My Darling, My Dear, My Frog

✨Part One✨

This is the sequel to my other book, The Little Things. So... you should probably read that before this... just sayin'....

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     Francis hadn't spoken for two days. Heck, he hadn't done anything for two days. The only things he had done were blink and breath.

     Arthur walked into the room, carrying a bowl of soup and a cup of water. He sat down next to Francis on the bed and watched his Frenchie carefully, hoping to see some sort of reaction. But, there was no sign that he even knew that Arthur had joined him.

     The English nation placed the food items on a small table next to the bed, before pulling Francis onto his lap. There was still no reaction. "Hey, love...." Nothing. "You need to eat something...." Absolutely nothing. "And I'm going to help you, alright?" He picked up the cup and raised it up to Francis' mouth. The Frenchman didn't move at all.

     Arthur breathed out slowly, before lightly pressing the rim of the cup to Francis' lips. He started to hesitantly tip it, and, to his surprise, Francis accepted the water.

     The Frenchman drank quite a bit of it, his eyes still focused straight ahead all the while.

     Arthur slowly fed him the soup. He was unable to make Francis eat anything that would require chewing, but he was content with at least getting something in the Frenchman's stomach. Arthur raised the spoon to Francis' lips, he didn't open his mouth and the soup dribbled down onto the front of Francis' shirt.

     "You could've just told me that you didn't want anymore!" Arthur said, trying to cheer himself up. "Now you've gone and made a mess of yourself!" He set down the bowl and gently lifted Francis off of his lap.

     The Englishman picked up Francis and walked into the bathroom to start preparing a bath for the other male.

**10 minutes**

     Arthur carefully washed the soap out of Francis' hair. He rinsed his hands off in the water and stood up to retrieve a towel. Reaching down into the water, he pulled the plug and everything started to drain out. He placed the towel on Francis' hair and messily started to dry it.

**15 minutes**

     Surprisingly, Arthur found it harder to put Francis' clothes on him when he wasn't doing anything, than when he was fighting him. Arthur knelt down in front of Francis and placed a hand on the Frenchman's cheek. He looked into his bright blue eyes, which seemed to look straight through him, not even knowing he was there.

     The English nation shook his head, in an attempt to keep away the tears, which were threatening to make themselves seen.

     What had happened to his Frenchie? Had it all been his fault? He was remembering so many things, and now.... Now it seemed like he knew nothing. Why did this have to happen to such a wonderful person? It's not fair! It's not fair! "IT'S NOT FAIR!" Arthur's head dropped down onto Francis' lap as he started crying loudly. He looked up suddenly, thinking he felt something touch his head. But there was Francis. Hands at his sides, staring straight ahead.

     Arthur pulled himself onto Francis' lap and just sat there, pretending that the Frenchman's arms were wrapped around him protectively. Pretending that everything was alright. But it wasn't. Everything was far from alright.