They say when you're about to die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. Your childhood, every scarring event, everything that has ever happened to you, flashes by in the last few seconds you have on the earth.
Whoever came up with that was either, stupid, a liar, or maybe it all happens differently for different people.
But I know that when my life was about to end, I don't remember seeing those unimportant childhood events, or anything like that.
You only see that one main thing.
The single most important thing in your life.
I remembered what that thing was.
When I heard that shot, and I heard the whistle of that bullet racing towards me, all I saw, was him.
I suddenly remembered his face, his smile those blue eyes.
That accent he had when he spoke my language.
Everything about him. That's what I saw.
But there was a funny thing about death, or near death, more likely.
Just when you think you've accepted it, just when you start to think that it might be okay to just lay down and die.
That was the moment when it got all twisted up.
Before I could even blink, I found myself on the ground, shoved aside right to the ground, hard.
That was the first crash I had heard.
Then there was a skin piercing sound. The clean sound of a bullet breaking the skin and piercing the body.
Then. The second crash.
The body falling to the ground, hitting it without a second thought, or even a first thought for that matter. The body didn't think it just followed instinct.
I could hear my heart pounding loudly.
I blinked many times before I could see clearly what was going on.
Where I'd been standing, was a body, a cold still body, of someone I knew all too well.
A knot formed in my throat, and every possible bad scenario ran through my head.
"Francis!" His name finally escaped my lips.
I threw myself to his side. But he was still.
"Francis! You bloody idiot! Wake up! Wake up now!"
My head could hardly comprehend what was going on.
My eyes finally looked down his body, and I could see where the bullet had hit.
Right through the stomach.
It's not serious. It's not serious. It's not serious. Theres no way he can be seriously hurt.
I kept thinking those words over and over and over again, but no matter how many times I managed to think it, I knew they weren't true.
If they were true. Why was he so still? Why was he so cold?
My point was officially proven wrong with blood started to soak the dirt around his body.
"Oh god.. no.. no please, god no.." I started to mutter.
"F-Francis..?" I shook his shoulder.
Those blue eyes finally flew open, and he took a shaky breath, that sent blood shooting right from his mouth, leaving him in a fit of choking, and coughing up his own blood.
"O-oui…?" Francis finally let a word escape his bloodied lips.
His calm tone calmed me down slightly as well.
I managed to keep myself from choking on sobs and breaking down.
He said that, it was barely hear-able, his voice kept growing softer and softer.
Tears ran down my face, and I gently lifted his head, and laid it down on my lap, and I gently stroked his dirt covered hair.
I slowly detangled it with my fingers, listening to him softly struggle with his own breath.
I took a deep breath. I couldn't cry. I wouldn't. I didn't want France to see me like that.
I looked at him, again.
Those blue eyes… he was trying so hard to keep them open, but they kept drooping farther and farther down.
The tears on my face started streaming down faster and faster, but I kept them silent.
I leaned down softly, and with my own trembling lips, I kissed him gently.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and kept my forehead pressed against him, and then his breath slowly faded out, and his body went completely cold, and still.
That was when I lost it.
"Francis…" I muttered his name.
I wrapped my arms around his body, not caring that his blood was getting all over my clothes.
"N-no.. wake up…"
I shook him again, but I knew he wasn't going to listen. He'd stopped moving completely.
I started to break down. I had no reason to keep calm anymore.
"Francis… I-I… I love you too.."
"Y-you...m-moron… why? You should have let me die!" My tone had started from sadness, then switched to anger, and switched right back as I choked on another sob.
He had thrown himself right in front of me, without even thinking it through.
He'd saved me.
And for what?
I didn't even deserve it after all that I'd done to him!
I hadn't even had the courage to tell him that I loved him back during his last few minutes of life. I'd waited too late for that, I'd said it when I knew that he couldn't hear me.
I kept on calling to him, muttering softly to myself... I was in denial, but in the back of my mind, I knew he wouldn't talk ever again, and I'd never see those bright beautiful blue eyes, that I secretly loved so much... I'd never see him...
I got no answer, just like I knew I wouldn't.
"Arthur!" Someone shook me.
Suddenly, my eyes flashed open, and by reflex, I knocked the person who was shaking me away from me, off the bed.
I could feel the tears streaming down my face, and I was trembling softly.
It took a moment, but the voice, now timid, called my name again.
The small British boy peeked over my bed, looking at me with those confused, sad blue eyes.
I sighed, gesturing him towards me.
He slipped under the blankets, and made his way towards me from underneath.
I quickly wiped the tears that were left on my face away.
The boy finally made it to where I was, grabbing my arm, and wrapping it around himself.
My tense body finally loosened, and I turned to my side, putting my other arm willingly around him.
Though, we fought, we loved each other when it came down to it.
"Arthur… what's the matter, you were crying again." The small boy looked at me with his scared eyes.
I ruffled his hair gently, and kissed him on the forehead.
"Don't worry, Love. It was just another dream. Nothing that I'll be able to remember once morning comes."
"Now… don't be hanging around with me.. go back to bed."
He shook his head a little.
"No..I'm staying here." Peter informed, closing his eyes.
I didn't argue. The thought of company was nice.
Plus, this wasn't the first time he'd come to my room, and climbed into bed with me.
He often came into the room because he was worried about me.
Worried because I'd had "another dream".
Dreams wouldn't be so bad.
But what Peter didn't understand was. That dream that I'd had. It wasn't just a dream.
It was a memory.
A forgotten memory. One only I could remember.
A/N: Okay. This is a new idea. The next chapter will be a little confusing, because the idea is just little complex. But it's easy to understand once you think about it. Plus, there will be hints and explanations. Focusing on /this/ chapter. What do you think? Review, please? *Cutesy anime girl eyes*
Thanks for reading~!