Story of my life

From Hell to Heaven

Where is the crying Briton now? He can't be far from here. He has never been able to get further than a few meter when he is like this.

France thought to himself while he was searching for the younger Briton. He wasn't much younger than the Frenchman, a year or three or something like that. He knew that what he had sad was wrong. He did it because he was annoyed by the Briton that he acts that way, not even want to try to be nice to him. It hurted him because, England is the person he was head over heals in love with.

So in the end he just couldn't take that fact anymore, there snapped something in his mind and shouted that of all things to him even though he didn't mean it. Yet it was to late right now, the damage had allready been done.

"Angleterre..." He saw the man, who more looked like a young boy crying against the wall of the corridor. France sighed and walked over to the blonde and croutched down next to him. He placed a hand on England's shoulder.

"Go away you bloody frog." He tried to sound angry at him but it didn't seem to work that much from the looks of it. "You know Angleterre?" France started and looked at the ball, that was supossed to be England. "You're hurting me more than I have hurted you with my words. It is as much of mental pain as what you are feeling now, but I'm here to say that I am sorry for what I said."

He couldn't really face him after what he had said to him. And he knew that if he were him that he would never in his life forgive him for what he had said to the Briton. So he wouldn't really mind if England wasn't able to forgive him. It was his fault for saying such a thing and he had to pay the prize for doing so.

Yet he felt hands being placed on his cheeks. They were soft and warm, yet wet from the tears. The tears that he had caused. England made the Frenchman face him by holding his face in his hands.

"What do you mean France?" France had to look at the teary eyes of the man who was sitting in front of him right now. France felt a heavy feeling in his stomach. That he was able to bring him into such a mood, was a pain in his hear that he had yet to learn to accept.

He tried to break loose from his grip of the younger nation sitting in front of him. France started to wave his hands in front of his face. Trying to act like what he had said, hadndn't really happend. Yet it did, but he wasn't sure if he was able to tell the man his feelings right now.

It wasn't like he had much left to lose, but someting still kept him from confessing his love to the man who stole his heart. Maybe it was the feeling in his stomach from earlier that made him unable to do so, afraid that saying what he really felt toward the man would only make it worse.

"Oh, never mind." France said and got up from the spot on the carpet that he was sitting on. He tried to walk away but he felt like he was held back from doing so. When he looked to see what it was. He saw England with his arms around his waist, keeping him from walking away.

His heart started racing very fast since he didn't really expect that kind of reaction from the Briton. Well he didn't really expect any but bad reactions from the man, because of what had happend. So it was a suprise that he did this, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Why do you need to do so difficult you mindless frog?" England muttered softly with his head against France's back. In a way he seemed to enjoy the position he was in right now. "Me being difficult?" France asked shocked and also a bit confused.

"You can't even say one nice thing to me, about me. Even though I lo-" He stopped at the right time. He had almost said, he had almost confessed his love to England. France couldn't really believe it. It could be so easy and yet he always thought it was so hard.