A Truelove of Turtle Doves

Chpt 40 - My Soulmate

He was buried on a hill, near a small oak tree, in a plot of land owned by the white chapel in Cauville-sur-Mer. It overlooked everything, including the sea.

Francis wanted him to be as close to the sky as possible.

The gravestone was made of marble, and it was light grey - he had originally wanted white, but it was too expensive, and got dirty too easily.

It also reminded him too much of the suit (Y/N) had... died in.

This was where Francis sat. He sat in front of the gravestone, cross-legged, running his fingers over the gold writing. Again. And again. And again.

(Y/N) (L/N). 1743-1767. L'amour de ma vie, qui tient toujours mon coeur et mon âme.

The love of my life, who still holds my heart and soul.

He had wanted to say more.

He had so much to say.

But it didn't all fit.

This was where Francis had sat every day for the past two weeks. From dawn until dusk. He would have sat there every night as well, if it wasn't for his friends who walked up the hill, only to guide the mournful French captain back to his ship.

They had arrived in Cauville-sur-Mer not three days after their departure from Ringmore. They had left the same night that (Y/N)...

He couldn't even think it.

It made his heart clench painfully and his soul ache with want and longing.

Arthur had arrived mere hours after Francis. Josephine and Lauren and Edward were with him. Just seeing them had destroyed the Frenchman all over again.

He could still see them. The way Josephine fell to the floor, the way silent tears of shock and sadness slid down Edward's cheeks, the way Lauren screamed that it wasn't true, it couldn't be true, it couldn't be true.

Arthur had been in shock too. He'd tried to comfort Francis, like Vachel had, like Jeanne had, like Josephine, Lauren and Edward had, but it all fell flat. Nothing would remove or ease the weight of his grief. Of his loss.

As he sat in front of the gravestone, he could feel the tears falling down his own cheeks. Again. And again. And again.

His hands clenched into fists.

He had failed. He had failed to protect him. His own words rang out in his head.

"No one has to die, okay? Look, we're both here, mon trésor, together. We're going to be okay."

No one has to die.

And yet someone did.

(Y/N) did.

"You brought me to him," Francis choked out, the sobs of anguish already building in his chest, "You brought me to him, you made me fall in love with him, and then you take him away from me."

A strangled sob broke out of him.

"You took him away from me!"

Francis didn't know who he was talking to, who he was shouting at. Time? Life? Death? Fate?

Fate.

"While we're at it, let's make it more interesting and say that it is fate that the two of us met."

(Y/N)'s voice rang through his head. Happy, flirtatious, content.

It seemed like he had spoken those words so long ago.