England was enjoying his afternoon tea, sipping the warm Earl Grey slowly. His eyes were fixed on his panoramic window, overlooking London and Hyde Park. He sighed, leaning back in his wooden chair, and then there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," said England, expecting some advisor telling him he had a meeting tomorrow. He was startled to see France come in, and his thick eyebrows knitted together.
"What are yo-" his voice faltered as he saw France was limping, his blue coat stained with fresh blood, "France!"
All his anger dissipated as he put his tea down with a clatter, his hate turned to love. He walked over to the hurt country and helped him walk to England's bed.
"What-what happened?"
France coughed weakly, some blood staining the bed. England would normally yell at him, but France was hurt! What had happened?
"I..." France talked slowly and quietly, "Someone, He looked like, well, an evil c-copy of me. He..." England went over to a cupboard and pulled out a roll of bandages and walked back to the Frenchman. "Francis, you're going to be alright. You're immortal, right!"
"But he-he was a country too, Arthur."
"You're going to be alright, France!" England yelled desperately, "You've survived years of fighting with me, you'll be fine!"
"I just wish..." Francis's voice trailed off and England pushed his face closer.
"Francis, you are not going to die." he whispered, "After all that we've been through, you're too strong!" England's voice rose to a higher register, "and, even after it all, I love you, Francis, and I couldn't bear to be without you..."
France smiled sadly and looked at England, frantically wrapping more and more bandages around Francis' chest.
"But, mon amour, we both know I'm going to... die."
England shook his head and brought the teacup to France's lips.
"Drink," England said quietly in a husky voice. France slowly drank and then coughed again, getting a mix of blood and tea on England's clean floor. He looked at England through misty blue eyes.
"I wonder what it will be like when I'm dead..." France said quietly. "Promise to watch over my citizens, every one."
"Of course," A lone tear leaked out of England's eye. "I promise..."
France lay down and his eyes started to close. England shook his shoulders.
"No. France! Don't leave me, please!" France whispered,
"I'll always love you, Arthur Kirkland. And I'll always be waiting..." Francis took one last gulp of air and then his chest was still. England lay down beside his lover and sobbed. His heart was broken.
"Francis...it shouldn't have ended like this," the Brit whispered. "Not so suddenly..."
England walked to the window and gazed out at the landscape, made blurry by his tears, then reached out a fist and punched at the glass, again and again. Then he grabbed a piece and whispered, "I'm sorry, everyone. I can't bear to live like this." He brought the glass to his chest, then was stalled. He could almost hear Francis.
"Promise me..."
England threw the glass and walked back to the bed. He couldn't believe that Francis was gone. Where was he now? England threw himself onto France's body and sobbed for what seemed like hours, for his lost love, for Francis' life.
