France and I have a rather strange relationship. One minute, we are friends, the other we are enemies, and sometimes, we are lovers. The last part is our little secret though.

I knew I was drunk. I knew it because the room was spinning and all the colours were blurring together making everything look as if I was looking through a smudged up camera lens. I knew France was drunk too by the way he was drawling. I could smell the alcohol on his breathe as he whispered lies in my ear. "I looove you Arthuur..." I can't say that I was much better. "I know you do..." Inset hiccup. He smiled. "You have the prettiest eyes..." I don't know what exactly happened, but soon enough, we were making out on his bed.

The taste of wine and cigarettes and the way our mouths mashed together was so imperfectly perfect. Our tongues were fighting sloppily for dominance. We weren't sure who was winning. We couldn't care less.

And the clothes started coming off. When we were in our underwear, however, I chickened out. . We spent the rest if the night cuddling as he whispered meaningless things in my ear that I wouldn't remember in the morning.

Sometimes we needed this. Even if we knew we were lying to each other when we said we wouldn't leave each other sides, even if we knew that we would be yelling at each other the next day, sometimes it just felt good. We needed to love someone who we could count on to not leave. Not forever anyways. A few weeks, maybe a few months and we'd be like this again with enough beer or wine or whatever. Occasionally, even when we were practically sober, though it never got as far like that.

Just like I thought, the next morning, we woke up spooning. I fought to get away from him and we argued and played the blame game and everything as we got dressed before I huffed off.

I sighed as I walked onto the sidewalk. I knew Paris a lot better than I'd ever tell you. Right before I headed on my way, I turned back to look at his house and said under my breath, "See you next month, you bloody frog."

Yes, we have a very complicated relationship. Maybe we should just start dating like normal people instead of hooking up whenever we feel like it.

Then again, there is a very thin line between love and hate. When you hate someone most of the time, you love them a whole lot more during that other time.

Or maybe I do it just because I'm a masochist. Maybe.