lost ~completed~

chapter 20

The hospital did not help Francis' condition. Since Francis' body was reacting to the destruction on his capital the only that could make his condition improve was the improvement and rebuild of his city.

One of his fellow countries (though Francis didn't know who or how) had succeeded on getting him out of the hospital. A nurse came into the room to help him out of the bed and into his normal clothes.

Francis would have been ashamed of himself for not trying to flirt with the young female nurse or try to get a lay out of her right on the hospital bed but he found that he could hardly think about something like that when Arthur was in danger. He feared that Arthur would get hurt or die and he'd end up like Arthur was; lonely, depressed and a shell of his former self.

He feared for Arthur. Even though he had made a tremendous step into his recovery he still had a long way to go.

He was willing to wait until Arthur was ready before they started seeing each other, if Arthur even wanted to. Francis was getting too hopeful thinking he could finally have the Brit he had loved for so long.

He had to constantly remind himself that Arthur might not want him or might find something else. Francis didn't want to get his heart broken but he couldn't ignore what his heart was screaming at him though his brain told him something entirely different.

Francis was eagerly awaiting Arthur's wait and was hoping Arthur was eager to see him. It was foolish in his eyes. Childish.

He had been in many relationships before but he viewed all of them as objects or toys to have fun with. Arthur had been the first person he viewed as a person whom he could love more then just sex. He didn't want to do that with Arthur. He wanted to know what it was like to be loved not just because of how he was in bed.

He sighed. He had better things to think of. His country was in shambles and his people were dying. Italy was still harboring his not so discrete murderous feelings. He didn't have time to worry about love or his personal life. He had a duty to his country to take care of.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the open door. Francis turned his head as did the nurse that Francis had forgotten was there even though she had a shapely figure with luscious breasts.

Another nurse stood in the door though not as shapely. "Francis Bonnefoy ?"

Francis just nodded. The nurse at the door motioned to someone in the hallway, "He's still in here." she said quietly. She and the nurse in the room left as Arthur entered.

Right away, Francis could tell something was wrong. Arthur hurried into the room and hugged him while being cautious of the Frenchman's wounds. This action scared Francis. The Brit never hugged. Never.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Francis asked. Though his own fears of something happening to Arthur were soothed, his fear for the others rose. Arthur pulled back allowing Francis to quickly scan him for any injuries or indication to what was wrong.

The Brits clothing was rumpled and his hair tussled but there was no wounds that Francis could see. His facial expression was bashful and reminded Francis of when Ivan threw cats out his window (*historical reference*).

"Romano's fighting with Feliciano." Arthur said. Francis immediately thought of Antonio. He wondered how he felt about Romano's betrayal. "And Ivan beat him up! Feliciano had to interlope or Ivan would have killed him!"

Francis was slightly hopeful. Feliciano still cared about his brother. Maybe that could use that to their advantage. He smiled and looked at Arthur's face.

"That's great!" he smiled. Arthur looked up at him, tears shining in the corners of his emerald pools.

"No it's not!" Arthur whispered. Francis gently brushed his hair.