Matthew stared out at the serene college, a slight smile tugging his lips upwards. The campus was every bit as beautiful as he had been told it would be, perhaps even better than he had thought when he heard about it's beautiful columns and large green dome. His only wish now was that his father could be here to see this beautiful college with him and to help him unpack his things into his brand new dorm room. However that would have been hard, nearly impossible actually. His father had been dead for hundreds of years.

No one would believe that such a shy, quiet college aged student could have such an interesting back story. But then again, quiet and shy personalities are usually a mask for interesting people with even more fascinating backstories…

Everything started when he was five years old, when his mother moved them to the outskirts of Montreal, in an old run-down brick house that needed serious help.

"MATTHEW! Move out of the way!"

"Sorry mama!"

The woman towering over the small child merely puffed on her cigarette and walked on, leaving a trail of smoke as Matthew went to explore his new room. It was small and run down, but as was the rest of the brick house. Thick cobwebs lined the corners of the room, the walls had cracks and even a hole in it from the flimsy plaster not being able to withstand...Whatever it was that caused the hole. The wall itself was a sickly looking yellow color that reminded Matthew more of a sick person's face than the wall in his new room. The outside was only a bit better, with it being a colonial era rich fur traders house, so the outside walls were made of rusty colored bricks, but that certainly didn't help the core of the house, namely Matthew's room.

Regardless of his rooms condition, Matthew started to diligently unpack his boxes, pulling out precious book after precious book and arranging them on the rickety grey wire bedside stand. Matthew drew out his beloved stuffed bear and held it close, soaking in the familiar scent of cheap detergent, at this point anything was better than the odd musk that clung to the walls of his own room. It was an easy task to set up his new room since aside from the books and clothes there was not much else left to unpack.

Once done with his task Matthew went in search of his mother, but as usual she had forgotten all about him and had probably gone off to buy dinner for herself, either that or more of those cigarettes that made Matthew cough.

Since this sort of behavior could only be expected out of his mother, Matthew merely went to the kitchen and set to work on making dinner by himself in the old kitchen that smelled of a different musk somehow, this one a bit more like...Dead, dried up lavender, like if someone had left a twenty cent car air freshener in the kitchen to mask the old house smell, which while it was a noble attempt,it obviously not good enough as it seemed that the lavender scent only worked in the kitchen.

The small child hummed to himself as he worked, skillfully working the microwave to make his typical dinner, a quick cup of mac and cheese. As he worked on pouring in the oddly bright orange cheese powder he felt a small tingle on his neck, something warning him that all was not right. That suspicion was made true as a strongly French accented voice spoke up from the air behind him.

"What is that?! This is no meal for a growing boy! I have to wonder where his parents are…"

Matthews hands stiffened up as he dropped his dinner, scalding his bare feet with the boiling water and noodles. He trembled as he scanned the room for the source of the voice. Matthew hastily ran his t-shirt over his glasses lenses to clear them of the dust that hung heavily in the house and peered around again, speaking meekly.

"H-hello?...W-who's there?"

Matthew saw nothing, but sure enough the voice spoke up again, sounding just as surprised as Matthew was scared.

"You can hear me?...This is wonderful! Oh, I need to appear then…Now don't be startled, d'accord?"

Matthew nodded numbly as the dust hanging in the air swirled before him before solidifying into the shape of a man in an extremely old uniform; Matthew almost recognized it from staring at history books, the coat was a bright white with blue lining parts of it, and the stranger wore an odd hat with three sides, like a triangle. The figure was a tall man with long blond hair tucked back with a red ribbon, and he sported a wide smile.

"Bonjour! Now then, what is your name, how can you see me, but most importantly, where are your parents little one?"

Matthew stared in shock and gathered his breath, speaking so softly he almost couldn't hear his own voice which eventually just trailed off into a mute whisper.

"My name is Matthew…I don't know how I can see you and…She left….I only have a mom."

The man before him frowned for a moment before kneeling down to his level.

"I am sorry Matthew, but I did not hear that last part. Could you repeat that for me?"

This was such a shock for Matthew that he didn't know how to react. Never once had anyone cared enough about what he had to say that they actually took the time to ask him to repeat it when they misheard, which was often due to his soft spoken nature. As of right now though there was also the small fact that this was obviously a ghost who had just appeared out of nowhere in his kitchen, which would make anyone tongue tied. When Matthew tried to speak again he kept on getting caught on the words, this making him panic even more because surely this stranger wouldn't wait long enough for him to calm down and say it!

Except he did. The stranger smiled kindly and urged him on.

"It is alright, it's alright, take your time little one, I know it must be a shock for you to see me, it's alright."

This soothing narrative continued on until he was finally able to repeat his statement. The stranger frowned at just what he had to say.

"Your mother left you here alone, without even making dinner?"

Matthew merely shrugged, too shocked to really comment on anything else at this point, why should his mother leaving seem odd when a ghost had just appeared in his kitchen?!

"She always does that, I usually just make dinner myself….She….. works a lot."

"But you can't make a proper dinner! I don't know what you were making but that is not a proper dinner for a growing young boy! Dieu I wish I could speak to your mother!

The stranger sat down and sighed, his hands making the motion of adjusting the ribbon in his hair with a peeved expression. Matthew sat beside him and stared as the ghosts hands went through his misty hair, the light making it even more thinner than when he stood in a shadow, he knew it was rude to stare but he couldn't help himself.

"At any rate…My name is Francis Bonnefoy, but you may call me Francis. Oui I am dead but non, I will not hurt you. D'accord?"

Matthew nodded a bit bewildered but attempting to be polite to mask how he had just then been watching a particularly large piece of hair float straight through the man's chest.

"Bien! Now then, first things first! You will need a proper dinner and I will help you make one!"

Francis led him to the cabinets smiling and spoke as he pointed out ingredients, which Matthew fetched considering how his original supper was on the floor now anyway, he'd have to clean that up later.

"Now Matthew, a bit about me! Excuse me if I seem excited but I have not talked to a human in…A few hundred years?...Hmm, Perhaps it was few decades...If you count scaring an elderly women...Not that I tried to scare her!"

Francis shrugged, pointed out another ingredient that Matthew had forgotten and continued on with his narrative.

" At any rate I have been "tethered" to this house for many years, since the Seven years' war or as some call, the French and Indian war. But really tethered is such a strong word, I can move around a bit, but really only when I'm determined, besides I prefer this house anyway, it's usually calm….At any rate I was killed at the fall of Montreal and I have been here ever since. I have learned from the people that have lived in this house, so I can teach you how to work the stove so you don't have to eat any more of that horrid orange stuff. However, no one has ever been able to see me… You must be a very special boy Matthew."

Matthews's response was almost immediate, just like telling lies about his mother working. Truth was he had no idea where she was, but she told him she was working so that's the lie he spread for her.

"I'm not."

Francis seemed taken aback, either by such a quick answer or by Matthews words.

"But…You are Matthew. No one has ever been able to see me, that makes you very special."

Matthew mulled this new information over for a moment, no one else seemed to think that Matthew was very special but then again, none of them had the years and experience that Francis did…After all, weren't the people with the most years supposed to be the wisest?

"….You think so?"

"I know so Matthew."

Matthew thought about this and soon, a small smile graced his face.

"Ok…"

That afternoon they made pancakes and the easy breakfast items became a quick favorite of Matthews. Later during that week, Francis at first only appeared when Matthew needed him most, then slowly, he began to appear more and more until he was with him for most of the next week.

It took Matthew a while to figure the odd French soldier out, but once he did he figured something else out as well...Francis was one and only guardian. He was the one who made sure he was eating healthy, he was the one who told him to go find some new clothes when Matthew's began to wear out or helped him learn to sew up holes, and told him stories at night to help him fall asleep and taught him lessons about Francis's era. He actually cared, and he was there when his mother wasn't for those long weeks leading up to winter, winter break and Matthew's birthday.

A blizzard raged outside the Montreal home and Matthew, still only five years old, and he was alone. Well that is, except for a ghost.

"Une, deux, trois. Say that for me Matthew."

Matthew repeated the words back carefully, making the ghostly soldier break into a wide smile.

"Bien! Très bien!"

Francis smiled thoughtfully, looking like he was peering into the future itself, he thoughtfully rubbed his chin, even though his hand went through it.

"Soon I will have you speaking French fluently, and then you can woo all the young ladies!...N-not now of course mon petit."

"Why would I want to "woo" a girl?"

The word itself felt odd to say, but Francis chuckled a bit awkwardly and through that Matthew knew he was in for a story.

"If you can woo a young lady, when you are older of course, but if you can then you will have and give love…Do you understand?"

Matthew shook his head mutely, not a lot of kids spoke to him, but much less girls. He really didn't know much about them outside of what he had seen in movies, tv shows and from observing the kids at school.

"Well…It's a bit like this…When I was fighting; I fell in love with a young woman, it for her that I survived so long. However, I did not manage to survive long enough…"

He shook his head and stood up, his haste floating him up a few inches.

"Let's go bake something; your cooking lessons are not going to stop just because of a storm!"

With that Francis floated straight through the wall, leaving Matthew to catch up and wonder. Why bring this up if he was only going to bolt off? Adults were odd, even if they were dead.

In Matthew's early childhood birthdays were nothing truly special since his mother typically worked as much as possible, she was trying to get away from him most of the time. At any rate, usually Matthew would wake up to a "from the box" cupcake, a book on his bedside table, and that was the end of that years birthday. Matthew honestly didn't know why his mother bothered so much, he could only guess that she felt that the small cupcake and book made up for the rest of the year.

This years birthday though, things would be different, Francis had promised him that but Matthew didn't get his hopes up. For one he didn't want to act selfish, and for another there wasn't much that France could do since he was well...Dead...So at any rate, Matthew didn't want to show any disappointment, and handling disappointment was easier when there was no hope to begin with. At least that's how he saw it.

That morning when he woke up he got found the typical chocolate cupcake on his bedside table and this years book was about geckos. Matthew set this aside in his small bookshelf and took the cupcake with him into the kitchen. The house was still and icy, his toes froze on the way to the kitchen. Outside it was snowing heavily, it was just as graceful as usual and Matthew watched it, hypnotized for a moment before thirst drove him to the fridge to get milk for his cupcake.

Matthew had just gotten the milk bag out of the fridge and when he turned around there was Francis, looking with utter disdain at the cupcake.

"...What is this?"

Well it was obviously a cupcake but that didn't seem to be the answer that Francis was looking for.

"...It's a cupcake...From my mom, she always does this for my birthday."

Francis continued to glower at the cupcake before taking his transparent hand and swiping it forcefully through the cupcake a few times, obviously wishing to swipe it off the table and out of the house if at all possible but the cupcake didn't budge and so he sighed and turned to Matthew.

"What else did your mother leave you mon petit?"

"...A book about geckos."

"Is that all?"

For some reason, it was odd that someone was questioning this. For Matthew, this was just a simple fact of life. Of course he knew that other children had much grander birthdays but not him. That's just how it was.

"Yes that's all…Are you ok? I mean it really is a nice book….."

"Oui, I am fine Matthew…"

Francis certainly didn't sound fine, in fact he sounded angry but Matthew knew him long enough to know that the anger was not directed towards him...He hoped.

Almost as if he could read minds Francis suddenly flashed Matthew a wide smile that set any fears Matthew had at ease immediately.

"Don't worry mon petit, I will not allow this to ruin our day, d'accord?"

"D'accord!"

Matthew got himself a glass of milk while Francis stared at the cupcake for a while longer before forcing himself away from it and humming softly.

"So what's for breakfast?"

The humming was stopped abruptly by the quick diversion, soon Francis seemed to have forgotten the cupcake as he clapped his hands together as he always did when excited. This could only mean that Matthew would be learning a brand new recipe today.

"Something special for your birthday! Now then.."

Francis began to rattle off a list of ingredients, Matthew was scurrying around to get them all as it was an extensive list, longer than anything they had ever attempted before. Flour, sugar, cocoa powder, oil, eggs, and more were all piled onto the table quickly until he hurried back to the cabinet for more.

"What are we making?"

The ghost merely winked and kept on rattling off ingredients until he paused, surveyed the table critically, and finally nodded his satisfaction.

"That should be all of it..Now then, let us start simple."

Under the careful supervision of Francis, Matthew measured ingredients, beat them all together and then filled the mixture into a circular pan…

Matthew couldn't help but to gasp with his realization.

"We're making cake!"

"Oui, we are. A real cake at that...At any rate, I wish that I could have made it for you but...Well we both know why that couldn't work."

Francis shrugged his shoulders but Matthew was still in awe. A real birthday cake...A real birthday cake...If Matthew could have hugged Francis, he would have.

"No it's ok! I like it this way! I got to learn a new recipe, plus it was fun!"

"I'm glad that you think so Matthew...I'm very glad you think so...Now, if you wish to eat this cake you must put it into the oven."

"Oh! Right! Sorry!"

Matthew quickly took the circular pans and placed them gently within the oven, he pushed the door up and promptly plopped down in front of the glass oven door. With the light on inside the oven he could watch his cake slowly rise within. Francis seemed just about to say something but he simply closed his mouth and joined Matthew on the cold floor, hovering a few inches off of it. Matthew stared into the oven and for what seemed like forever, nothing happened. Then, finally, he saw miniscule motion within. The cake was ever so slowly creeping to the tip of the pan.

It was working!

After a good thirty minutes the cake had swelled to the tip of the pan and the delicious smell of chocolate had wafted towards him. Just when the suspense got to be unbearable, Francis spoke.

"Let us check your cake Matthew."

A small toothpick was hastily retrieved and Matthew opened the oven door, letting the heat and scent of warm chocolate cake hit him for a second before checking it. This toothpick came out with dough, and so the door was closed and they waited some more. For a second and third time this process was painfully repeated until finally, on the fourth test the cake was declared to be perfect.

Matthew took the pipping hot cake out of the oven carefully and set it upon the counter. He basked in it's glory for a moment before tearing himself away to make the frosting.

"Alright now mon petit, what flavor icing do you want? I know how to make vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, maple-"

"Maple!...Please!"

"...Are you sure? On chocolate cake Matthew?"

"Yes please!"

Just the thought of his absolute favorite syrup being on his birthday cake made him break into a warm smile, he started to twist on his feet excitedly.

" D'accord, d'accord! Well if it makes you so happy, then absolutely we will make maple icing!...On chocolate cake."

He truly didn't understand Francis's hesitation, maple syrup was great on everything! Matthew had once even put some on a baked potato when they didn't have any butter, and he thought it was great! How Francis felt about it he didn't say anything more on it, instead he showed Matthew how to make the frosting, helping him to get just the right amount of flavoring, powdered sugar and butter to make the perfect maple frosting. Then, came the fun part, frosting the cake, he was so close to having a birthday cake!

"So Matthew you will want to spread it out evenly on the cake...No, that's alright just...D'accord that's….this is fine mon petit…"

Matthew was slathering icing all over the cake but no matter what he did, he could not make the cake look like those that sat in bakery shop windows. Instead his creation looked...Well, messy.

"It really isn't bad Mathew, you're doing quite good for your age, truly!"

His cake looked like a horrible, sloppy mess...But still, it was his cake...His first ever real birthday cake, and so he was determined to not allow this to bring him down, besides all that truly mattered was the taste anyway, who cared if it was a hideous blob? Once he was done trying to rescue his cakes appearance (one last vain attempt), Matthew grabbed a plate and fork and sat at the table. Francis sat across from him, his hand twitching beside the cupcake that his mother had left him, he finally turned slightly so as to not have to see it.

"Go on Matthew, try your cake!"

For a moment, he couldn't. As ridiculous as it felt, he almost didn't want to eat his cake because when he did, nothing would remain of his first birthday cake...However, when he leaned in a little closer the maple icing scent hit him and this sentimental feeling was crushed as he grabbed a thick slice of cake and ate it rapidly.

The taste was astounding, the perfect combination of maple and chocolate. Once he had finished his first slice, he grabbed another and actually slowed down long enough to allow himself to savor the taste. Just as he was going in for a third slice he caught sight of Francis's amused expression and a strange feeling of disappointment hit him.

"Are you sure that you can't try any? You helped me after all!"

"Ah, I am sure Matthew but thank you...Sadly I can not touch anything, unless I am extremely angry and you do not wish to see that."

This was certainly something new. For as long as he had known "Francis the ghost" he had not been able to touch anything, even when "sitting" he was really just floating above the chair to give the illusion of sitting. The thought of Francis actually being able to touch something was honestly shocking, and it filled him with curiosity.

"But...Then you could help me with the food next time!...How angry?"

"Extremely angry, I never wish for you to see me in that state...It is not something I would wish for anyone to see."

"But-"

"Please Matthew, I am alright truly. You must enjoy your cake for yourself."

Francis stood and walked through the wall, leaving Matthew to his cake. Matthew had learned when to be quiet and so he said nothing to him and instead ate his third piece of cake, enjoying it immensely even after the odd conversation. With three slices gone from the cake it was still rather large and Matthew could feel his stomach bulge already. He knew that if the cake was left on it's own, his mother would surely eat it for herself, or worse, wonder how he had made it in the first place and how was he going to explain how he knew the recipe? A decision had to be made, and he made it fairly swiftly. He would finish the cake by himself, before his mother could get to it.

By the time Francis had returned over half the cake had disappeared into Matthew stomach.

"Mon petit you are going to be sick if you eat that much cake!"

Ok, so while that might not have been the best idea it felt so good to know that this was something his mother wouldn't find, this was all his own.

"I'm sorry."

A low sigh came from Francis as he sat down in the chair in front of Matthew.

"You do not have to apologize but just be careful to not eat too much more."

By the end of that night when his mother came home the cake was gone, and by midnight Matthew was sick in the bathroom.

It was worth it.