A/N I love the reactions I got on the latest chapters~ x3 and 1silentmouse; you tell me so many things I haven't even thought about, and it makes me realise stuff and write even better stuff 8D So thank you~ Of course I want to thank DeiDeiArtist, Jetfires girl and Aloxela for all the happy reviews and stuff, you guys make my days ;w; I hope you'll like the rest too~ I'm running out of before-written-chapters, so if you want any other nation(s) appearing or just some place you want to read about, tell me. 'cause I'd gladly do something that you want me to do~ (Aaaaand I'm running out of ideas kinda xD) So yes, enjoy chapter 7~!

Chapter 7

"Mon dieu…" Francis tries to sit up, but the heaviness in his head forces him to lie back down again. "What did I do…?"

He can't even remember go to bed. The last thing he remembers is when Gilbert left; he got caught up in thoughts. Awful thoughts, that if he got together with Matthew his beloved little Mathieu would forget his old papa and never talk to him again, and Francis didn't even know if he'd want to talk to Matthew if the only thing he'd talk about was his happiness with Gilbert. He couldn't stand the thought of Matthew always ranting on and on about him and Gilbert, even though Francis had his own relationship, it wasn't something he wanted to listen on. He loved to hear about love, but he didn't want to hear about Matthew's. Something broke his heart whenever he thought about his little Mathieu smiling happily and love-struck and sit with Gilbert's arm around his shoulders or waist.

And to forget those thoughts, he got his wine. And not just one bottle of a couple of glass, oh no. He drank three bottles. And a dozen beers. Any normal human being would be dead by now he guessed. It was no healthy amount he had drunk.

"You were piss drunk."

Francis looks up at the opening door and notices a familiar blond stand in the doorway with two plates with tea in his hands.

"Why did you drink so much?" He asks with a frown on his face, he walks over to the bed and sits down.

"I don't know…" Francis sits up and reaches for the tea. "I was lonely I guess."

"Why didn't you call me?" Arthur continues to look at him stubbornly when he sips his tea and leans against the pillows.

"I didn't want to worry you."

Francis knows he's lying. He didn't even consider calling Arthur yesterday, because he knew that'd only make it worse. Arthur was the one taking his Mathieu from the beginning, and he would only feel more angry and miserable if he talked to him yesterday.

Arthur sighs and puts the tea on the nightstand, leaning dangerously close to Francis. He lifts his hands and puts them on his boyfriend's cheeks.

"You don't realize it, do you…" he mumbles without breaking eye contact.

"W-wha…"

"I'm worrying, Francis. You've been acting strange; you're not the man I fell in love with anymore. I don't recognize you anymore. I don't know who you are Francis… If our relationship changes you so much… maybe we should break up?"

Francis' eye widens and he leans forward so sudden that he causes Arthur to yelp and fall backwards. He pins the Brit under him with a strong grip on his wrists, and he looks at him in fear. No. He can't lose Arthur. What would he do if he loses Arthur? He is the only thing keeping him up, the only thing keeping him in reality when he has lost himself in the past. He does love Arthur, he really does. He's just confused, yeah, that's it. He's confused. He laughs nervously as he notes his lover goes blurry and he can feel the tears slip out. He can't picture a life without him, without falling asleep next to him, or their strange morning rituals. He can't picture a life without Arthur loving him.

He sobs and leans down to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, Arthur tries to say something but stumble on his words.

"I'm sorry…" Francis whispers between sobs. "I'm so, so sorry… I love you Arthur… Please, I need you… Don't leave me…"

"I won't" Arthur finally breaks free from Francis grip and wraps his arms around Francis, holding him close to himself. "I won't, I won't leave you. I love you too, Francis. I really, really love you."

Francis hugs Arthurs tighter, scared of what he'll do if he lets go. It scares him; it scares him really much to be alone. Every day he wakes up in an empty bed in an empty house he's scared. Ever since he started dating Arthur, that scare faded away, and now it strikes him worse than ever. And it doesn't make it a bit better that Arthur stands before him and tells him he loves him, what will he do if he finds out what feelings Francis are feeling? What will happen then?

"Stop thinking, Francis…" Arthur suddenly whispers, and Francis freezes in his grip. "It's only making it worse."

Francis buried his head in Arthur's shirt, letting out his thoughts together with his tears. What would he do without Arthur?