Be Well, My Darling (Fruk)

9

"I'm sorry about Darling."

"Don't worry...he was old...it was his time..."

"Of course..."

Francis and I looked at each other silently; we were still outside, looking over the grave of my beloved dog, Darling. I had cherished Darling for many years, not because he was an animal and deserved to be cherished. He was a symbol of our appreciation for each other. The appreciation that Francis and I have for each other. Francis gifted him to me as a symbol of the Entente Cordiale, and for the deep, and secretive appreciation he has for me on a personal level.

"Would you like to come inside? Rest for a bit before you have to leave?" I asked. Francis smiled at me nervously, nodding. "Ah, as long as you don't try and cook for me, I don't want to find out if those rumors are true," he teased. I mocked the sound of his voice, rolling my eyes. "Oh, shut it, you have tried my cooking before," I laughed.

"Maybe my brain blocked out the trauma," he nudged. I hate him.

He followed me inside my home, and I felt sad not to hear my puppy bark with joy upon seeing me. "Will you be fine alone?" He asked. Will I be fine alone? What a dumb question. "Of course! I've lived alone for a long time! You know this," I spoke. I gestured for him to follow me into the nearby room, and he did so without a word of protest.

The room I had taken him to was where I mostly had my tea. "Ah, everything always looks perfect, yet you always seem messy," he spoke. Was he insulting me again? In my home? I gestured for him to sit beside me, and he smiled and nodded. "Seriously? What does that mean? I can't believe that after all these years, you somehow find a way to have the audacity," I spoke. He laughed at what I said and began to mess with the tablecloth.

"Arthur, I have a burning question," he started. I tilted my head to look at him, and he mimicked my movements. "Which is?" I asked. I had placed my hands on the table, and he looked down at them suddenly. "I know we find each other incredibly annoying, but I believe that deep down, you may actually have a soft spot for me," he spoke. He began to reach for my hands, and I tensed up. Seriously? He always finds a way to kill the mood with his stupid remarks. Why was this a question he wanted to ask?

"Have I given an impression that I wouldn't? I think we both know I do, deep down. After all of these years...these centuries...we have grown? haven't we? There is no reason to try and find reasons to hate each other," I spoke. I tried to say it more confidently, but the feeling of his hands touching mine caused my heart to beat quickly. As he rubbed my hands gently, I began to remember the times I'd shared with him. Both good and bad.

We had both good and bad memories...why should I constantly focus on the bad? Maybe it is in our nature to be spiteful toward each other. Were we always destined to be angry with each other? Or maybe we were too stubborn to put our guard down, especially with other people watching us.

Damn France...

"You are tense; I'm only making conversation; no need to put walls up," he chuckled. I really hated when he mocked me. Couldn't he be nicer? Well—this is how we are now...we aren't necessarily nice toward each other, or mean. The way we talk to each other is how you would expect friends/enemies to behave. We were frienemies.

Despite our history, I cringe at the thought of us having been "lovey-dovey" toward each other. It was embarrassing to think we treat each other that way but then constantly annoy each other. This was a confusing relationship. I couldn't tell if it was fully love-hate, or
If it was more of a like-annoyance type of relationship.

"Okay, make conversation," I spoke. I pulled my hands away from him, and he looked at me, confused. "What is it? Do you hate me again?" He asked. I turned away from him, hiding my flustered face. In truth, I was more embarrassed by him touching my skin.

"You sure do ask many questions," I whispered.

"How about we listen to music?" I added, changing the subject. I quickly walked over toward the gramophone, placing one of my random records to play. "Arthur, I believe there might be a misunderstanding between us, and I want to clear it up now," he spoke.

I felt myself shaking as I set up the gramophone. "What? What kind of misunderstanding would there be?" I asked. I could hear him breathing out, annoyed, and I continued to face away from him. I breathed in deeply and pushed my hair back, looking up at the ceiling.

Weren't things supposed to be easy for people like us? We do what we are told and don't question anything. That was our purpose...yet...no one could tell us how to feel.

"I hope you understand that because Darling has passed, that doesn't mean the end of our treaty. I intend to make sure our treaty lasts for generations to come. You may find me incredibly annoying, but we shouldn't throw everything we've worked for down the gutter," he spoke. My eyes widened at what he said, and I shifted around quickly.

"That is a huge misunderstanding! I did not think this way! Of course...it makes me sad my Darling has passed. He wasn't only a pet to me, he was a symbol of us...but it doesn't mean I'd turn my back on you, especially during this time of war. We will forever be entangled...body and soul... I promise!" I spoke. I felt my face getting red as I looked back at him.

He smiled at me, and I walked back toward him. "Well, I'm glad we could clear that up," he spoke softly. We stared at each other silently, and I wish I could come up with a word for this feeling. The aura was nice and gave me nostalgia from when we were younger. "If I could go back to when we first met, I'd go back and find you again," I spoke.

"You are so silly; I was the one who found you...my little bunny," he laughed. I rolled my eyes at him and slowly took a seat, which he followed. "I am only messing with you; try and be a little happier," he added.

"I don't see how I could...this isn't a happy situation to be in. Francis, you know I will do what I can to protect you, but this war...something about it is terrible. More and more countries are getting involved. Maybe it was best for Alfred to stay out of it. If he gets involved, it could drag South American countries into it; it's bad enough that some of our battles are being fought in Africa. I'm telling you, this war seems...different..."

"Yes, I understand, but I promised Russia I'd help him if something like this happens, and he is friends with Serbia, and wow...this got out of hand...how did our treaties backfire so much?" He spoke, horrified.

"I know!"

"Don't worry! I'm sure much of this won't end in hard feelings; many of our fellow nations are only doing what they're told. No one wants this war."

"Yeah..." I whispered.

Francis reached for my hand again, and I didn't bother moving away. I focused on the feeling of his skin. His hands weren't like mine; they were soft. How could he have made them so soft after all these years? Maybe he can tell me his secret after all this is over. As I sat here thinking of his soft hands, another thought crossed my mind.

"Mr. Germany...he wanted me to join his side, against you...he told me that it would be a way for me to get back at you after all these years," I spoke. I looked at Francis slowly, and his eyes widened. "Well, what did you say?"

"Seriously? I obviously said no! But it really shocked me at the time. He always seemed to be a mature kid, but I'm worried his people have a bigger influence on him," I explained. Francis laughed nervously and sat back. "Well, we've all been there...try not to be so hard on him; I'm sure there is a reason for him not to fight against them or say something to us," he spoke.

I doubt he would as if either of us stopped fighting to ensure the other was fine. We didn't do that too much, at least. "After all, we don't have room to judge, things like this happen. I'm trying not to escalate the situation, so I'm doing as I'm told," he laughed. It was nervous laughter but I understood his reasoning.

"I understand...I won't be too angry at him; I mean...how much more worse could this situation get? I'm sure it will be resolved within the next year. Maybe, if I see him, I'll try to reassure him that it is okay to think differently than the people in charge, which could smack some sense into him...some..." I laughed. Francis shrugged at what I said, but we both knew it was a stretch to think that way. Only time could tell.

"Good, go easy on him..."

"Of course, Mr. France..."