“Angleterre, I know what heartache feels like. That isn't something anyone should have to go through.”
“I know you know what heartache feels like!” England shouted. “It's because of me that you know what it feels like! So why are you being so nice to me?!”
“So this is about Jeanne?”
England chose to remain silent this time, picking the last of the glass from his hands and standing up again. He went over to the sink to rinse his hands.
“Angleterre, I know you don't want to talk, so just listen to me. I am sorry. We probably wouldn't be in this situation right now if I didn't help Amèrique gain independence.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he demanded at the locked door.
“Everything,” France said. “Just listen. After you killed Jeanne-” England flinched, “-I was heartbroken. I spent a lot of time after that resenting you, I won't lie. I knew how you felt about Amèrique. So when he wanted independence, I was more than willing to help him. I did it just to spite you... That's why I'm sorry.”
England walked back over to the door and leaned his forehead against it. “You are being nice just because you feel responsible?”
“... Open the door, Angleterre.”
England found himself tearing up. So, that's all there was to it. He shook his head, even though France couldn't see him.
“Open the door, please,” France said, a little more gently.
England touched the doorknob, not sure whether he really wanted to or not. He would have to eventually. He fought his tears, grit his teeth, and hesitantly turned the doorknob.
The moment the door was open, he found himself in France's arms. England just stood there, not knowing what to do. That was just about the last thing he expected. It wasn't a particularly tight embrace, nor a particularly comforting embrace, it was a simple hug.
“Angleterre, this isn't about Jeanne or Amèrique,” France said softly.
England hesitantly brought his arms up to return the hug, and France took that as an invitation to hug him tighter.
“I'm here because I want to be, d'accord? I was trying to help you even before I knew about him, I didn't want to see you hurting.”
England buried his face in France's shoulder. The tears were back, but they were tears of relief this time. France was going out of his way to be nice just because he could. He actually wanted to. France didn't hate him after all...
“W-why?” England choked out.
His question went unanswered, but France stroked his hair soothingly.
They stood there like that for a long time. France stroking England's hair, and England crying silently into his shoulder. By the time they separated, they both knew the answer to the question. But England couldn't bring himself to ask if he still loved Jeanne.
“You know,” France said after, helping England get the worst of the stain off the carpet, “I never would've guessed that you owned a pair of tweezers.”
England looked up at him in confusion, but then glowered and retorted: “Shut it, frog.”
In Love and War (11d/?)
“Angleterre, I know what heartache feels like. That isn't something anyone should have to go through.”
“I know you know what heartache feels like!” England shouted. “It's because of me that you know what it feels like! So why are you being so nice to me?!”
“So this is about Jeanne?”
England chose to remain silent this time, picking the last of the glass from his hands and standing up again. He went over to the sink to rinse his hands.
“Angleterre, I know you don't want to talk, so just listen to me. I am sorry. We probably wouldn't be in this situation right now if I didn't help Amèrique gain independence.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he demanded at the locked door.
“Everything,” France said. “Just listen. After you killed Jeanne-” England flinched, “-I was heartbroken. I spent a lot of time after that resenting you, I won't lie. I knew how you felt about Amèrique. So when he wanted independence, I was more than willing to help him. I did it just to spite you... That's why I'm sorry.”
England walked back over to the door and leaned his forehead against it. “You are being nice just because you feel responsible?”
“... Open the door, Angleterre.”
England found himself tearing up. So, that's all there was to it. He shook his head, even though France couldn't see him.
“Open the door, please,” France said, a little more gently.
England touched the doorknob, not sure whether he really wanted to or not. He would have to eventually. He fought his tears, grit his teeth, and hesitantly turned the doorknob.
The moment the door was open, he found himself in France's arms. England just stood there, not knowing what to do. That was just about the last thing he expected. It wasn't a particularly tight embrace, nor a particularly comforting embrace, it was a simple hug.
“Angleterre, this isn't about Jeanne or Amèrique,” France said softly.
England hesitantly brought his arms up to return the hug, and France took that as an invitation to hug him tighter.
“I'm here because I want to be, d'accord? I was trying to help you even before I knew about him, I didn't want to see you hurting.”
England buried his face in France's shoulder. The tears were back, but they were tears of relief this time. France was going out of his way to be nice just because he could. He actually wanted to. France didn't hate him after all...
“W-why?” England choked out.
His question went unanswered, but France stroked his hair soothingly.
They stood there like that for a long time. France stroking England's hair, and England crying silently into his shoulder. By the time they separated, they both knew the answer to the question. But England couldn't bring himself to ask if he still loved Jeanne.
“You know,” France said after, helping England get the worst of the stain off the carpet, “I never would've guessed that you owned a pair of tweezers.”
England looked up at him in confusion, but then glowered and retorted: “Shut it, frog.”