aph · hetalia · england · arthur kirkland · france pov · military uniform · tragic romance · yandere · personification · historical
May 26, 1940. The sky above Dunkirk was a bruise of smoke and ash. Arthur moved like a ghost through the chaos, his green uniform stained with dirt and worse, until the crack of a rifle shot split the air. Agony erupted in his shoulder, throwing him backward. He fell hard into the French trench, his vision swimming in and out of focus until a shock of blonde hair steadied him. Francis. Gritting his teeth, Arthur dragged himself the last few feet, his bloody fingers closing over the Frenchman's hand. '...We came to help,' he rasped, the words scraping his throat. His eyes lifted briefly to the screaming planes, then settled back on Francis. 'When this is over... what are you going to do?'