*I don't own A Monster in Paris or its characters

This was a really fun chapter to write, and I'd like to thank TheJokerMan95 for the constant reviews as well as everyone else who reviews. This is a light and fluffy chapter, so yeah, I was in the zone with this one. I have great plans for future updates as well as song ideas, focus on other characters, and conflict. For now there is this, and don't forget to review since it encourages my muse, and describe what you might like to see in future updates. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10:60 days left

He woke early with the need to use the bathroom, but froze at the sight of the sleeping figure tucked in his arms. When had he fallen asleep? And why didn't she go to her room?

He figured they were so tired they hadn't realized they fell asleep. She felt so warm lying next to him, and he wondered if that is how married people felt like. He got up with her still in his arms, and made his way to her room. If only he didn't need to go then he could still be with her, but of course he was never so lucky. He carried Lucille to her room and left her in her bed, feeling a new kind of feeling. He was beyond happy, he felt at home.

As his footsteps faded away, she smiled a bit to herself and turned over, covering herself with the covers.

It was five after six, and Carlotta was up for her daily chore. She would go out and visit the bakery down the street, waving hello to everyone she would meet. When you're surrounded by bread and all sorts of good things to eat, it can be particularly hard to keep a good figure if you enjoyed a little extra to eat. But no, she passed over the sweets and picked up her bread and croissants, hoping to keep trim.

Policemen on bicycles rode down the street, giving tiny nods at the plump lady. If it wasn't the commissioner, then she paid no heed. He will come by she thought, when he wanted to see her and went home.

Breakfast is never a dull moment, though sometimes Lucille wished it was. Francoeur was feeling a bit possessive this morning, so he had her sitting in his lap and Carlotta was fine with it. "Honey, can you pass the croissants?"

Flashing her aunt a look, she replied. "I would, but I don't Francoeur is going to let me go"

"Francoeur dear, could you pass me the croissants?

Francoeur was too happy to notice Lucille's irritation, and happily passed the plate of croissants. Carlotta wasn't exactly used to the whole my-niece-is-dating-an-insect, but the extra arms are handy so to speak. "Don't you just love mornings? Though I do wish you would smile dear. Why aren't you eating?" She asked nonchalantly as though such things are routine.

"How can I eat like this? I cannot reach my plate. At least Francoeur has four arms, but I am useless with just two"

"So, are you two official yet?"

"Perhaps, though I'm not sure if this is how I want to spend my mornings"

"Now, now, I'm sure it is not all that bad."

Looking back and forth between the two ladies, he took mental notes in body language and speech patterns. Carlotta had the tendency to see the world in an optimistic, it-only-matters-if-it-concerns-me sort of way. By no means was the woman selfish, at least not intentionally, though she did have the habit of making everything her business. Lucille rolled he eyes, and replied with an air of sarcasm. "I told him to choose what he wants to do and I guess that means holding me hostage while we eat"

"I think it's kind of cute, in a weird, out of this world way"

"I don't remember him being so possessive"

"Looks like we have a keeper"

Looking up at the smiling flea, Lucille sighed. "Francoeur, if we have to sit like this, then can you at least feed me?"

Shaking his head yes, he handed her a buttered croissant. He looked willing to feed her, though she took it from his hands and smiled weakly. "Thank you"

With the telephone ring, Carlotta left to answer it, leaving the two alone. Francoeur let her go, much to his disappointment, and gave her a letter. Putting down her hand finished croissant, she smiled at the sight of her name. Lucille's smile really was a tease, and he felt the strongest inclination to kiss her, but she blocked it with her hand. "Self control Francoeur, it's a quality all gentleman should possess"

She was teasing him he thought, and something about it really was enticing. But as she blocked him with her hand, he proceeded to kiss that hand and she giggled, giving him an opening to press a kiss on her lips. She let out a small yelp of embarrassment at the sneak attack, and cried out as he moved away. "Francoeur, you naughty thing. How dare you, and especially considering how early it is"

He hardly heard a word as he smiled happily, all caught up in his pleasant thoughts. He could sense her embarrassment, though that was only a small part, and he could tell part of her liked it. Her blush was enough to claim victory, and he was off to write in his study.

Her heart jumped at the surprise, and it took a few moments to calm a bit. She picked up his letter, and took a sniff. The light smell of wax did not over power the scent of his cologne that permeated the paper, and the sheer excitement, the thrill of not knowing what was written made her all the more curious. Breaking the wax seal, she paused to take a deep breath before she read it. It read:

To my Lucille,

How are you this morning? If only I could ask you, then you would answer back, and whatever you would answer back would be a delight. I had been awake since two in the morning, therefore I write you this letter.

Do you know what it's like to wake in the night to find your lover in your arms and to think that the world isn't such a bad place? That was what happened to me. I had woken in the night, and found that my arms, which do have a mind of their own at times, wrapped around you comfortably. Now you know I had not planned nor do I premeditate such actions, but I was surprised to find you looking very comfortable, and might I add looking at home in my arms. As I write this now, I find myself feeling somewhere between delight and embarrassed.

Life is fleeing, therefore delight in everything that makes you happy. If I could have known this sooner, then who knows what I could have accomplished.

My way of thinking is not all that surprising, at least not to me. I can smell the change in weather as well as the change of feelings and emotions. I know when you are near and when you are away, and when you are sad I can feel it too. I sometimes wonder what we would talk about, what is your ideal sort of man is, and how you take your coffee. I really should pay better attention to such things, but it slips my mind when I'm in the middle of writing a melody. I take my coffee with plenty of milk and two spoons of sugar by the way.

Now you asked me what it was that made you so appealing, which is a bit unfair. How can I list your qualities as though I were writing a grocery list? No, never would I dare to do such thing. My dear, my pretty Lucille, I wish I could tell you myself how much I adore you, but all I can offer is this.

If I were to compare your beauty to the stars in the sky, they would envy you with one look of your eyes. Your sweetness makes the heart fat beyond its capacity, and when it bleeds, it simply means I cannot live without your supply. I follow you and every footstep for I would get lost in the space between us. And if you tell me no, then I would scream yes until it's true. Your porcelain hands hold mine every time I close my eyes, and we kiss like we had never known love before this. How dare you tease me with a smile or a blush like a butterfly landing on a rose. And kindness is everything that you are, and everything that I live on. My love is the music I write, and it all belongs to you. I have not the words or the eloquence of a wise old man, but if I did then I would use my last thoughts thinking of who you are, and why you are here, and why you choose me. Why you choose me, why, why, oh why I was so lucky to be chosen.

The space in this sheet of paper will end, and I apologize for not buying more paper. I will take note of it and I really do feel remorseful that I didn't say more. Therefore these are my parting thoughts, everything that I am, it is because I met you.

With warm regard and sincerity, Francoeur.

Closing the letter, she took it to her room and placed it an empty hat box. Wiping away the stray tears which escaped her eyes, she opened her jewelry box and looked at the locket he had bought her. It would look so nice around her neck she had thought, but it was empty. Closing her jewelry box, she made a mental note to get their pictures taken at the soonest opportunity.

She went by his study, and Lucille wanted to ask Francoeur if he would like to go shopping, but he was fast asleep on his writing desk. Taking one of the old fur coats, she covered him up and kissed him goodbye before she left to do a few errands.

When Francoeur woke it was late afternoon. He mentally reprimanded himself for wasting such a good day, but felt a sense of relief at sight of the box sitting nearby. On the label was a mark which he assumed was by Lucille who kissed the label and left the red lipstick mark beside the words "With love, Lucille."

Inside the box was a set of fine pens, music sheets, blotting paper, sealing wax, and a stack of fine paper. Tied together with the paper was a letter from Lucille. It smelled of roses and Lucille, her wonderful scent permeated everything that came in contact with her. He breathed it in with a tranquility he did not recognize, and a warmth he felt when she was near. The letter read:

To Francoeur,

Waves of emotion wash over me when I read your letters, your words, your feelings. You have me tied up, caught up, and trapped in your embrace. I am between happiness and flight as I recover from this flurry of thoughts and feelings. I had never been a stranger to eloquence, or praise, and I must confess it never meant much to me before, but I am intoxicated by your existence.

What have you done? What is it that you are that makes me fear you and admire at the same time? I cannot say exactly, for I rather not stifle such beauty in words that are as common every day things. But if I must, am I allowed to say that you make me happy? Or that I am less lonely with you right beside me? Can I say that? Can I really say you are the best thing that has ever happened to me?

I know, I am young, and there will be many times when I'm foolish and say the wrong things, but I hope you will forgive me. Forgive me that I left without a word, though if there is any sort of legible excuse, I did come by and found you sleeping. Forgive me if I gave you a kiss you cannot remember. And last but not least, forgive me for every hurt, past and present that I had inflicted. I just wanted you to know that.

I might have been contented by my life before this, but with you here, there is a new chapter to explore, and it's because now you are here in it.

From a somewhat embarrassed, though delighted girl named Lucille.

Folding the letter, warmth dripped from his eyes, the thing called tears. Hearing the clock chime five o'clock, he put the letter back in the box, wiped away the stray tears and went down to see if he could help with anything before the show would begin.

Perhaps the day wasn't wasted after all.