S.O.S. [Depressed!France X England]

Chapter 11: Ce n'est pas d'accord!

Two souls were standing where they were, doing nothing. However, inside their hearts, they were fluttering with anxiety of not knowing what to do for the current time they were in. It seemed a bit hard for them to look into each other's pupils, so they tried to focus their sights on each other's cheeks, noses, lips... A freezing wind caught thier hearts, but soon lavas exploded all in a sudden.

"Francis..."murmured Arthur unconsciously. He stepped forward, hesitating. Then he felt like something was stuck inside his throat. A rebelious feeling with a sudden frowning covered his face with various emotions which he couldn't explain after that... He stepped forward one more time and stopped again.

"W-What are you doing here?" stuttered the Frenchman anxiously. He even didn't know why he found himself in a hospital of course... He didn't know who his saver was...

"You frog..." said he as if he didn't hear the other's question. He felt something wet in the edges of his eyes, something which was the explanation of all the things he couldn't label inside his sould that was just like a depthless dark well.

Francis cleaned his throat and smiled, of course it was pretty obvious that it was a fake one. "I actually w-wouldn't expect you to come here anyway. J-Just let me guess..." he was failing pretending to be good and he was aware of his situation as well. And that was the thing which made him more desperate. Eventually he stepped back with this feeling.

Suddenly, the Englishman moved so fast that the other one couldn't understand the events until he found himself between Arthur's arms. Arthur buried his face to Francis' chest, sticking his nails into the back side of the taller one's shirt. That moment, Francis' eyes widened with the scene right in front of him... Those were the truths, but he thought it as a dream. This was much better anyway. Since in his mind, Arthur wasn't someone who would hug a person, especially a frog like him. He slowly put his hands on the Englishman's back, starting rubbing hesitantly. After a little while, he felt something wet on his chest, where Arthur buried his face.

"C'est d'accord..." (It's okay...) whispered Francis, still rubbing the Englishman.

"Ce n'est pas d'accord!" (It's not okay!) protested he, stepping back, and looking into the other's ocean like deep blue eyes. It was obvious that Arthur was confused if he was angry or sad. He couldn't decide how should he act to the Frenchman. He couldn't stop the storm inside his heart, he wanted to howl with all his strength of his lungs.

"A-Arthur?" stuttered Francis, he was confused with the other's reaction, he frowned with hesitation.

"It's not okay, you git... Of course not..."

"What's wrong...?"

"As if you don't know!" cried Arthur. He chuckled with anger while the tears were falling down from his cheeks. "You could tell me what's the problem... No matter what, aren't we just more than two rivals?!"

Francis stood silent, couldn't keep his tears anymore, but he was still resisting to cry much less than before. Arthur, of course, could read from his face that Francis was forcing himself about it. Francis covered his eyes with his eyes with his right forearem, biting his bottom lip, sobbing as silently as he could. Arthur hugged him again tightly, starting sobbing. He wasn't sure if he would be able to conciliate the Frenchman, he just hoped to be so.

No, this can't be love... There is no way I like him... What am I thinking seriously??

Thinking these, Arthur inhaled the air that filled the room with the wind. He prepared himself to say something, but before that Francis started speaking.

"Arthur..." whispered he and hugged him back. "...Wasn't I the one who ruined everyone's comfort with my..." he cut off by his own sobbing. "...Non, that's not all... That's not it..." he pulled himself away from Arthur's arms suddenly, shakingly. He was just like one of those sick people which Dostoevsky described in his works... Being delirious, shaking, looking for somewhere to escape from the current situation he was in. With this, Arthur remembered Dmitri Karamazov's quote about love... No... He knew that he couldn't feel such things for only a friend... Someone whom you called as a friend wouldn't make you feel in that way whatever happens unless he or she was dead.

Arthur could feel the suffering from the Frenchman's wet bright blue eyes... This couldn't be a friendship or anything else like that... He didn't want to accept his own feelings for Francis, but as you thought, he was already captured by the sickness of "love"... He could understand now, how the fate leaded his way to him for all this time...

He pulled Francis' forearm from his beautiful face, looked into his eyes and stood like that for a while. On the other hand, Francis couldn't do the same thing since he was ashamed of being alive, he didn't deserve to turn his eyes to the Englishman.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes as he quickly pressed his lips to Francis'.

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Thanks to school for not letting me write...

And thank you so much for reading!

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER~ <3