Author's note:

Why don't I ever write about another pair? I don't know actually. I bet there's some reason, hidden deep inside my soul, and one day, it'll get out and kill everyone! No, but seriously, I don't know.

Just so we're clear: This kind of text is memories and thoughts. Got it?

Warnings:

Character death and suicide. I think that's about it…

Memory

Spring… I used to like it. I found joy in watching the new life bloom. And, even though I'd never had admitted it, the colour always made me think of his eyes. Now that he's gone, spring seems to mock me with being so cheerful. Doesn't it know he's dead and gone? I've been watching over his tombstone ever since, both night and day, making sure it's not overgrown with the surrounding wilderness. It's ironic, actually. He always made fun of me for being vain; and now my looks are mere shadows of what they used to be. They got destroyed by trying to keep his final resting place perfect.

I laugh dryly at the perverseness of it before putting the rose down on the fresh green grass. He didn't think I'd remember, but he always did have a fondness for roses, especially white ones. I tried asking him once, to learn which he liked best.

"None," he said, "they all remind me of you, frog."

Words like that used to hurt me, for it sounded nothing like the boy I got to know such a long time ago.

It's a warm summer's day; the sun is beating down on my small body. I've been searching for something a long time now, without being sure what it is that I'm supposed to find. Right now, I don't care; I just want to rest for a bit. There's a brook or a river nearby, I can hear the gentle sound of water. It must be less warm down by the water, so I might as well go there.

Someone's already there; a little boy with funny eyebrows, piercing green eyes and a crop of blonde hair.

"Bonjour." I say, sitting down next to him. "My name is Francis, what's yours?"

He smiles at me, revealing a gap where one of his front teeth should be. "Arthur." his small hand trails over my, even then, long hair. "Why do you have such long hair? Are you a girl?"

"Non. But, you know, girls like my hair."

"They do?"

We were only children back then; we didn't have anything to worry about. No one could tell us who we could be friends with, or who wasn't allowed. Things were much easier when you could do whatever you wanted to. But things have a habit of changing.

"I'm not allowed to be your friend anymore." the green eyes are shining with tears.

"Who's stopping us?" I ask, my voice breaking at the last word. "Can't we be friends in secret?"

The young teen shakes his head. "My boss will find out about it, and then I'll be in trouble."

"How is he going to find out about it? You're not telling him, are you, Artur?"

"No, but he's really freaky. He'll find out sooner or later. I'm sorry, Francis, I really am." he walks away from me without looking back.

"But…" I whimper. "I love you."

He didn't hear me that time. Would things be different if he had? I don't actually know. I hadn't realised I loved him until that day, but I had. I've loved him since the first time we met, call me a hopeless romantic if you must.

There is a flutter of wings in the air, and a voice that calls my name.

"Flying Mint Bunny." I half-smile, without taking my eyes off the stone. "What do you want?"

"I'm worried for you, Francis. You never leave his grave anymore." the tiny creature says sternly.

"I don't miss him as much when I'm here. Something about his grave takes away the pain."

"I miss him too. But standing here until the end of time isn't going to help anyone."

"Go away." I won't look up until I'm certain the flying bunny has left me.

Arthur never knew I could see them; his magical friends. I never gave him any reason to do so. But sometimes I'd loose myself and watch him talk to them with that little smile on his face. Of course, when he caught me staring at him, he'd scold me as if I was a child.

It's raining outside my window, but indoors it's rather warm and cosy. There's a knock on the door, a knock I almost ignore before reluctantly going to open it. On the little path that leads to my house stands a soaking wet figure, shivering in the cold, staring at me with pleading eyes.

"Artur." I gasp. "Why are you in the rain?"

"I'm running away from home. My boss, he wants me to become a pirate. I don't want to become a pirate!" Arthur looks so upset, I'm tempted to laugh.

"Come on in, then. Does this mean that we're friends again?"

Arthur nods. "It does."

We're huddled up under a think blanket in front of the fireplace. Arthur is slowly warming up, but I can still feel the cold radiate from him through the many folds of the blanket.

"Je t'aime." I dare not look at him as I say it.

"What?" he howls.

"Je t'aime." I repeat, glancing at him through a curtain of my own hair.

Moments later, he's stormed away from my home.

Arthur never really was one for showing his feelings; my open confession scared him. He told me so years later, under the influence of alcohol; but until that happened; my heart was broken from his reaction. Alcohol has always had a strong influence on Angleterre, much stronger than on the other nations. The result often turned out entertaining. During his pirate days, he was drunk all the time, or buzzed, in the least. After a while, he got used to the idea of being a pirate; he actually had great success in being one. His booty was loaded with treasure to fulfil his wildest dreams. Those were good times. At least for Arthur, they were.

He's drunk again. He's always drunk, that's not what surprises me. No, what surprises me in his choice of company. A young woman with big dark eyes and long black hair. Rather attractive, too. I don't like her at all. Arthur seems to like her, though; he's running his hands all over that despicable female. From where I sit, I can't hear what they're saying. I am, however, capable of seeing him kiss her.

I hate them both.

I pick up one of the roses from his grave and pluck its petals, one by one.

"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He-" I realise I must be sound like a flimsy school girl, and quit doing it. I put the flower back on the damp ground. "I know I've told you already." I smile grimly. "But I loved you, Artur Kirkland. I always did. I still do."

The sun is starting to set now. The coloured light makes his pale headstone shine in warm colour. I could read what's engraved if I wanted to. I don't need to read it know what it says, the words have stayed in my mind.

Like a crow chasing a butterfly,

That's how they chased after you.

They refused to see how beautiful life can be,

And left to suffer were we.

All things I should have done,

All things that's left unsaid.

Just remember one thing for now,

I only want to say "I love you" one more time and hold you close,

But the colours of the rainbow fade,

Fades just like you've done.

The dark is closing in on us,

I fear I'll be alone.

Those words were the only ones I could think of at the time. Right now, I can think of a hundred words to better describe what I felt for him.

I hate my boss. This is going to ruin everything between Arthur and me. Perhaps forever.

"I have something important to tell you." I say, shifting nervously in my seat. "I want for you… To marry me."

His face would have been funny at any other time. "That's very funny, France," when did he get so formal? "But I don't think it's April's Fools yet." he laughs nervously. "What's the matter old chap, can't even afford to buy a calendar?"

"You are wrong, mon ami. And this is not very fun at all."

"Right. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Here. It's a calendar. It's for you." I awkwardly push the paper over his desk.

"That's a marriage registration form, you idiot!"

"Non. Can't you see? It is a calendar." I grab his hand and try to force him into signing it.

I didn't handle that very well, did I? I don't think I would have minded being married to Arthur, though he certainly didn't want to marry me. Things got a lot more tense between the two of us after that. That's not so strange, is it? Oh, but I loved him. Bosses are the bane of my existence. They shouldn't be allowed at all.

"God save the, hic, gracious, hic, queen! God save, hic, the, hic-" Arthur bellows at the top of his voice.

"Stop singing, Artur." I put my hand in front of his mouth. "You've had too much to drink."

"Francis, do you, hic, know if I'm a catholic, hic, or a protestant? 'Cause, god, I don't know." his loud voice somehow manage to sneak past my hand. "Do you want to know a secret?" he giggles.

"Sure. What is it?" I sigh absentmindedly.

"I'm in love with you." Arthur whispers.

"You're drunk." I huff at him.

"So?" he pries my hand away and jumps me. "What are you going to do about it?" he attacks my lips with his own.

I push him away. "Go home Artur. This isn't right."

Arthur glares at me, but eventually does what I asked him to. I curse myself silently.

There was a moment back then, I have to admit, when I wanted to take advantage of him, but the small part of respect I possess prevented me from doing do. I would never have dreamt of hurting Arthur, my angel. And yet, it's my fault that he's dead now. No one had expected something like it to happen. We'd though all of us would stay strong forever, with the exception of Feliciano, of course. Arthur turned out to be too weak in the end. He came to my home that night, the night he died.

I'm begging you Francis." Arthur's eyes are empty, glassy. "If you really love me, you have to do it."

"Artur, chér. Don't say things like that. Je t'en supplie, ne fais pas ça."

Tears burst through his eyes. "You have to!" he sobs. "If it's not you, it'll just be someone else. I can't take it anymore. They're dying, and I can't do anything to help them."

"Non. You have to be strong. Your people need you. I don't want you to leave me." my eyes start to fill up with tears, making his appearance a mess to me. "I love you, Artur. Please, stay with me."

"Promise you'll remember me when I'm gone." he smiles through the obvious pain he's in. "I won't be gone forever, you know. I'll be back one day. Just be patient. Do it, Francis. Now."

I nod silently, bracing myself for what must be done.

His eyes are staring at me from across the room, never once blinking. How I could ever do what he asked of me, I'll never understand. There are blood on my hands, still warm with his body heat. I disgust myself.

I waited eagerly for his promised return the days after his death. I was certain he'd come back for me. The days turned into weeks without a sight of him. Weeks became months. I'm no longer sure how much time has passed in his absence. It seems he's never returning. Who was I trying to kid? Those kinds of things only happen in sappy romance novels.

The water down below looks so cold, and I fear it will hurt a lot when I hit it. I'm frightened. If I only could, I'd turn and run this instance. But this isn't only about me, nor is it about Arthur. It's about something bigger than the two of us; love.

"You didn't return." I sob. "Why didn't you? I kept my part of the promise; I never forgot you, not even once." the tears are streaming down my face now, but I just don't care. I killed him. All the other nations hated me for killing him. They wouldn't believe me when I told them he'd asked me to kill him. I hardly believed in it myself. I should get this over with. All I need is one step, and I'll be with Arthur again. One step…

Death isn't at all what I'd expected it to be. It's empty, only the stars are there to keep me company, and even they can't last very long.

"Bloody hell, Francis. You look awful."

"Artur?" I turn to look at him in disbelief.

"Who else could it be, you wanker?" It really is Arthur, grinning warmly at me. "Did you miss me?"

"Pfui. The only thing I ever missed was those things you call eyebrows. I've always enjoyed a good laugh, you know." I smirk.

"Let me tell you something. You disgust me, Francis. Every time I look at you, I feel sick. I hate you, frog."

"Ah, but from what I've heard, a frog can be turned into a prince if he gets a kiss, non?"

"Git."

"I love you too." I pull closer to him, catching the Brit in an embrace. "Now," I purr, "what about that kiss?"

"Bloody wanker!" Arthur laughs.

Sometimes, things turns out nice, even though you weren't expecting it to do so. Sometimes, things like this can happen. Blame it what you want; God, magic, love, it doesn't really matter. I want to thank whatever reunited me with my Arthur, for giving him back to me.

Author's note:

Sooo… I'm not trying to give you any ideas here; don't go suicidal. It wouldn't solve anything if you did, so don't.

Please tell me what you thought of it, though. I like reviews.