A/N: Well, this started as an extremely depressing oneshot, and then it sort of... grew. I randomly AHA!ed at one in the morning last night, and this beginning was the result, closely followed by a Flying Mint Plotbunny. These aren't really chapters, even; they're more of a series of oneshots all closely linked to form a story.

This beginning is loosely based in the song Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw. You may want to look it up and listen to it once before you read this, just because it should put you in the right mood.

It had been two months.

Two long, torturous months had passed since their last fight, and through those months, Francis Bonnefoy had felt as though he was slowly slipping away into blackness. He felt lonely, even in a crowd of chattering people. He overslept on most days and ended up being yelled at by his boss for coming to work late. And when he got home every night, he would stare at that picture and listen to the radio until he fell asleep.

The picture was nothing special, really; it was of him and another man with beautiful green eyes, laughing together as Francis chased him with a rose. The photography wasn't even all that great. But to Francis, it was all that he had left.

Why had he been so stupid and careless, to let something so beautiful slip away?

Arthur haunted his dreams now; a million ways Francis could've apologized that night always ran like movies, and he would wake up with quiet tears streaming down his face just before Arthur's soft lips brushed his own. He needed that kiss, needed that touch, even if it were only for a moment. He needed Arthur.

Francis had tried drowning his sorrows many times—even that didn't work. They knew how to swim.

He sighed, getting to his feet from the couch and turning off the radio. Francis looked at the picture one last time before carefully folding along the careworn creases in the paper and tucking it into the pocket of his coat. He had to get out of here, had to go do something. It was better than sitting here alone.

Francis closed the front door behind him, stepping out into the cool night air and closing his eyes against the memory that forced its way into his mind. He started off down the sidewalk on the short stroll to the one place he was sure he'd find refuge. But that didn't stop the heart-wrenching scene from chasing him down.

"I hate you!"

Francis's heart lurched as he stared into the green eyes that had suddenly gone cold to his desperate gaze. Sure, they'd said that they'd hated each other many times before, but now Arthur's face was closed and emotionless. He bit his lip, turning away.

"Arthur, mon amour..." Francis immediately regretted all that he'd said before. He wanted to make this better, right now, right here. He quietly approached Arthur from behind, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The hand was thrown off. "Just leave me alone, you stupid frog! What part of 'I HATE YOU' do you not understand?"

Arthur turned to glare at him with a look of pure fury and hatred that sliced Francis's heart in half. There were tears of anger and frustration in those green eyes, and Arthur shook his head.

"You lie, you cheat, and you play stupid games. We're over. Just leave me alone."

And he'd strode out into the same cool evening breeze that Francis walked with now.

Francis had made to follow him, and nearly caught up, but Arthur had whirled around and hit him so hard that he'd had a handprint-shaped bruise on his cheek for the next six days. And Francis had stopped, tears streaming down his face as he watched Arthur run away.

"S'il vous plait... Don't go," he'd whispered.

They hadn't spoken since.

Francis pushed open the door to the town library, smiling a little sadly at the warm, homey glow that always seemed to fill the place. It was nice to lose himself between the shelves and escape reality for a while, even if it was only a minute. When Arthur had been with him, the two of them would sit together at one of the cozy little tables in the back; Francis would read, and Arthur would work on his newest novel. Francis had always thought it cute how the Brit needed glasses to read, and although Arthur had hated them, Francis had always loved how they made his beautiful green eyes stand out.

Francis realized he had been sitting here, staring at the empty chair across from him for fifteen minutes now. He sighed, pulling himself to his feet and trudging off to look for a book. Somehow his heart wasn't in it tonight. Well, to be quite frank, his heart wasn't in anything anymore—Arthur had stolen it long ago, and it was like a disobedient dog that refused to come. The more he tried to get it back, the more it shied away. Maybe it was tired of abuse.

Finally just picking a random book and flopping back down with it, Francis was just about to start reading when his cell phone rang. He jumped and stared down at it apprehensively.

Now who could that be? Surely his boss wasn't going to yell at him for another missed deadline, but there was hardly anyone else who called him anymore.

He checked the number, and suddenly realized; it was Arthur's younger brother, Alfred. He answered.

"Bonjour, Alfred," he smiled, glad to hear from the cheerful young man again. But the voice on the other end of the line that replied sounded nothing like the cocky American that Francis knew.

"Francis, where are you?" Alfred asked, voice shaking. He sounded like he was about to cry.

"Er... the town library, why?" Francis replied, suddenly feeling confused and scared.

"All he wants is to talk to you. I'm coming to pick you up right now."

"Alfred, who? What happened?" he asked desperately, biting at one of his fingernails worriedly. He closed the book quickly, leaving it on the table, and pulled on his coat.

The voice on the other end cracked, taking a deep, trembling breath. His words made Francis's heart stop.

"A-Arthur was in a car crash."

A/N: So, you like it so far? Feel free to drop a review if you have any advice!