Chapter 3

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Bésame Mucho Chapter 3, a hetalia | axis powers fanfic

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Summer, 1934
The French Countryside

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"It's getting late. We should probably start heading back to town." Francis said the words reluctantly.

Antonio held a sprig of lavender to his nose and inhaled deeply. The bright afternoon sun descended slowly in the darkening sky above him; the thick, soft green grass felt like a blanket beneath him.

"Here, have another drink first," said Gilbert, passing a bottle of wine to Francis over Antonio's head. The red liquid sparkled as a ray of sunlight filtered through the glass.

"Fine," said Francis, taking the bottle. "But we can't stay on this hill all night."

"Why not?" asked Antonio. "I feel like I could lie here forever."

Francis laughed. "I'm quite sure you could, you lazy bastard."

"I can't believe the week's almost over," said Gilbert. "How does it always go so damn fast?"

Antonio shook his head, without an answer to that question. For the last five years, since he had turned fifteen, the best times of Antonio's life had been these brief weeks during the year he managed to spend with his two best friends. Talking, laughing, arguing, flirting, drinking, sightseeing... if only life could always be like this.

"Next time, my place, yeah?" continued Gilbert. "Ludwig's been asking when he's gonna see you guys again."

"How is the little guy?" asked Antonio. "Did he like that model plane I sent for his birthday?"

"Not so little anymore. Twelve years old and the little shit's nearly bigger than me. But he loved the plane. It's hanging from his ceiling with all the others."

"All right," said Francis. "Let's make it December, shall we? There's nothing like Christmas in Germany."

"Yes," agreed Antonio. "Gingerbread houses and glowing Christmas trees and candles and snow..."

"Gluehwein and schnapps and beer..."

"Muscular men in lederhosen and busty barmaids in low cut dirndls... Ahh," Francis sighed dramatically. "Yes, this December I shall fall in love in Germany."

Antonio twisted his neck and squinted up at Francis. "You're not going to fall in love. You're going to sleep with people."

Francis peered down at him disdainfully. "Yes, and I fall in love with everyone who shares my bed."

"That's not love, Francis. That's sex."

"Who are you to tell me what is love and what is not? I have fallen in love a thousand times, and I will a thousand more."

"Urgh," said Gilbert loudly. "I can safely promise you, I will never fall in love."

Antonio gazed back up at the dark blue sky and breathed the warm, clean scent of lavender. "I will fall in love but once."

"How terribly boring, mon cher. I never would have thought I'd hear you moralising."

"I'm not moralising. You can sleep with whomever you choose - bonne chance; cuidate; viel Spass. I am simply saying that I believe you only ever truly love once."

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