Bibliotheca Mundi

Chapter 4

After the talk he had with his boss, France exited his office, and went to eat before going.

He is now in England, where he arrived in the afternoon. He goes through different halls, sees different people, before having the chance to access to England's office. It's the procedures, but he's now used to them. A lady he hasn't seen before walks with him towards England's room and knocks on the door to let him know someone was there : "Sir, Mr. France is here."

"Come in."

Opening the door for him, the lady lets France enter, before closing the office and leaving them alone.

"Bonjour Angleterre~"

"Hm, hi."

Walking to his desk to sit in front of him, France looks into his eyes, "Did your day off go well ?"

Holding his hands together on his desk, England stares at them blankly. "It was alright. I got to sleep and rest well."

"Bien." France replies, with a faint smile.

"Anything new ?"

"I went to see Germany..." he starts, looking down at the desk, "Italy and Prussia are with him, but he isn't feeling well..." Telling him what happened at the front in Germany during the fight, France finishes by saying, "He talked about surrendering."

Motionless until that moment, England looks up at France with wide eyes. "Seriously ?" Slamming his fist on the table, he continues, louder, "He can't do that !! He-... He has to keep fighting !!"

Trying to calm him down so people don't hear them, France replies, almost whispering "Je sais, je sais !". After a sigh, he adds, "We'll have a meeting tomorrow."

Calming down, England sits back in his chair.

"Is there anything you want me to tell them ?"

"No, nothing at the moment."

After that talk, there is a long moment of silence between the two men. France kept looking at England's hands that were clasped together on the desk, while England was doing the same, leaning against his elbows. Glancing up at him, France finally leans in to put his hands over England's and asks him, softly, "What about you ? Anything new ?"

Missing the feeling of his man's hands on his, England lets him hold them. He tells him, "No, not really. My boss just hired a new worker while I was home, she's my... secretary, I think ? He didn't really introduce her to me."

Humming to show he's listening, France stays silent.

"He's like a dictator. He doesn't care about anyone, nor me, and treats me like shit."

Holding his hands tighter and lifting his face by the chin so he can see his eyes, France tries his best to reassure him, "One day it'll be over, just like all the previous wars. We always won eventually against dictatorship and bosses like yours, n'est-ce-pas ?"

"Heh yes, what could possibly go wrong." England answers, scoffing and pulling his hands away to cross his arms on his chest.

"You don't have to be so pessimistic."

"France !!" Yelling at him, England stands up from his chair, "We're in the middle of a war, my citizens feel worse than ever, my country is in a horrible state, and my boss is an a-" Interrupted by France's hand that he put firmly on his mouth, England pushes it away and sits back down on his chair, still frowning. "Of course I'm pessimistic. How else do you want me to feel ?"

"I'm just trying to help you stay strong."

Looking away from France to not break down in tears, England answers, "I am strong."

Wishing he could do more for England, France puts his chin on his hands, leaning against his elbows on the desk, and looks casually around his desk, hoping he will find something to cheer his man up, or at least change the topic. Noticing a pile of blank post-its, France takes one and starts scribbling something on it with a red pen that was laying there.

While England was sitting sideways on his chair, his legs and arms crossed, seeing what France was doing made him chuckle and comment with a mocking smirk, "What, you became so poor you can't afford yourself post-its ? How pathetic..."

Once he finished writing, he takes the post-it and puts it on England's side of the desk. Glancing suspiciously at it at first, he takes it and reads it. After a second, he turns his face away so France couldn't see him, and pats his desk trying to find a pen and a blank post-it by touch to write something too by using his leg as a stand.

Smiling as he waits, France takes the post-it when England hands it to him, adding "There, you dweeb." without looking.

"Merci~" Reading it, France smiles more and puts the post-it in the pocket inside his jacket. Afterwards, he stands up from his seat to leave, and concentrates first by breathing slowly. "Alright, serious face. Help me out."

"How ?" England asks, still not daring to turn his face back.

"Well, I don't know, insult me."

Thinking for a second, England answers quietly, "You have ugly hair."

"Oh come on ! I know you can do better."

"... you have very ugly hair."

Trying hard not to smile, France answers jokingly, "Well, merci."

Resisting the urge to smile too, England tries again, "Your wine tastes like expired rotten grape juice."

"Oof, that was harsh."

"Oof ?" England asks, with a confused voice.

"Oui ! I heard America say it, apparently cool kids say it nowadays."

Feeling like he can now let France see him, he turns his head to look at him in the eyes, "Doesn't make you any cooler though." Sighing, he continues, "How is he, by the way ?"

"America ? He's good, he's helping us a lot."

Smiling lightly, England looks to the side once again and answers, "Hm, good."

Having now succeeded to go back to a neutral, serious face, France tells him, "It's time for me to go then."

Nodding, England gets up and walks to the door. As he puts his hand on the doorknob, before turning it he whispers to France a last question, "Ready ?"

"Oui."

Once France answered, England takes a deep breath and violently opens the door, making sure it makes as much noise as possible, and yells, pushing France out of his office, "I won't sign your fucking peace treaty !!!". After that, he closes the door loudly behind him. Staring at it for a second, France turns around and starts walking down the hallway, where the lady he saw before was waiting for him. Once he was there, she opens the exit for him and walks in front of him, leading him outside.

A few minutes later, France was on his way back to his country. Now that he was alone, he takes the post-it England gave him earlier, holding it carefully between his fingers, to read those precious words again, and again : "I love you too."