Crimson Tears (A FrUk Fanfiction)

Crimson Tears

I stood under the rain, waiting for him to open the door. I beckoned to him several times. At some point, I had lost count of how many times I actually shouted to him. But I heard nothing in response. It had been a long time since I had seen England. It had been a long time since anyone had seen him. After having stared at the entrance way and straining my voice by yelling for a few minutes, I found my hand on the doorknob to the nation's house. After turning the gold knob, the door opened. I was surprised to see it was unlocked, Arthur was usually good about those types of things. My feet lead me to the living room and I looked around. My eyes gazed upon the mess that England had been living in. There were clothes on the floor and empty wrappers that once contained food. It saddened me to see that. This was where he had been this whole time. Cooped up in a mess. But what broke my heart the most was seeing him on the couch. He was asleep, but you could tell that this was the first time he had slept in a long while. Under the country's eyes laid dark circles and wrinkles were forming as well. Not only that, but he hadn't washed for a bit either. His short sleeve shirt had stains all over it and his face was not clean shaven, as it usually was. He hadn't been wearing pants either, just boxers that had an unknown dark red substance on them. Despite those facts, despite how miserable he looked, he was still perfect in my eyes.

England and I always had quarrels, this was true. However, I still worried for him. Especially now. America had recently become an independent country. As I looked at Arthur, I saw the pain on his face, even if he slept. I knew it hurt Arthur because he did love America, I just never knew how much. Nor did I know whether it was as a lover or as a brother. Either way, England was hurting and he needed a friend right now. Today, that friend was me. My thoughts had been stopped as I heard the noise of England beginning to wake up. His bright green eyes looked at me. They were as gorgeous as they always were, even if they had been slightly blood shot. I assumed this was from endless days of tears.

"Angleterre..." I spoke his name softly and gave him a gentle smile. When he actually awoke from his slumber and got out of the daze that people got when first awakening, his green orbs widened. Then, Arthur suddenly took me into his arms and held onto me in a tight grasp. I don't think he has held anyone in a while and I don't think anyone had held him, either. My arms wrapped around him gently and I gave him a small squeeze. I felt him shaking a bit before my ears heard him starting to weep.

"I am sorry, mon ami," I whispered to him while I wiped his tears off of his soft cheeks. He sniffled, and as much as I tried to continue to wipe the drops of water, they kept falling.

"What did I do wrong...? I took care of him as my own. I-I..." I cut him off. He didn't do anything wrong, I needed him to understand that. It wasn't anything he did. America wanted freedom and there wasn't anything England could have done about that, no matter how hard he tried.

"Nothing. America wanted freedom. Everyone does. The only person that someone wants to be in charge is themselves. You didn't do anything, Arthur." Even though I explained this, he continued to sob on my shoulder. He did for so long and I comforted him the whole time, but then he stopped. He had run out of tears.

He pulled out of my embrace, but kept his hands in mine. I gave him another smile, but didn't get one back. I hadn't expected him to smile back, but I wanted to give him a reassuring one. He could have made me smile, anyways. He always could. But then I noticed something as I held his hands in mine. Something that made me narrow my eyes and didn't make me smile one bit.

"What's...on your wrists?" When I asked this, there was hesitation in my voice. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"N-Nothing, Francis." I knew he was lying to me. This made me worry more and want to know less, but I had to know. I held up his wrist in front of my blue eyes and they widened. I felt them start to get watery as droplets of salt water formed. It had occurred to me where those crimson red stains on his boxers had come from. There, on my beloved's wrist, were cuts. Scars that would never go away. Some were recent, others were not. They were deep and as I saw them, my heart shattered.

"Why would you do this?!" My voice raised, but I lowered it. I shouldn't shout at him. He has been through so much and he doesn't need the only one who is here for him yelling. My eyes moved from his cut stained wrist to his bright blue orbs that looked like they were about to shed tears again. "Don't cry...I didn't to me to yell, Angleterre."

I moved his wrist to my lips and began to kiss every one of those dreaded scars, hoping they would heal. I knew they wouldn't, but it was good to hope. I loathed the fact that he did that to himself. But, as I thought about it more, it probably hurt a lot less than what America had done to him. Arthur had only taken a blade to his skin, but Alfred had shoved a sword right through his heart.

I kissed the last scar before taking England into my arms again. His shaking had stopped and so had the tears. As I looked at him, I could have sworn I saw a slight smile. It wasn't a sad one, either. I guess I could always make him smile, too.

"Thank you, Francis. It means a lot that you—"

"There is no need for thanks. I..." I was about to say that I loved him. This was true, but I didn't want to put pressure on him. And if he didn't love me back, well, I would be just as heartbroken as he is. I needed to be stable for him. So, I held off on saying it right now. "I care about you. You're my friend."

He looked tired. I didn't blame him, though. It had been a long day and he probably hadn't gotten much rest before I showed up. So, without saying anything, I picked him up as if he was a bride on a wedding day and carried him to his room. I expected him to protest, or at least tense up in my arms, but he didn't. Actually, he relaxed.

When I stepped into England's room, I set him down gently on his queen sized bed. I was unsure of whether or not to stay. I didn't know if he wanted me here anymore. But that changed when he spoke up.

"Hey...Frog, lay with me," he said in soft voice. It sounded weak but it made me chuckle. The name "frog" was usually an insult. It had always been said in this rueful and harsh tone. Not this time, though. It was sweet, and said in a playful way. I complied with his wish and laid beside him. My arms opened up, welcoming him into them. He took advantage of the silent offer and moved in close to me. My hand ran down his back gently. Before I attempted to get him to sleep, I needed to say something and he needed to hear it.

"Angleterre...Never hurt yourself again. I cannot bear to see you like that." I looked down at him as I said this. My face gave a serious, yet caring look. He nodded before closing his eyes. After he had, I began to sing La Vie En Rose softly.

Hold me close and hold me fast

This magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

And when you speak... angels sing from above

Everyday words seem... to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

It was a beautiful song, just as he was beautiful. It reminded me of him each time I listened to it. When I finished reciting the music, I heard soft snoring coming from the British male. The lips I had used to kiss his scars were now placed against his forehead.

"Je t'aime, Angleterre."