2p!Hetalia Boyfriend Scenarios

53: SILAKBO | The Call of the Void

Silakbo | I 
The Call of The Void

Foreword
Dates have been added to further clarify the plotline of the story. Further clarifications will follow.

December 13, 2018
Paris, France
7 AM | 8 hours ago

The breeze blows with a light touch. The sun was shyly present amidst the pastel sky. In a remote little house that stood on the outskirts of the city, a man of ill intentions sits on a swivelling chair with the telephone tucked in between his right ear and shoulder.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Anton Devereux curtly muses as a sadistic smirk finds itself breaking through his face. Once the line went dead, he takes the device and places it back to its rightful place. Silence lingered for a moment as Devereux went over his thoughts and plans that he intended to make actions upon today. He was quite pleased with himself.

Just this morning, he was able to convince a dozen more of Bonnefoy's minions to join his side after promising endless money and ultimate power. All of them were currently preparing for the attack. The Bonnefoy Manor was a few miles away from their present settlement; therefore proper measures were in need for all of this to work.

As for the arrangements, the contractor he had found for the weapons was one who was easy enough to pay to. All Anton had to do was to smuggle some of Francois' money out of that fat and bulging bank account of his and he was set! It's not like Francois will ever notice anyways. He was too busy fawning over that chienne, (Y/N).

Anton scowls at the thought of the young woman who diverted Francois' mind from the golden objective of rising with power over the masses. It wasn't always like this. He and Francois were almost brothers at a point. They both shared a hunger for control and such command called for the fear in others and the filth with their methods. Francois usually lies back sometimes and unwinds in clubs to rock a few mattresses. But then, there was this girl who made him see the good in the world, or whatever that shit means.

For years, Francois never woke up from this foolery. Anton waited patiently for that woman to go away, but she never did leave. She even began bewitching the others, making them soft and light-hearted. Anton despised the fact that the house staff even had the audacity to treat him with the way they did. No one ever cowered in fear. No one ever gave him what he wanted.

The growl on Anton's face transforms into a deeper and more spiteful crumple. Francois is going to have to wake up in a much harsher manner, but he'll come back soon enough. All Anton had to do was to get rid of (Y/N) (L/N).

"Armand," Anton calls out to one of the underlings, his tone engraved with fury. A tall redhead approaches his table with a sniper ready in hand. With his eyes still on the lean gun, Anton begins his orders.

"I have a special assignment for you..."

December 13, 2018
Versailles, France
2:54 PM | 6 minutes ago

"(Y/N), you know I won't change my mind."

The air was thick with the burden of melancholy. It was a poison that was slowly killing them both. (Y/N) (L/N) could barely hold back the tears that had already begun to meddle with her vision. In spite of the most wounding recesses that were spreading like wildfire in her heart and mind, she mustered the strength to give him a smile. Alas, the hurt and bitter taste of her emotions seeped through her eyes. There was no use in hiding from the Frenchman before her. She knew that he could tell her smile was but a lie.

"I was hoping you would," (Y/N) had told him with all the honesty in her. Her voice trembled in a weak manner. She cursed herself for showing such vulnerability. The truth that spewed from her lips carried out a stronger sense of ache too. God, why can't everything go her way? Why can't they both just go home now and forget all of this?

Not wanting to drag anything else out, the young woman exits the vehicle. She watched as her lover follows suit and stands before her. The soft peck to the forehead nearly sends her bursting to tears, but she supresses it all with a deep breath. "The sooner we get this over with, the better," his words were reassuring as can be, but something in her strongly disagreed. It's not that she doesn't trust him. The doubt that creeps from the very back of her mind was giving her a feeling that she couldn't quite understand.

Pushing past her thoughts, (Y/N) saw the familiar form of Francis ahead of them. She nearly smiles at the sight. At least, they had one last comrade to rely on.

"(Y/N)!"

The mere sight of panic from Francis' face sent (Y/N) in her own frenzy. It wasn't until she felt the shock that she truly began to feel fear overthrow all other reasoning within her. The air had been knocked out of her. The pain began to sting and it propagates throughout her system. She lost the grip on her strength as her legs began to feel like jelly.

(Y/N) soon found herself in the arms of her dearest, Francois. Her hands rested on his shoulders, as it has always been whenever he embraces her. The present situation of her current position was a stark contrast to those tender moments. She nearly laughed. Indeed, fate plays well.

(Y/N) took a good look at her boyfriend's face. The horror and fury evident on Francois finally brought her to realization. All of this could plunge Francois back to the abyss. Tears blurred her vision as they finally began to pour down her cheeks in big and fat droplets. She was struggling in a tug of war between life and death. Her dreams of a happy ending were vanishing to the void that beckons her. Death was pulling all the strings to reach her, but she remains just as stubborn.

"I don't want to go yet," (Y/N) found herself confessing to him, her chest heaving deeply as she felt the back of her shirt begin to soak. She sees Francois snap out of his thoughts and cling onto her tighter. "You're not going anywhere, cherie," he told her, caressing the tangled locks that had come from such distress.

Time was impatient, she noticed. By the minute, she loses more and more of her life. Say some last words, her mind practically screamed. If this were the end, then please...

"Plea—"

BANG

There it was again, as though it were a reminder of her fading time on the world of the living. To the shoulder, it landed. She hissed.

Please don't be cold again. She wanted to say those words to him so much. Damn it, just a little longer.

BANG

There goes another. Time's up, (Y/N) (L/N). The void has already called upon you.

December 13, 2018
Versailles, France
3:00 PM

BANG

The first gunshot had caught him off guard before, but the other two that followed had done a superb job of robbing him of his blessing. He was rendered unable to anything. He could barely process everything else. He barely felt the bullet that made it through his skin. He barely even felt his comrade's presence behind him.

Francois Bonnefoy has never been in such pain before, not even when he had been beheaded before the people of France during the infamous revolt. He had long been unsusceptible to Death, but this has got to be the closest thing.

"Plea—"

Her words have been cut short, but finishing it wasn't needed. He understood what she wanted to say. It pained him to know what it meant. It frustrated him to know that his carelessness had been the cause of all of this.

She was limp in his arms, life gone from her still open eyes. Tears began to slide down the curve of his cheeks, but he remained just as silent. She was gone. The reality slowly settled in with a burning ache that was sure to scar. "She's gone," he said in almost a whisper, gently lifting his arms to cradle her closer to him. His head was nestled in her neck, searching for even just a hint of her left. The faint scent of her perfume managed to reach him but even that was evanescent. The blood overpowered all good trace of her.

The clock reached three. Their time together ended quicker than he thought.