"I'd rather die by the hand of my dearest enemy than by the hand of the universe."

France had not told Britain, but somehow, Britain had known anyway. He had known what France had done as well as France himself knew, and likely before he had taken one bite of the meal that would be his last.

"De rien, mon cher. I always knew we were destined to go together."

"I by your hand, and you by mine."

"Not by your hand, cher. Not exactly."

France pulled Britain close and kissed the poison from his lips, and Britain smiled through the pain, smiled into France's mouth, and fed his poison back to him. The world grew dark and ash clouded the sky as the two enemies clung to each other under the fading stars.

"I love the way you hate me." Britain whispered, his breath shaking as his lungs began to seize up. He kissed France again, the worry that the poison lingering in his mouth would not be enough to kill his friend burning in his mind.

"I love you, cher. I always have."

The Earth trembled and split, its fractured pieces pressuring France and Britain to spill the truths they had kept secret for so long.

"France…"

Britain's voice was growing ever weaker as he slipped away. France crushed him closer, as if holding on to his body would keep his soul from leaving too early.

Tongues and lips and teeth, and feeding the poison back and forth with the desperateness found only in lovers, and those who are about to die. Bitter-almond taste clouding everything; a taste so strong it numbs your eyes, your fingers, your thoughts. That was all Britain and France could feel. Bitter, bitter, bitter, and the world shattering, and each other, and the bitterness.

"Don't leave without me." France pleaded as Britain's emerald eyes rolled back into his head and his eyelids fluttered closed against the unforgiving wind that shredded the air around them. He struggled, he held on to his last thread of life, he opened his jaded eyes again.

"For better or worse, you were always beside me in life. As my friend or as my enemy, you were always there." Britain could barely whisper. His lungs no longer moved on their own, and it took every ounce of strength just to breathe. "I won't go without knowing you'll be beside me in death."

France felt his throat seize up, his mind flooding with darkness, and he kissed Britain again. Lying together on the charred ground that would soon cease to exist, the two nations grasped each other's hands, and then went limp. They didn't watch the sky fall, and they didn't watch the earth heave and quake. They watched each other, sapphire eyes locking with leaf-green ones. The last thing each of them saw was the light leaving the other's eyes to join the stars above them, blotted out by the exploding sun. Poison pushed through their veins, leaving warm limbs cool and quick heartbeats sluggish.

"I'm right behind you, mon amour." France promised as darkness threatened to engulf him. "Allons-y."