Je t'aime, mon interdit amor
 

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France was playing with his hair and fussing about his uniform placing all meeting, not really focusing on what was being discussed, unless he heard his name, in which he immediately joined in the conversation. Occasionally his view would fall upon that wild haired, grumpy nation with an inability to cook, England, and he would sit there staring at him, thinking of ways how he could either make him angry, or make him better looking. France would always turn away before it was England's turn to stare at him though, which France did notice happened a lot. It kinda confused him, but he figured it was all because of his wonderful charm.

When the meeting was finally over, unlike most of the other countries, France didn't get up straight away, instead he relaxed in his seat, closing his eyes. Until that eat-o-holic, loud mouthed American blared into France's ear. "Well, what can I say, I find it hard to keep my eyes off myself as well!" France chuckled, flicking his hair back like he was modelling for hair products. He got up stretching, pushing past America gracefully and headed to his home. He was about half way there when his phone beeped. He checked it, and had he had something in his mouth, he would've spit it everywhere. "Nonono, that cannot be Britain!" He choked, half because of laughter, half because of disgust. Why he looked almost exactly like Germany! France shook his head at the new look. He was looking even worse than before! France decided to send England a message, wondering why he was trying to look like Germany, and if he had wanted a make over why hadn't he gone to France. Putting his phone back into his pocket, he continued on his way home, eagerly awaiting a reply if England sent one.

England was walking on home, sighing deeply, when someone grabbed his shoulder. The hand was extremely strong, and he was startled. He was turned around and forced to face two scary Germans. Ludwig and Gilbert were growing down at him. "Vhy are you looking like this?" Germany asked, and Prussia crossed his arms. "I-I..just thought it was time for a new look.." Germany death glared at him. "Nein! You cannot look like this! I don't want you looking like me!" Gilbert poured a cup of water he'd been drinking all over Arthur's head. The once neat hair was drowned and it all fell, laying against his forehead. Gilbert and Ludiwg walked away, seeming satisfyied. "God damn it!" England screamed, kicking a random trash can on his way to his house. He was soaked, his groceries were wet, and he looked like a drowned kitten. He stormed onto the house, not even noticing Alfred as he stormed into the kitchen. "Freaking German gits." He hissed, putting his things into the fridge. He started to pull off his soaked clothing, setting his drenched phone on the table. Once he was almost nude, he heard someone get up, making him nearly hit the ceiling. "W-W-Who..?" He sputtered as strong arms twined around him. He screamed, kicking back at his harrasser, hearing a grunt of dissapproval. "Dude, calm down." Arthur was suddenly by afraid, but rather angry. "America! You damned jerk." The American laughed. "calm down dude. It's not like anyone would /want/ to molest you. You're horrifically ugly." The look on Arthur's face made him regret his words immediately. "Arthur.." He started, only to be cut off by a rough slap to the face. "Out." The british man pointed to the door, shaking with anger and sadness. "Arthur I.." He started. "I SAID OUT!" Arthur screamed, making Alfred leave immediately. England ran upstairs, fighting back the urge to slam his fist through the wall. "Heartless bastard." He washed his hair and let it be as wild as it wanted, throwing away the stupid contacts. "Good try Arthur, but some of us are just born ugly." He went back to his room and pulled on some bed clothes, plopping face first into the bed. He realized that the more he thought about it, the worse he felt, so he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and say in his bedroom floor, sipping down the contents of the bottle. This wa his only way to coop with pain, and he would use it to make it though this.


Alfred felt sick at his stomach. He'd screwed up big time and he knew it. Arthur was his brother, and he felt wrong for delay he'd just said. Arthur had always been cute. Maybe not sexy, but he was certainly adorable. The new makeover had just thrown Alfred off. It had been strange and hadn't look right. He hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. Alfred made his way to Francis house, because honestly, there wasnt anyone else that would help him out. He didn't have a lot of fans. He didn't bother knocking, he had keys to all of the countries places anyway. "Yo? Francis?" he called. "I need advice dude. I think I screwed up Iggy." He said, feeling kind of sick. No doubt the englishman would drink himself silly tonight, and maybe every night for eternity.

France pouted. He hadn't ended receiving a text from the brit, so he was feeling a bit rejected. "Oh, why wouldn't come to his beloved big brother France for advice first! Doesn't he remember how I helped him before" He cried out, grabbing out his handkerchief and biting it. He wiped a tear or two from his eyes, before recomposing himself, and decided to cook dinner. His house was full with the aroma of perfect food, and he was almost finished when he heard someone call out to him.
Surprised he dropped what was in his hands, which happened to be a wine bottle, which shattered and spilt all over the floor. "Aagh!" France winced, bending down to pick up the broken glass. As the intruder continued on, Francis recognised the accent to be Alfred's. "America what are you doing here?" He called out from the kitchen, grabbing a cloth and tea towel to clean up the wine itself. "What have you done?" He sighed, peeping over the marble bench top, to try and spot where Alfred currently was in his house.

Alfred walked in and watched Francis. "I didn't mean to hurt him..I just..I mean..sometimes I jut don't know when to be quiet. I told him no one would ever want him because he's ugly..he got all pissed off and I think he was about to cry." He frowned. "You're the only person I know to talk to. I mean, what should I do? He seems more than a little upset." Alfred knew that France pissed England off all the time, so he was hoping Francis would know what to do in a situation like this. He picked up a random price of glass."I'm sorry, did I scare you?" He asked, wondering why the glass was everywhere. "I probably shouldve knocked on the door instead of just busting in." He normally never admitted that he was wrong, but today he knew that he absolutely had messed up big time. He had to take responsibility for his mess up if it was going to get fixed.

Arthur sat in his room, still angry, and now kind of sick from drinking so much. He ended up passing out on the floor, not even making it to his bed. He knew it wasn't good for him to drink so much, but he did it anyway. That was how it was, he got upset, he drank a ton.

Francis listened to Alfred's story patiently, still cleaning up the spillage while thinking. "Ah. Its fine. How ever this was a wine I had been waiting for quite sometime, it was going to be wonderful!" He pouted, but smiled at Alfred. "Though in the future, a door bell is a beautiful thing to use." He chuckled. Remains of the spill were all but non-existent, and thanks to Alfred, all the glass had been picked up. "Just throw it in the plastic tub on the bench" Francis commanded, gesturing to a small black bin close to the sink. "Any how, about your little problem. No need to worry" Francis chuckled. "Big brother will pay little England a visit." He pulled out a plastic container from a over-head cupboard, and starting to pack half of his meal into it. He was planning to hand some to Arthur when he visited, thankfully he had made more than he needed. Francis smiled at Aflred again, to reassure him everything would be fine. It always was. "So just go home to sleep, and in the morning I'll report"

Alfred looked at the glass, placing it in the black tub. "Sorry about the wine dude." He said, knowingnit was the favorite drink of the frenchman. His eyes went all wide and creepy looking when he heard Francis' plan. "Dude! Iggy's really freaky when he's drunk. Are you sure it's a good idea to go and antagonize him?" He was skeptic about this whole plan. Arthur was already always really grumpy, but he was so much worse after a bit of scotch or whiskey. "I'll go home, but call me if he gets to be to much go handle. I can help you restrain him if needed." He left the house, still worried about England, but at least someone was going to check on him. He went to bed as stared at the ceiling.

Arthur woke up only a little bit later much to his disdain. He staggered down the steps, falling a couple of times, and then went to the kitchen, looking for more to drink. Apon finding nothing alcoholic to drink on the house, he threw a bit of a fit. Why did he always run out right when he needed more? He wasn't drunk enough for Christ sake, because he could still remember those awful words. They bounced around his head and haunted him. Maybe he should go get plastic surgery? What could he do to make himself good looking? Maybe he should just give up and deal with this. It was his life. "God hates me.." He muttered, curling up on the couch and turning on the television.

Francis sighed. "Its alright my little Alfred. There will be more eventually." Francis chuckled again as he fixed the lid onto the container. "It'll be fine. I can take care of myself!" He cooed. "But I will keep your offer in mind."

Grabbing the container, Francis left his house as well, making sure to double lock the doors. The air was nice and cool, bit Francis took his car anyway, it was night time, and one couldn't be too careful. The drive was peaceful, the scenery was beautiful in the dark, like it had become something entirely new, yelling out to be depicted and painted by curious artists, or even the simple passer-by. Then it became Britain's scenery. Which was also pretty, but not as pretty as France's shrubbery.

A few moments later, Francis pulled up at Britain's house. Almost dancing up to the door, he gave a light knock. "Britain? You there?" He called out, then knocked again, but harder.

England could hear the knock, but ignored it at first. The second time he was more than annoyed, and decided to yell at the door. "Go away you bloody frog! I don't need you coming around making it worse!" He never locked his door anyway, and he wasn't sure why the git hadn't just come in like everyone else seemed to do. "If you've come to taunt me, now is that the time!" He curled up tightly on the couch in a little ball, quickly turning off the French soap opera he'd been watching. "You know I hate you anyway. Why did you even bother coming this far just to watch me curl up and die in misery..of maybe that's exactly why you came! Maybe it's amusing to you!"

Francis rolled is eyes at the Brit. He was such a drama queen. Francis let himself in, closing the door softly, and tiptoeing over to the kitchen while Arthur was wining. It had a lot of dodgy paint, and replaced wooden boards and plaster, probably from all those times Britain had set everythign when he was trying to cook. France found a tray, and transferred the food in the container on to it, and threw it into the oven for a little bit to reheat. "What is your problem my dear Arthur?" Francis questioned, walking over to the couche and leaning on the head rest part of it.

Arthur curled up even tighter, hiding his face. "There is not a thing wrong with me thank you. And you better have brought alcoholic in going to kick you out." He said in annoyance. He could smell food cooking, and though it made his stomach growl, he refused to even consider eating any of it. "And I'm not your 'dear Arthur' I am England or just plain Arthur to you." He was still hiding his face. "Why are you even here?" He asked miserably. "you're so mean...I can't even look at you without remembering how ugly I am. Just go home and leave me alone."

France sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "If I brought more alcohol, you still would've kicked me out" He smirked when he heard Arthur's stomach growl, but remained pretty much emotionless when listening to what England had to say. "Well, plain Arthur, we're all, uh, beautiful in our own ways." Francis knew that with his obvious beauty, he was probably making everybody jealous, but he had no idea why Arthur was taking it so hard. Arthur, was okay, Francis thought. He always looked like he'd climbed out of a hole he'd fallen asleep in, but it did have its own charm.

Arthur made a pitiful noise. "You're such a liar. It's mean to lie, and it's a sin which makes it worse. Besides, we all know that I'm ugly. Everyone but Japan thinks so, and he doesn't count because he has bad taste." Hebfelt extra pouty now. "If everyone has their own beauty, then name one good feature that I have." He didn't even give Francis the time to speak. "Exactly, there's nothing good about me and never will be, so just leave me alone." he didn't have the motivation to get up from the couch, so he didn't bother /making/ Francis leave. He just told him to which he was sure probably wouldn't work. "Why are you here? Alfred no doubt? Well, at least the selfish bastard can tell the truth. I knew I'd have to accept of eventually."

France entirely ignored England's speech, and rustled his hair playfully. "Now Britain, What about all those lovely suits you wear hmm?" France offered, half-spinning and shrugging at the same time. "Or you lovely voice?" France decided to leave out the fact that it really was Alfred that sent him here, well, offered. Francis had pretty much come here of his own accord.

((SO SORRY FOR MY BREAK! I took an unplanned hiatus from mene, and then I forgot about all my RPs D:
Really sorry! If you're no longer interested in this RP, that's totally fine, but I am really sorry!))