Hetalia Theory Series

Chapter 3:

Francis


"Oi! Francis! Get you fucking ass over here!" A annoyed male shouted.

Francis walked over to him and was pushed to the ground. The male punched and kicked Francis.

"That'll teach you to try and escape. The guards told me about. Try harder next time, you ugly fucker." The male said, smirking.

He spat in Francis's face and walked off. Francis sat up and sat on the bed, his body shaking.

"Francis?" A soft, scared voice called.

He looked over at the door to see Michelle, wearing her normal, aqua blue dress. But, as all too usual, her dress is tattered and covered in some blood. Francis's clothes were also tattered, pretty badly.

"Yes, Cosette?" He asked.

Michelle frowned at sat next to him on the bed, placing her hand lovingly on his arm. He mused his wince from the pain, making Michelle pull back.

"Come and have something to eat." She said.

Francis smiled at her but shook his head.

"I'm not that hungry." Francis replied.

Michelle stared at her clenched fists, that laid on her lap.

"You need to eat something. You've lost so much weight and you're never hungry..." She trailed off.

Michelle stared Francis straight in his emotionless eyes.

"You're body is weak, and you're always fatigue." She said.

Francis smiled and ruffled the girl's messy, long hair, making Michelle smile. She had lost her ribbons two weeks ago, so her hair was about the length of her chest.

"I'm fine." He assured.

"Michelle!" An arrogant voice shouted.

Michelle's smile dropped instantly, as she stood up.

"I'll be back soon." She said, kissing Francis's cheek.

"Take care." He said. Michelle left the room, closing the door behind her.

Francis lied down in his broken bed. He attempted to close his eyes, but couldn't. As usual. Two weeks ago, Francis somehow lost the ability to close his eyes. He felt sick, he thought he had a virus. But Francis didn't know he had AIDS, since he was always denied medical attention. And he was dying from it. I, myself, know that my body has become weaker. Thinking back, what Cosette said about my body, was right. At least she doesn't know I can't close my eyes. Or the fact I've had two seizures in the last week. He thought to himself. Francis tried to sit up, but his muscles wouldn't let him. He felt his breathing becoming noisier, and he knew what was happening. I'm going to die...right? He asked himself, a lone tear streaming down his cheek.

Francis felt another seizure coming, he felt the slight tingle sensation in his mouth. Francis felt his body spasm violently, which made him fall from his bed, onto the wooden floor. He felt his tounge being shoved down his throat. He tried as hard as he could to grab on to something, anything, so he could try to fight the seizure off. Little did Francis know, he grabbed the leg of broken bedside table. Francis pulled on the leg, making the bedside table fall on top of him. The French boy felt another tear fall down his cheek. "

Putain (damn)." He whispered, feeling the heavy weight of the bedside table, on him.

He felt his body shaking and spasming violently, come to a slow stop. Francis closed his eyes and felt his heartbeat slowing down.

"Sorry I'm disappearing so suddenly Cosette. At least I'll be with Jeanne."

Michelle was walking down the corridor, to go to Francis's room. The male that called her, was the same man who punched and kicked Francis. I'm really worried about Francis... I think he may have AIDS, he has most of the signs. Losing a drastic amount of weight, losing appetite, becoming fatigue and weaker. He doesn't know, that I know, that he has been having seizures. Also, I've noticed that Francis barely closes his eyes. That's...not normal. She thought to herself, thinking intensely about the French boy. She sighed as stood before Francis's old, wooden door, that was covered in cracks and splinters. Michelle knocked on the door, wincing as splinters pierced her skin.

"Francis?" She called through the door.

No response.

She opened the wooden door, and what she saw, made her fall on her knees.

"F-Francis!" She shouted, running over to him.

Michelle begun to shake his body, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"No! Francis!" Michelle cried.

"You can't leave me! You can't! Please Francis!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and they fell onto Francis's cheeks, as Michelle held him.

Sobs were violently wracking through out her body as she cried. She stared at her French friend, the boy she loved dearly. Francis was like a big brother to Michelle. Michelle carried Francis back onto the bed. She sat down on the bed, tears streaming down her rosy pink cheeks. Michelle played lightly with Francis's hair. She laid down beside him and left her head against his chest. No heartbeat. One last tear fell down her cheek, as she fell asleep on the chest of the man she loved.


The theory behind France/Francis is that; he is/was a rape victim, male prostitute/sex slave, died of AIDS. This explains his pervertedness. This one is more of a '...' to me. I have no idea on this one... This was also REALLY hard for me to write. If you're wondering why France called Seychelles 'Cosette' is the reason that I saw it online. I could be wrong *shrugs*