France, England, and FrUk Oneshots

Le chagrin et l'acceptation

((I was going to do this for Feels Friday... But Sad Sunday works too!!!! Keep in mind that when France talks or speaks in English, he's actually doing it in French (I'm too lazy to translate all that.)))

*France's POV*

"L'amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie."
~
"Love makes the best joys and most delicate adversities of life."

France sighed. That was one thing he seemed to no longer have. Love. Yes, he loved his friends, family, country, and himself.... But he could never seen to find himself truly in love anymore. No matter how many dates he went on, no matter how much sex he had, no matter who he talked to... It wasn't the same.

"Have you made your decision yet?" The Frenchman cleared his throat and looked up at the shopkeeper. "Oui." He pointed to a bouquet of white lilies. "I would like to purchase those." He quickly paid for the flowers, bid the shop keeper "Au revoir", then walked outside to his car.

As he drove his car down the street, his thoughts drifted back to the past....

~~~

"'No, no, she can't be dead! She can't be....' That was all France could think as he stared at the ashes on the ground in front of him, a warped and blackened cross necklace half-buried in them. The next time he seemed to open his eyes, he stood in a field, holding a jar of ashes. He swallowed deeply, the world blurred around him as tears filled his eyes. The next thing he knew, the ashes were spread. Perhaps Jeanne would be at peace here, in the field where the two of them had chatted countless times, under the tree where they had eaten, and by the river where France had fallen in and Jeanne had laughed at him.

The nation laughed slightly at the thought. Then his smile faded once more. The world became a haze once more, he awoke in the same field later on. His hands were bloodied and a wooden cross with the name of his lover inscribed on it was stuck in the ground in front of him...."

~~~

France parked the car on the side of the road, staring at his lap in silence. He took a deep breath, grabbed the lilies, and exited the car. He began to trek through the field, his mind numbing. The ground was hard to hike across and his legs were already beginning to grow sore, but he continued. Eventually he came over a hill to see a large tree swaying in the gentle breeze. A river flowed not far away; the Seine. In the middle of a grassy field, in place of a wooden cross made by a grief-stricken Frenchman, sat a stone cross with a large marble slab directly in front of it.

The Frenchman sank to the ground in front of the cross, ignoring the ache it caused in his stiff legs and back. He set down the lilies on the marble slab, and pulled something out of his back pocket. It was a flag, the fleur-de-lis, folded many times to be able to fit in his pocket. He set that in front of the cross as well, and tried to sit down in a more comfortable position.

"...Came to see you." Those were the only four words France said for about five more minutes. He sat in silence, before pulling a silver item from his pocket. It gleamed in the sunlight, burned and twisted as if it had been melted. "I... I brought this with me. I've kept it, all these years." He smiled softly, despite the tear that was rolling down his cheek. "You wore it every day."

  He watched it spin in his fingers for a moment, before setting it on the marble as well. "I didn't know... If you'd want it. So, I'll just leave it here." Another tear seeped from his eye, and he quickly wiped at his face and sniffled. "S-so... How have things been for you? I'd assume quite well. For me, um, well I went on vacation in Japan again two months back. And at the last world meeting, I brought some wonderful macarons, and everybody ate them!"

Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter. "Russia visited not too long ago. He enjoyed his stay very much. I showed him all around. Canada is doing very well, he is all grown. Oh, oh, and the best thing is that I'm making the school uniform come back!" France smiled widely and chuckled, before staring back at the silent cross. His smile faded and he looked back to the ground.

"I... Suppose I should go now," he mumbled. He stood up, grunting as his back popped and his bones seemed to creak. "I'm getting way too old... At this rate, I'll be joining Jeanne soon." He snickered slightly, but deep down... He almost welcomed the idea. Joining Jeanne didn't seem too bad at all. He'd lived a long enough life, and yes, he loved others and still had things to do... But he loved Jeanne. And missed her.

  He sighed loudly, staring down at the cross. Sunlight shone on the flag, the necklace, and the lilies; as if Jeanne herself was grabbing them with a ray of sun straight from heaven. He smiled softly, and blew a kiss to the gravestone.

  "Au revoir mon amour. Je t'aime." As he turned around to trek back to his car, he swore he heard an angelic voice in the breeze...

  "Je t'aime, mon chere Francis. Je t'aime."

((Kind of short 😁... Please leave a vote, a comment, and maybe check out some of my other stories!! 💗 #FranceJeanne))