Can’t be put back together
can’t be put back together
The floor under him was hard and cold. He could barely move. His body hurt everywhere. A soft whimper escaped his bruised lips. His throat was dry. His left arm was twisted at a weird angle under his body. His fingers were numb, but he didn't know if it were because of the cold or because of the weight stopping the blood flow. Painfully, his eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Blurriness welcomed him. Some colors mixed together that he couldn't distinct. He blinked, violet eyes trying to focus. After a moment, he realized that his glasses weren't on his face. Deep down inside though, he knew that his bad eyesight wasn't the only reason why everything appeared fuzzy. How his head ached.
Contrary to what he had hoped, he remembered what had happened twelve hours ago. The memories were burned inside his brain and bruised on his body. His vision blurred even more. Hot water welled from his eyes, rolling down his already moist cheeks and crashing on the carpet below him. Even crying hurt. Slowly, every so slowly, his right hand found its way to his face. His fingers shook as he felt the damage there. The skin was broken and sticky around the cut. Blood. He winced. His hand dropped back to the floor. Lifting it was too hard.
He knew he had to get up. He couldn't stay curled there forever, even if it were what he wanted to do. But it wasn't what he wanted the most. He wanted the pain to go away. The memories to go away. But both of them had will of iron. They would go away whenever they pleased, and it wasn't soon. He knew though that he somehow managed to crawl to the bathroom, there'd be something there to help the pain, if not completely disappear, to be at least bearable. But, oh, how far was the bathroom. If he narrowed his eyes, he could make out the shape of the door. Painkillers would be there... he knew it. He remembered taking some for a small headache yesterday morning and leaving the white and red bottle on the counter. But the darn thing could be on Mars, it wouldn't seem farther to him. He sighed. His chest hurt.
What time was it? From his angle on the floor, he couldn't see his alarm clock on the bedside table. His shattered cellphone lay a bit everywhere around the room. The thick curtains were closed and no light seemed to filter through them. But it couldn't be night already. He felt it wasn't. Whatever. The time of the day didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was the get up, crawl to the blessed painkiller, swallow a handful, take a shower then maybe sleep for a month or two. Seemed like a good plan. The sad thing was that he couldn't even get through with phase one of it.
A knock sounded against the door. He jumped, then groaned because of the pain. He bit his lip. No, he shouldn't make any noise. Nobody could know that he was in his room. He didn't want anybody to see him in this pitiful state. And what if... what if it were one of them? Or both of them?! Tears started to fall again, tears of pure terror. Was the door locked? Yes, it locked automatically but it would be useless because one of them had the spare key card. His breath caught in his raw throat. His lip was bleeding again. The coppery taste on his tongue made him want to throw up.
''What the hell are you doing, kid? Why weren't you at the meeting?'' That voice. Violet eyes shot open wide. No no no no! This was a nightmare! This couldn't be! Why him?! Why now?!
I've wanted him for so long, but now I want him to go away...! He can't see me like that! He thought frantically. Drawing from some unknown source of strength inside him, he managed to sit up. The room span around him. He wanted to vomit, but forced himself to took a deep breath instead. Blood and other bodily fluids stained the beige carpet. It was ruined forever. He didn't dwell on that, though. His eyes rested on the door. He knew who was on the other inside, waiting in the hallway. Klaas. Oh how he wanted to run to him, cry in his arms, feel somewhat safe again. He wanted someone to tell him that everything would be alright, that nobody would hurt him again. But he couldn't even get up. He didn't want to get up. Because what would his secret crush think if he saw him like that? Bloodied, dirtied, sullied.
''Fine,'' came the voice from the hallway, sounding a bit annoyed. ''You'll just have to show me around Ottawa another time then.''
The footsteps faded away. He didn't know if he should be relieved or distressed. He fell back on the floor, too tired to sit up properly. His body cried in agony. Tired, so tired. Transparent eyelashes fluttered closed over misty purple eyes. And with the sleep came the dreams.
~Twelve hours earlier~
If Matthew hated World Meetings, he loathed with passion the free time he had after World Meetings. Especially when they were hosted in his capital city, Ottawa. When they took place in another country, he didn't feel obliged to be present once the meeting was over. He'd simply slip away to go back to his hotel room where he could read or watch television without being bothered by anyone. But when the meetings took place in Canada, he felt like it was his duty to be among his peers when they went out drinking. Conferences were usually a stressful event for most nations; not because matters of importance were discussed, but because nothing of importance was discussed. Meetings were a contest for getting attention, a moment to gossip and see which nation was talking to which other nation. So when the chairman decided the meeting was over, all nations would rush to the door to escape the stuffy room. Most of them would then go out in bars or clubs or restaurants so they could catch up with friends.
But Matthew didn't like to hang out with his friends. Mostly because he didn't really have any friends. Oh, he had his family, Alejandro, Marie and her handsome brother and some of the Scandinavian countries were nice to him, but they weren't what he'd call friends. They were more like acquaintances. And he didn't want to bother them. So that was why, right now, he was sitting by his lonesome in a bar where Alfred had insisted they should go. Why? Because he wanted to watch the football game. Some other nations chose to go their separate way, but most of them had somehow drifted here.
From his place in a dark corner, the Canadian could watch the other patrons without being noticed. On the table in front of him stood a half empty mug of beer. He had sipped it from time to time even though it tasted like cold piss. He felt it would have been rude to sit in a bar without ordering anything so he had ordered beer. Now, he could watch the other nations since he had nothing better to do. Football sucked in his opinion and the crowd was so loud that he couldn't even hear the television anyway.
Sitting right in front of the television, drinking from huge mugs of beer, were Alfred Jones and his sidekick, Dan. They were watching the match with attention, their eyes leaving the screen only during commercials. With their loud shouts, they attracted attention from almost everybody in the place. The barmaid, a pretty girl with dark hair, leaned on the table beside the American, her right arm pushed up under her breasts to show her impressive cleavage. All the women seemed attracted to Alfred like some magnets to metal. But who could blame them? He had the look of an Hollywoodian actor with his sky blue eyes, blond hair and award-winning smile. Dan also got a lot of attention too. He wasn't as handsome as his brother, but he had a lot of charisma. His tanned skin, dark brown eyes and messy hair gave him a rough look that begged for womanly attention. Which he got and loved.
Matthew was proud of his brothers. Well, most of the time. They usually were quite annoying, especially when they were together. Alfred was the mastermind while Dan was the sidekick. In their trio, Matthew was the annoying brother in the middle that always told them to be careful and to act more like adults. They used to be very close, especially when they had been younger and still living under Arthur's care. For the past years though, the Canadian had been left out more and more. He didn't fit. He wasn't handsome or funny and didn't have a devil-may-care attitude. He didn't like being the center of attention and, probably what had made them reject him in the first place, he didn't snort coke. Oh how Matthew hated it when they decided to sniff that awful white powder. They weren't humans so it couldn't destroy them, but he was sure it could still hurt them. He had voiced his concerns, once. But they hadn't listened, because Matthew knew nothing and was boring. While Alfred was an adult and his big brother, Matthew felt like it wasn't his business, but Dan was only seventeen and way too easily influenced. For him, Alfred could never be wrong. He was his hero. So he took after some bad habits of his big brother.
The blond missed all the time he had spent with his brothers, but knew things could never be back the way they were before. To be honest, he sometimes preferred not to be associated with them because of their bad habits.
He sighed. Oh god, he was getting all depressed again. He wanted to go back to his hotel room to sleep until the conference next morning. Only one day left and it would be over, finally. And after the meeting... Matthew's face turned red. His violet eyes scanned the room for a certain someone. He found him with his two sisters, looking awfully annoyed. Klaas Van Rijn. Matthew sighed at the mere thought of the man. He was so in love with the Dutchman, it was almost pathetic. They had talked only a few times, but those few times had been enough to make him fall for the grumpy man. He had never told Klaas about his feelings, but he was very sure the man knew anyway. Matthew sucked at hiding what he felt. Anybody could read him like an open book. And yesterday, overcoming his crippling shyness, he had managed to offer his crush a guided visit of Ottawa. The Dutchman had scowled before accepting. The blond was sure that his two little sisters, Marie and Justine, would be there, but he didn't mind. Things probably would be awkward anyway between the two men.
Thinking about his upcoming time with the man, Matthew brightened a little bit. Things weren't that bad after all. He simply had to finish his mug, go to bed, survive to the meeting then he could make a fool of himself by blushing and stuttering in front of the Dutchman. Right.
''Hey Mattie!'' Startled out of his daydreaming, Matthew looked up. Standing beside his table was Dan, grinning. Alfred stood behind him, arms crossed. His blue eyes were a shade darker than usual which usually meant he had drug in his blood.
''We're heading back to the hotel. Wanna walk with us?'' The Australian said, still smiling that goofy grin.
At first, Matthew couldn't believe his ears. What. His brothers had thought about him? That was quite unusual. But then again, maybe they simply didn't know the way back to the hotel... Whatever the reason though, he accepted the offer. As soon as he was up, Dan threw one strong arm around his shoulders, almost hugging him. Matthew blushed, not used to such physical contacts.
The walk to the hotel was spend mostly in silence. Alfred walked behind Matthew and Dan, brooding over something. He hadn't opened his mouth once since they had left the bar and Matthew wondered if he were alright. He didn't dare to ask, though. With coke running through his system, Alfred turned from bright to pissed off. The Canadian wondered if Dan had sniffed too. Probably, but his mood didn't change so it was hard to tell.
Once they were in the lobby, Matthew expected his brothers to go on their way. They weren't lodged on the same side, which meant they couldn't use the same elevator. When he explained that, Alfred simply shrugged, saying that he wanted to walk his little brother to his room. That comment sounded odd, but the Canadian wouldn't complain. Even if his brothers were sometimes annoying, he loved to spend time with them. No matter what they did, they were still brothers.
Matthew's room was on the twelfth floor at the end of the hallway. Since it was getting pretty late, they were the only ones wandering the halls. The Canadian was actually quite glad for the company of his brothers. He didn't like to walk by himself after nightfall.
As they reached his door, Alfred walked passed him and used his spare key card to unlock it. Matthew opened his mouth to say that he really didn't have to be this courteous when Dan pushed him quite hard. He tumbled forward and would have sprawled gracelessly on the floor if Alfred hadn't caught him. Blushing, the Canadian stammered an excuse, feeling quite foolish even though he hadn't tripped by himself. As he was about to give his younger brother a piece of his mind, Dan closed the door behind him.
The room plunged into darkness. Nothing could be heard beside the breathing of the three people. Matthew's chest tightened. What the hell was going on? Anxiety started to take hold of him. He felt a hand in his hair, then his head was yanked backward. He yelped in pain.
''Shut up.'' Alfred's cold voice crashed like a whip on Matthew. He stopped struggling to get his hair free. He could barely breath, fear gripping his throat tight.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness in the room, shapes started to appear in the background. The bed, the dresser, a desk, the outlines of a window, the door leading to the bathroom. He could also see Alfred's face instead of just his silhouette. Alfred's blue eyes shone in the dark with something Matthew didn't understand. Hatred? Repulsion? Whatever it was, it made him shiver. The hand gripping his hair, Dan's hand he realized, tightened a bit. His scalp burn, but he didn't dare to complain. Alfred took a step forward, and by reflex, Matthew tried to back away, only to find himself pressed against the Australian's body. He was now trapped between his two brothers. He could barely breath, could barely think.
Without breaking eye contact with the Canadian, Alfred let one of his hand rest on Matthew's hip. The boy blushed and thought for a second that he was being groped when he realized that the hand wasn't groping him but searching the pockets of his pants. Alfred's fingers closed on Matthew's cellphone, which he took out of the pocket. Looking at it with disinterest, he threw the device through the room. It shattered against the far wall, next to the bed. Matthew's heart sank. He probably would have crumbled to the floor with fear if that hadn't meant getting his hair teared out.
''W-what...'' he managed to stutter, only to get a slap in the face. His glasses fell on the ground by his foot. Pain bloomed in his left cheek and the blow left him feeling stunned. This time, he couldn't stop the tears forming in his eyes. Why was Alfred doing this?! And why was Dan siding with him?! Matthew moved his head as much as he could to glance above his shoulder at his younger brother. Seeking help, seeking answers. One came, but not the one he wanted.
''I'm getting tired of you patronizing me.'' Alfred announced. Matthew's eyes wandered back to rest on his older brother. He didn't understand!
''I-I... I don't understand...'' He admitted, fearing another blow. Behind him, Dan chuckled.
''Of course you don't. You never understand anything.'' The American sneered. ''You think you understand, but you don't. Then you try to act smart toward me, telling me how I should do things as if your opinion mattered, as if you knew better than me.''
Matthew thought he started to understand. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had never pretended to be smarter than his brother, nor smarter than anyone else. He gave his opinion to Alfred sometimes, suggesting him new ideas. But it was always to help. He didn't do that to order Alfred around. But it seemed that receiving advices dealt a blow to Alfred's pride.
''I don't...'' The Canadian started and this time, the slap he received was hard enough to break the skin. Blood dribbled down from the cut on his cheekbone to his lips. He could taste it, mixed with the salt of his tears. He bit back a sob. Alfred grabbed his chin roughly and tilted his head up. The height difference between the two brothers wasn't much --two or three inches-- but it was enough for the American to tower over him. Matthew forced himself to look into Alfred's eyes. Please don't hurt me, his eyes pleaded silently, for whatever I've done, I'm sorry. But it was the worst thing he could have done. Alfred's face twisted in disgust.
''You're so fucking weak. I'm ashamed to be your brother.'' This hurt Matthew more than Alfred could have ever imagined. Matthew had always looked up at his brother, always wanted to be like him, always wanted to help, always wanted to make him proud. It didn't work. Alfred was ashamed of him. Another slap wouldn't have hurt more.
''Do you hate me too...?'' Matthew asked in a small voice to his younger brother. He feared the answer. He had always been a bit more bossy toward the Australian because he was younger. What if he took it the wrong way too? What if he didn't understand that Matthew hadn't acted this way to patronized him but simply to help him?
''Of course I don't!'' Came the cheerful reply. Dan finally let go of Matthew's hair, a few blond strands still sticking to his fingers. He grinned at his brother's baffled expression.
''But you know...'' Dan added, his expression now grim. ''I've kinda always had a crush on you. You just never noticed because you were too busy ogling Al, weren't you.''
This caught Matthew totally off guard. His eyes widened. For a moment, he had to wonder if he had heard right. But Dan's quite serious expression told him he had heard right the first time. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe that. Or was it just a cruel joke? This had to be a joke. In any other situation, Matthew would have blushed and, to be honest, would have been flattered that someone had feelings for him. It was something he had so far thought impossible. At this moment however, this revelation scared him more than anything. Yes, Dan had declared his feelings, but he had also said in a reproachful tone that Matthew preferred Alfred.
''I-it's not true...'' The Canadian muttered, looking down at the floor. He didn't know what else to say. Something told him that whatever he could say wouldn't be the right thing.
His younger brother rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something when Alfred stepped in, looking annoyed. ''Enough of that. We don't have time for this useless chitchat. Stop wasting time or I'm outta here.''
Matthew gulped before taking a step backward. His brothers were busy arguing among themselves so maybe he could use this opportunity to escape. He took another step back, holding his breath. Reaching behind him, his fingers finally managed to touch the cold metal of the doorknob. Almost there. With a twist of his wrist, the door opened. His heart nearly burst with relief.
The floor under him was hard and cold. He could barely move. His body hurt everywhere. A soft whimper escaped his bruised lips. His throat was dry. His left arm was twisted at a weird angle under his body. His fingers were numb, but he didn't know if it were because of the cold or because of the weight stopping the blood flow. Painfully, his eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Blurriness welcomed him. Some colors mixed together that he couldn't distinct. He blinked, violet eyes trying to focus. After a moment, he realized that his glasses weren't on his face. Deep down inside though, he knew that his bad eyesight wasn't the only reason why everything appeared fuzzy. How his head ached.
Contrary to what he had hoped, he remembered what had happened twelve hours ago. The memories were burned inside his brain and bruised on his body. His vision blurred even more. Hot water welled from his eyes, rolling down his already moist cheeks and crashing on the carpet below him. Even crying hurt. Slowly, every so slowly, his right hand found its way to his face. His fingers shook as he felt the damage there. The skin was broken and sticky around the cut. Blood. He winced. His hand dropped back to the floor. Lifting it was too hard.
He knew he had to get up. He couldn't stay curled there forever, even if it were what he wanted to do. But it wasn't what he wanted the most. He wanted the pain to go away. The memories to go away. But both of them had will of iron. They would go away whenever they pleased, and it wasn't soon. He knew though that he somehow managed to crawl to the bathroom, there'd be something there to help the pain, if not completely disappear, to be at least bearable. But, oh, how far was the bathroom. If he narrowed his eyes, he could make out the shape of the door. Painkillers would be there... he knew it. He remembered taking some for a small headache yesterday morning and leaving the white and red bottle on the counter. But the darn thing could be on Mars, it wouldn't seem farther to him. He sighed. His chest hurt.
What time was it? From his angle on the floor, he couldn't see his alarm clock on the bedside table. His shattered cellphone lay a bit everywhere around the room. The thick curtains were closed and no light seemed to filter through them. But it couldn't be night already. He felt it wasn't. Whatever. The time of the day didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was the get up, crawl to the blessed painkiller, swallow a handful, take a shower then maybe sleep for a month or two. Seemed like a good plan. The sad thing was that he couldn't even get through with phase one of it.
A knock sounded against the door. He jumped, then groaned because of the pain. He bit his lip. No, he shouldn't make any noise. Nobody could know that he was in his room. He didn't want anybody to see him in this pitiful state. And what if... what if it were one of them? Or both of them?! Tears started to fall again, tears of pure terror. Was the door locked? Yes, it locked automatically but it would be useless because one of them had the spare key card. His breath caught in his raw throat. His lip was bleeding again. The coppery taste on his tongue made him want to throw up.
''What the hell are you doing, kid? Why weren't you at the meeting?'' That voice. Violet eyes shot open wide. No no no no! This was a nightmare! This couldn't be! Why him?! Why now?!
I've wanted him for so long, but now I want him to go away...! He can't see me like that! He thought frantically. Drawing from some unknown source of strength inside him, he managed to sit up. The room span around him. He wanted to vomit, but forced himself to took a deep breath instead. Blood and other bodily fluids stained the beige carpet. It was ruined forever. He didn't dwell on that, though. His eyes rested on the door. He knew who was on the other inside, waiting in the hallway. Klaas. Oh how he wanted to run to him, cry in his arms, feel somewhat safe again. He wanted someone to tell him that everything would be alright, that nobody would hurt him again. But he couldn't even get up. He didn't want to get up. Because what would his secret crush think if he saw him like that? Bloodied, dirtied, sullied.
''Fine,'' came the voice from the hallway, sounding a bit annoyed. ''You'll just have to show me around Ottawa another time then.''
The footsteps faded away. He didn't know if he should be relieved or distressed. He fell back on the floor, too tired to sit up properly. His body cried in agony. Tired, so tired. Transparent eyelashes fluttered closed over misty purple eyes. And with the sleep came the dreams.
~Twelve hours earlier~
If Matthew hated World Meetings, he loathed with passion the free time he had after World Meetings. Especially when they were hosted in his capital city, Ottawa. When they took place in another country, he didn't feel obliged to be present once the meeting was over. He'd simply slip away to go back to his hotel room where he could read or watch television without being bothered by anyone. But when the meetings took place in Canada, he felt like it was his duty to be among his peers when they went out drinking. Conferences were usually a stressful event for most nations; not because matters of importance were discussed, but because nothing of importance was discussed. Meetings were a contest for getting attention, a moment to gossip and see which nation was talking to which other nation. So when the chairman decided the meeting was over, all nations would rush to the door to escape the stuffy room. Most of them would then go out in bars or clubs or restaurants so they could catch up with friends.
But Matthew didn't like to hang out with his friends. Mostly because he didn't really have any friends. Oh, he had his family, Alejandro, Marie and her handsome brother and some of the Scandinavian countries were nice to him, but they weren't what he'd call friends. They were more like acquaintances. And he didn't want to bother them. So that was why, right now, he was sitting by his lonesome in a bar where Alfred had insisted they should go. Why? Because he wanted to watch the football game. Some other nations chose to go their separate way, but most of them had somehow drifted here.
From his place in a dark corner, the Canadian could watch the other patrons without being noticed. On the table in front of him stood a half empty mug of beer. He had sipped it from time to time even though it tasted like cold piss. He felt it would have been rude to sit in a bar without ordering anything so he had ordered beer. Now, he could watch the other nations since he had nothing better to do. Football sucked in his opinion and the crowd was so loud that he couldn't even hear the television anyway.
Sitting right in front of the television, drinking from huge mugs of beer, were Alfred Jones and his sidekick, Dan. They were watching the match with attention, their eyes leaving the screen only during commercials. With their loud shouts, they attracted attention from almost everybody in the place. The barmaid, a pretty girl with dark hair, leaned on the table beside the American, her right arm pushed up under her breasts to show her impressive cleavage. All the women seemed attracted to Alfred like some magnets to metal. But who could blame them? He had the look of an Hollywoodian actor with his sky blue eyes, blond hair and award-winning smile. Dan also got a lot of attention too. He wasn't as handsome as his brother, but he had a lot of charisma. His tanned skin, dark brown eyes and messy hair gave him a rough look that begged for womanly attention. Which he got and loved.
Matthew was proud of his brothers. Well, most of the time. They usually were quite annoying, especially when they were together. Alfred was the mastermind while Dan was the sidekick. In their trio, Matthew was the annoying brother in the middle that always told them to be careful and to act more like adults. They used to be very close, especially when they had been younger and still living under Arthur's care. For the past years though, the Canadian had been left out more and more. He didn't fit. He wasn't handsome or funny and didn't have a devil-may-care attitude. He didn't like being the center of attention and, probably what had made them reject him in the first place, he didn't snort coke. Oh how Matthew hated it when they decided to sniff that awful white powder. They weren't humans so it couldn't destroy them, but he was sure it could still hurt them. He had voiced his concerns, once. But they hadn't listened, because Matthew knew nothing and was boring. While Alfred was an adult and his big brother, Matthew felt like it wasn't his business, but Dan was only seventeen and way too easily influenced. For him, Alfred could never be wrong. He was his hero. So he took after some bad habits of his big brother.
The blond missed all the time he had spent with his brothers, but knew things could never be back the way they were before. To be honest, he sometimes preferred not to be associated with them because of their bad habits.
He sighed. Oh god, he was getting all depressed again. He wanted to go back to his hotel room to sleep until the conference next morning. Only one day left and it would be over, finally. And after the meeting... Matthew's face turned red. His violet eyes scanned the room for a certain someone. He found him with his two sisters, looking awfully annoyed. Klaas Van Rijn. Matthew sighed at the mere thought of the man. He was so in love with the Dutchman, it was almost pathetic. They had talked only a few times, but those few times had been enough to make him fall for the grumpy man. He had never told Klaas about his feelings, but he was very sure the man knew anyway. Matthew sucked at hiding what he felt. Anybody could read him like an open book. And yesterday, overcoming his crippling shyness, he had managed to offer his crush a guided visit of Ottawa. The Dutchman had scowled before accepting. The blond was sure that his two little sisters, Marie and Justine, would be there, but he didn't mind. Things probably would be awkward anyway between the two men.
Thinking about his upcoming time with the man, Matthew brightened a little bit. Things weren't that bad after all. He simply had to finish his mug, go to bed, survive to the meeting then he could make a fool of himself by blushing and stuttering in front of the Dutchman. Right.
''Hey Mattie!'' Startled out of his daydreaming, Matthew looked up. Standing beside his table was Dan, grinning. Alfred stood behind him, arms crossed. His blue eyes were a shade darker than usual which usually meant he had drug in his blood.
''We're heading back to the hotel. Wanna walk with us?'' The Australian said, still smiling that goofy grin.
At first, Matthew couldn't believe his ears. What. His brothers had thought about him? That was quite unusual. But then again, maybe they simply didn't know the way back to the hotel... Whatever the reason though, he accepted the offer. As soon as he was up, Dan threw one strong arm around his shoulders, almost hugging him. Matthew blushed, not used to such physical contacts.
The walk to the hotel was spend mostly in silence. Alfred walked behind Matthew and Dan, brooding over something. He hadn't opened his mouth once since they had left the bar and Matthew wondered if he were alright. He didn't dare to ask, though. With coke running through his system, Alfred turned from bright to pissed off. The Canadian wondered if Dan had sniffed too. Probably, but his mood didn't change so it was hard to tell.
Once they were in the lobby, Matthew expected his brothers to go on their way. They weren't lodged on the same side, which meant they couldn't use the same elevator. When he explained that, Alfred simply shrugged, saying that he wanted to walk his little brother to his room. That comment sounded odd, but the Canadian wouldn't complain. Even if his brothers were sometimes annoying, he loved to spend time with them. No matter what they did, they were still brothers.
Matthew's room was on the twelfth floor at the end of the hallway. Since it was getting pretty late, they were the only ones wandering the halls. The Canadian was actually quite glad for the company of his brothers. He didn't like to walk by himself after nightfall.
As they reached his door, Alfred walked passed him and used his spare key card to unlock it. Matthew opened his mouth to say that he really didn't have to be this courteous when Dan pushed him quite hard. He tumbled forward and would have sprawled gracelessly on the floor if Alfred hadn't caught him. Blushing, the Canadian stammered an excuse, feeling quite foolish even though he hadn't tripped by himself. As he was about to give his younger brother a piece of his mind, Dan closed the door behind him.
The room plunged into darkness. Nothing could be heard beside the breathing of the three people. Matthew's chest tightened. What the hell was going on? Anxiety started to take hold of him. He felt a hand in his hair, then his head was yanked backward. He yelped in pain.
''Shut up.'' Alfred's cold voice crashed like a whip on Matthew. He stopped struggling to get his hair free. He could barely breath, fear gripping his throat tight.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness in the room, shapes started to appear in the background. The bed, the dresser, a desk, the outlines of a window, the door leading to the bathroom. He could also see Alfred's face instead of just his silhouette. Alfred's blue eyes shone in the dark with something Matthew didn't understand. Hatred? Repulsion? Whatever it was, it made him shiver. The hand gripping his hair, Dan's hand he realized, tightened a bit. His scalp burn, but he didn't dare to complain. Alfred took a step forward, and by reflex, Matthew tried to back away, only to find himself pressed against the Australian's body. He was now trapped between his two brothers. He could barely breath, could barely think.
Without breaking eye contact with the Canadian, Alfred let one of his hand rest on Matthew's hip. The boy blushed and thought for a second that he was being groped when he realized that the hand wasn't groping him but searching the pockets of his pants. Alfred's fingers closed on Matthew's cellphone, which he took out of the pocket. Looking at it with disinterest, he threw the device through the room. It shattered against the far wall, next to the bed. Matthew's heart sank. He probably would have crumbled to the floor with fear if that hadn't meant getting his hair teared out.
''W-what...'' he managed to stutter, only to get a slap in the face. His glasses fell on the ground by his foot. Pain bloomed in his left cheek and the blow left him feeling stunned. This time, he couldn't stop the tears forming in his eyes. Why was Alfred doing this?! And why was Dan siding with him?! Matthew moved his head as much as he could to glance above his shoulder at his younger brother. Seeking help, seeking answers. One came, but not the one he wanted.
''I'm getting tired of you patronizing me.'' Alfred announced. Matthew's eyes wandered back to rest on his older brother. He didn't understand!
''I-I... I don't understand...'' He admitted, fearing another blow. Behind him, Dan chuckled.
''Of course you don't. You never understand anything.'' The American sneered. ''You think you understand, but you don't. Then you try to act smart toward me, telling me how I should do things as if your opinion mattered, as if you knew better than me.''
Matthew thought he started to understand. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had never pretended to be smarter than his brother, nor smarter than anyone else. He gave his opinion to Alfred sometimes, suggesting him new ideas. But it was always to help. He didn't do that to order Alfred around. But it seemed that receiving advices dealt a blow to Alfred's pride.
''I don't...'' The Canadian started and this time, the slap he received was hard enough to break the skin. Blood dribbled down from the cut on his cheekbone to his lips. He could taste it, mixed with the salt of his tears. He bit back a sob. Alfred grabbed his chin roughly and tilted his head up. The height difference between the two brothers wasn't much --two or three inches-- but it was enough for the American to tower over him. Matthew forced himself to look into Alfred's eyes. Please don't hurt me, his eyes pleaded silently, for whatever I've done, I'm sorry. But it was the worst thing he could have done. Alfred's face twisted in disgust.
''You're so fucking weak. I'm ashamed to be your brother.'' This hurt Matthew more than Alfred could have ever imagined. Matthew had always looked up at his brother, always wanted to be like him, always wanted to help, always wanted to make him proud. It didn't work. Alfred was ashamed of him. Another slap wouldn't have hurt more.
''Do you hate me too...?'' Matthew asked in a small voice to his younger brother. He feared the answer. He had always been a bit more bossy toward the Australian because he was younger. What if he took it the wrong way too? What if he didn't understand that Matthew hadn't acted this way to patronized him but simply to help him?
''Of course I don't!'' Came the cheerful reply. Dan finally let go of Matthew's hair, a few blond strands still sticking to his fingers. He grinned at his brother's baffled expression.
''But you know...'' Dan added, his expression now grim. ''I've kinda always had a crush on you. You just never noticed because you were too busy ogling Al, weren't you.''
This caught Matthew totally off guard. His eyes widened. For a moment, he had to wonder if he had heard right. But Dan's quite serious expression told him he had heard right the first time. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe that. Or was it just a cruel joke? This had to be a joke. In any other situation, Matthew would have blushed and, to be honest, would have been flattered that someone had feelings for him. It was something he had so far thought impossible. At this moment however, this revelation scared him more than anything. Yes, Dan had declared his feelings, but he had also said in a reproachful tone that Matthew preferred Alfred.
''I-it's not true...'' The Canadian muttered, looking down at the floor. He didn't know what else to say. Something told him that whatever he could say wouldn't be the right thing.
His younger brother rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something when Alfred stepped in, looking annoyed. ''Enough of that. We don't have time for this useless chitchat. Stop wasting time or I'm outta here.''
Matthew gulped before taking a step backward. His brothers were busy arguing among themselves so maybe he could use this opportunity to escape. He took another step back, holding his breath. Reaching behind him, his fingers finally managed to touch the cold metal of the doorknob. Almost there. With a twist of his wrist, the door opened. His heart nearly burst with relief.