Author's Note: Hey, so this idea struck me in third period and I just had to write it out. I plan to make this short, 3-5 chapters, but really long chapters. I would tell you the pairings but that would ruin a lot of the plot so I shall just say I promise you won't regret reading this. I hope I can update fast with this one, but I also have to do two others, (( I'm thinking about not finishing If Opposites were to attract, sorry, it just isn't enjoyable for me… lemme know if I should keep going with it…)) but yeah….

Warnings: Language, violence, bad thoughts, I would tell you another but again, that would ruin the plot.
ENJOY~~~~~~~~~~~~

Broken Beyond Repair

Chapter 1

The silver blade slid through the delicate skin of Matthew's wrist. He bit his lip, watching as the blood pooled to the surface, trailing down to the underside of his arm and dripping to the towel he had placed on the sink. He took a shaky breath, positioned the blade, and slid it through his skin once again. He hardly even winced, even when he dug it in deeper than he usually did. The bite of pain had turned to nothing more than a nip of slight discomfort. The room finally began to spin and he set the blade down, looking at the new wounds, dripping with blood. He could also see the faint outlines of old scars from at least two years ago. I'm so pathetic. He thought, Using cutting as an escape, but oh well, if I do die it's not like anyone will miss me. He turned the sink on and washed away the blood from his arm, cleaning it and wrapping the bandages around his frail and thin arm.

He cleaned the blood off the blades and threw the towel away, there was no way he could get all of that blood out without anyone seeing, it was much easier to throw it away and just leave some money for his parents to buy a new one. He pulled his red hoodie sleeve up, covering the bandages completely.

He walked out of the small bathroom and down the long hallway, finally arriving in his little room. He sat down on his bed, the old springs groaning under his light weight. He crawled further onto the bed, pulling the covers over himself, letting the fluffy duvet engulf his skinny frame completely. He let out a long sigh, tomorrow was school, yet another chance to get bullied and tormented.It was alright though, he forgave the bullies, every day no matter how much they may have hurt him, he simply didn't have the fight in him to do anything but watch them walk away and think, 'I forgive you.'

"Mattie, I'm home!" Alfred burst in through his door, that wild and happy glint still hanging in his eyes, like they always did.

"Hello Alfred." Matthew said in his usual, whispery voice. Alfred looked down at his brother, realizing he was still in his bed.

"Mattie, are you feeling alright? It's like, 4 in the afternoon; you're never in bed past 8." The honey blond said, walking over to his brother's bedside and laying a hand on his shoulder gently. Matthew flinched on reflex, and then slowly looked up at his brother. Sometimes it was hard to like him, he was so fucking perfect. The girls LOVED him, he loved the girls, he was a talented football player, his smile made every girl melt, and he WASN'T GAY, unlike Matthew.

"Oh yes, I'm quite alright, I just felt a bit lightheaded. Nothing to worry about." Matthew replied, sitting up slowly and looking up at his brother through his violet eyes.

"Alright then! Hey, I was wondering if you are still coming to my football game tomorrow?" Alfred asked hopefully. The Canadian sighed.

"Of course Alfred, I wouldn't miss it for the world." He replied, looking up into his brothers sapphire eyes. He hadn't missed one of his brother's games for two years, why start now?

"Awesome, thanks!" The boy replied, Matthew just nodded, looking away from his brother's eyes. That was another thing he envied, his brothers sapphire eyes. They always shine brightly, taking everyone's breath away; they held all of his emotions and concerns. I on the other hand have the dullest, most lifeless eyes out of everyone that I know. His brother waved and happily bounced out of the room, probably going to talk to some girl over the phone.

Matthew lay back down, letting his head mold into the soft and comforting pillow, really comforting pillow. Is my pillow really this soft? Matthew couldn't remember anything this amazing.

"Who're you?" A voice asked, Matthew bolted upright, looking behind him.

"Kumajiro, you scared me to death!" Matthew scolded, seeing his miniature polar bear he had saved from the north pole when he was little. He still remembered finding the thing, laying curled up in the snow, half frozen to death. He had insisted they take it all the way home, back to Canada so he could keep it. Well it seemed that the weather had stunted his growth and he had remained small.

"No, I'm pretty sure Kumajiro is my name. I was asking yours." The polar bear said. Matthew sighed, his best friend didn't even remember him, even after all this time.

"Kuma, it's me, Matthew, your OWNER." The Canadian stretched the last word. Kumajiro looked at him for a moment before shrugging and laying back again. "Kuma, get off my pillow." Matthew instructed, yanking it out from underneath the bear and laying it next to him. Kuma just huffed in annoyance, scooting over slightly.

For a while, the room was silent. Matthew traced patterns in his comforter, unable to find sleep. Finally, he spoke up.

"Hey Kumajiro?" He said, looking over at the bear. It looked over at him.

"Hmm?"

"A-Am I that…. Forgettable?" Matthew asked, his eyes slightly wide in question.

"Yep, pretty much. My brain just goes blank whenever I see you, it's like you're a completely new person! But then you tell me your name and I go, 'Oh yeah, I do know him!' It's kinda weird…" The bear answered. Matthew frowned at the answer. Wow, that forgettable huh? What a useless piece of shit I am… Kuma looked away, noticing he had managed to upset the boy.

"Well… I think I'm going to bed now." Matthew announced silently. Kuma looked over at him.

"Without dinner?"

"Not hungry…" He mumbled.

"This is the fourth night in a row you haven't been hungry…"

"…" Matthew answered the bear with silence, closing his eyes and letting his shoulder length pale blond hair fall into his closed eyes.

Somehow he finally managed to drift into an uneasy sleep, filled with the words he was labeled with every day.

Fag.

Fucking queer.

Cock sucker.

They never failed to haunt him, every night, in every dream. Sometimes he would be places, maybe school, a field full of the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen, a beach, and sometimes even surrounded in nothing but the pitch blackness of the night and little gleaming stars hanging in the nights sky. The words always made the scenery bland, made the bright flowers die, the little twinkling stars fade, just like the words made him die, made his light go out.

Tonight he was on a beach where the water was clear and pristine. Where the palm trees and their perfect leaves hung over the water and some of the bigger leaves made small ripples in the water. The sun shimmered on the horizon of the water, and small fish swam in the shallower ends. Matthew stood on the warm sand, barefooted, and in his usual attire of a red hoodie with a maple leaf on it and black skinny jeans. He looked out over the water, absorbing the scenery. And then the words floated in.

Fag.

Gross.

Queer.

All of the whispers and words directed at him, and he watched helplessly as the sky darkened, the sun disappeared, the sea turned black, and the palm trees shriveled into dead carcasses of a once beautiful tree. And with one last glimpse of the one gorgeous place, Matthew woke up in the usual cold sweat.

He looked over at the clock, which read 6:25am. He still had plenty of time before school. He hopped out of bed silently, shivering as his feet connected with the cold floor. He walked into his closet and picked out a pair of clean black skinny jeans, boxers with a Canadian flag on them, and his usual red hoodie with the maple leaf on it.

He walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, shedding his cloths and then unwrapping all the bandages and throwing them away, a few dots of blood had dirtied them. He hopped under the hot stream of water and let the liquid soak him, making his blond hair become plastered to his face. He looked over at his hoodie, there was a reason he always wore it. It had been a gift from his grandmother; he had always loved his grandmother. She SAW him, never forgot him, loved him more than Alfred, she GOT him and knew when he had had a bad day. She had made that hoodie for him while she was in the hospital for the last few weeks of her life, it had a message underneath the hem of it, reading: Mattie, I know things can be hard for you, and I know it hurts. But please, hold on and never give up, you're so strong. I love you, Grandma. Matthew loved those words, cherished them, and usually lived off of them. He always would flip the first inch of his hoodie up to see those words, tattooed in a white stitch whenever he was in a bad mood, or had been beat up especially bad.

He finished his shower and grabbed the thick towel, drying off quickly before slipping the cloths on and re-wrapping his arms in more of the bandages. He looked up at himself in the mirror. His hoodie hung off his frame, obviously meant for the old him, that had at least a little muscle and frame, but now was a shallow shell of his old self. He wrapped his arms around himself and snuggled into the comfort hoodie, giving off one of his exceedingly rare smiles before letting it disappear and melt away.

He walked out of the bathroom, heading downstairs and turning on the stove, opening the pantry and pulling out all of the ingredients for pancakes.

He turned on the stove, mixing the ingredients in a big silver bowl before pouring a bit of its contents onto the sizzling stove. He watched as the little bubbles in the mixture rose to the surface, telling him it was time to flip. He professionally shoved the spatula under it and flipped it with perfection, not one splatter or folded corner.

Alfred stumbled down the stairs a moment later, yawning and dragging his school bag after him.

"Good morning Alfred." Matthew said quietly, his brother looked over at him and smiled slightly.

"Morning Mattie. Pancakes?" He asked, still in a slight sleep stupor.

"Yeah, like always." The boy replied, returning his gaze to the perfect pancake on the plate. He flipped one more and gave his brother the plate of the steaming food. "Here." He said, handing him the plate.

"Thanks!" Alfred said excitedly, grabbing the plate and wolfing the first down, followed by the second. Matthew had finished three more, and plopped them down on his brother's plate who ate them all without a second thought. "Thanks Mattie, for the wonderful breakfast." Alfred said sincerely, knowing his brother needed the little extra cheer. The Canadian nodded and made one for him, although he really wasn't hungry.

He stuck the dishes in the sink, deciding he would clean them when he got home. They walked together silently to the bus stop, waiting in the cool air for the yellow transportation device to arrive. It drove up a moment later, opening its creaky doors to allow the two to get in. Alfred got in first, and Matthew was about to get one when the doors started to close.

"W-Wait, I'm here too!" He called out, the bus driver looked over.

"Oh, sorry kid." He mumbled, re-opening the doors. Matthew got in, looking back at the crowd of people. Alfred was already sitting with some girl, chatting her up with his arms wrapped around her shoulder. She giggled like there wasn't a care in the world and leaned over, pecking Alfred's cheek.

He walked back silently, halfway to his favorite back seat. He felt a foot under his and eh went tumbling to the floor.

"Aww, did little gay-boy fall again?" He heard the taunting voice of Gilbert behind him. He struggled to his feet, only to be shoved back to the floor by a hand on his back.

"You'd better stay down, cock sucker; maybe the dirty floor will take you." A Spanish voice taunted. He looked up to see Antonio and Gilbert snickering down at him, and Francis Bonnefoy looking down at him as well, but with a different look. Matthew could only describe it as sadness. Matthew looked up at them sadly; he had lost all fight long ago. He had lost the will to sneer at them and try to punch back. Even his own brother hadn't turned around to see the commotion; he was still flirting with that girl.

"Oi, let him take a seat, the day hasn't even begun yet." Matthew looked up at Francis, who was now looking out the window.

"What, this gay wad? Come on Francis, let's have some fun!" Gilbert cheered, Francis just shook his head.

"I-I'm tired… Let's wait until the football game." He said, trying to think of another excuse provided his last didn't word. Gilbert and Antonio grinned.

"Good idea! Let's save our energy for that!" They both cheered, Francis nodded, still looking out the window.

Matthew stood up, walking back and passing others, they all just looked at him, some with hatred and some just too scared to do anything. He finally sat down in the back, completely alone. He curled up, laying his head on the frame of the window and sighing. This was normal, typical, whatever you wanted to call it. Every DAY, this would happen. And just to make it worse, Gilbert and Antonio played on the same football team as Alfred, so after every game he got beaten up, even worse if they had lost.

The school bus picked up a few more kids, then made its way to the school. Matthew looked at the front of the large building; it was quite a prestigious school, with large and shiny windows and the newest architecture. The old bus came to a halt and he waited until everyone got off so he could get off without a problem. He narrowly avoided the trio by taking a back path to first period.

He sat down in his old blue chair in chemistry class. He looked around; his lab partner wasn't here today. He sighed, his lab partner, Arthur Kirkland, was gay as well and Matthew always felt a bit more at ease around him. He also felt guilt for him; the Brit had a humongous crush on his brother, Alfred. But Alfred wasn't gay, and they both knew it. So at least they both had something to bitch and moan over, but today it seemed his punk friend was absent.

He also noticed that Antonio was missing, which was unusual considering he had seen him on the bus. His old and lazy teacher entered the room, closing the wooden door behind him.

"Good mornin' class." He mumbled, setting his briefcase on the ground next to his table.

"Good morning sir." Rumbled through the classroom.

The teacher said nothing more, turning to the whiteboard and began to write an assignment. He turned to the class, they followed his silent instructions and opened their books, taking out a sheet of paper and answering the questions.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door; the teacher walked over and opened it. Arthur walked in with a small towel soaked with blood held to his nose. Matthew clenched his fists, knowing exactly who had done it.

"Good god Mr. Kirkland! Are you alright?" The teacher asked, Arthur nodded.

"Fell down stairs…" He mumbled, avoiding eye contact and continuing to hold the towel to his nose. The teacher looked him over once more.

"Very well, instructions on the board." The old man said, walking back to his desk.

Matthew watched his friend walk over, with his red dyed hair, combat boots, black skinny jeans with multiple tears, and a shirt that read Sex Pistols. Matthew was always amazed how his friend could complete the look so flawlessly.

"Hey." He mumbled, pulling out the chair next to Matthew and sitting down.

"Di Antonio do that?" Matthew asked, ignoring the attempt at avoiding the subject. Arthur just sighed in exasperation.

"It's none of your concern." He mumbled, taking the towel away from his nose, which was no longer bleeding. He tossed the towel in the trashcan, pulling his huge book out of his book bag and flipping through the pages. Matthew just frowned at him but said nothing. A knock came on the door for a second time. Alfred, who was closest to the door, stood up and opened it. Antonio strode in, grinning happily. Matthew noticed his knuckles, there was a bit of blood on one of them.

"Good mornin' Mr. Carriedo, do you have a reason for being late?" The teacher asked, addressing Antonio.

"Oh yes, someone fell down the stairs and I had to help and assist them." He said, glancing over at Arthur who just flipped him off in response. The teacher, who obviously didn't care, just nodded and returned to the large stack of papers on his desk.

Antonio walked to his lab partner, Gilbert, and they started on their work.

The rest of the period went undisturbed, thankfully, and Matthew stood up at the sound of the bell. He collected his things, watching warily as the trio walked out of the room. Alfred walked over a minute later to the two blonds.

"Hey Arthur, is your nose okay?" He asked with a concerned hint in his voice. Arthur's eyes widened slightly in response of his crush addressing him.

"Uh…. Y-Yeah, it's fine." He mumbled.

Matthew was always amused by his brother, who held no ill wishes against gays. Maybe it was because his brother was gay, but it astounded him how Alfred was the one strait guy who didn't mind gays.

"Kay, cool. It just looked like a lot of blood." Alfred said, "See ya later Mattie." He said, waving and walking out the door, "See ya later as well Arthur." He said, with that he was out the door.

"Arthur, have you ever realized that he is the only one that can actually shut you up?" Matthew joked, Arthur frowned in response as his cheeks lit up slightly.

Second period went fine, none of the trio was in the class so the Canadian was safe for the time being. Finally the class ended and he walked out and headed for the abandoned courtyard. He remembered his first time being there, when the school was remodeled, the old and large courtyard was bricked off and forgotten, although it still stood. Recently, a few of the old bricks came tumbling, and Matthew was skinny enough to fit through the small gap in the wall to go to his little haven. He always ate there, mainly because no one else in the world knew about it, it was like his own little garden.

He crawled through the old brick wall, making sure no one was watching, then grabbed his bag and yanked it though the wall as well. He placed the bricks back in place and stood up, looking around his own little safe haven. The old tables still stood upright; however vines had overtaken most of them. The grass had long ago died but Matthew had brought a pack or two of flower seeds and spread them. Now the place was a mess of brightly stained flowers overgrowing everywhere, although he hardly minded. The one tree in the place was a huge weeping willow in the center, its wispy branches swayed around with the little wind that managed to get in through the roofless top. The sun shone through the non-existent ceiling and gave the tree and plants the sun they needed.

Matthew walked to the tree, sitting right at the base and leaned up against the smooth bark of the tree. He sat there in silence for a moment before deciding he should at last try and eat. He rummaged though his pack and pulled out a bag of pancakes, slowly nibbling on one. He sighed, halfway through his pancake and put it back in the bag. Almost every time he ate, nausea replaced the empty feeling and it slowly escalated to a pain so bad he had to stop. He tossed his bag behind him, laying flat on his back and looking up at the tree. The longer branches reached down and tickled Matthews head and stomach. He let his eyes flutter shut; he still had an hour before his next class.

He had always managed to sleep better there in the courtyard, it was a simple fact. He woke up 45 minutes later, not even knowing he had drifted off, he stood up quickly and headed towards the brick. He pulled the bricks out, crawling out and tugging his book bag along with him. His stomach dropped out of him when he saw the trio walking down the hallway. He almost sobbed when he saw that Francis had seen where he had been hiding for all his three years of high school. He had two choices, either try to get back in his hideout and pray they couldn't get through, or let them beat him up. He thought for a moment, Gilbert and Antonio still hadn't seen him.

"Well, look who it is!" Gilbert called out, breaking into a jog to catch up to Matthew, who had decided to try to bolt. "If it isn't our favorite little queer!"

Matthew felt the first punch before he saw it, the second he turned his head he felt a fist contact with his stomach. He coughed in pain, unable to do much else. He looked down the hallway, which was deserted. He felt another fist contact his cheek and he was sent staggering backwards. And one last knee was brought to his stomach, causing him to fall to the ground in terrible pain.

"You're hard to track, you know that?" Gilbert said, squatting down next to the curled up Canadian. "But it's all good, we found you now." He grabbed the helpless Canadian by the collar and pulled him to his feet.

"S-stop i-it!" He managed to wheeze out, his stomach felt like it was on fire. Surprisingly, Gilbert released him and let him fall. He staggered a foot or so, but remained on his feet. He leaned up against the wall and looked over at Francis, who was biting the inside of his cheek and staring right at him. Matthew looked at the Frenchman with his terrified lilac eyes, pleading for him to do something, anything.

Francis continued to look at the shorter Canadian. He had never thought that it was fair for two football players to team up on the frail, shaking, and terrified Canadian. But he shouldn't care! God, why do I care so much?! He's just a… f… fucking queer! Francis thought, but it made his head hurt to refer to Matthew like that.

Antonio delivered the next punch to his chest, sending the Canadian flying backwards and coughing madly.

"Gilbert, Antonio!" Francis cried out suddenly, not able to stand it any longer. Both boys turned back to him in confusion.

"Oh I'm sorry Francis; I completely forgot that you want your turn too!" Antonio said, they stepped aside, giving him a clear access to Matthew, who was on his knees and had his arms wrapped around his stomach tightly. He crouched over, coughing again.

"N-non, that is not what I meant…" Francis stumbled, stupid, stupid, STUPID. Francis mentally scolded himself.

"Well what is it that you mean?" Gilbert questioned.

"I… We er… need to save our energy for the game tonight!" Francis said, the light bulb going off in his head. Gilbert snorted.

"Whatever, one more hit!" He said happily, kicking Matthew over. He fell on his side and made no move to do anything other than stay there. Tears were now streaming down his cheeks and he gritted his teeth. God no, don't cry Matthieu! Wait! Cry, wait no, don't! I… what am I thinking?! Francis had many conflicting emotions at the moment, one, he wanted to punch his two friends, two, he wanted to punch Matthew, three, he wanted to wipe away the Canadian's tears and hold him. He sided with remaining silent and watch as Matthew curled up further and shook, refusing to ask them to stop any more.

"Fine, lets go…" Gilbert said, Antonio followed and reluctantly, Francis followed the three, leaving the blond headed boy sobbing on the floor.

Matthew slowly managed to drag himself back to the brick wall and pull the bricks away. He went inside, pulling his bag in and leaning it up against the wall and placing the bricks back in place. He stood up slowly and did his best to wipe his tears. He walked over to his tree and sat at the base, taking deep and shaky breaths. The deep breaths finally paid off and he sat there, hugging himself tightly.

"Screw third period…" He whispered silently, knowing he was in no shape to walk halfway across campus, nor stand in front of his class and his brother and say he had tripped. He felt a bit of blood on his cheek and guessed it was from when he had been hit on the face. He pulled bandages out of his book bag, which he always kept with him in case the cuts on his arms started bleeding, and ripped a small portion of one off, wiping away the blood on his cheek. He pulled his hoodie up to his chin and looked at the bruises forming along his front. He looked a moment longer at his frail form, noticing he had practically been starving himself and hadn't noticed this entire time.

He pulled his hoodie back down and flipped the hem up, absorbing his grandmothers final words to him, not even spoken ones. He pulled the material up and held the stitching up against his face for a moment. With that, he curled up against the base of the tree and fell into a dreamless sleep.

*An hour and a half later*

Matthew woke up feeling much better, although his stomach still hurt, pain wasn't really a big thing for him. He stood up and walked to the brick wall, knowing he could make it to class with a few minutes to spare if he walked quickly. He left his haven and headed to his last class of the day, Social Studies, with his black and white checkered book bag resting comfortably on his back.

He arrived just before the door closed, taking his seat in the back of the classroom, next to and exceedingly worried Alfred.

"Dude, where have you been? I was worried sick!" Alfred whispered, ignoring the death glare he got from the young teacher.

"I… um…" Matthew looked over at him, Alfred gasped when he saw the cut and bruise on his brothers face, "I fell, don't worry, no big deal. One of the teachers insisted I go to the nurses and she made me lay down for an hour." Matthew said with a convincing tone. Alfred eyed him warily and nodded, having to straighten up before the teacher threw an adult temper tantrum. Of course Alfred hadn't noticed his brother slightly puffy eyes.

The last period of the day passed without incident, which hardly mattered considering that the bad touch trio was going to be at the football game, and they had every intention of murdering him. School ended at four, and the game started at five so Matthew, Alfred, and Arthur hung out in the school library for the hour they had to spend. Arthur was quiet most of the time, and his gaze kept flickering to and away from Alfred. And the Americans gaze even had gone to Arthur once, of course, no one had seen the gesture. They studied like mad for an upcoming test in biology; it was highly obvious that Matthew would be acing it.

Soon enough it was time for the game, Alfred parted ways with the two and went to get dressed while Arthur and Matthew found decent seats on the bleachers. Like always, Matthew hopped off of them ten minutes before the game began and walked over to Alfred, looking over at Antonio and Gilbert, and knowing that they and Alfred were friends; they would never dare hurt Matthew in front of Alfred. Of course Alfred had no idea that Matthew was being bullied.

"Hey Alfred, good luck." Matthew said, offering one of his rare smiles to his brother. Alfred looked at his brother, and then to the bleachers.

"I… uh….yeah, thanks." He said, looking at Arthur. Matthew looked as well, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

"Is something wrong?" The Canadian asked, Alfred jumped out of his stupor and looked back at his brother.

"I… no, it's nothing." He said quickly.

"Alfred, tell me." Matthew pressed, Alfred just offered a white smile.

"It's nothing, dude!" He said happily, Matthew gave him the 'mother' look and Alfred sighed.

"I'll tell you after the game, alright?" Alfred offered and Matthew nodded. With one final 'good luck' Matthew walked back to the bleachers and sat back down next to Arthur, who didn't see him arriving. Matthew watched as Arthur drew Alfred, in amazing detail. He was in his football uniform, the glint in his eyes was exact and the determination in the air was practically seeable.

"That's amazing!" Matthew said, a bit in awe that he never knew how amazing Arthur was at drawing. Arthur yelped, not having seen Matthew there.

"Oh, I uh…." He blushed furiously and shoved the drawing pad in his book bag. "Bloody hell, make some noise when you walk!" he finally concluded. Matthew just sighed.

The game started soon after, and both boys perked up slightly as Alfred ran out onto the field, smiling and waving at the adoring fans as usual. His movie star smile earned many cheers from the girls. Arthur let out a whoop himself, Matthew remained silent, watching as his popular brother raced out on the field. The game begun, and Alfred and his team quickly took the lead, putting the other team to shame.

Matthew watched as Antonio and Gilbert worked hard as well, and when the game finally ended all of the boys were dripping with sweat. Matthew slowly stood up, Arthur grabbed his hand.

"Matthew, you know how stupid it is to go see him with the others around." He said in a warning tone, the Canadian shook his hand off.

"I don't care, I just don't care anymore." He said quietly, walking off to see his brother.

"Hey Mattie, wasn't that great, we won again!" Alfred said excitedly, high fiving everyone as they walked past.

"Hola Alfred, great job out there!" Antonio walked up and high fived him, "Oh, hola Matthew!" The Spaniard said cheerfully, glaring at him evilly when Alfred turned away. Matthew turned a pale color and nodded back at him.

"So, I've got a boatload of homework to do, so I think I am going to go home." Alfred said in a tired tone, remembering the mountain of papers awaiting him.

"I-I think I'll go with you…" Matthew mumbled.

"Oh but Matthew, Gilbert and I wanted you to go with us to get ice cream!" Antonio said, grinning madly.

"Mattie, you should totally go! Antonio and Gilbert are like, the two coolest guys I know!" Alfred said cheerfully, completely oblivious.

"I… Don't feel well…" Matthew lied, Alfred instantly stepped forward and placed a hand on his brothers forehead.

"No fever, but you probably should go home and rest." Alfred mumbled, pulling his hand away slowly, a concerned look filled his sea blue eyes.

You could practically see the rage that emitted from Antonio.

"We can go together, kay Mattie? Let me go grab my stuff!" He said, and quickly went off to retrieve his school supplies.

"You will so pay for this tomorrow." Antonio hissed, walking off without another word. Matthew sighed shakily; he seemed to be alright for the night.

Alfred walked back a moment later, carrying his school bag.

"Hey, let's get home." Alfred said, Matthew nodded, then remembered something.

"There was something you were going to tell me?" He questioned. Alfred immediately froze in his tracks, then looked back at his brother.

"Y-yeah, let's just go somewhere…" He looked around, "less public." He said, noticing the mass of people making their way to their cars. Matthew nodded, walking alongside his brother until they reached an old oak tree away from everybody else. Matthew noticed how Alfred, for the first time in a long time, seemed like he was truly nervous. He fidgeted from one foot to the other and avoided eye contact.

"Alfred…." Matthew said, waiting.

"I… I think I'm gay…."

Silence.

Some more silence.

And just a bit more.

"I have absolutely no idea how to react to that." Matthew said silently, looking up at his brother, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"WELL I DON'T FUCKING EITHER!" Alfred said, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT THE HELL TO DO, ALL I KNOW IS THAT WHEN I TALK TO GIRLS I LOOK AT THEIR FACE, NO MATTER HOW BIG THEIR BOOBS ARE, STRAIT GUYS DON'T DO THAT!" Alfred huffed as he finished his rant.

"… When did you realize this?" Matthew asked, looking around, glad no one was taking any notice to them.

"Wh… when I realized that I watched Arthur's ass when he walked away…" Alfred said with a great deal of difficulty. Matthew almost choked on nothing.

Little did either of them know that Arthur Kirkland was leaning up against the other side of the oak.

"So… you like Arthur…" Matthew was unable to grasp the concept.

"Did I not make that clear? I am fucking gay for Arthur fucking Kirkland…" Alfred barely managed not to shout. "And what makes it worse is I doubt he likes me!"

Matthew was about to respond, about to tell him that Arthur was head over heels for him, when the Brit walked out from behind the tree. His face was as bright as a tomato, and his eyes were opened as far as he could manage.

Arthurs mouth opened, then closed. Wordlessly, he walked off in the other direction. Alfred went completely pale, and Matthew had to push him and urge him to follow the punk.

"Alfred, good god, he likes you too, go!" Matthew huffed, trying to push the heavy quarterback. Alfred looked back at his brother. "Alfred, I promise he does, go go go!" Matthew shouted, shoving him as hard as he could manage. Please Alfred, make at least one of us happy. Be happy, please. Matthew thought.

Alfred took off in a sprint to catch up to his Brit.

Matthew stood and watched, unmoving. It hurt, how Alfred got his perfect little fantasy. He would catch up to Arthur, who would probably freak, then they would kiss, and the world would all be fucking perfect. Except for the cutter in the corner. Cutting, Matthew needed it right now.

He sprinted off in the direction of his home, needing to feel the slice of the blade in his skin, the feeling of the blade digging into his flesh, the pain, it was needed right now. Matthew managed to make it home in twenty minutes, he threw the door open and ran into the bathroom. It was around 9 at night, he hadn't realized how long the game had taken.

He pulled his hoodie off and was left in a sleeveless white shirt. He practically tore the bandages off and looked down at his arms. He sighed; they were so beyond being able to be used. Every inch of skin was torn, red, cut. And as much as Matthew needed cutting, doing so in the same place was not fun at all. He looked up and down his arms, no space at all.

"Where else, where else?" He murmured under his breath, searching for a cut-able place on his body. He looked down, perfect.

He pulled his shirt off and looked down at the pale skin of his stomach, perfect and uncut. He locked the door and grabbed a blade, holding the sharp tip of the silver blade to his stomach, sliding it through his skin. He gasped, the pain new compared to his wrist. He looked down, quickly grabbing a towel and pressing it right underneath the cut, letting the blood drip onto the towel. He slid it through again, clenching his teeth and whimpering in pain. He repeated this notion four more times before the room began to spin, however thoughts did not stop. Why, why dammit?! Why does Alfred get to be happy and not me?! What did I DO, why do I deserve to suffer?! This isn't fair, this isn't fair!

"God… what did I do wrong?" He whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he slid it through his skin again. I hate you, I hate you for making me. He slid it through the same cut again, needing the added pain, I hate you so much for making me, for helping me become who I am. I HATE YOU FOR LETTING ME LIVE! With one final slice, Matthew fainted, dropping the razor and falling to the floor.

Author's Note: Please, please comment! Even if it is just, " " it helps and gives me encouragement. So please, comment!