Okay…so if any of you happen to follow me, you have seen that I have a lot of stories I should be updating, but aren't. I know. I just either haven't gotten to them, or have lost the inspiration. If it's the first option, hang in there, it'll come. If it's the second one…they will just sit there and gather dust. I won't say which ones, but I can guarantee my first, like, three probably won't be updated. If anyone wants them, message me, or they'll be deleted.
As for this story, the idea actually came from a dream. The dream actually didn't follow the plot of this at all, but this is what I got out of it, from what I remember: There was some catastrophic event, where I was suddenly on the run. And there was this guy who I met, and went on the run with me, and protected me. When I woke up, this left me very sad, because I, for some reason, did not want to forget this guy. Sadly, I do not remember much about him, except he was wearing a light gray hoodie, and had dark hair and big dark eyes. He was also very kind. This guy stuck with me, and the more I thought about it, the more twisted paths my mind turned down, and this was born. Somehow, I think I hoped this would do that mystery guy justice, and I wouldn't forget him completely. So far, it's working. I hope I can follow through with this, as it is a large project for me, as is one that I have not posted yet, but hope to soon.
Also, I wasn't sure about posting this at first, because I was worried the storyline was kind of overused, but I believe I have added enough twists and turns to make it my own. If I haven't, don't spam my inbox with hate messages. Just inform me in a civilized manner, and I will take care of it.
Well, I think I've wasted plenty of your time with this, so on with the story, I guess. One request. As you read, please try to keep that mystery guy in mind. I know you didn't see him, so it may be hard, but please try. This story is sort of dedicated to him.
Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own Hetalia.
Francis hummed happily as he bounded up the stairs to the attic, eagerly opening the door and practically skipping inside. The door slammed shut behind him, but he paid it no mind. His bright blue eyes were shining, and his long, blonde hair waved with every step. As he scanned the room, his eyes uneasily skipped over the stuffed dolls along one wall. They were much too lifelike for his tastes. There was a rustling behind him, and two slender arms wound around his waist.
"Hello, Francis. Long time no see. Where've you been, hm?" Someone purred into his ear. He smiled and turned to face them.
"I was busy…" His face fell. "Oh…that's right…I have bad news."
The man he was talking to was much smaller than him. He was blonde, as well, but his eyes were a sharp emerald green. This man frowned at Francis' words.
"Bad news? What bad news could you have?"
Francis sighed, taking both of the smaller man's hands in his own. "Arthur…we're moving. I won't be living here anymore."
Arthur's eyes widened, then narrowed. Suddenly, the atmosphere around them changed from warm and inviting to sinister.
"No…" he hissed. "You will not leave me! I forbid it!"
Francis stepped back in surprise. "A-arthur? Calm down, mon cher. Please, you're frightening me…"
"Frightening you?" This seemed to calm him the slightest bit. "I apologize…I did not mean to scare you. But I will be so lonely without you here."
"I know." Francis went back to Arthur, hugging him tightly. "But someone else will move in, and you will befriend them. You don't need me."
"But I will have you." A sharp pain radiated in his back, and he gasped, trying to pull away. Arthur kept a firm hold on him, but it wasn't firm enough. He broke free, backing towards the door. Arthur held a long knife, and his once beautiful eyes were narrowed, only slivers of poisonous green showing. "You will not leave me, Francis. You will stay here, with me, forever."
Francis whirled around and desperately yanked on the doorknob, but it would not budge.
His screams echoed throughout the attic, but were not heard at all in the rest of the house.
The next week or so was filled with panic as Francis' parents and neighbors frantically searched for him. The next was just as frenzied. But by a month, the panic had died down, and by two months, the search was ended. The Bonnefoys put the house up for sale, not being able to stay there another day, with memories of their son still there.
Two years later, another family bought it.