"It's terrible..."
"What's happened to your face?"
Francis stood up quickly, rushing to inspect the face of Mr. Russia. I squinted my eyes, seeing him place his hands on Russia's cheeks.
Seriously? Was all the touching necessary?
"I'm not sure what happened, it happened so fast, but there was this weird smoke, and then my skin felt like it was on fire. Many of my soldiers have similar burns, luckily, there haven't been many casualties," he spoke frantically.
A strange gas? That can't be right.
"Wait, what did it look like?" I asked. He and Francis stopped looking at each other, turning to me. "Ah, I can't explain it...but it wasn't like anything I have seen before," Mr. Russia spoke. No, this couldn't have been what I was thinking of. Gas that burnt the skin and killed a few. "The soldiers that did die was it because their lungs gave out, or was it because of the burns?" I asked.
"Arth—England? Does that really matter?"
"Yes! Now, what is the answer?"
Russia looked at me confused and shrugged his shoulder. "The burns, why?" he asked. The burns? That can't be, right? Ugh, maybe I'm overthinking this. "Oh...okay..." I spoke.
"Still, I'm worried about this war; I need the two of you to promise me something. The two of you must agree to this condition for me to continue sending troops for the western front," he started. His troops helped in various ways; it would be a blow to us if he pulled them out from the western front. "What do you want?" Francis asked.
"I need the two of you to promise me Constantinople," he spoke. I froze at what he had asked us. "I would like it very much, so think carefully about your answer," he smiled. The burns on his face as he smiled made him more eery and scary. Even though it made me a bit nervous, I couldn't show him how unsettling it was and how it made me feel.
"Deal!" Francis spoke suddenly. My eyes widened, and my headshot toward him. Francis was in this war because of him, and now he is cornering us by not helping on our side. "What? Seriously?" I asked.
"Of course! Mr. England agrees, too, right?" Francis asked, looking at me. No way, he threw me under the bus right now. I stayed silent as they both stared at me. I knew I didn't have much of an option. I had no other choice but to agree. "Fine, after this war is over...if we win...I promise to ensure that you take control of Constantinople," I spoke. Russia nodded at me, pleased, wiping his face a bit. His burns looked painful.
"I'm glad the two of you made the right decision; I'm sure you both know how troublesome that would be if we had to be enemies after this war," he added. This sick bastard was as crazy as his own government.
Then again, Do I have room to talk?
"Any other comments?" He asked. He looked at the two of us, and we stayed quiet. "No? Good? Now...if you excuse me, I have work to do. I look forward to our future meetings," he spoke. He started to walk toward the door, and I couldn't help but frown once he turned his back toward us.
"Also, if you want to have private time together, do it in PRIVATE, not when a meeting is about to start," he spoke. My eyes widened, and I felt confused. What did he mean by that?
Russia stopped to look at us, and we were both silent. "He was sitting in front of you, and his hair is different; I'm not an idiot," he added.
Oh...
Was it that obvious?
"It's not like that—"
"I don't care."
I tried to defend ourselves, but he cut me off before I could finish.
Once he left the room, I turned to look at Francis, who was still silent. "Why would you agree to his terms instead of trying to negotiate first?" I asked. Francis took a deep breath out and looked at me, annoyed. "I'm trying to help us; that is the important thing. I can't have you getting into a stalemate because you don't have the resources," he snapped.
I felt he was being petty because I stopped fighting with Mr. Germany during Christmas. "Listen, I can help myself if I need to; I don't need you to 'save' me; worry about yourself," I said. I wasn't going to let him talk to me like that.
"What is your plan if something bad happens? Play a game with the enemy?"
"Why are you upset? It was a nice thing to do!"
I started glaring at him as he came closer to me. I wish I didn't have to look at him. This war stressed him, and he was taking it out on me. "Don't look at me that way. I'm upset because you could have gotten hurt," he spoke.
"Hurt, probably, but it isn't like I can die; we both know this. Francis, we've known each other for a long time; you know I can handle my own; why are you making this a big deal? I doubt my getting hurt is your concern," I spoke.
"Don't say it like that; I care about your well-being, don't you forget."
"Pfft? My well-being? I doubt that. We are only allies now because we stupidly decided it to be this way. Because Germany was gaining power and growing, we aren't strong alone."
"What? You know that isn't true," he defended. He looked at me in disbelief, but I wasn't going to take back what I said. He was the one that wanted the Entente Cordiale, and I'm sure he had other plans than to be close allies.
"The Entente was a life-changing idea. We aren't meant to be enemies anymore; how could you imply that it was a mistake?"
"Oh, come now, if it weren't for the Entente, we would probably be fighting against each other again in this war," I pointed out. I am almost one-hundred percent sure that we would be fighting against each other if it weren't for the treaty.
"Okay, yes, the Cordiale makes us stronger, politically and militarily, but I've grown fond of you, don't forget that! I have always appreciated our relationship," He spoke. He tried to come closer to me, but I moved back. "Fond of me? I doubt hundreds of years would be forgotten because of a silly treaty. You aren't blind; you know how other nations view our treaty. Russia proved it right now when he pointed out a stupid detail. It makes him uncomfortable!"
"Who cares how other people feel about our alliance? We are united. Maybe, not how I would want to be, but it is close enough," he spoke. I stopped talking, hearing what he said. What? What was that supposed to mean?
"What?...what do you mean by that?" I asked. I had recoiled as a reaction, and he froze. His eyes widened, and he looked like he had said something he shouldn't have. "Forget it, let's forget we had this argument, or conversation, or whatever, just forget it!" He spoke hastily.
"What? Wait!" I spoke. I noticed he was about to leave, but I tried to stop him. "No, we will see each other another time; I'm sorry about this; I overreacted," he babbled. I was starting to get annoyed by how he was acting. "Will you hold on? You stupid idiot?!" I shouted.
I snatched Francis by his stupid blue cape, pulling him toward me. "What are you doing?" He asked, using French. "What are you doing? You'd rather not see me for a while than talk to me? How pathetic!" I yelled. I had pulled him back and shoved him forward so he'd lose his balance.
"Guuuuuhhhhhh! Arthur! Please...let's forget this happened and move on. Besides, I'm sure we'd both rather be somewhere else right now," he spoke plainly. Although his face screamed something else, it began to change to a bright red color.
"Fine, but I expect a full explanation soon! By mail or from the phone, do I make myself clear?" I asked sternly. He breathed out, defeated, and began to laugh. "Yes, I understand," he giggled. I gave him a side smile and pat the side of his arm.
I did so in a playful way but couldn't find it in me to move my hand. We had a small, petty fight and suddenly stopped. This was normal for us now. We bickered or found little things to be petty about. I know I did that very often.
I had begun using my thumb to rub circles against his arm, and he only looked at me with curiosity. "What's wrong?" He asked.
He was looking me in my eyes, and I was at a loss for words. I was stuck on why I couldn't move my hand. "I'm not sure...but I think...I don't want you to leave..." I whispered. I felt my stare get intense, and his face wasn't red anymore; it wasn't angry or annoyed. It was soft and gentle.
My hand was still on him, this time frozen. I was still unable to move my hand from him. "You don't want me to leave?" he asked. I shook my head slowly, and his face grew still. I could see how he began to reach his hand to me slowly, and I didn't stop him.
He had been reaching his hand toward my hand that rested on his arm. "I...I don't think I do. I think it is because when you do, I won't see you for a long time. I am not sure when, but I know I won't," I spoke. He placed his hand on mine, removing my hand. Was this his way of telling me he didn't care?
That really sucks...
"Arthur...take it back," he spoke. I looked at him, confused, and he began to place both his hands on my shoulder. "What? Why?" I asked. He shook his head at me and shrugged. "How old do you think we look now?" he suddenly asked. His odd question threw me off, and I shrugged. "Well, I am probably twenty-one, and you...maybe twenty-three," I spoke. There wasn't much of a difference between us to tell, but he was older, so he must look a bit older.
Francis suddenly placed one of his hands on my cheek, and I tilted my head in response. "If I could trade my everything in this world for us to be human, I wouldn't think twice."
"Huh? But why? We would die..."
"Yes, but at least I would die being around someone I care for...whom...I still have affection for."
My eyes widened at what he said.
He...still has affection for me? I had not heard him say that in a long time. "However..." He started. I looked at him, confused, and he came closer. "However?" I asked. Did he also hate me or something? How confusing.
"I doubt that word is proper for how I feel," he whispered. I furrowed my brows as I felt confused. What was he trying to say? "What?" I asked. Francis moved his hand to my nape and squeezed gently. "What are you doing?" I asked. I asked that, but I knew what was happening; it wasn't the first time something like this has happened. It wasn't...but why was I feeling so nervous?
"Please...for the sake of my old soul, don't ever stop being oblivious," he whispered. Instead of doing what I thought he was trying to do, Francis kissed my cheek. He rested his lips there for some time, allowing me to close my eyes and soak up the feeling it gave me. I felt saddened at the sudden change of aura.
"We will be away from each other again...for who knows how long, but I look forward to your letters," I spoke. Francis finally separated from me but still kept his hands on my arms as I stared at him in sadness. "I know...and I think I will miss you forever...my darling," he added.
I tilted my head sadly, and he rubbed his hands up and down my arms in a comforting way. "Do you mean that?" I asked. Francis smiled at me sweetly, finally pulling his hands away from me. "Arthur, I mean it sincerely. I don't know how I will ever manage without hearing you point out every single wrong thing...nothing scares me more than being away from me. I just want you to know that you are and will always be the best thing in my mind as I wake up."
I was silent, and he pinched my chin lovingly. "Be well...for my sake..." I spoke.
"I couldn't think of anything else to do," he smiled. The same smile I thought of as I left the field between Mr. Germany and me.