Chapter Text
The sun was shining bright through the window on his right, falling upon the tumbled sheets lying on the bed. The hotel room was in total silence, but if you listened closely, you could still hear the busy sounds coming from the streets a few floors down. Sunlight was not the only thing that came through the window; the smells from the different restaurants below and the exhaust from the vehicles cruising the roads were also steaming in.
France stretched before he tucked himself further in to the sheets, ignored his pounding head, and tried to remember what happened last night, and where he was. He was in Beijing. There had been a world meeting the day before, and after that, he and England had gone out for a drink, and … things had happened.
He blinked a few times, opened his eyes, and turned around in suspense, to see if there was anyone still lying beside him. There wasn’t. He was alone. He traced his hand over the empty space to his right. It was still warm. France felt his heart drop and let out a sigh. Why did they keep doing this? The whole thing had started some months ago, after a meeting in … Rome? Or was it Bern? He wasn’t sure. And neither did it matter. They had gone for a drink that night and gotten tremendously drunk, both of them. One thing had led to another and in the end, they wound up together in the bed at England’s hotel room. When he woke up that morning, he panicked and left before England even began to stir. He thought it would be a one-time thing, but it had continued. After every meeting where they were both present, they would do the same and wake up in either of their hotel rooms. The one who woke up first, left. And neither of them would mention it the next time they met. Or ever, actually.
France sighed again and buried his face in the crook of his arm. He asked himself the question that was on his mind after every time they did this; why do we keep doing this? And by that he meant several things. Why do I do this, only to go through the same pain every morning when I wake up alone? Why do I want him so badly when he probably think nothing of it? Why do I walk out the door every time I wake up first? Why did I panic that first time and ran away? That last one he knew the answer to. He had been too afraid to face England, afraid of how he might react. They hadn’t actually been on the best of terms throughout history. France just wished they could talk about this. He knew he kept getting hurt, but the benefits were so pleasurable. They outweighed the losses. Thinking back on the things he could remember from last night, France let a big smile cover his face. England had been so attractive. So rough at the beginning. Drunk, hot, and daring, but after a while, forgetting himself and completely lost it in pleasure. Pleasure France made him feel. He remembered how they touched each other. How England made him feel so good. His hands on his sides, his hips, and further down. Their bodies pressed close together. There hadn’t been much kissing. At least not on the lips. France dared not do it. At the same time he wanted this thing to both end and last, he was also terrified that England would end it for him. That’s why he didn’t want to get too close and scare him off. He had longed for this far too long. But even now he wanted more. To share kisses and doing normal things together every day like a couple. He had realized that that was never going to happen, because England couldn’t possibly love him back.
France inhaled sharply. That was it. He had just now realized it. He loved England. He really did. How had it come to this? France just lay there for a few minutes, completely chocked over the revelation. Then he shook it off.
Holding on to the good memories, France dragged himself off bed and walked towards the tiny bathroom. The hotel room itself wasn’t of great size, but it served his needs. He reeked of alcohol, sweat, and sex. A shower was needed.