Unfamiliar Feelings - A Hetalia FrUK Fanfiction

He can see it in my eyes

Hola! This chapter is gonna be a longer last chapter. Thanks to those who have read my story and kept along with it, much appreciated :3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm finally away from that hot room after what feels like an eternity of running away. I rest my elbows angrily on the counter, throwing my head down into my hands desperately, as though if I hide well enough, all these unwanted feelings will go away. No such bloody luck.

God damn it Arthur! Why the bloody hell are you acting like this! What's gotten into you?! You used to be able to have snarky arguments with that frog, but now you can't even look into his eyes without feeling bloody warm and fuzzy! I am suddenly torn away from my thoughts by a soft hand resting gently on my back. I freeze, as still as a statue, maybe if I ignore it, it will go away. But how can I ignore it when that hand and the owner is all I can think about!

The room goes deathly quiet, nothing to be heard apart from the soft hum of the music from the other room, and the rugged, low breathing of who ever is behind me. "Angleterre?" comes a slight whisper from over my shoulder, that voice I know too well, followed by the quiet ragged breathing I heard earlier. What do I do? Do I just keep ignoring him? Or do I turn around and face the deep eyes of who I know to be Francis. Who else could it be, if it were someone else, I wouldn't have this pulsing sensation in my chest, I wouldn't be able to feel my heart pounding in my throat, I wouldn't feel the sweat dripping from my palms. What the hell do I do? I've never experienced such a terror like this before, I don't know what to do.

I shut my eyes tight, wishing for everything to just disappear and never come back. I slowly, reluctantly open them back up, nothing changed, I'm still in the exact same position with the exact same warmth on my back, coursing through my entire body, sending chilled ripples down my spine. The hand on my back moves, traveling slowly to wrap around my right shoulder. I draw in a sharp breath at the movement. He pauses only a couple of seconds before continuing onto my shoulder and repeating that one word that could flip my entire world upside down and inside out. "Angleterre?" He repeats, only this time with more urgency.

His hand reaches my shoulder and grips it firmly but somehow softly and comforting. "Angleterre, what's wrong? Was it something I said?" He asks, but I just slowly shake my head, not yet trusting my mouth to say anything without throwing my heart out on the plate. I never used to feel like this, why all of a sudden did he make me feel this way, evoking all the emotions in me I didn't even know I was capable of. Damn frog, damn gorgeous frog.

My face scrunches up just at my thoughts, thinking of Francis as gorgeous involuntarily. I slam my closed fist down on the table with great force, my anger leaking out at the seams, making my knuckles bleed badly. Then the grip on my shoulder tightens and spins me around quickly, placing both hands firmly on my shoulders, before I have time to realise that I am so close to him now, that I can feel his hot breath on my face. "Angleterre!" He says, now more forcefully than gentle. "You are going to tell me what's wrong, I don't care if you don't want to, you are going to tell me!" Our eyes meet with an intensity, and it feels as though we are the only two things left. There is no party going on in the next room, there is no earth, no universe, just, us. Right here, right now.

Our gazes hold, green meets blue, the earth meets the ocean. Colliding together, merging into one perfect scene, earth and ocean combined. My heart now beating in my ears, chest rising and falling rapidly, big confused eyes, spilling all the secrets I didn't even know I had. Surely he must've picked up on something by now. Just that thought terrifies the shit out of me.

A look close to realisation flashes across his face, and the tight grip on my shoulders loosens ever so slightly. This is why I didn't want to face him so that he could see my heart and soul, reflecting through my eyes, telling him all my problems and worries without consent. I force my eyes shut and turn my head, so he can't see anymore of me. A soft voice echos in my ears. "Angleterre." There he goes again, using that word as though it's the most usual thing in the universe. "Look at me." I feel my legs go limp, being weakened just by the sound of his voice. I grip the edge of the counter behind me in an attempt to steady myself.