Chapter 1

Darkness was all that greeted Mathew when the timer began to beep.

Five in the morning was way too early to be doing anything with a full day of school ahead of you, especially when that full day also happened to be the first day of a new school in a totally different place. Yet, last night at eleven, he'd set his phone on a timer for six hours, which brought him here to this ungodly moment of the morning.

Mathew Jones tore himself from his blankets and stood up, wide awake. He'd slept in the living room. This time there hadn't been a spare bed room. He suspected that hadn't been an accident. At least sleeping down stares made it easier to grab something to eat and take off before his father, or worse his brother, awoke.

All the clothes he owned were stuffed in a duffle bag he tugged along everywhere he went. No telling what would happen if he left them alone.

New town, though, so he wasn't exactly sure where he could and would want to go for the hour and half before school started. Didn't even know how long the walk from this house to the school was.

He'd become very used to moving, so he wasn't worried. Every town had their rules. For instance, Mathew's bisexual brother could only crush on boys safely in some states. Where and when it was okay to loiter was just another thing he'd have to learn.

The couch sat in front of the fake fireplace that could only be turned on with a switch. The couch was in the living room, and the living room was connected to the kitchen. Not very surprising, but very few houses he'd lived in were particularly unique or interesting. He walked across the floor and opened the pantry. Lucky Charms, Fruit Loops, Coco Puffs, all of the highly sugary cereal he couldn't stand. But that wasn't what he was looking for. Mathew reached past the cereal and into his father's box of protein bars. He took two and pored himself a glass of orange juice.

Scarfing the meal down, Matthew ducked into the bathroom down the hall. He quickly changed into his cloths for the day and regarded himself in the mirror. Tall, broad shouldered, with white blond hair and eyes an almost a violet color. And of course the two twin scars on his forearms. One from an accident, faint and barely visible, the other from the car crash later that day, much more pronounced.

Mathew heard footsteps and the sound of something heavy rolling across the floor

Mathew held back a curse. Why would Alfred get him up this early? Mathew always tried to wake up before his father and brother, to be out of the house before either of them started the day.

He wondered if it would just be best to hide until they left, but that could be an hour.

He swallowed and stepped out the bathroom.

Alfred was making oatmeal and his father sat in his wheel chair, staring out the window. There was no attempt at conversation. Father hadn't been very talkative since the accident. Losing his wife and the use of his legs would do that to people. That would change in a moment. Father had always made an effort at conversation with Alfred when Mathew was in the room.

"You excited for your first day of school?" His father asked his brother.

There was an audible pause, a hesitation from Alfred as he made a decision. He always made the same one.

"I guess." He said, playing along.

And the game began.

Mathew usually just tried to tune them out, but he never succeeded. He sipped at the remaining orange juice and heard his stomach grumble. The exchange continued, and of course, Mathew was listening.

"What are your classes?" Father asked Alfred.

"Well I have algebra 2 first." He was starting to gaining steam. Not a surprise. Talking was one of Alfred's greatest talents.

"Higher level math? Very good, I'm impressed." Mathew gritted his teeth. Algebra 2 was required for all high school students to graduate. Most kids took it in their junior year. Not senior, not exactly higher level. Plus Mathew was taking calculus.

"Well, I mean, most people take it." Alfred blushed, glowing in the uninformed and completely ridiculous praise.

"What else?" his father pressed. Mathew was itching by now, he wanted to leave, but he was still hungry.

"Biology, Team Sports, then lunch which is perfect because I get food after working out." Alfred listed. Mathew decided to grab a glass of milk, maybe yogurt too.

Mathew ended up reusing the orange juice cup instead of walking near his father to get into the cupboard. He opened the fridge. Alfred ripped open a packet of oatmeal and emptied it into a bowl. He babbled on and on. Mathew glanced back, realizing that Alfred would need the milk in a moment for the oatmeal. Oh well, he could use water.

Mathew pulled out the carton of milk and ducked out of the way as Alfred walked the few steps from the counter to the fridge. He didn't glance at Mathew but he must have noticed the missing carton. Still, he opened the refrigerator and made a show of looking through it.

"Do you want me to use water instead?" Alfred asked hesitantly.

"No milk." His father insisted "Isn't there any?"

Alfred bit his lip "We're out." he said. Mathew clutched the milk carton in his hands

"Impossible, it was half full last night." His father insisted.

"Well, there isn't any now-"

There was a heavy silence of unspoken command. Mathew was required to play his part.

Mathew slammed the milk carton on the counter, hoping to see any sort of reaction.

There was none of course.

Alfred turned back shrugging to his father until he 'noticed' the milk carton on the table. "Oh there it is." He said in discovery.

"Did you leave it all night?" Their father asked.

"I don't think so," Alfred said, and paused for a second "Someone must have."

"Well it had to be me or you." Alfred's father analyzed "it's not as if anyone else lives here."

"Well yeah." Alfred back tracked "Yeah, I must have." He amended.

Mathew had always considered himself mature for his age. So when he decided to gently lift the bottle of syrup from the lowest shelf on the fridge door, his intentions were not at all childish. Mathew unscrewed the cap and reached over toward his brother. He tipped the bottle upside-down, letting the cold sticky liquid poor all into the bowl of oatmeal. Satisfied, he leaned back and shoved the bottle back into the fridge and waited.

Alfred stared down at the mess of cereal and syrup. "Uh," he paused, searching for some sort of explanation "I screw up?"

"Language." their father admonished.

Mathew stood and bit his lip. The two continued to banter at each other. Alfred walked to the sink and dumped the dishware in. He grinned self-deprecatingly and took on the blame as his father laughed and asked how he could get milk confused with syrup. Alfred started talking all about his mad skills and no one heard the small pained "I hate you." that came from the forgotten boy on other side of the kitchen.

No one noticed when he disappeared.

Urbana High was not in fact in the city limits of Philadelphia, but right smack in the middle of the suburbs. Mathew found that ironic.

The school was new and imposing, with a pretty stadium that Matthew vowed never to set foot in. The walls were two stories of white tanned brick with large windows. It was a hulking thing, not beautiful or majestic, rather just extremely intimidating.

Mathew clutched the piece of paper listing his classes in his left hand and held his duffel bag in the right. On his shoulder was slung Alfred's old backpack, the one with the broken strap. Mathew had been able to fix it with a bit if duct tape. Inside was an old binder with a lot of paper Mathew had stolen throughout the summer, and a few pens he'd found lying around. The things people left behind in their classes would serve to replace Mathew's school supplies as the year went on.

Now it was just a matter of walking into the school. Mathew was taking a hesitant step forward when his choice was made for him, sending him sprawling forward after a head on collision.

"Watch where the fuck you're standing asshole!" came an enraged and irritated voice.

"I'm sorry." Mathew replied automatically, staring at all the fallen books on the ground. He crouched down to help. "I-" he looked up.

The boy had a small frame. Immaculately combed red hair and tastefully picked cloths. His appearance screamed wealth the way his expression scream anger. He wasn't particularly beautiful. His features were too sharp and his eyes a muddy brown color.

And he couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen the other boy before.

"Next time!" The boy lifted his head to glare into Mathew's eyes. "Don't fucking stand in the middle of the street like a dumbass unless you want to get bulldozed over."

Mathew, appalled by the other boy's language, felt anger boil up inside him. He'd tell the boy how rude he was, Mathew didn't deserve to be talked down to like this!

"Got it?!" snapped the red head angrily.

Mathew didn't do much as say a word.

The boy spun on his heel and walked purposely into the school.

Mathew shifted the backpack on his shoulder and began to follow.

Mathew needed to find his locker before he went in search of his first class. He took the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and scrutinized it. He found his combination and locker number, located in the north wing of the school.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

His first class was chemistry. The lab tables were arranged in seats of two, facing front in rows and columns. Mathew quickly scanned the seating chart and found his name. His lab bench was in the back of the room next to someone named Lovino. Only a few people had entered the room but Mathew still felt foolish just standing in the middle like a deer in the headlight. He glanced around and moved to take his seat.

Lovino had already arrived. He leaned back in his chair, he staring down at his phone intently. The boy pounded down on his smart phone viciously. Mathew realized with a sinking feeling that he recognized Lovino as the boy who had knocked into him minutes before.

Perfect.

Mathew moved to sit down. He waited for Lovino to groan or complain or announce his displeasure in some other way, but the other boy didn't say a word. Mathew should have been grateful but in truth the boy's silence only served to make the situation more awkward.

More children filed into the classroom and the two continued in their silence. Lovinio seemed to be getting more and more agitated. He glared down at his phone as if it were the source of all his problem before violently shoving it into his pocket. Looking up, he began in burning a hole in the wall dead ahead of him with his eyes. After minutes of unbearable silence the bell rang shrilly and a middle aged looked out at the class. She scanned and appraised every student as if to determine what kind of pain in the ass they'd turn out t be.

"The student you are sitting next to will be your lab partner for the next year," she announced. Mathew shriveled inwardly.

Lovino turned slowly toward Mathew and fixed him with a stare "If you really are as clumsy as you seem, you better not get in my way and fuck up my grade, got it bastard?"

And thus Mathew's school year began.

First days were always boring. Mostly the teachers just passed out paperwork and gave the customary welcome speech. From his first three periods, Mathew already been handed over a dozen documents he'd have to forge his father's signature onto, but no real homework. Not even from Calculus.

Fourth period, however, was a departure from anything Mathew had expected. Physical Education classes were usually just an extension of the general population of the school. A collection of snooty girls wearing short shorts and scrawny guys who thought they were good at sports. As Mathew surveyed the gym he could tell that this wasn't the case.

This was the jocks class.

His gaze was drawn to a group of kids playing with a football. In another corner, two groups of kids looked to be almost in a fight. One, Mathew was unsurprised to see, was headed none other than his lab partner Lovino. The other's leader was an even slighter boy with choppy blond hair.

"Rugby." came a casual voice.

Mathew twisted around. Behind him a hulking figure leaned against the wall. Mathew was struck immediately by his powerful aura. He had almost white hair and unreadable violet eyes. He wore a heavy long sleeved shirt and sweat pants. He must have been hot; Mathew was sweating even in his light clothing. But the other boy didn't show any signs of discomfort. In fact, he seemed completely at ease.

"What?" Mathew asked.

"Rugby." The guy answered. He had a strange accent, Russian maybe. "Lovino and Arthur over there. You wouldn't think it considering how small they are, but they're magnificent at it."

Mathew nodded, pretending he had any idea what Rugby was.

"Um, thanks I guess." Mathew replied.

"No problem," The boy didn't look directly at Mathew, rather, off to the side, absorbed in something else "What do you play?" he asked with a surprising amount of interest.

"Huh?"

The large man waited for an answer.

"Um, nothing, I suppose. I don't really do sports."

"Than this won't be fun for you then."

Mathew didn't like the sound of that.

Mathew gripped his hands behind his and ran his tongue along his teeth. "What do you play then?" he asked, hoping to deflect attention.

The boy moved with a striking amount of grace and pointed to the far corner of the room "See those five right over there?"

Mathew turned in the direction indicated. He saw five blonde boys.

"Those are my team mates." He explained "Hockey."

"Field hockey?" Mathew asked.

"Ice hockey." A bizarre smile split the other boy's face.

Despite how disconcerting the boy was, he'd been the first person to engage Mathew in a conversation, however strange, that day. Lovino, Mathew decided, didn't really count.

"I'm Mathew." He said.

"Ivan Braginski."

"Nice to meet you Ivan." The echo of Ivan's words drifted back to him. "Now what did you mean I won't have fun if I-"

"Everyone listen up! That means you Mathias! Shut up Lovino! You'll have plenty of time to rip Arthur's head off once we've started the game!"

"You will soon find out." Ivan said ominously. He brushed passed Mathew and toward the voice. Mathew turned and followed.

"Alright sweeties!" shouted the imposing gym teacher "No freshmen? Good! You all know the drill!"

"What are we playing coach!" yelled the brown haired girl.

"Field hockey."

A few scattered cheers could be heard, but the air was overpowered by groans.

"Let's play some football, a real sport!" one of the boys shouted.

"Quiet Hernandez!" The teacher bellowed, sending a glare in the boys direction. She turned to her right, scanning the assembly of children. "Densen! Oxenstierna! Team captains! Make it quick."

The two largest of the blond hockey kids stepped up. "Lukas!" shouted one.

"Tino." The other boy's words lacked the first ones exuberant, but had the same air of command.

"Emil!" the loud one called

"Ivan."

Ivan tapped Mathew on the shoulder "Come with me." he said.

"You can't pick two!" whined the other team captain indignantly. Ivan and their team captain both turned to glare with ice intensity. Instead of cowering in fear, though, the other captain just rolled his eyes "Fine! Elizabeta and Ludwig!"

"Luciano."

"Lovino!"

"Arthur."

"Hello." said a cheerful looking blond boy. "My name is Tino."

Mathew looked up, meeting the boy's gaze. Before today, he'd never met another person with the same strange violet tinted eyes he saw in the mirror. But in the past ten minutes he'd met two. "Mathew." He replied.

"What do you play?" Tino asked "Ivan must think your something special to take an interest." His smile became slightly forced as he said the other boy's name.

Mathew grimaced. Why did everyone assume he did sports?

"I-I," he stuttered "Don't really, um, well, play, uh, anything really."

Tino eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly covered his surprise with a smile "Oh, well don't worry about that. Ivan knows what he's doing." He said reassuringly.

Mathew didn't feel reassured

"Alright! Captains! You have five minutes to discuss strategy!" yelled the teacher.

"Gather round." said the low voice. "Those of you that don't play hockey, what are your positions in your sports?" he surveyed the group. "Your forward aren't you Luciano?" Berwald asked, eyes landing on one of the boys.

Luciano made a sound of accent.

"Forward then."

The boy, Arthur, the one with the choppy blond hair interrupted Berwald as he opened his mouth to speak. "Rugby doesn't exactly translate into hockey, I don't see how-"

"Midfielder." Ivan interrupted.

Berwald nodded curtly.

Mathew felt his mind wandering as Berwald continued to assign roles and positions.

"You? Your position?"

Mathew's head shot up. Everyone was looking at him and he realized the question had been directed to him. "Um-I," he began.

"Forward." Ivan said.

"Alright!" shouted the teacher "Onto the pitch!" A few kids let out sounds of anticipation. Mathew felt the group moving left, towards the double doors leading outside.

"Wait!" Mathew cried glancing around for Tino "w-what's a forward?" but Tino had disappeared.

Mathew turned frantically toward the only person in sight. Arthur had stopped and was staring at him. "Please-" he begged.

Arthur gave him a disbelieving look "You try to hit the puck into the net." He answered as if that explained everything.

Mathew watched him trot off and he bit his lip, panic rising. Alfred was the athlete, not him. He decided running for the bathroom was his only option, nobody would notice he was gone, nobody ever did.

Just as he was about to bolt, Ivan materialized next to him. Mathew started, looking up at the guy. Somehow, even though Mathew was taller than average, Ivan towered over him.

"Where are you going?" Ivan asked in a tone that should have sounded sweet, but didn't.

"N-nowhere."

"See there's our problem." The boy exclaimed happily. "We need to get to the pitch. Come on, it's warm outside, if that's what your worried about."

Ivan grabbed his arm and started to tug him along. His grip was strong, but not painful. Still, Mathew felt shivers running up his spine and had to force himself not to yank himself out of the other boy's grip. He wasn't used to such deliberate touch.

Ivan drug him through the crowd and out the double doors. Ivan hadn't been lying. Even this far north in the United States summer was lingering with all its might. It was warmer, even, than it had been even hours before. He even began to worry about not having applied sunblock earlier that day.

Shirts littered the ground. Many of the guys ran around bare chested. Even a few of the girls wore only sport bras.

Judging Matthew had gotten the idea, Ivan let go of his arm, and started walking toward the end of the field. Pitch, Mathew corrected himself, though he was pretty sure that was something you threw in baseball.

Mathew still didn't know exactly what he was supposed to be doing, but he was beginning to have an idea of how to save himself the embarrassment of revealing that. He remembered that one of the boys, Luciano he believed, was forward also. Maybe he could just follow his lead? It was the best plan he had. Mathew scanned for the other boy. He was already on the pitch, toward the middle of the field and on the right.

Mathew walked onto the middle left side of the pitch, opposite from Luciano. Mathew positioned himself a mirror image of the other boy, just slightly back from the line. He glanced around, fearing that he was making some stupid mistake. Thankfully, no one seemed to be looking at him like he had no idea what he was doing. In fact, no one paid him a second glance.

The stragglers took their positions on the Pitch. Mathew was relieved to see that the other side looked pretty similar. Everything seemed in order. The largest difference was the other team captain was positioned at the middle of the line, a ball, as opposed to a puck like he would have expected, right before his stick. Mathew knew he should be focused on the ball or at the very least Luciano so he knew what the hell he was supposed to do when something happened. But he found himself focused on the other team captain. His blond hair was spiked up in the oddest way. He was very pale and, shirt off, Mathew could see he was muscular, broad shoulders narrowing to his hips in that triangular shape Mathew himself saw in the mirror to a lesser extent. Nay one with eyes could see that the guy was attractive-

Was he checking the guy out?

Mathew shook himself. He was on the verge of making a huge fool of himself and he was focusing on the physic of some guy who didn't even know he existed? What if he'd seen Mathew ogling him like some seventh grade middle school girl? Not only would his masculinity be insulted but-

The ball was hit.

Everyone burst into motion. Mathew frantically searched for Luciano. He was running into the opponents side of the pitch, Mathew bolted across, trying to get somewhere relative to Luciano's position.

Luciano seemed to have a reputation, or at least the rest of the kids realized that Mathew was less of a threat. Almost all of the defending players conglomerated over on Luciano's side of the field, guarding him closely. This, Mathew realized, left Mathew pretty wide open. Mathew searched for the ball in case anyone was enough of an idiot to pass the ball to him, but he couldn't find it anywhere.

"Bastard!" shouted a shrill voice. Mathew's head whipped back around toward his team's side of the field. Lovino and Arthur were clumsily fighting for the ball, awkwardly shooting sticks out and tangling themselves in each other's limbs. Arthur however was somehow able to gain the upper hand, whisking the ball away from Lovino. Arthur's head shot up for a quick second and realized that Luciano was too heavily guarded. His eyes landed on Mathew. Mathew only had a few moments to scream profanity in his mind before Arthur hit the ball into his direction.

The ball went slightly wide and Mathew had to jump left to get at it. He tried to mimic the movements he'd seen the other kids do as they ran, but he suspected he sucked at it.

He turned intent on finding someone to shoot the ball to as quickly as possible. Meters away he saw a brown haired girl hurtling toward him. He was ninety percent sure that she wasn't on his team. Mathew glanced desperately around. There were still too many people around Luciano.

Berwald. He was father up the Pitch near the opponent's goal. A silver haired boy was hovering close to him but his only other option was Luciano and that wasn't happening.

The girl was almost on him. Mathew frantically hit the ball in Berwald's direction. It went wide, but thankfully in the direction farthest from the silver haired boy. Berwald had to turn and stretch , snatching up the ball into his possession. He used that momentum to fling it toward the goal. The ball sailed passed the large blond goalie and into the net.

Cheers erupted behind him. He could hear Arthur's distinctive accent as he shouted something smug, and the indignant screech of Lovino.

Mathew grinned. Not horrible, he decided.

It hadn't been beginners luck either, unless beginners luck continued throughout a whole game.

Mathew became more and more confident as the match progressed. Match or game? Mathew wasn't sure. Regardless, he had a knack for it. By the end, he'd only gotten the ball wrestled from him twice and scored just as many goals. About half way through the defenders started to guard him just as heavily as Luciano.

His team ended up winning, much to the chagrin to the spiky haired team captain. He didn't seem to like being beaten by Berwald at all. Maybe they had a rivalry?

The coach blew the whistle, signaling the end of the game. Mathew stumbled off the field feeling pleasantly warm and tired. Someone clapped him on the back and he turned seeing Tino grinning up at him. "What did you mean you didn't have experience? You're great!" Mathew saw out of the corner his eye the spiky hair team captain pick up a shirt and throw it angrily in the vague direction of Berwald. Berwald didn't react.

Mathew felt himself turning red and beaming at the other boy. "Well I-I guess I didn't do horribly but I don't know if well-"

"Nonsense!" came a voice from behind them. Tino's smile froze in place. "Accept the little Finnish boy's compliment! You did well."

Mathew flushed again, but this time with embarrassment. "Th-thank you T-T-Tino" he stuttered

"That's quiet alright." Tino said "Well I will be going- uh, um, what was your name again?"

"Mathew." He supplied.

Tino nodded and scurried off. Most of the other kids had filtered back into the gym already, leaving Ivan and Mathew almost completely alone. Mathew scanned the Pitch and met the gaze of Arthur looking over at him. Eyes full of warning.

Mathew swallowed "Thank you I-Ivan" he tried to keep from stuttering but he felt himself trip on the last word.

"No problems." Ivan replied, smiling a bit.

"Oh w-well." Mathew's eyes connected back with Arthur's. He wasn't moving, but continued to watch. Mathew looked away.

"The school has a hockey team." Ivan began

"Field hockey?" Mathew asked. A sport? Sports had always been Alfred's thing. But Alfred had never done field hockey.

"No, ice hockey."

"O-o-ohh we I d-don't know if I-I-" Ice hockey? Like on the ice? That didn't seem like a good idea.

"Think about it." Ivan said "You'd be good at it, I know that. I could help you adjust to the ice rink. It's not as hard as you might think."

"I-I'll think about it." Mathew lied. He had no intention of ever stepping on ice with blades strapped to his feet. Sports cost money, money his family wouldn't be willing to spend on him. It was impossible.

"You should." Ivan told him.

Mathew nodded. The teacher shouted for the stragglers to hurry up into the gym. Ivan swept passed him. Mathew watched him walk away, not knowing whether he was glad the other boy had left.

When he turned, he found then Arthur had appeared next to him.

"Be careful of him." He said.

"What?" Mathew asked, looking over at the British boy.

"I said be careful." Arthur gritted "There's allot of shit you just don't know about. Trying to help you kid. Ivan is bad news. You know what? Never mind" Arthur shouldered past and stalked away toward the open double doors, threatening without words, to leave Mathew alone in the summer air.

Mathew hurried to catch up.

To Invisible Boy Readers: Does this feel incomplete to you? That's because this isn't the whole first chapter. Thing is, there's another scene, probably more important than all of these combined that I just can't seem to get right. I have started several different drafts and none of them fit well. So, because I felt bad for taking so long, I decided to just post the incomplete first chapter so you guys at least had something. Problems with this are that I am really afraid that only having this overstates the importance of allot of the characters. Luciano doesn't matter, at all, like I literally don't even have him planned into the story. But he plays kind of a large supporting role in the story which bothers me. Ivan on the other hand, is very important, but it's a side plot not the main, and this chapter makes it seem like that whole story is going to be about Ivan. It's not. Also I wasn't even able to introduce the really strange part about this school, or the elephant in the room. Or even really approach the whole Mathew knows allot of these people thing because I can't get this scene right. Well I hope you at least enjoy the beginning.

Oh and don't think I have forgotten about Gilbert. You will see.

To New Readers: Basically what I said up there works well. Ivan's important but its not really about him. It take me a really long time to update which is something IB readers are used to. Oh and this Invisible Boy thing? Its basically a prequel to this story. Its about 11,000 and, while you don't have to read it to read this, it will help you understand a lot of where Mathew's coming from and lay out pretty well characters are going to be important in this story. Expect Arthur, Arthur is the only new introduced character that is going to be huge. And Ivan and another are going to be important to, but Arthur.

Oh and Spoiler Alert: Ivan is not a dick.