Fire [FrUk Fanfiction]

Ashes

Last part of this story, this is the end everyone! Again, apologies for inactivity but we just finished our exams. And god dang it, I bawled my eyes out writing this chapter, and I'm not even a big fan of England!!!! I tried to end it on a happier note, and I hope you all like it. I'll never forget Francis, and neither will Arthur.

Will you?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur could still remember the shrill, cold beep of the flatline in his head. They'd given him time with Francis in the hospital room, and Arthur hadn't let go of his hand once. When he'd began to cry, Francis had reached up a hand, and brushed the tears away. "Don't cry, mon amour," he'd whispered. "As long as you never forget me, I'll never be gone."

His funeral was today. Arthur had recited the eulogy over and over, until it became regular conversation to him. He didn't want to get out of bed, or eat, or drink, or move — he felt dead, but he couldn't explain it. His heart was thudding in his chest, but his mind was blank. Slowly, he rose out of bed. School was cancelled today, so that students could attend Francis' funeral.

Putting on his brown suit, Arthur stopped in the middle of his room, feeling sick. "I can't...I-I...can't do this..." He whispered to himself, startled at his own strained, dead voice. He shut his eyes and allowed Francis into his mind; he felt the Frenchman's strong, comforting arms wrap around his waist. "You can do this, mon amour. You are so strong, for yourself. Now you are strong for us."

It sounded so lifelike that Arthur almost wanted to scowl and brush Francis away, then hesitate and pull him into a grumpy kiss.

A tear slid down his cheek as he straightened his tie and walked out the door.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Francis had always wanted an outdoor funeral. Him and Arthur had talked it over many times; Arthur ended up crying, and Francis ended up cuddling him. Arthur desperately wanted to feel that warm embrace again, but with everyone's cold eyes on him, he couldn't retrieve the memory. He tuned it all out for a minute; glancing to the casket, he could hear Francis's voice.

"I want an outdoor funeral someday, Arthur. I want it to be in a meadow, or a forest clearing, on a sunny day. I want you to be the only one to speak, as your voice is all that will matter on that day. I want there to be sun, so everyone knows what a bright person I was. I want there to be birds, so they can remember my singing. I want there to be flowers, and trees, and wildlife, so they can extract shreds of natural happiness, regardless of the funeral setting. Arthur, when I die—"
"NO! NOT WHEN! NO!" Arthur yelled loudly, and everyone jumped in their seats. Arthur's face went bright red. "Er, uh, my apologies, everyone." He shuffled his eulogy papers, and glanced down at them, then cleared his throat and began. "On this day, we gather to not mourn Francis, but instead to...to...to celebrate..."

Everyone stared at him, and Arthur could feel his heart in his throat. "Bollocks." He said suddenly, and ripped the paper in half. Everyone gasped quietly, and an uneasy hush fell over them again. "I can't read about his life off of a paper. That's not how he would've wanted it." He swallowed.

"Honestly I-I....when I moved here, I thought it'd be someone else reading my eulogy after I committed suicide. But then I found Francis—my other half—and he showed me a whole new life, as well as he did for everyone else, too. I know none of you had the privilege to love him the way I loved him...but he enriched all of us. I refuse to use the word "lost" in this speech; none of us lost him. That's not how he liked to think. He liked to think of it as...well....if none of us allowed ourselves to forget him, then he isn't really gone, is he?"

Everyone in the audience looked to one another, nodding a little. The uneasiness began to dissipate as they looked encouragingly to Arthur.

"I loved him. And I feel downright silly for using past tense. I love him. We all love him." Arthur swallowed again, and this time the lump in his throat disappeared. He thought of Francis's warm, welcoming grin, and a grim smile spread across his face. "We'll never forget him."