him a month ago. He was looking around the railway, as usual. Francis knew Arthur would usually stay in his house during Sundays, so he shouldn't have known Arthur was there. The Brit could do a sneak attack to confront the Frenchman.
Suddenly, Francis turned around, facing Arthur straight to his eyes. Arthur widened his green eyes, feeling his heart skipped a beat, shocked to see how Francis knew he was there. Maybe because he was a ghost, Francis could sense Arthur's presence? Only God knows.
"Arthur?" the Frenchman stood up, surprised. He smiled faintly. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached Arthur. "I thought you were back in your home, with your—"
"Stop right there!" Arthur yelled suddenly, cutting Francis' words, his arm stretched forward.
Francis halted in his tracks, just an arm away from Arthur. His dark blue eyes went wide at Arthur's scowling eyebrows, and the threatening look Arthur gave him as if Francis was a dangerous man.
"A-Arthur?"
Francis was nervous; afraid, even. He even took a step back. Arthur never showed his fierce side in front of Francis; only showing playful threats and punches to the Frenchman. Arthur knew this, so he sighed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves down.
Seeing the Brit starting to calm down a bit, Francis bravely took a step forward. "A-Arthur, i-is there something wrong?" he timidly asked.
Without looking at the Frenchman, Arthur slowly and shakily reached for his jacket pocket. He pulled out his paper bag gift and held it in front of Francis, all the while looking away, not daring to look at the eyes of someone whom he thought was very much alive.
Francis eyed the paper bag Arthur held, then eyed the Brit in front of him in bewilderment. Said Brit still looked away, his blonde bangs covering his eyes. Assuming that Arthur intended to give it to him, Francis then timidly took the paper bag. He opened the bag and peeked inside. Francis' eyes widened, as he slowly pulled out a blue ribbon from the bag. He inspected the ribbon for a moment, before turning to Arthur in bewilderment.
Sensing Francis was staring at him, Arthur then spoke, still looking away. "I've gone to your work place." He paused. "I've also gone to your favorite florist. And I've paid your dear landlady a visit. I've even gone to the HPD."
"Arthur, what are you—"
Finally, Arthur looked up at Francis. "You died."
Francis stared at him, again, his blue eyes widened in shock.
"Everyone that I've asked reacted oddly for my liking," Arthur continued. "Their answers were too ambiguous. Both your mentor and the florist. At first I didn't want to believe it. I still had hope that you'd be somewhere else, alive, but your landlady's answer was too blunt, so I had to go to the HPD just to confirm if her words were true or false. Do you know what I found there? Your bloody obituary in the list of the killed victims of the railway accident a month ago."
Francis was visibly shaking, gripping the ribbon and the paper bag close to his chest. "A-Arthur, this isn't what you think—"
"Oh, so you admit it?" Arthur hissed. "You admit that you're lying to me this whole time? That you're trying to conceal your true existence?"
"No!" Francis shouted. Oddly, no one noticed him but Arthur. "No, you got it wrong, Arthur! I—"
"I got it wrong? I got it wrong?!"
"S'il vous plaît, listen to me!"
"Why do I have to listen to a liar like you?! Everything you've told me is a lie!"
"No! Just—"
"I thought we could sort it out together," Arthur muttered. "I thought, maybe, I could give this friendship a chance. Maybe we could sort things out together and not slashing our heads off. But you make me change my mind."
"Please, just listen to me!" Francis cried.
"What? What do I have to listen from you?" Arthur hissed, scowling.
"Yes! Yes, I may have lied about me dying from that accident! But I've never lied about anything else! Everything I said to you every time we met is the truth!"
Arthur scoffed. "Well, you may have said the truth about Officers Matthew and Alfred."
Francis blinked his tears. "Eh?"
"I've asked him. Officer Matthew had confirmed that he once had a French cousin who died in a railway accident a month ago. The burial was in the 'H' cemetery. His twin brother was an obnoxious yank who people often mistook as Officer Matthew."
A pause followed, with the tense atmosphere so thick one could slice it with a hot butter knife. Arthur looked at Francis, his eyes demanding some more explanation from the Frenchman, whereas Francis didn't dare to look straight at the Brit's eyes.
"Tell me."
Francis looked up at Arthur; the Brit's expression was pained, betrayed.
"Tell me other lies you've ever told me since our meeting," Arthur demanded. "Aside that you're lying about your death. Is your existence now also a lie?"
Francis hiccuped silently, tears flowing through his cheeks. He shook his head.
Arthur paused. "You know? That ribbon you're holding now; it was actually my apology gift for making you wait and thinking that I was late for my train yesterday. My brothers even helped me out, thinking for the best solution. They ended up suggesting me for buying you a headband. Instead of a headband, I bought you a ribbon, thinking that it would fit on your hair. I searched for you just so I could give it to you faster, because I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you. I thought I could give it to you immediately and apologize, yet here we are, once again in this bloody station."
"I'm sorry!" Francis cried. He clutched the blue ribbon tightly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I lied to you!"
Arthur's frown deepened. "Oh, so you're sorry now?"
"If you want to hit me, just do so! I deserve it! Hit me, punch me; do whatever you want! Just, please don't—"
"Don't what? Leave you?"
Francis looked up at Arthur with teary eyes.
Arthur huffed silently. "Right. I suppose it is best for us if we don't see each other anymore," he slowly said.
"What?" Francis widened his teary eyes in disbelief. "No! Wait, I—"
"I've made a mistake," Arthur stated, "for approaching you that time. It won't happen again."
Arthur turned on his heels and started walking towards the station entrance. He ignored the anguish shouts from Francis, telling him to wait and listen to him. Arthur ignored them completely, until he felt a tug on his jacket.
Francis cried on Arthur's jacket. "Arthur, please! Don't leave me! I-I know I've lied to you this whole time, and I—I'm sorry for it! I know you won't forgive me, but please—just give me another chance—"
"It's too bloody late for that, Francis!" Arthur yelled, shoving the other away.
"Ah!" Francis groaned, stumbling onto the floor on his rear. Arthur winced when the Frenchman fell from his shove, but he kept on a straight face.
Arthur stared at the weeping Francis on the floor, his frown never left his thick eyebrows. "Just pretend that nothing had ever happened between us. I'm sick of being toyed with," he muttered, before he turned around, walking away.
Francis stared at Arthur's back, shock and disbelief was visible in tear-stained face. He then wept again, drooping his head down, the blue ribbon still in his hand. Teardrops stained his trench coat and pants, his shoulders shook as he wept there. No one paid him any attention.
Arthur was only a few feet away from the station entrance when he halted. After a pause, he turned around to look at the platform.
He found no one.
He only spotted the paper bag, but the content was nowhere to be seen. Arthur didn't see a certain blonde Frenchman in a trench coat anywhere in the station.
Arthur clicked his tongue in frustration, before finally walking towards the station entrance, exiting the train station, his mind in a mess. Arthur was so disappointed. He was disappointed with Francis for lying and betraying him, and he was disappointed with himself because he couldn't believe in Francis anymore. He strode outside the building, standing on the sidewalk, waiting for a taxi. People walked past him, sometimes giving him weird glances.
The sky was pale gray, thunder rolled in the distance.
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"Seamus? Uh, I think I won't be home for tonight," Arthur said to the phone. A pause. "Um, something happened, so I had to stay at Kiku's flat." Another pause. "Yes, I'm in his flat now." Pause. "What? Of course, he let me in." A pause again. "Um, well, y-you could say that, I guess." Another pause, and a desperate sigh from Arthur. "Seamus, let's not talk about it again. Please." A short pause. "Because this is already late, and I'm tired of what had happened earlier this day, and I need a rest. Plenty of it. Just drop it, please." A long pause. "Ah, yes. I think I'll need my clothes. I guess I won't be home for a few days, just in case. You can just send them in the morning. Oh, and also, bring my bag pack and my books. They're supposed to be on my table" Another long pause. "Yes, yes, I hear you, brother. Cheerio." Arthur removed his phone from his ear, pushing a button.
Kiku approached him with a tray of two bowl of miso soup in his hands. "Well?" he asked.
"They let me stay," Arthur replied. A sigh escaped his mouth. "I guess I will be here for a few days. Sorry for bothering you."
"Ah, no," Kiku smiled, shaking his head. "It's alright, Arthur-san. You're always welcome in here."
Arthur smiled apologetically. "Thank you, Kiku."
Kiku then put the tray on the table, sitting on his pillow. Arthur put his phone down and followed suit, sitting on an available pillow like Kiku, except he sat crossing his legs, whereas Kiku was kneeling. Arthur took a bowl Kiku prepared for him and the spoon.
They both then started dinner, eating their soup in silence. There was no other sound aside from occasional slurping sound from either two and the ticking clock on the wall.
"By the way," Kiku started after he swallowed his soup, "are you sure you don't want to visit your friend? Um, who was it, again?"
Arthur visible flinched. He slurped his soup. "Francis. And no," he said firmly. "I won't visit him anymore."
Kiku frowned in worry. "Arthur-san, maybe he had made a mistake, but you had made one, too. You should forgive him," he suggested.
"After what he had to me?" Arthur snapped. "I don't think so. What he did is out of hand, and I can't forgive him that easily."
Silence followed. Truthfully, Arthur didn't want to tell Kiku what had actually happened in the station, and everything about Francis. Kiku would freak out and Arthur didn't want to cause another trouble. So he only told the Japanese the outline of his problem, while hiding Francis' true existence just so Kiku wouldn't think that Arthur was a madman.
The dinner went on like that, until it was the time for both of them to sleep.
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A/N:
Nggh... Finally able to update again. School is so frustrating...
So... Arthur finally put two and two together, and he confronted Francis about it. And this happened. I was listening to a sad song repeatedly while doing this part, really.
Review and no flames. Concrits are welcome. Stay tune for the next chapter.