The next thing that Matt knew, the weight above him was abruptly released and the pressure on his lips ceased. He cracked open his eyes, catching shallow, gasping breaths. The first thing that registered was a familiar shape, standing over Gilbert, who was sprawled on the floor, presumably thrown there.

It was Francis.

Matt let out a strangled sob of relief and fear but Francis did not look at him, just stared down at the German man on the floor with an expression that actually scared Matt more than anything else had; the Frenchman was so angry that Matt thought that his heart would break - no! Francis should not be angry, he should not be anything other than the carefree schemer he had always been. Francis should not be looking so furiously at another person.

"Gilbert," said Francis, his voice cold. "If you touch him again I swear that I will kill you."

Gilbert stared up at his friend, finally beginning to realize exactly what he was doing. "Aw, fuck…"

Francis would find later that maybe the situation was not what he had first thought, that Gilbert had perhaps not realized what he was doing but at this moment all that he felt was pure fury. He looked up at Matt, sprawled on the bed and clutching the front of his sweatshirt and trying so hard to control the terror and fear on his face and Francis kicked Gilbert in the side, catching him a rather vicious blow, then walked over to the bed and grabbed Matt's wrist, stronger and more roughly than he would have liked, dragging the Canadian to his feet and walking swiftly out the door.

"Allons-y," he said quietly, his voice hard, and Matt followed him without a word, letting himself be dragged along as his mind lagged - but Francis had saved him. Francis had come to his rescue and saved him and the look in his eyes was so fiercely protective that Matt was finding his head starting to spin.

They did not speak until they had reached Francis' bedroom, and Francis had bolted the door. Even then, all Francis did was turn and wrap Matthieu tightly in his arms, pressing him hard against his chest and burying his face in his hair. In response, Matt wrapped his arms around Francis' waist and shook, his nose pressed into the hollow of Francis' collarbone, smelling spice and strong mint and sweat.

"F-Francis," breathed Matt, his voice hitching. "Francis…" The arms around him tightened and despite the fear of the past half hour all Matt could think was how deliriously happy he was to be here, in Francis' grip.

Francis only laughed, but it was a sound devoid of mirth or even much of any emotion, a sigh, really.

"I know this is not the time to tell you, Matthieu, but I cannot let you think anything else for another minute. I love you, Matthieu, I love you."

And really, maybe Matt had known it all along.

　

Owari ~~~

But, there is an Omake. It is decidedly rated M. For a good reason. Interested? I thought so, you perv. Read on!!