A/N: Look! A completed story! It's a miracle, right? I mean, I never get completed stories posted on this site anymore. But - this challenge, from the Writing Junkie forum and issuedby MidnightNimh, just struck a chord. The plot-bunnies bit me and refused to let go. And, uh, everyone can just go blame MidnightNimh for this disaster.
Small and large. Red and blue and white and green. Capsules and swallow-'ems and some small chewable looking things. All spread out on the counter, right there, for the world to see. A rainbow of pills - though that is an odd way to describe it, Romano decides, because the sight of all those pills laying there sends a chill through him that no sissy rainbow could cause.
"Hey, kid." Romano calls out, eyes never leaving the little display on the black marble counter-top. "What the Hell is all of this?"
It's just because Feliciano is always hanging out over here that he asks it. Merely because he doesn't want his younger brother, innocent and naive as the boy is, spending his days at the house of a druggy. Not because he's curious and certaintly not because he's concerned; not over someone that he barely knows.
There's a shuffling noise in the kitchen. A cabinet closes, something glass clinks together, and then footsteps announce that Mathew is heading back out to the dining room. It might just be the way that the lighting hits the younger boy but when he appears hovering in the doorway between the two rooms, the jacket that Feliciano had forgotten clutched in one thin hand, his skin looks sallowed*.
"I'm sorry, Romano. I couldn't hear what you were saying. You called me though, right?" Mathew asks, voice just as quiet as it always is.
"No, I called for the Easter Bunny." Romano snaps out without thinking.
Mathew flinches away from the voice, the one arm that isn't holding his brother's friend's jacket coming up to wrap around his stomach. "S-sorry." He mumbles.
Romano snorts, fighting back the guilt that's trying to creep up on him. There isn't any reason he should feel guilty over snapping at the kid. It was a stupid question, since they're the only two in the apartment. And he never feels guilty over being nasty to anyone; except maybe Feliciano on occasion, but that's just because no one can be mean to the younger Vargas without feeling the tiniest bit of remorse.
The smaller boy fidgits for a moment, shifting back and forth on his feet without moving and glancing about the room in an attempt to figure out what he might have been called out for, before just giving in and speaking again. "You, uhm, what did you need?"
"I asked you what the Hell these were." Romano snaps, gesturing to the colorful array in front of him.
And Mathew feels his heart drop when his eyes land on the pills scattered about the counter, suddenly remembering what he had been doing before Alfred dropped Romano off for him to deal with and left for work. Embarrasment makes his face heat up, violet eyes dropping down to stare at his feet.
The silence in the apartment is astounding. Not a single thing is ticking or beeping or rustling. The blinds in the open windows don't clatter and the curtains don't swish in the breeze. Everything is still and silent. For a moment, Mathew wonders if it's just him that can hear the pounding of his heart or if Romano can hear it too - then he realizes how stupid that question seems, even when not spoken out loud, and gets himself even more flustered.
"It's my medicine..." Mathew finally says, seeming to shrink in on himself even futher.
The red-headed boy stares at him for a moment before scowling. "Your medicine? For what?"
"It's for - things. Lots of things. Here's Feliciano's jacket." Mathew stutters out, thrusting the jacket out for Romano to take with one hand. The other arm is still securly around his middle, fingers kneading into palm and twisting around themselves.
He wishes that he hadn't left his stuffed bear, Kumajirou, upstairs in his room. The soft plush always makes it easier for him to speak with people. If for no other reason than, when he's holding his little bear, it's not his own skin that he worries but fabric.
Romano stares at the outstretched arm for a moment in disbelief before snatching the neon green jacket from Mathew. Once again, he's reminded how horrible his younger brothers sense of style is - then his mind completely rejects all thoughts other then the fact that Mathew's entire body has started to visibly tremble.
"Is there, uhm, is there something else that I can get for you? Because Al didn't tell me that you needed anything but the jacket but if you think Feliciano left something else I can - I can go look for it." Mathew says; and he feels very small as he stands there, with Romano glaring at him out of narrowed blue eyes and scowling at him for something that Mathew isn't sure how he can fix. Did he even do anything to the older boy? He doesn't think that he did. But he could always be wrong and that thought scares him.
"Yeah, there is." Romano states. Then he jabs a finger at the pills again. "You can tell me what the fuck these are for."
Mathew's head snaps up, violet eyes impeccably wide, as he stares at Romano. "You really...You really want me to tell you?"
"Damn right I want you to tell me! I'm not letting Feliciano come back over here if the asshole he hangs out with has an even bigger asshole for a brother." Romano says as he crosses his arms over his chest, determined not to let himself feel guilty when Mathew shrinks even further away from him. "So prove that they're actually yours and you don't just use them as some stupid ass way to get high or something."
And, for the longest time, Mathew can't think of anything to say. The idea of telling someone that isn't Alfred about his issues sends his stomach twisting into knots. No one else knows about the fistful of medication that he has to take each morning if he wants to have any chance of functioning right, not even Gilbert or Francis. Yet here is Romano, demanding to be told. All because Mathew hadn't thought to shove them back in his pillbox before he got up to help his brother get off to work.
A simple mistake and now, now it feels as though his world is about to fall apart.
After all, if he tells Romano then it's only a matter of days before everyone knows. The small semblance of a social life he's managed to gather and hang onto after highschool ended will scatter. Everyone will think he's a freak - because word gets around quickly in a small town like theirs and, really, he is a freak.
"Come on already!" Romano snaps. "I don't have all day, you know."
For a moment, Mathew can't think of what to say. He can't decide on what to do. He can't, after all, just tell Romano 'no'. That would ruin things for Alfred, who's rather good friends with the younger Vargas brother, and Mathew just can't do that. So with one trembling hand he reaches towards the counter and picks up a pill.
It isn't any bigger then the nail on his little finger and a very dark blue. A capsule with a single white stripe running down the middle of it. Emotion inside of plastic and the very thing that controls so much of Mathew's life. Romano stretches out one hand and scowls some more, a silent gesture to give it to him.
"It's Prozac." Mathew says as he puts in the other boy's palm, voice almost too quiet to be heard. "For depression."
"Depression?" Romano echoes, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is he just said. When he does his eyes flick away from the pill and onto Mathew - who is firmly not looking at him and, instead, has almost vacant eyes locked onto the medicine scattered across the counter.
Another pill is picked up with shaking fingers. Deep red this time, just like the blood that it helps pump through his veins, and in a larger capsule then the Prozac.
Mathew's mind had gone blank though and, for the first time in a very long time, he cannot remember the names of his medicine. He cannot remember what doctor prescribed him which pill or what could-be-deadly side effect is hidden in which capsule. But he could never forget what they do for him, how they keep him alive, as Alfred always puts it, and so he still has something to say when he places it in Romano's hand.
"Anemia."
A large round tablet, reeking of rotten fruit and tasting just as bad, is next.
"Vitamen B."
A small red pill, no bigger then a dime.
"Cinnamon pill."
A skinny green capsule.
"Anxiety."
Bright yellow capsule with white 'M' in the middle of it.
"Panic attacks."
A pure white powdery pill.
"Insomnia."
An overly large light green capsule.
"Periphial Neuropathy."
It's all said without thinking. He's on auto-pilot as he speaks and doesn't even realize it. Doesn't realize that he's gone through the whole pile until he's reaching out towards the counter and his fingertips hit marble instead medicine. His vision has gone slightly fuzzy but Mathew can't bring himself to blink and clear it - if he does then he might start crying and he couldn't stand it if that happened, not today, after he's spilled almost every flaw that he has to this almost-stranger.
It's that thought that causes Mathew's violet eyes to snap back to the floor. His breath catches in his throat and his eyes are stinging. One hand burns and the other tingles. Every time his heart beats he can hear it.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
The edges of his vision is starting to go dark. All he can hear is the pounding of his heart. All he can think about is how his life is over - but, a small voice in the back of his mind tries to tell him, he's saved Alfred's reputation and isn't that really all that matters?
It isn't until Romano has grabbed his shoulder and started to shake him that he realizes he'd stopped breathing. A deep, frantic breath is heaved in through the mouth. Held. Let out through the noise. Mathew repeats it until his vision has gone back to normal and he's staring into the blue eyes of the older boy.
"Don't fucking do that!" Romano shouts once he realizes that he has Mathew's attention again. Realizes that, yes, he's started to breath again and isn't shaking as badly.
The Italian takes a couple steps away from the Jones boy, tossing the handful of pills down onto the countertop, and scowls. But he doesn't say anything because he isn't really sure what to say to all of that. Half of it Romano didn't even understand. But he got 'depression' and 'anxiety' and that's all that he's focusing on in that instant. Guilt swims in his stomach and creeps into his mind and, because there is no way that he's going to apologize to Mathew, Romano just turns and storms out of the house.
The door slams shut and he doesn't see how Mathew sinks to the ground, face warped into something between sorrow and sickness.
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"Vee, Romano!" Feliciano calls out from the kitchen. "You're back!"
Romano just grunts at his brother and kicks off his sneakers.
"What took you so long? I know you said that you were going to get me my jacket but then you were gone for way longer than I thought you would be. I tried calling your phone to, fratello, and you left that up in your room which really isn't very responsible of you!" The younger boy rambles.
And if Romano, tired and annoyed and still focusing on the feel of all that medicine in his palm, got mad and shouted at Feliciano what happened, then who was he to blame?
He never realizes that Feliciano tells Elizaveta and Elizaveta tells Kiku, Feliks, and Im Yong Soo. Or that those three tell Yao and Gilbert and Francis. Or that even more people find out because, really, it's a small town and news like that doesn't often pop up.
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Months pass and Romano doesn't see either of the Jones boys. Life continues and the array of pills that he found that day gets pushed into the back of his mind, replaced by more important things like that fact that he gets a promotion at Antoine's Pizzaria and how his baby brother finally gets the guts to ask Ludwig out on a date.
Mathew is forgotten - completely and utterly.
~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~
It's been almost a year to the day since Romano found out about Mathew's medical problems. Not that the Italian actually realizes that. No, he's too busy trying to find out whether or not Antonio actaully made it into the newspaper with that stupid tomato of his. Page after white and black page is flipped through and nothing catches his eye - until an image of a boy that looks just like Alfred pops up on one of the middle pages and that is something he decides that he has to read because there is no way that anyone would put Alfred in the paper.
SUICIDE IN TALIA TOWN - reads the title of the article and, below the image of Alfred is the name, Mathew William Jones.
Romano does a double-take, blue eyes raking over the picture again. He's surprised when he realizes that it really isn't the loud-mouthed Jones staring at him but the face of a sad and lonely boy. Clutched in the boys arms is a stuffed bear and on his face is the most forced smile that the Italian has ever seen.
And in that moment all that he can see is a macabre rainbow spread out on a black marble counter and a trembling boy that didn't know what else to do.