[drabble] Forget-me-not
Title: Forget-me-not
Author: x_fleurdelis
Pairing: AU past France/Prussia, implied Germany/Prussia and Germany/France
Rating: PGish
Warning: It's a pointless drabble, and kind of angsty and could use a lot more substance. I probably ought to just rewrite this in much more detail at some point...
Summary: Erm. Francis and Ludwig becoming closer via grieving over the death of Gilbert.
The sky was cloudy and grey. Combined with the crisp wind that brushed the fallen rust-coloured leaves from barren tree branches across the sidewalk-leaves that ensured loud crunch sounds every time they were stepped upon-it was all quite fitting. Hunching over against the wind, Francis shoved his fists in his coat pockets and continued trekking down the seemingly abandoned street. Abandoned, because no one in their right mind would want to be out in such dreary weather unless they had good reason. Inside would be better, perhaps in a warm living room, curled up in an armchair with a mug of coffee by a fireplace closely enough to not only hear the soft crackling of the embers above Debussy playing in the background, but to feel the emitted warmth.
Today just wasn’t a day for such a thing.
It was another block of walking before he took a brief detour to stop at floral boutique. Little bells hanging from the top of the door chimed when he opened it, alerting the florist of his arrival. The young woman was tending to some daisies, but she looked up immediately to greet her potential customer.
One thing Francis had always prided himself in was his ability to hide his true his emotions. He constantly clung to his façade, and inwardly panicked when he thought his mask was breaking. Right now, though, it allowed him to not falter at all. He greeted the woman in turn with his trademark smile and briskly walked through the shop, quickly glancing over the available selection before settling on the two flowers he deemed most appropriate for the occasion.
The first was a small blue flower, delicate, and symbolising remembrance and a deeper emotion that Francis had truly felt a only handful of times in his life. The other was white and far less auspicious, but meaningful nonetheless. He was also aware that it was also the flower for January births, so it really was the best choice.
After handing the florist a few Euro bills to cover the cost, Francis was out of the warm shop and into the cold again with the flowers shielded by the inside of his coat. His walking was so automatic, his mind so elsewhere that he wasn’t aware of how far he’d walked or how long it took. He was only aware that he had arrived to the intricately designed iron-cast gates.
He didn’t have to wander around from here; he knew exactly where he was going. It was a place he had frequently visited over the past three years, not just on this particular anniversary. Off the third bend of the paved trail, in the back by the poplar tree. There was no way Francis could forget this place, not when he’d spent time here everyday for the first year, sometimes for hours on end. He still came here often, but as time went by he found himself moving more and more on with his life. It wasn’t something he was comfortable with, but he knew this was the best thing to do. It would be insulting to memory to linger and only think of the loss.
It was no surprise to see another man-taller, blonder, more muscular than himself-standing before the headstone. Sometimes Francis felt that Ludwig had more right to be there than himself. He might have loved Gilbert, but Gilbert had loved Ludwig, always had, and that was something he’d come to terms with long ago. Perhaps he’d been just a replacement, perhaps not; it was pointless to dwell on that now. It didn’t change the fact that Gilbert had been his best friend since childhood. They’d been a consistent factor in each other’s lives, and now, without Gilbert there to drink with, laugh with, be with in every context, at times Francis didn’t know what to do with himself. The loss was just so great. And even still, Francis couldn’t imagine what this was like for the other blond.
Francis approached the headstone and knelt down to set the flowers before it. He stepped back, so he was standing beside Ludwig, but he neither glanced at him nor spoke. He knew Ludwig wouldn’t either, and was perfectly fine with that.
Gilbert’s absence had brought them closer than Francis had ever imagined possible. It had started as simply two souls grieving over the death of a loved one whom was taken so suddenly and tragically. They’d found solace in the shared memories, and over time Francis had found an unlikely friend in Ludwig…perhaps, something even more. It wasn’t something Francis liked to actively think about, because he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him have grown so close to the other blond while coming to terms with all of this.
Gilbert would have wanted Ludwig to be happy, though. And…well, Francis at least knew that he wasn’t as unhappy as he was three years ago. He also knew that yet again, he was just a replacement that couldn’t ever compare. It was a feeling he was far too used to mind it, and if he could see to it that Ludwig somewhat enjoyed himself more than he did now, he’d be content.
Once the sun started to set and the temperature snapped to degrees even colder, Francis finally spoke. “There’s an unopened bottle of cognac in my cabinet.” To which, Ludwig simply nodded. It would definitely be needed that night.
Author: x_fleurdelis
Pairing: AU past France/Prussia, implied Germany/Prussia and Germany/France
Rating: PGish
Warning: It's a pointless drabble, and kind of angsty and could use a lot more substance. I probably ought to just rewrite this in much more detail at some point...
Summary: Erm. Francis and Ludwig becoming closer via grieving over the death of Gilbert.
The sky was cloudy and grey. Combined with the crisp wind that brushed the fallen rust-coloured leaves from barren tree branches across the sidewalk-leaves that ensured loud crunch sounds every time they were stepped upon-it was all quite fitting. Hunching over against the wind, Francis shoved his fists in his coat pockets and continued trekking down the seemingly abandoned street. Abandoned, because no one in their right mind would want to be out in such dreary weather unless they had good reason. Inside would be better, perhaps in a warm living room, curled up in an armchair with a mug of coffee by a fireplace closely enough to not only hear the soft crackling of the embers above Debussy playing in the background, but to feel the emitted warmth.
Today just wasn’t a day for such a thing.
It was another block of walking before he took a brief detour to stop at floral boutique. Little bells hanging from the top of the door chimed when he opened it, alerting the florist of his arrival. The young woman was tending to some daisies, but she looked up immediately to greet her potential customer.
One thing Francis had always prided himself in was his ability to hide his true his emotions. He constantly clung to his façade, and inwardly panicked when he thought his mask was breaking. Right now, though, it allowed him to not falter at all. He greeted the woman in turn with his trademark smile and briskly walked through the shop, quickly glancing over the available selection before settling on the two flowers he deemed most appropriate for the occasion.
The first was a small blue flower, delicate, and symbolising remembrance and a deeper emotion that Francis had truly felt a only handful of times in his life. The other was white and far less auspicious, but meaningful nonetheless. He was also aware that it was also the flower for January births, so it really was the best choice.
After handing the florist a few Euro bills to cover the cost, Francis was out of the warm shop and into the cold again with the flowers shielded by the inside of his coat. His walking was so automatic, his mind so elsewhere that he wasn’t aware of how far he’d walked or how long it took. He was only aware that he had arrived to the intricately designed iron-cast gates.
He didn’t have to wander around from here; he knew exactly where he was going. It was a place he had frequently visited over the past three years, not just on this particular anniversary. Off the third bend of the paved trail, in the back by the poplar tree. There was no way Francis could forget this place, not when he’d spent time here everyday for the first year, sometimes for hours on end. He still came here often, but as time went by he found himself moving more and more on with his life. It wasn’t something he was comfortable with, but he knew this was the best thing to do. It would be insulting to memory to linger and only think of the loss.
It was no surprise to see another man-taller, blonder, more muscular than himself-standing before the headstone. Sometimes Francis felt that Ludwig had more right to be there than himself. He might have loved Gilbert, but Gilbert had loved Ludwig, always had, and that was something he’d come to terms with long ago. Perhaps he’d been just a replacement, perhaps not; it was pointless to dwell on that now. It didn’t change the fact that Gilbert had been his best friend since childhood. They’d been a consistent factor in each other’s lives, and now, without Gilbert there to drink with, laugh with, be with in every context, at times Francis didn’t know what to do with himself. The loss was just so great. And even still, Francis couldn’t imagine what this was like for the other blond.
Francis approached the headstone and knelt down to set the flowers before it. He stepped back, so he was standing beside Ludwig, but he neither glanced at him nor spoke. He knew Ludwig wouldn’t either, and was perfectly fine with that.
Gilbert’s absence had brought them closer than Francis had ever imagined possible. It had started as simply two souls grieving over the death of a loved one whom was taken so suddenly and tragically. They’d found solace in the shared memories, and over time Francis had found an unlikely friend in Ludwig…perhaps, something even more. It wasn’t something Francis liked to actively think about, because he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him have grown so close to the other blond while coming to terms with all of this.
Gilbert would have wanted Ludwig to be happy, though. And…well, Francis at least knew that he wasn’t as unhappy as he was three years ago. He also knew that yet again, he was just a replacement that couldn’t ever compare. It was a feeling he was far too used to mind it, and if he could see to it that Ludwig somewhat enjoyed himself more than he did now, he’d be content.
Once the sun started to set and the temperature snapped to degrees even colder, Francis finally spoke. “There’s an unopened bottle of cognac in my cabinet.” To which, Ludwig simply nodded. It would definitely be needed that night.