This is a Us/Uk fanfic from hetalia. I'm not sure what wil be in later chapters, but there may be smut later on...maybe. If you don't like yaoi, then don't read please.
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The revolutionary war. Arthur still had the bitter taste of defeat left over. It had only ended a couple of years ago, and he hadn't seen Alfred since that day, the day when he'd signed the agreement that he'd lost. He hadn't gone to a single meeting since, staying in his house and not allowing any visitors. His only pastime was to remember the days when his little colony, his little Alfred, had been around. He would sit in Alfred's old room for hours, crying bitterly at the thought of losing the one thing that had made him happy. Alfred had been his son in a way, and in his bitterness and pain, he's simply let Matthew leave without a fight. Now he was alone in a house that seemed far to large for any person. Francis had tried to come check up on him a few times, but he'd always pretend not to be home, hiding in the bedroom. He had to wonder if Alfred even cared anymore. The child had left him in a fit of rebellion, not wanting to abide by the rules and regulations set by Arthur. He knew he may have been a bit hard on the youth, but it still didn't seem right for him to rebel. At the moment he was playing a slow, sad waltz on his record player, dancing to the music and pretending that he had a partner. He twirled the imaginary partner, pretending it was a small, blonde haired child with large blue eyes and a smile that lit up the world. He let himself believe for a moment, closing his eyes and wishing that it was real. Little to his knowledge, he was being watched by french eyes. Francis was standing outside, peering in through the window at a sad, lonely man. That's all Arthur had become in this age and time. Francis let himself into the house since he had his own key and all. He slipped his arms around England's waist and the englishman's arms came up around his neck. "Francis." Engkand said knowingly. "I'm not surprised." He said, his own voice far to soft to be his own. Francis stared at closed eyes. "Angleterre." He responed, gently swaying Arthur with the music. "He misses you." Francis informed Arthur, both men knowing that Francis was referring to America. England scoffed. "Like hell he does." He said, voice still soft. "Ah, Angleterre. Such an elegant dancer you are Mon Cher." He changed the subject. "Thank you Francis." France sighed, half wishing that Arthur would yell and call him a bloody frog. At least that would mean things were normal again. He watched closely at the man's face. Arthur was still so young looking despite his older age. He had the body and the mind of a teenaged boy it seemed. His body had remained frail and small compared to the other countries who had grown to be much larger and mature. Francis made it his duty to protect this gentle rose named Angleterre. They'd had their fights in the past, but Francis still loved him none the less. They had the kind of relationship that couldn't be broken. They'd always be friends, and Francis would always love his sweet Angleterre, his fleur. Francis sighed as England laid his head down, nuzzling into Francis' shoulder in an almost tender way. Arthur had never been much of a flirt, and the contact surprised Francis, though it wasn't unpleasant. He became limp in Francis' arms, and the Frenchman carried Arthur to the bedroom, laying him down. "Sleep Arthur." He whispered, and then went downstairs to make a call. "Hullo. Zis ist Germany." A voice answered. "Yes, Ludwig, it's Francis. You asked me to check up on Arthur." There was a pause. "Ah, yes, und how ist he?" He asked and Francis paused yet again. "He's...ok I guess. Very quiet. He clearly hasn't been sleeping very well. I think with time he'll be ok. He has been alone all of his life, non?" Germany cleared his throat. "Ja. Well, zat ist good I guess. At least he's pulling through ok. Vell, I'll see you next month Francis." He hung up and France went to the kitchen, finding nothing in the fridge. He'd have to change that. He headed off to the market.
