A/N: Thanks for returning! I'm sorry that this story has been going for so long, it's just that there's so much I'd like to write in here; so much I'd like to do! Also, I read a fanfic a while back where Mathias' mother's name was Emilie, so I'm taking that and using it for Mrs. Køhler, okay?

December 16th

To Arthur's surprise, it hadn't taken much for Francis to accept an apology—just a few words. He had obviously had time to calm down, giving him a more levelheaded approach to everything. "I'm still not happy with the way you said everything," Francis told Arthur, "but I'm willing to overlook it at this moment."

"Thank you," Arthur said. "Again, I'm sorry for my thoughtlessness."

Lunch had just started, and Alfred was focused on devouring his fairly sizable meal, though he was clearly happy Arthur and Francis had reconciled. Matthew was nowhere to be found. Francis began peeling his orange, turning to Arthur. "What was it you wanted to tell me, mon ami?"

"Right." Arthur dug into his bag for a moment and pulled out the slightly crumpled paper. "I found this in my locker. Isn't that just rude?"

"Someone's marker-happy," Alfred snorted.

Francis looked at the paper and narrowed his eyes, then handed it back to Arthur. "You two obviously don't have very much experience with women. That isn't marker. It's lipstick."

"What?!"

"Oh, oh! You couldn't even tell that? It's quite obvious!"

"Yes, sorry, Alfred and I don't use much lipstick!" Arthur retorted.

"So a girl wrote it?" Alfred asked. "That's a hint, isn't it?"

"Mmm... maybe, no? Perhaps a girl didn't write this," Francis said. "But you're right, it's a very bright red. I don't know anyone who wears this color lipstick."

"Yeah," Alfred said slowly. "Hey, where's Matthew?"

"Not sure," Francis replied. "Yesterday he told me he ate in the library. People are being awfully cruel, you see?"

Alfred sighed. "Tell me about it."

Outside in the courtyard, Emil, Lilli, Raivis, and Yong-Soo were eating lunch together, just like always.

"Why do we have to eat out here in the middle of December?" Emil complained, drawing his scarf up to cover his chin and nose. "It was snowing yesterday. It's freezing. I would make a blanket out of leaves, but they all fell off the trees months ago."

"Because it's so cold, no one else is eating out here—we've got the courtyard to ourselves!" Yong-Soo exclaimed.

"That's a terrible and stupid idea," Emil snapped, and he and the Korean engaged in a quick argument about hypothermia.

"You seem happy today, Raivis," Lilli commented, ignoring Emil and Yong-Soo's bickering, which had morphed into a rather offensive 'Yo Mama' war.

"Oh. Yes," Raivis said, smiling. "I had to stay in Ms. Hamilton's class yesterday during lunch to help her around the room, and Ivan Braginsky walked in with Matthew Williams. And Ivan apologized."

"Surely not!" Lilli gasped, grinning. "Raivis, that's wonderful! What'd he say?"

"Just that he's sorry that he's been treating me meanly these past few years, and that he's going to stop."

"Just like that?"

"Oh, I mean, I'm still not very fond of him, but he did apologize and all."

Lilli nodded. "Good." She was faking a smile for Raivis. Sure, she really was genuinely happy that Ivan had apologized to her Latvian friend, but all through lunch, she and Emil kept exchanging nervous glances. Dr. Alfher's meeting had been a shock. Lilli knew she was blameless. She'd barely known Gilbert, and the name Louise Canella was all but foreign to her.

But like saying that was going to get her anywhere.

Back in the (warm) cafeteria, Alfred had left the lunchroom to head to the library in search for Matthew, leaving Arthur and Francis alone. Arthur had already explained Louise's death and Elizaveta's near-death to Francis, who sat listening, nodding his head every so often.

"If you don't mind, Arthur, I'd like to say something," Francis said once Arthur was finished.

"Of course." Arthur picked up a misshapen pastry-like abomination and took a bite out of it.

"You like Elizaveta, then?"

"O-oh, I think so."

"And you say you have since that day before ninth grade?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't know until last Friday."

Francis nodded slowly. "Oui, well, don't take this the wrong way, but I think you're safe from love. I don't think you like Elizaveta—I think you're infatuated with her. And before you ask, no, infatuation is not love. You say you suddenly developed a 'crush' on someone with the explanation that you've loved them all these years, you just didn't know? Sorry, but I don't really think it works that way, Arthur."

"Okay, then what am I supposed to do?"

Francis leaned back in his chair. "Nothing. Infatuation doesn't last long."

"But—"

"Look, have you even spoken to her since the dance?"

"No, but I—"

"Arthur," Francis snapped. "Either man up and talk to her, or admit that you're simply infatuated and admiring from afar."

"Err... git."

"Mathias, dear, are you all right?" Emilie Køhler placed both hands on her hips and frowned at her son.

"I'm fine, Mor," Mathias said, setting his backpack down and walking to the fridge to find an after-school snack. "Why d'ya ask?"

"I just..." Emilie sighed. "You've been taking your medicine, right, Mathias?"

Mathias frowned. "Of course. Look, do you want to tell me anything important, or just make false accusations?"

Emilie flinched. "Don't be rude," she scolded.

"I'm sorry, Mor. School's just been a lot, with... exam stress. I didn't mean it."

Emilie relaxed into a smile. "Anyway, dear, I was going to tell you that we're leaving Friday night."

"Friday night?"

"Winter break starts—don't you know? Aren't you and your friends counting down the days?"

"Well, yes, but... what are you talking about?"

"We're taking our annual trip to Denmark, sweetie. Sorry for the short notice, but you know we at least go every Christmas. I thought I should remind you, as you haven't started packing your bags yet. Usually you're so excited."

Mathias felt his blood run cold. He loved visiting home, but he couldn't look for a secret-keeper if he was halfway across the world.

"Mathias?" Emilie asked, her voice concerned. "You look pale—are you positive you're feeling okay?"

"Yes, Mor!" Mathias exclaimed. "I'm going to study; please call me when dinner is ready!" Mathias raced up the stairs and shut the door to his room. Nothing was going well... Things were falling apart... Mathias picked up The Great Gatsby, which was still sitting on his nightstand, and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

A Swiss Army Knife sat on his dresser. If he were any good at throwing knives, he would have picked it up and tossed it somewhere. Instead, he pulled out the little dagger and stared at the blade. Suddenly inspired, Mathias grabbed his phone and scrolled through his recent contacts until he found Antonio's number.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded tired.

"I have a great idea!" Mathias laughed heartily. The world was sharpening to a crystal clarity. Things were so simple, really. "I know what we have to do, Antonio! Can you meet me at the Starbucks by school in, say, twenty minutes?"

"Wh-wh-what?"

"Great, thanks! See you then!" Mathias hung up and grabbed a book from his dresser, and after giving things a second thought, slipped the knife into his pocket, too. He nearly skipped out the door, calling, "Off to study with a friend, Mor," and left the house, grinning like a madman.