[drabble] 2 Fruk drabbles
Arthur never stopped running.
Those slender, tiny legs seemed to move in a blur through the storm and even as I spotted a few specs of bright light following him, so too could I see the shining tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
I knew it was probably my own fault, I had been late to a… tea party, had he called it? My new boss finding his own voice so attractive and I just had to listen to him until he had other obligations calling him away and freeing me to meet the little boy. There was a possibility that it was some other’s fault though, a fresh blossoming bruise I could just barely make out on his plump cheek no doubt caused from one of his elder brothers or some Viking brute from the north.
But regardless, I stayed behind. After all he was running away from me and from my vantage point at the edge of the forest I couldn’t decide whether to chase after him or to let him… Be alone. Something in me told me that I couldn’t always watch after him, especially if he kept running. He ran away from trouble, from problems, from anything that he found frightening and I can’t always save him.
I’ve been there for every scrapped knee.
For every tear he’s shed (even the ones I caused).
I’ve been there to comfort him since I found him in a bright little meadow, playing with a dozen or so white rabbits. But something is holding me back now, something I cannot quite put my finger on. I would chase after him in a heartbeat if I could until time itself sopped.
But… that is not our way.
As Rome protected me, I left, I ran. Whatever forces raised Rome, he too surely ran from them. It is not up to us, who we choose to stay with and run from. Humans dictate everything we do, from who we love, to who we hate.
I heard a crash of thunder and snapped back into focus, the little boy now just a spot on the horizon.
How long? I feel my legs moving before I realize I’m running, sprinting. How long until it happens to us?
I don’t care. Arthur will keep running until he can’t anymore.
And I will run after him.
-----
What are you waiting for?
Just do it!
If not now, when?
Come on Francis… man up!
“Why Angleterre, you look absolutely divine today. Good enough to eat even,” the Frenchman finally spoke, approaching Arthur and smiling lazily, his tone laced with mistaken sarcasm. He inwardly cursed. Merde.
The Brit turned, large eyebrows angrily pressing together as his eyes narrowed. A half-full glass of wine held carefully between his fingers swirled in a smooth motion. “Get away from me you bloody frog.”
Just tell him. Don’t make a snide remark. Don’t…
Francis smiled again, grinning slightly. “Oh, but you know you like it mon petit lapin-“
The red wine immediately found itself on the front of Francis’ pristine white dress shirt and Arthur snorted, setting it aside on a tray as a waiter passed between them. “You’re not going to ruin this day for me France. Just leave, you’re not wanted here.”
No! Wait- I have to tell you-
The Frenchman watched as Arthur turned, the grin plastered on his face quickly fading. It was only there to hide his fear anyway. His dark blue eyes gleamed as they followed the Briton’s back, watching, staring as Arthur’s hand was claimed by a tall, spectacled blonde with a brilliant smile. He felt his walls crashing down around him. Elegant tuxes, roses lining every isle, rows and rows of chairs filled with people who were chattering away like nothing was wrong. Happiness even, alluded the Frenchman.
And as a familiar tune started (one that Francis swore stopped his heart completely, just like it was taken right out of him), he turned, and walked stiff legged out of the chapel.
You really look amazing Arthur
I’m glad you’re finally happy
I’m sorry for everything. Just… everything.
I love you.
…
I love you.