A/N: Even though the pairing isn't my favorite, the idea just came to me and I thought, "OMG I MUST TO WRITE THIS NAO GAIZ." And so [the violet phase.] was born. Enjoy the fail.

First story (orz).

Disclaimer: I'm way too poor.

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Collateral Chapter I

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The dreary streets were seemingly endless, winding ribbons of gray upon gray mapping out the city. A harsh wind seemed to cut through Virginia Boulevard, and all those waiting impatiently at the metropolis' main bus stop shivered at its effect. It didn't matter how many layers of winter gear one would use, the cutting breeze would make its way through the fibers and into your bones.

Which is precisely why Matthew Williams had had quite enough of waiting.

Chilled to the bone, the young blonde finally sighed, acknowledging that the cold December morning had beaten him after all. It was pathetic; he was Canadian! He'd had summers colder than this.

Still, Matthew trudged to a small café not a block away, teeth chattering all the way as his red scarf whipped behind him, nearly strangling him as it wrapped around a lamppost. He had never really noticed the tucked-away little shop until now, but as he entered, mouth agape, he had to admit that it was rather beautiful.

There was wall-to-wall plush carpeting in a rich mahogany color, contrasting pleasantly with the rich, striking gold sheen of the brass-colored walls. Armchairs were placed strategically around the open floor plan, matched with tables made out of shining glass, tinted a slight red. The front counter was very grand, an imposing cherrywood structure with varnish making the top gleam.

And the warmth. Oh maple, it was warm.

Sighing quite contentedly, the Canadian snuggled deeply into a chair he had taken a shine to, which was made of deep brown suede. Closing his eyes, the boy thought, "I'll just rest for a moment. I'll wake up in time for my bus."

However, just as Matthew was drifting off, he smelled something peculiar. Peculiar, yes… But not unpleasant. He managed, with sheer force of will, to wrench one eyelid open just a crack. And promptly tumbled out of his amazingly comfortable seat.

A man with spiky silver hair had been literally inches from his face, peering at him with such an intensity Matthew could swear his heart nearly stopped.

Sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide, the boy panted and stared in horror at the man who, moments ago, had been as entranced with him as if he was a movie star. People whispered and muttered while staring disdainfully at the boy who was making a ruckus, but Matthew didn't notice. The Canadian was too busy trying to regain a pulse. "Maple, his eyes are red!"

Finally, the other patrons of the café lost interest and resumed their light chatter. Slowly and shakily, Matthew climbed to his feet, waving off the hand that the creepy man extended in apology. "I'm f-fine."

Said silver-haired man smirked and wrapped a hand around the Canadian's waist anyways, causing the younger man to squeak quietly and blush, red dusting his pale cheeks.

"You don't look 'f-fine,'" whispered the stranger seductively. Matthew could swear that the silverette was nibbling his ear. Then, said man took one step back, as if surveying the blonde's flustered, windswept appearance, nodding slowly. Was it out of approval? Matthew couldn't be sure…

"On second thought, you do look fine." Though the man's tone was appreciative enough, Matthew could hear the sarcastic undertone. "Gee, thanks," hissed the Canadian in reply. Checking his watch, the Canadian straightened and said, "Well, I'd better get going if I want to catch my bus."

The red-eyed stranger hastily replied, "Wait! Before you go! I'd like to give you something…"

Matthew took a deep breath, reluctantly turning around. "Y-Yes?" Cheekily, 'Red-Eyed Bastard' (as Matthew had so affectionately mentally dubbed him) whipped a pen and pad of paper out of his server's apron and jotted down a few words, smiling as he did so.

"If that's your number, you must be deranged if you think I'll take it." "I don't think, dollface…" (Well, that much was obvious.) "I just know."

Rolling his eyes, the Canadian mumbled as he pocketed the sheet of paper anyways, adjusting his scarf and jacket for the bitter winter weather outside once more. He turned around to give the man a parting insult of some sort, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Matthew saw him busing a nearby table, kindly asking an elderly woman if she wanted a refill of iced tea.

He sighed and stepped outside the heavy door, nearly screaming as the frigid air hit his warmed skin like a brick wall. He walked back to the bus stop, and, having nothing else to do, fumbled with his gloved hands for the note. Matthew cautiously opened it, almost as if he expected something to jump put of it and scream. When the paper had been unfolded without incident, the Northerner gave a resigned huff and began to read.

"Dear Pretty-Boy,"

Oh, he hated the bastard already.

"My (AWESOME) number is 1-707-364-8737. I know that you're reading

this, so call me tonight.

11:00 p.m. I'll introduce you to my world.

P.S. Your eyes are beautiful.

-The Gilbert Of Awesome."

Matthew's cheeks flushed red. It was just from the cold… right?

Right?

The bus arrived.

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WOOT! First chapter's done!! *dances* Again, this is my first fic, so don't flame. Expect semi-decent updates and an epic win plot. 'Cause I'm awesomer than Prussia (SHOT BY FANGIRLS FOR BLASPHEMY) *dies.*

TVP out.