The ground was covered with a thick blanket of fog obscuring his vision. He kneeled against the cold wet ground which soaked into his pristine yet dull trousers. In the end, Francis knew that the British empire was crumbling; gradually failing and losing all of its land and wealth. Today the countries had been gathered around his decaying corpse decorated in sharp suits and surrounded by bright cheerful flowers not to mention the not as surprising downpour and grey skies.

Everyone else had left. Matthew and alfred lingered offering soft words of love and mourning. After awhile even those two left leaving him alone. Francis was trying to suppress those feelings through out the day, in a way trying to seem stoic in the eyes of his fellow nations. When prussia died followed by romano and several of the micro nations his mask never slipped. Even when faced with the death of one of his longest allies the awesome man himself, he was a shoulder for his two boys to cry on. At the end of the day it was perhaps because he knew that he could sit down with arthur and drink the pain away till early morning. Now all he had left was a stone engraved with a few simple words. Francis' lover could not be described in a few words.

Thinking back 'France was unsure what to call his freind, boy friend perhaps, how about childhood friend? He had known Arthur kirkland for so many years even if it didn't seem enough.' Francis thought about his regret. 'He never did confess to Arthur, directly at least. Surely they shared a few sweet moments together nights clinging to each others scents. Never again would he have the chance'.

Tears flowed down his red, puffy cheeks freely. Sobs over took his body causing his fragile frame to shake and quiver. The noise echoed throughout the cemetery stirring the dead. Francis's hands gripped the mud beneath him showing his tensed muscles throughout. His body felt stiff, never once miving from his spot sorrounded but a swirling cloud mist and the heavy rain. Infront of him still stood the cold as stone tomb with several bouquets and cards littering the area. Beneath him was the once warm body that he argued and fought against but most importantly loved.

~₪~₪~

This is my favourite chapter so far so im going to re write the chapters before into a similar style. It shows that with a little patience anytging can be accomplished now where is my box of tissues.

Ciao for now,

x Author chan x