And Now, The Products of The World!

Oneshot 12.2 - FrUs - I Love You

A/N: Ever wondered what happened after Oneshot 12? Well I wondered. I kinda thought about making a oneshot after the funeral, just to have something to post. I might make a third part from England's point of view. Key word is might.

So yeah, let's go!
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It had been a couple of days since France's funeral. Even thinking about it seemed weird. France's funeral, France's funeral, France's funeral....

America layed in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Everything seemed to be slower. Time itself was slow. Nothing but rain had fallen, making the sky a light grey. Petals, red and blue, were scattered across the floor. Just like the room France had died in, just like the room, France had told him he loved him, just like the room...

America sighed, he couldn't think about that now. He was already feeling depressed about losing a dear friend of his. Wait, no. He was more than a friend...

He was someone he loved dearly. He just couldn't bring himself to admit. When he first approached France, it was honestly with the intention of becoming friends with him. Francis had seemed like he really needed something to lean on since England had broken up with him.

England had confronted him after he went home. It was honestly creepy how much England liked him, and was willing to cut it off with France, just to be with him.

Of course, when England asked again and pushed him against the wall, he had pushed him off and said no. England was still like a brother or sorta friend to him. But, now he was doubting whether he actually wanted to be his friend anymore.

America didn't tell France about the confrontation between him and England. He didn't want to depress him anymore than he was. So he hung out with him, and smiled at him whenever he could. Just to be a positive force in his life. America had figured out that France seemed to like it when he smiled, so he smiled and smiled.

America's feeling for France turned from something friendly, into some sort of love. But, America doubted himself. 'He probably still loves England...' was the thought that constantly crossed his mind.

And so, he buried his feelings. Buried them so far that, he honestly forgot that he had feelings for him in the first place. If he hadn't buried his feelings, maybe...

America shook his head again. "No, I need to stop thinking negatively! But, maybe if I didn't...no, think positively!"

He enjoyed Francis's company. And he wasn't as perverted as he usually was with everyone else. It had been a while since he hung out with anyone other than Japan, Canada, and maybe England.

Francis had treated him like an actual person when they hung out, and not some nuisance or problem that hung around. America regretted not telling him how thankful he was for that.

The only other people who treated him like that were Japan and Russia. But Russia and him were enemies/hateful friends and Japan had Italy and Germany. So most of his time was stuck in house doing late work that he procrastinated on for too long.

When he really thought about it, him and France were alike in some ways. Not like in personality, but in the way the world treated and saw them. America was seen as a nuisance, another problem to be taken care of. Sometimes, he was seen as someone dangerous, ready to attack at any moment.

France was seen as a pervert and molester. A monster of some sorts that would grab you at any moment and do anything he could with you. America didn't know much about the situation with that, but he knew one thing.

The world completely misunderstood eachother. Everything was based off stereotypes, and they were the living embodiments of them(except Finland and Sweden, he didn't know what happened there). He was a stupid American, England was a strict Englishman, France was a romantic Frenchman, and so on and so forth.

Maybe if things had been different, England and France might've been able to work out. If France wasn't French, if he wasn't slaughtered by the stereotypes.

"Heh...here I am, thinking negatively once more." America said to himself again. It was getting harder to think positive now. He had lost one of his friends, bestfriend, maybe potential love.

Would France come back the same way? They would have to go out and find him or her (sometimes genders did change whenever a nation died, no one knew why) if that was the case.

Would he even come back at all? America hoped so. Sure he wouldn't be the same Francis America had known, but just being able to be in his presence one more time would be a dream come true.

You had to work to get to your dreams though. They didn't magically appear out thin air. America honestly didn't know how to make a person with the same personality and appearance as Francis unless he was willing to impregnate some random girl. America was desperate but he wasn't that desperate.

France himself would probably be a child again, or at least in his late teens. If he or she was a child, then who would raise him? England would be a huge no. Germany? Germany probably didn't do well with kids. Italy would probably be one of the choices, or maybe Canada.

America probably wouldn't be raising France. It would be too weird and awkward. Maybe he would go visit whoever would be watching him.

The freedom nation sighed and closed his eyes. Whenever he closed them, he would see flowing hair in the wind, gentle blue eyes, and a calm voice speaking to him. He obviously knew it was Francis. He couldn't make out some of the words as they were in rushed French, but he could make out two words that he held close to his heart:

Je t'aime.

America felt something trickling down his face. He reached up to touch his face and held a confused look. Water? No, tears. He was crying. He started laughing, his laughter turning into violent sobs of sorrow and pain.

He buried his head into his pillow, his loud sobs now muffled by the soft silk. America was in sorrow. A sorrowful pit of sorts. Not much had ever made him feel this way, but for the first time in years, he felt true sadness. True despair.

I love you
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I don't really ask this a lot, but how did I do with setting the mood? I tried to make this as serious as I could. If you've read this far, then you probably know I write more slice of life or just oneshots with happy feelings. I've been working on this for a while, and it hasn't gone through editing yet. I really hope you enjoyed it. I'll be going on break again until June. So see you later!