Fic: Frain
Title: Love a Life I Will Divide
Fandom: hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Spain/France
Warning:slash
Summary: they want to whisper I love you, but there is no love in the battlefield
The swords clashed against each other. Their faces were inches apart as they pushed against each other.
They remember bright blue skies and the laughter of young children.
They remember soft whispers of dreams and promises.
People are dying around them, but like always, they only see each other. They can do nothing about this, as Francis pulls back before swinging back in and Antonio deflects the attack, eyes never wavering.
They remember their first meeting.
They remember their first kiss.
Francis doesn’t flinch as he feels the other’s blade cut his arm, warm blood seeping down. They say nothing, for there is nothing to say. There never is. Not anymore.
They meet again and again in battle. They always know where the other is. They can spot the other in the crowd, always there.
They never pull back, always charging at each other, knowing that this was for their nation. It was for their people.
Even though they remember the gentle caresses and the brushing of lips.
It is not the first time, they fight each other. It is not the first time that they clash in battle, fighting, pushing, encouraging their soldiers to keep fighting and not show mercy. They were there to win.
They remember soft eyes and gentle hands that patched each other up.
Not this time, because Antonio shifts to the side and another cut is felt by Francis, but he ignores it and keeps on moving forward. Even though Antonio feels a tug in his heart and a fleeting thought of bandages and kissing better makes it into his mind, but it is gone as he defends against Francis sudden frenzy of attacks.
They want to apologize. They want to plead for forgiveness. But they don’t, because they would do the same thing all over again.
They want to whisper I love you, but there is no room for love in the battlefield.
Instead they fight each other, breaths mingling as they push against their swords.
They lock eyes and dance around each other, showing no mercy.
Their blood mixes as it flows from their wounds, but they never stop. Not until Francis breaks and stumbles and falls and Antonio watches the struggling nation get back up. He grips his sword tighter, because there is always one that breaks and one that stays strong and Antonio cannot forfeit.
Francis looks at him and nothing needs to be said, because deep, in their hearts, hidden from everyone else, even from each other, they whisper I love you, before they separate until the next battle.