Matthew looked up at Arthur, who was holding a letter close.
"It's from Alfred... right..?" Arthur looked up, a bit shocked by the other's presence.
"Yes. He sent it from Iraq..."Matthew smiled.
"I'm glad you two are keeping in touch..."
He kept his smile firmly on his lips, although inside he was crying a neverending flow of tears. For as long as he could remember, he'd loved Arthur. But for whatever unknown reason, Arthur prefered Matthew's loud, obnoxious twin. The honey-blond had done nothing but support and care for Arthur, yet he was realy ever even seen by his love.
In honesty, he was starting to lose hope in ever recieving the love he could so willingly and eagerly give to the Briton.
After all, Arthur was in love with Alfred. Not Matthew.
Those words would chant incessantly when he lay in bed, warding off any sleep the Canadian could even hope to get. It would start slowly, then become a slow drone. It would continue to the point of madness some nights.
Not you. Not you. Not you.
Matthew sighed and looked up at Arthur, who was now reading the letter with a fond smile set upon his lips. Lips that Matthew so desperately wanted to touch his own to.
But he knew better. If he did kiss Arthur, then that would be it for them. He really would lose all hope because Arthur would never forgive him.
Then, he really would have a reason to die.
Matthew, honestly, lived solely for the moments when Arthur would see or recognize him. Moments like those made Matthew's lonely heart beat faster and his eyes light up.
Arthur looked up at Matthew. "Wonderful news! He'll be coming home soon!"
With those words, Matthew's heart sank. Once Alfred was back, he and Arthur had planned to get married. Once they saw each other, any chance Matthew ever had would be taken from him. He either had to do something now, or end it.
Matthew smiled at Arthur.
"That's amazing. I hope once you two are married, he'll come to love you as much as I did." The gentleman's eyes widened a bit.
"What... what do you mean, Matthew..?"
"I mean what I said. I hope he's still everything you always wanted. I hope he loves you like I would've. Anyway, I have to go. Goodbye."
Matthew walked up to Arthur and moved the hair away from the latter's forehead, which he kissed gently before exiting the room.
Arthur wasn't really sure what just happened, but he did know two things.
Matthew had just said that he loved him.
And he had a horrid feeling welling in him at the boy's farewell.
Arthur gulped, looking at Matthew. He had never thought this was what he meant with his final words.
He used words to make it seem like he didn't love him, but had at a point, yet the note in his hand had clearly stated four words that rendered that thought purely false.
I love Arthur Kirkland.
Arthur gulped, touching his fiance's brother on the cheek gently. "Oh Lord, Matthew... Did it really drive you this crazy... Crazy enough to do this..?"
He wiped away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, taking a deep breath. He looked around, seeing only Francis lingering behind. The Frenchman nodded and left the room, leaving Arthur alone with the boy whose heart he had tortured.
Arthur looked back and sighed again pressing his lips against the cold ones of Matthew Williams, July 1, 1993 to September 16, 2012, before leaving to allow the undertaker to close the casket of a boy taken long before his time.
