A few weeks later, I was cooking a good strong dinner for Kuma and I.

I had finally sat down at the table with Kuma after cooking a large stack of pancakes and some bacon. Kuma had mowed right into his plate, but I took my time digging in. My heart still hurt, and I was still trying not to start thinking again.

Until a knock came at the door, making me jump halfway out of my seat. I glanced at Kuma, who was still eating. We weren't expecting any visitors today.

I breathed out deeply, trying to calm myself, and I peeked out the window to see who it was.

My heart stopped when I saw that it was Francois.

A million thoughts ran across my brain. He was here? Now? Why? What was he doing out of the hospital so early?

Well, I could answer that one. Francois hated being in the hospital at any given time, and never went. He probably coerced the nurses into signing him out early. But why would he come here?

Why now?

I was doing so well. For weeks. Weeks! Why did he need to tear these wounds out now?

"Mattieu. 'Ow are you mon amour?" He was shivering on my doorstep. The Canadian cold was not reacting well to him. But then, the cold never sat well with him.

"I'm fine, Francois. Come in, and get warm. Your teeth are chattering." I said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

I led the way into my living room, to sit him in front of the fire. "I'll go get you a nice, hot mug of coffee."

"Who's here?" Kuma asked, and I braced my hands on the counter, trying to control myself.

"Francois." I said simply. I took a deep breath, and poured the coffee, strong and sweet, just the way Francois likes it.

"Here, drink this. It'll help warm you." I said, giving the mug to him.

He curled his hands around it, and I had a flash of a memory of those hands cupping mine so gently, that I breathed in sharply.

His azalea blue eyes turned towards me questioningly. But they immediately clouded when they caught mine. I felt tears welling up in my violet ones, and I whisked them away quickly. I didn't want him questioning me too much.

"Mattieu? Are you okay?"

"Dust in my eye." I replied.

Francois sighed heavily, setting his coffee down on the brick fireplace. "Mattieu, I must talk with you."

Oh God.

"Angleterre told me that him and I aren't together, and Alfred told me that I needed to talk to you. What happened, mon petit?"

My eyes were steadily getting wider, and I burst out, "You're the one that wanted to talk to me!"

Francois cast his eyes downward, "Alfred told me that you and I had been together."