Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alone. And unnoticed - those words are exactly what Matthew has felt for almost seemed like his whole life - although he had some-what support system - Alfred, Francis & Arthur - he knew they weren't happy being so; it was just by coincidence that they turned out to be his family. And he felt pity for them - that he is unappealing; boring & a loner - while anytime he brought this up to them, they brushed it off.

"Whatt—No! you're totally rad, broha!!" Alfred assured, as he began to awkwardly pat Matthew on his shoulder.

Matthew looked at him with a dazed look, "uh-huh.." He reassuringly replied; nodding his head along.

Arthur came, patting a hand on Matthew's shoulder aswell, giving him an unwieldily smile. "Yeah, what-ever America said!"

Feeling a presence from behind him, clocking his head to see who it was - even though he already knew who it probably was - Francis, who had a sympathetic tint to his face. Getting even closer to Matthew & enclosing him into a, near death grip, hug.

"Non, you're perfect~!" France dramatically cried.

Struggling to get out Francis's tight grasp, he finally squeezed his way out. Taking a couple steps back from the three.

Clearing his throat before he spoke. "I get you guys are trying to help me, and I appreciate that!" he assured. "But I promise you guys, I'm fine; you guys don't got to worry about me." Slowly, backing away more & more.

"Okay, what-ever you say, bro!" Alfred, obliviously, went back to chatting with two others - whilst making his way to the living room coach.

France was the only one to give him a worried look, but couldn't help himself get looped into Alfred's conversation - almost as if the words Matthew had said, just went out into one ear & out the other.

grabing his arm, as he sullenly slumped his way to his bedroom - he knew they wouldn't actually care.

'God! No - get it together, Matthew. Don't go thinking such things!' Smacking himself on the forehead: for thinking such selfish things - they care, he—just wasn't grateful enough! - he never liked thinking so selfishly; but his mind always tended to go straight to those thoughts anytime he felt ignored, & so on. He should just learn to forget & forgive, rather then letting these thoughts get to him.

Even though he felt self-centered, he still cried - he always had cried when something like this happened - wipping away the tears, many of them escaping: due to the fact of there being an abundance of them, coming all out at once.

The voices quieten the more he dragged himself from the living room, to the hallway, and now to his bedroom door. Twisting the knob - slumping inside & falling face-first onto his bed. Tears collected themselves onto the sheets. He rolled over onto his back; staring up at the ceiling.

As thoughts about himself kept attacking him from inside, he felt utterly hopeless.

He hated this; hated it so much - there are so much worse things others are going through , and he's crying like a big baby right now. really? 'C'mon, Matthew. You know you're better then this!' He thought, whilst sobbing even harder; thinking about how pathetic he was for doing so.

Hesitatingly, he looked towards his, half cracked, window - no one would care if he just left, right? - he thought hard & long about it. He could be up & gone, in an instance; no one would notice - hell, they barley notice him, as is.

It as almost like he had a devil & angel on both shoulders; except for the fact that the devil's words left more of an impact on his conscious, then the angel's.

Rubbing away almost ever tear away; some still making their way through, staying on his cheeks. Quickly, he went to an old bag; that he had in the corner of his room, turning it upside down, dumping all of the things that were in it; onto the ground. Pencils, sketch-book & books fell onto the wooden floor: making a clattering sound as he did so. After dumping all the stuff in the bag onto the floor, he quickly-but-throughly looked through his drawers - finding all of the clothes that he adored, and or needed. Like underwear, socks, etc. Stuffing them into the bag - the bag doubled in size: due to the amount it is now held - He also grabbed some keep-sakes & crammed them into the already overfiled bag.

Pulling the bag over his shoulders, tip-toeing to the now fully cracked window. looking outside; at the drop. Although not the biggest distance, he still hestiated once again - before waving away those thoughts away with one hand - he ripped his sheets off his bed. Tieing them together, along with some blankets that were also on his bed as-well.

Now, rope in hand. He tossed it out of the window. But first, he walked over to his desk, to write a little good-bye note. And then he left - not to be seen for a long time; he hoped.

_____________

"What do you mean—he's gone?" Francis anxiously questioned; fidgeting with his hands as he did so.

"I mean just that! I went into his room, and poof, he's gone; I dont know where he went!" Alfred cried out, his voice getting squeaky the more he got further distrested. "He left a note, but it barley even says anything." Waving the little piece of paper in the air.

Sitting up, quickly, he made his way to Alfred. Snatching the note of his hand. He skimed over it, he brought a hand up to his mouth in shock. "Mon Dieu.." He muttered, droping the note on the ground in the process.

Arthur remained sitted, shruging as he spoke. "eh—it's Matthew; he'll come back." He dismissed whist sipping on tea.

Still fidgeting with his hands, walking back over to his sit; slumping back onto his spot on the coach. "Tu as raison; I shouldn't worry it that much.."

"Huh?" Cocking his head towards Francis & raising a brow, "oi, speak English; I have no idea what you just said."

"Nevermind, it is not important" Francis assured - waving his hand in dismissal.

Mouth agap; it was like they didn't care that Mattie wasn't even here right now - infact they looked fine with it? - "but–Mattie's still out the-"

"Amérique, bring me a bottle of wine, why don't you?" Francis cut him off; not even listening to what he had to say.

huffing in return, he stomped his way into the kitchen. Angerily picking up the wine bottle, and shoving it onto his dad's chest. A bumfuzzled France fiercely furrowed his brows at Alfred's defiance, as he tried to catch the bottle that threated to fall from his grasp.

He angrily sat up; now face to face with Alfred.

"That was my expensive vin, you could have broke it!" He yelled, not caring to use English pronunciations; letting his French accent slip due to the anger that rushed through his body. "How dare you!!" Along with French curses - that Alfred hadn't cared to learn - flew out of his mouth.

Alfred stood his ground, crossing his arms as he turned his head away - activity showing he doesn't care - which infuriated Francis even more. While Arthur sat there, occasionally looking at the two & sipping tea as he worked on his embroidery piece.

Taking a deep breath before speaking. "Go to your room." France commanded, as he pointed to Alfred's room down the hallway.

"Fine." He hissed.

Turnin on his heel, he made his way to his room.

He just didn't understand how they didnt care - he cared for his brother; he might have not shown it well, and thats his fault on his end. He just wished Matthew was here now; he shouldn't have been so awful towards him before.

Slaming the door - not caring if it made a ruckus or not - he slid down against the door. Too mad to do anything else.

After Alfred had left the two alone, France rubbed his temple. Athur put down the project he was working on, eyeing the frustrated man, like he was a shiny jewel - bringing up his hands to rub the others shoulders - "look at you—standing your ground." Arthur whispered, the angry France let out a playful grin. "Ah, you think so. Mon chéri?" He asked, taking his hand off his face; now meeting eyes with the other. "Mhm.." England assured; lifting up his hand from Francis's shoulders, up to his face. An araganot smirk on Frances face, as Arthur's face inched closer - until both their lips met.

Covering his ears form inside his room as he heard what was going on; grimacing as he imagined what they were most likely doing.

"Eugh…"

He had enough as they rapidly started to get louder - creaking open his door; still standing inside his room, not wanting to go out any further: afraid of what he might see.

Taking a deep breath, before yelling. "Get a room!" France & Arthur jumped; pulling them out of their little makeout shesh. when they heard his voice coming from inside his room. "You two are nasty."

After Alfred's - unwanted - input. He slammed the door shut again.

Arthur & France exchanged uneasy glances, "uh, maybe he's right—We should stop..." England said, quickly moving out of the others grasp, awakardely scooting back. "Qoui!—you are quite right…"

They both returned to what they were doing - England began to work on the unfisnhed embroidery, and France swished around the wine inside his mouth; savoring every bit.

As they both sat in slience; eventually it started to become unbearable. Francis sat his wine down on the side table, looking at England. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?" He asked. Arthur exhaled through his nose. "Yes." He huffed, quickly putting down his piece; along with Francis putting down his wine.

Alfred heard them scatter to their room; he twitched his nose in disgust just thinking what they might do - to the point it started to make him feel nauseous - he stood up from the ground, making his way to his bed & plopping down onto it; using a pillow to cover his ears. In time, he drifted off into deep sleep - some tears escaping into his pillow.

_______________________

"Um—Can I get a pack of those?" He asked -pointing at the cigrettes behind the cashier head - The cashier reductendently walked over to the box & tossed it onto the counter.

as he was almost about to pick up the case, the cashier stopped him; picking up the box before him, and taking a step back.

"You look a bit too young for these—how old are you, son?" The cashier asked. Matthew, caught in the act - rubbed the back of his neck; sweat started to drip from his forehead.

"Um…" fidgeting with his hands.

"I'ma just goin' to be taking these back then." The cashier slowly said, furrowing his brows.

Quickly, Canada swipped the cigarettes & made a run for it.

"Eh, I'm sorry!" He yelled as he ran out of the front door of the store.

"Hey, hey! Get back here!" The cashier called out from behind Matthew; waving his hands above his head - eventually giving up, walking back into the store.

Canada had a rush like no other thing he's experienced before - it had felt…good! - although he did feel bad for stealing from the poor cashier. The aderliencon in his body canceled that out for the time being; he'll definitely stay up thinking about it later though.

Stopping on the sidewalk to catch his breathe, he heard someone yelling - not the cashier this time, someone else.

"I see you America! You agortant ass—you can't hide from me!!"

Matthew looked up from ground, to see it was Máximo who was yelling at him; hanging out from the window of his car.

He jumped; muttering a curse under his breath & begain running again.

"I'm not America!" He cried out, as he kept running.

"Liar! I know it's you, America!" Yelled back Máximo.

Speeding up, 'til he was close enough to Matthew; driving onto the concerete, stoping infront of him - closing Canada in - Matthew jumped back again; falling on his ass. He grunted out of pain. Making haste - or at least trying to - he scatted back up from the floor. But just as he started to make a run for it again; Máximo had already gotten out of his car, slaming the door as he got out. Grabbing Canada by the collar of his shirt - cursing at him in Spanish.

Canada - scared - raised his hands over his face; to block any hits that came his way.

Uncovering his face just for a brief minute, "I told you; im not America!" He pleaded. "Please—you have to believ-"

Before he could finsh his words, Cuba had spit in his face. "Like I'd believe that—I know your America; your not sneaky as you like to believe."

Wiping off the spit that was on his face, he grimaced - before he could hide his face again - Máximo striked him in the nose; blood began to pour all down his chin, to his shirt.

After a few more punches; lighter then the others. Cuba left him alone - curled up in a ball, silently sobbing.

But to top it all off, he spat on him one more time; before leaving.

Chapter Text

Smoke flew out from his mouth, coughing a little every time he went in for a hit - besides that, he was pissed; not understanding how he could have let this happen to himself. He also thought about the cashier every time he brought the cig up to his cracked lips. Making him even more angry at himself each time - after he'd finally finshed the cigarette off, he wondered if his family was looking for him. Was Alfred worried? Was Francis an anxious mess? Did Arthur even notice? When he thought about it a bit longer, he eventually had his answer: no. They probably didn't.

He didn't even try to give them an excuse this time; he just accepted the truth.

Bringing up his hand to touch his swollen eye, twitching at the pain. His shirt still soaked with blood - not caring to clean it up; too angry to even think about cleaning up right now.

Huffing as he stood up from the curb, his stomach growled up at him.

Cursing under his breathe whist he despretably rumaged through his bag.

He knew what he had to do, but it most definitely wouldn't be from the same place - he couldn't handle any more gulit if he stole from that poor cashier for the second time.

Whipping the rest of the blood from his face onto his bloody shirt & putting on a jacket. Spitting onto the ground; getting the last of the blood out from his mouth plus flicking the butt onto the ground.

_______________________

"Are you doing alright, America?" Ivan questioned him as he watched the other nation move his lunch around with his fork - like a bird moving feed around with its beck.

Alfred - surpised by the question - cocked his head to face the other and waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah—of course. I'm good, man!" He assured. "Why you ask?"

Shaking his head, and turning to face to the front. "ah, no reason—except for the fact your not eating your food." He stated, side-eyeing Alfred, before continuing. "I'm not stupid, America—what's wrong?" Turning his head to face America - his brows furrowed with worry.

Alfred was a little taken aback from the whole sudden interrogation.

Turning his gaze from the other nation back to his played around food. He signed, but then started to speak, "I don't want to talk about it." He mummbled, whlist still moving his food. Stabing a strawberry from his plate with his fork, and bringing it up to mouth. "But," he said in between bites. "You don't have to worry about me; I'm fine!" Turning his head towards Ivan - with a smile.

Ivan nodded in response - wanting to help his friend, but not wanting to press on a sensitive subject any longer then he has to .

"If you are sur-"

Before he had a chance to finsh his words, Alfred had turned his head, and started chatting it up with Romano - who had just taken his sit at the table.

Romano smacked Alfred on the back of his head - while he muttered about how stupid Alfred was being - Alfred just laughed it off & continued to crack jokes - that he only really laughed at.

He eyed the two nations; still worried about Alfred - before he could get too caught up in his head, Yao came over aswell & took a sit right beside him.

"Loud, aren't they?" Nudging Ivan as he joked; a faint smile coming onto both their faces.

"Да, very." He agreed, whilst still eyeing the two.

Yao put a hand on Ivan's shoulder; Ivan jumped, and cocked his head towards unexpected touch. "Don't focus too much on them, eat." He whispered, using his own fork to point towards Ivan's own food - which he hadn't touched yet.

Ivan smiled, and nodded.

_______________________

Reaching out & pocketing a candy bar - looking around if anyone was looking, and to his relief, no one was.

His somatch growled up at him again; begging to be fed - he should have planed this out better.

He was reaching for another candy bar, when he heard a voice call out to him.

"Are you finding everything fine, sir?" a voice called out.

Matthew nearly had a heart attack at the sudden question.

Whipping his head around to see her smiling & titling her head. Nervously, he responded. "Uh, yeah—im finding everything fine, thanks for asking!" while awkardly smiling at her, stiffly turning back to the shelf - side eying her every couple second, before pocketing the other candy bar he had his eye set on.

Walking through the asiles & making his way to the fridges, he eyed over all the options of drinks; while still keeping a eye on the old lady. Bending over, and giving the lady one last nervous look, then he started to reach for the drink; until he noticed a presence over to the far left of him. Slowly, he looked over to where he thought someone was. And to his dismay, there was someone standing over there; that person was Cuba.

His eye's widened, and he started to shake. He quickly put back the drink back, and started speed-walking to the door; waving to the lady as she told him to have a good day.

Making it over to the entrence, he was just about to open the door to escape; he then felt a hand on his shoulder. it made him jump, and cock his head slowly around to see who it was - he already had a feeling he knew who it was though.

Before Cuba could even get a word in, Canada was already on it; aplogizing like crazy. "I'm sorry about last time; but you have to believe me I'm not America— I won't come near you again if you want that! That was my fault. I'm so-"

"chill, chill—I'm not going to hurt you." He said while he cut off Canada's apologetic rant.

"Actually, I wanted to aplogize about that." Rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you were America, and even when you told me you weren't; I didn't stop—I should be the one saying sorry."

Canada's face dropped, but then he slowly started to smile "It's okay." He replied.

"Really?"

"Well, not really; you did kind of beat me up."

"Oh."

"But, I'm just glad you aplogized!" He reassured. "Not a-lot of people do."

"Damn," he took momment "well, that's depressing, man."

Both of them walked out the store; and are now walking over to the side of the store to lean against a wall - because someone walked into the store yelled at them for blocking the entrance.

"yeah,,, sorry about that, eh."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Stop aplogizing, man—you don't need to; you didn't do anything wrong."

"Sorry.."

He gave Matthew a 'really?' Look, and then bonked him over the head - Matthew smiled, and covered his head.

"Stop it."

"Sor-" he stopped himself, "okay."

"Good—that's what I like to hear."

looking in each other in their eyes, and smiling, before breaking the contact & looking forward.

Clearing his throat. "So,,, how'd you figure out I'm not my brother?"

"Ah, that." He said while still looking forward. "Well, your missing posters are practically everywhere, man."

"Wait, wait, wait." Shaking his head. " Are you fucking with me?"

"No, dude—im serious."

"Oh, shit." He mumbled under his breathe.

"Why'd you do it?" He asked, "you don't seem like the type to run away."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, "well, I don't really feel like talking about it."

He gave him a sympathetic look before replying."fair."

The slience slowly becoming unbearable as each mintue passed by.

Patting his pockets, "so,,," Máximo started.

Matthew turned to him, titling his head curiously.

"You got a cigarette?"

He nodded; pulling out the - practically - new box. Getting out one for him first, then one for Máximo. Handing it out for him to grab.

With both of the cigarettes hanging from their mouths. Matthew pulled out his lighter; lighting Cuba's first, then his own.

Coughing a little as he let the cig come down from his lips.

"New?"

"Second time."

"So,, new?"

Furrowing his brows, as he thought about it for a second.

"Yeah, that would make me new to this; wouldn't it?" He let out a tiny laugh that turned to coughing fit.

"Yup, you're like a baby!" Máximo picked on him, his laugh a crackly one.

"Hey, leave me alone, man!" He said in between coughs. "You're just bullying me at this point!!"

"Ah, you can handle it." Smiling and patting a hand on his back.

After his coughs softened - only happening once in a while - they sat in slience; watching as the it slowly settled into nightfall.

Máximo looked down to check his watch, he cursed under his breath.

"What is it?"

"I have to leave soon—my mom will be worried sick about me if I don't!"

"Eh,, I guess I'll see you later then."

"Yeah, see yo–" suddenly, he remembered somthing. "Wait, hey. Are you staying with anyone?"

"Um, no—why you ask?"

"Well, my mom doesn't really care if I have people over—infact she'll probably be happy if someone else came over; she's been begging me to bring friends over." He took a second to breathe. "Would you like to come?"

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Hell yeah, man."

"Eh, sure!"

"Nice! Here, I'll show you the way; follow me."