"Are you incapable of love, Francis?"

The Frenchmen was shocked. Beyond shocked; flabbergasted. Appalled even! His boyfriend of 4 years, his beautiful young Mattieu, the Canadian angel, asked him such a question. And with such a serious face, too…

"Mattieu, of course I-" he started, but the younger man immediately interrupted him.

"I know you're perfectly capable of romance, of passion and lust…" he paused to look at the floor, before looking back into his lovers eyes. There was no telltale blush across his face. He was as serious as a funeral. "But are you capable of being in love,"

In love? Francis didn't have anything to say about that, not completely sure about what he meant.

Shifting in his seat on the couch at his lover's elegant home, the Canadian continued. "I know I'm in love with you Francis, but… I don't know if you feel the same." He said flatly. "The Francis I'm in love with is the one who shows up around his friends, or those cold nights where we just sit and watch a movie, holding each other." A blush crossed his face for the first time during those conversations. "Those… Those nights where we have sex, and it isn't just passion and lust and hormones; where you're gentle and you take your time. Most of the time you just rush as if your goal is to make me- uh- c-cum."

Finally speaking up for himself, Francis questioned, "I don't understand what you mean, mon cher."

With a sigh, Matthew looked to the floor. "Do you…" his voice hitched in his throat. Closing his eyes, he tried again. "Do you act very romantic, loving, uh, pardon me if this offends you, but when you act like a stereotypical French Casanova, do you do that, because you want to see me happy, to see me smile and show that you care for me, or do you do it because you feel it's your obligation?"

"Of course I do it because I want to see you-"

"Don't lie!" Matthew shouted, whipping his head up and burning his intense indigo eyes at the man he loves. He felt tears start to form in his eyes and he looked away just as quickly as he looked up. "Don't just say things you think you want me to hear."

The Canadian's words where cutting into Francis' heart and mind. It was getting him thinking about his actions and his reasons behind them. He immediately thought to last week, the last time they went out. Matthew was the normal, shy, beautiful person he always was. What brought all this on?

As if reading his mind, Matthew answered his unasked question. "I went out for dinner with Ludwig and Feliciano the other day." He started. "The way they acted was so…different from us. They truly love each other. Feliciano had acted so silly, trying so hard to made Ludwig smile. You've known him longer than I have, you know how hard that is. And Ludwig, he complied to every single immature demand Feliciano wanted, just so that he'd be happy. And… it got me thinking about you and me." By now, tears where falling down his porcelain face.

Before the older blonde could think of something to say, his boyfriend stood up from the couch, wiping the tears off his face, only for them to be replaced. "Mattieu…" Francis whispered.

Looking at the Frenchman one last time, his hair falling in front of his eyes, he said, his voice quivering so much, it was a wonder he could even speak, "I am in love with you Francis, but until you can say the same about me…" he paused to take a deep, shaking breath. "…Until you can say the same, we can't… We can't be together."

Turning on his heel, the Canadian left the house, waiting until the door was closed behind him before bursting into tears.

Francis looked at the closed doors, placing a hand over his heart which felt like it was tearing apart. He felt something wet drop onto his hand, and in seeing a drop of liquid, he reached up towards his face and felt warm tears pool out of his eyes.

Letting out a choked breath, he thought about what Matthew had said.

He thought long and hard, just thinking. For hours he sat on that couch, and every second of those ours the tears would not stop flowing.

Thinking now, a lot of the things he did because he felt like he had to. For example; sneaking over to the young man's home in the middle of the night after getting text messages saying 'I miss you. :(' to have sex. And show his passion for the Canadian whenever they where within a large group of friends.

But those nights Matthew talked about. Why did he act so differently then? Those where days where Matthew was incredibly depressed because of one reason or another. Those where days where they hadn't seen each other for over a week and just needed time together.

Those where days where they had thought, "Just us."

Maybe, the Frenchman came to a conclusion. Maybe his lover-… ex-lover was right.

Maybe he was incapable of being in love.

But his shattered heart disagreed tremendously.

Getting off the couch, not bothering to clean himself up to seem presentable to the rest of the world, Francis Bonnefoy grabbed his car and apartment keys and ran after his Matthew Williams.

To be continued?