A Letter - FrUK

Dear Stupid Frog,
I hate you. I hate everything about you.
You're a bloody pervert. You know just the right spots to make me moan louder.
Just because I'm bad at cooking, doesn't mean you make good food. So stop waking up extra-early on Sunday to make me my favourite breakfast. Even if it is one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted.
You're such a pansy. If we fight about something, you always end up backing off, even if we both know you're right, just so that I don't look stupid or anything.
You're weak, but you protect me anyway. That one day in the park, yeah, don't think I forgot. I remember how that guy tried to kidnap me when I fell asleep and you walked off to the bathroom for a little bit. You don't know how to fight. Yet you tried to beat him up, and you ended up getting beat up anyway, just for me.
You're a stupid hopeless romantic. Every day, you write a new romantic thing on the dumb whiteboard in my favourite colour of pen.
You don't stop saying things in French. You're always calling me your petit lapin or cher. Every day, you say "Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi." I don't even know what the hell that means and you refuse to tell me. Every time I ask and start blushing, you just say "Tu es très mignon, et cette nuance de rose sur tes joues complimente tes yeux." It's not like I took days to memorise what you said, and then look it up to translate it into English. I'm not just asking you every day so that one day you'll say it in English so I don't have to pretend to not know anymore.
You're too gentle. Especially in bed. You never go so fast that I get hurt, yet you go fast enough that I feel pleasured. Even if you're on the edge and about to spill, you always wait for me. You know every little detail about everything that makes me feel good. Hell, you probably know my body better than I do. I hate when you wrap your arms around me, holding me close in your warm embrace.
I hate the way you make me blush.
I hate the way you make me smile.
I hate the way you make me feel loved.
I hate the way you make me FEEL love.
I hate the way you MAKE love.
I hate it when you cry.
I hate your stupid smile. I hate your dumb laugh. I hate when you tell me something dumb that makes me end up laughing anyway. I hate when you make me smile.
I hate how you kiss, how you always claim my lips with yours, gently slipping your tongue in and always winning the battle for dominance that ensues.
I hate how you shower me with gifts, I hate how you cheer me up when I'm feeling my saddest. I hate when I insult you, and you laugh it off but are frowning on the inside. I hate how you always come back to me. I hate how forgiving you are.
I hate it when you treat me like the most delicate rose you have ever seen.
...
Who am I kidding?
I love you, Francis.
~Arthur ♥

P.S. - I really do hate when you cry. Especially if it was my fault. I hate knowing that I hurt you.
P.P.S. - If anyone finds out about this, I'll forget anything good between us and I'll cut your throat open and leave you to die. I do love you, but I still have a reputation, you know.