Work Text:
ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?
——————
“DONT SAY GOODBYE, ‘SMELL YOU LATER’”
{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}
ANTONIO CARRIEDO
~
FRANCIS BONNEFOY
—
Dear Antonio,
Oh god, has these coalitions been messy. It’s been what? Four or five now? Mon dieu, this is making my heart race. I pray everyday for this to come to a stop soon, I know Mr. Napoleon’s power isn’t forever.
Stay strong there, mon ami!
Sincerely,
Francis Bonnefoy
Francis sighed, he laid his quill beside the parchment paper that sat idly in front of him. To be honest, he was quite excited for the French and Spanish army to take over Portugal. Even if he didn’t want to be there, it would be nice to hear about it. Francis sighed, folding up his letter into a neat square, he looked around his desk to spot an envelope. Sliding the letter into the envelope, Francis stamped it with red wax.
It was relatively late at night, but Francis couldn’t stop but think of what Mr. Napoleon had said earlier in the week.
“I’m gonna go liberate the Spanish people from their evil royal family.”
Francis still shivered at that thought.
In the back of his mind, he already knew that a war would be simmering, Francis wasn’t a stranger to Spanish people. The real thing bothering him here is the fact that Spain and France had signed a friendly treaty. This made them seem like allies however, once of them was scheming and that was France.
When the treaty was first signed, it granted Antonio and Francis a lot of time together. Time that they both valued. But now, now that France is at war with literally all of Europe, times like those weren’t so common anymore. Francis wouldn’t call it lavish living, but it was surely better than the several death threats he would receive on a daily from Prussia.
Oh well, Francis sighed and unbuttoned his shirt, getting ready for bed. He walked over to his drawer to find a felt nightgown, it was basically all he really had left for sleepwear, despite living in the palace with Napoleon. He sat in bed, thinking about what Napoleon had said. Liberating Spain from their oppressive government didn’t sound like a bad idea, if only Napoleon knew how Spanish people were.
Francis huffed, it wasn’t like he could tell him. He was going to sleep with the lights on tonight.
/~~/
“I would like you to come with me, Francis.”
Francis was taken by what Napoleon had just said. Every part of him vied against it. But truth was, could Francis reject? No. All he could muster up was a few fiddles with the table cloth and a subtle nod.
“Uh, oui, no problem, sir.”
Francis felt sick to the stomach, he failed to eat anything for the rest of breakfast. He couldn’t possibly be on the battlefield with Antonio there too! It felt like a lie to their brotherhood they have gradually created over the past few weeks. He knew that true brotherhood sometimes had to come with violence towards each other, but Francis knew their relationship would never shift that way.
Francis returned to his room swiftly, closing the door behind before taking a seat on his bed. He took a deep breath and reaffirmed himself in his head. He just needed a good mind space. Then, it will all be okay.
Francis got up and took a pair of boots from his closet, most likely his clothes were already being packed up for the trip.
He looked around his room, deciding to take his quill and notebook, just to record what will happen on the way. Francis knew for a fact that the match would be fairly fast and efficient, so there really won’t be much to record.
He sighed, bracing himself for the painful trek to Spain. It would be heavy on him.
One night during the march, Francis sat in his makeshift bag. No one else was really sleeping since it was still relatively early in the night. Everyone was having dinner elsewhere, but Francis just stuck to meager rations in his bag from his queasy stomach.
Someone came up behind him.
“Monsieur Francis?”
Francis looked back. A soldier was holding out a letter to him, he eagerly took it.
“Merci.”
The soldier nodded, he added a quiet “de rien” before returning back to dinner.
Francis quickly and carefully opened the envelope, he took the blue wax off the envelope and stored it in his backpack. Swiping the oil lamp beside him, Francis read the note.
Hello there Francis!
I know, all this coalition must be heavy for you. Stay strong! By the way— do you know what happened? The other day I was picking tomatoes from my garden, it turned out one had a bite mark in it! Wonder which little animal bit my tomatoes this time. Anyway, enough of my jabbering what’s going on with you? Hopefully Mr. Napoleon isn’t making you go on too many expeditions, if so please stay safe.
Antonio Carriedo.
Francis sighed, placing the oil lamp back down. He genuinely didn’t know how to even feel anymore. Melancholic because he wished to stay with Antonio, amused because of what he said about it tomatoes, or just sobbing silently. It felt like all of these emotions swirled in a soup, churning inside him. He supposed it was mixed. He would write his letter later tonight.
As everyone settled into their makeshift beds, Francis took his oil lamp and writing supplies to reply back somewhere more private. Of course, his rifle was on his back just in case something happened.
He sat down beside a tree within seeing distance from the camp.
Francis reached into his pocket for matches and lit the oil lamp, it dimly illuminated the parchment. In his opinion he thought it was better this way as no one would wake up from the random light. He dipped his quill into some ink that he always stored for expeditions, beginning to write in his fancy letters.
Antonio,
It’s quite unbelievable how quickly my letter came to you and how quickly you replied! I do have one thing to say though, Mr. Napoleon is deciding to take Spain, and
Francis felt his heart make a 180 degrees drop. Now he wasn’t so sure how to tell Antonio that France was secretly going to turn their backs on Spain and take their king away to replace it with Napoleon’s brother. Francis definitely didn’t want to do this, but no matter how much times he attempted to make it sound lighthearted and friendly, he failed. Would Antonio actually forgive him for invading his home country and liberating the Spanish people from their royal family? It sounded evil enough in his head, Francis couldn’t imagine it on paper. He decided to avoid the situation. Francis scribbled the last sentence he wrote down and continued the letter.
— I’m faring well now, also, how are your tomatoes? Hopefully they’re doing better, haha!
Francis B.
He felt horrible packing the letter up, diminishing the oil lamp and walking back to his bed. As he settled under his blanket, these uncomfortable emotions resonated even further within him. Avoiding the situation felt detrimental to their friendship. But telling Antonio about Mr. Napoleons plans didn’t sound any better. And yet he couldn’t evade being confronted by Antonio in the battlefield.
No sleep was gained that night.
Another dusk at Bayonne arose. This time Francis was finally at dinner after being absent for so long. A few people questioned if he was okay, which Francis answered with a small nod.
He stared blankly at his bland food, his appetite seemed to shrink millisecond by millisecond. Francis tapped his foot against the ground, biting his lip, awaiting this awkward dinner to finish and for Antonio’s response to come. Agitation was the only thing in his mind, this feeling further increased up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. A French soldier grinned at him sheepishly.
“Hey, mon ami? What’s with the tense body, hm? Nerves got you up for the war?”
He asked, laughing as he spoke. Francis smiled softly, trying to seem normal.
“Y-yeah, yeah…”
To his relief, another soldier came up to his side and gave him a letter. Francis hastily excused himself from the bonfire and speed-walked to his makeshift bed, sitting down on the solid ground.
Francis,
My tomatoes are fine! Don’t worry about them too much, once this all finishes we can finally try these tomatoes together. You know, I gave Romano some, not sure if he enjoys it. Tell me how you feel.
Antonio Carriedo.
Francis chuckled softly, tucking the envelope safely into his bag. He sighed and watched his comrades eat around the fire, and even from a relatively long distance Francis could feel the awkwardness.
He tried to think of ideas to avoid being on the battlefield, but with no doubt Napoleon would like him to stand along with the rest of the army. He didn’t feel like going back to dinner today, it made him feel sickly at just how oblivious Antonio had become.
The march was short, yes, but a lot of stops had to be made. Francis never knew why, it wasn’t like his mind wasn’t in the present most of the time.
He received another letter from Antonio a few days after the first one he sent. Francis had totally forgotten about Antonio’s letter. He bit his lip, opening the letter.
Hi Francis!
Are you alright? I know it’s been just a few days, but you usually reply lighting speed back! If anything’s wrong you can write to me!
Antonio C.
Francis slid the letter into his backpack. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, going to war with Antonio, especially being on the opposing side. Of course they’d done it before, but that was prior to this friendship. To be truthful, sometimes Francis felt a bit something extra from friends but he shoved that thought down.
Francis wondered if he should reply to Antonio’s letter. His hands fiddled with the hem of his army coat aggressively, it felt like someone was keeping watch on him. A rising feeling that climbed towards the sk— Francis finally took out his quill and notebook. He started writing:
Antonio,
Sorry for the late reply, things over here have been getting worse lately. I have so much work to do. About that invitation I would be delighted!
Francis B.
Francis ripped the page out and folded it. He would send it to Antonio like this, Francis became too nauseated to put it in an envelope. Though, he did have it to write all his thoughts down in. So, for the rest of dinner, Francis stayed on the side, pouring his heart out onto the paper, letting it write itself. Still, Francis didn’t feel like it was enough it was like his dignity was just half-healed. There was something else he needed to do to get this heavy pressure lying down on his chest off. And Francis knew exactly what it was. Telling Antonio.
Human nature tends to get desperate for things that cause them not to stay in homeostasis. Even going to extents.
He shakily sighed, taking the messily folded paper, laying his hand by his side, failing multiple times to get ahold of his quill. Once he finally did, Francis brought it up to the page, taking a deep breath. Antonio would understand, sure he would. But his reassuring words didn’t assist him to cope as much as he thought. Francis just prayed silently in his mind that Antonio wouldn’t write to him after this.
Also, I forgot to mention that Mr. Napoleon has plans to secretly liberate you guys from your royal family. I know you guys don’t like others controlling you, but I really can’t oppose to what he says.
The heavy sensation finally leapt from Francis’s chest, and maybe onto another one because this one soldier had been vomiting ever since they left Paris. Francis visibly cringed watching them throw up, he shook his head and looked back at his letter putting it in his bag. He would have to mail it to Antonio later tonight.
A few days later the reply letter came, Francis opened up the envelope faster now, he felt like was going to faint, reading Antonio’s response.
Francis,
I was just wondering how long ago was this?
Antonio C.
He knew that something was already cracking under his “friendly” facade. Francis could just feel the betrayal in these letters, and the feeling came to his attention that he just stabbed a knife deep into Antonio’s back.
He felt guilt overcome him writing each one of his letters down. Every word brought a new sensation of dread.
“Oh god, why did the universe curse me with writing this?”
He thought, wanting not to proofread his letter and experience more guilt.
Dear Antonio,
I remember it might’ve been a month ago..?
From,
Francis B.
Francis frowned, folding the letter neatly in half before placing it in an envelope, he can already sense the day they reach the Spanish border already.
Antonio never responded.
—————— “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?”
“CAN WE BE FRIENDS?”
The fight to take Portugal was fairly easy, however, what was uneasy was to actually focus on fighting. Francis’s mind seemed keen on being all over Antonio, wondering if he had just butchered their bond. Which he did, obviously, so “gracefully.”
The raise of a white flag soon (and finally) snapped Francis back. A French soldier high-fived him, smiling brightly.
“Yes! Way to go!”
Francis smiled, quite timidly. It was weird, he’d been zoning out the whole time, yet he didn’t get scathed one bit. Especially with Napoleon right beside him, the opposing powerful general. Francis would expect to at least get a small wound.
Napoleon patted Francis’s shoulder, smiling.
“Good job, Francis, nice fighting.”
“A-ah, it was nothing really— merci.”
Napoleon chuckled slightly and walked past the rest of the army, disappearing into the crowd. Francis slouched, what did he even do?
—————— “I DONT WANT TO END THE SEASON ON A BAD EPISODE, BABY, NAH.”
“SHAKE YOUR HAND, SAY HI.”
The day of the march to Madrid came alarmingly faster than Francis had initially expected. He had been stressing about it quietly within his own private time. He knew stressing would get him nowhere. But Francis couldn’t go anywhere from this position anyway.
What else could he do? He couldn’t let down Mr. Napoleon, but he also didn’t wish to let down Antonio. As selfish as it sounds, Francis needs to serve his country, even if it means turning against his own friend. Right?? Right..? Right….???
Francis just combed his hair with his fingers, staring solemnly at the bonfire while his fellow soldiers laughed into the night. Oh god forbid this constant negative feeling flying inside his stomach.
—————— “BOUNCING OFF THINGS AND YOU DONT KNOW HOW YOU FALL.”
“YOU HATE IT, IT COULD BE YOUR FAVORITE IF YOU MAKE IT YOUR FRIEND.”
This war the surprise war that Spain never asked for. The face off that Francis heavily opposed. Every single negative feeling has escalated to this, the French and Spanish army. Their two flags swayed in the wind, the only sound that lingered in the battlefield.
Francis clenched his face, his blue eyes catching onto Antonio’s green eyes. Full of determination and willingness for bloodshed to fight for the Spanish people. Francis could sense it through his soul.
They looked at each other for quite a while, as if standing off in their own minds against each other.
It was calm for a while, soft winds breezing, the sound of fabric swishing along with if but—
In an instant, both armies charged forward, initiating a war that would change a relationship.
“ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?”
——————————————————————————
ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? BY: TYLER, THE CREATOR
FIN. ?
ANTONIO FERNANDEZ CARRIEDO
&
FRANCIS BONNEFOY
“SOMETHING DESTINED TO BE RUINED.”
—
Antonio choked on his own blood, looking up at the same foolish French man with his blonde hair and blue eyes. Sparkling ever so divinely in triumph.