Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Hurt. Longing. Useless, oh so useless why do you even try? Did you really think he lov-
No.
It wouldn't do to think about these things now. He mustn't cry; he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself.
Stupid, who would see? Who would care? Useless, useless, useless…
Focus. Just a little ways more. In truth he really didn't know why he chose this. There were many more convenient ways he could do it.
Attention. You want to feel all eyes on you just once only once just let it all go. Worthless.
Suddenly a strong gust of wind pushed his long, blonde hair into his eyes. I should really get this cut soon… he mused. He almost laughed. Oh the irony. Still thinking about the future, even now.
You should have given up a long time ago, no one would have noticed, who would have cared? Your "papa?" Half the time he forgets your name. Your brother? Most of the time he forgets you even exist. And what about Gilbert? Oh Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. You really did love him. But I guess we know how he feels about you, now don't we?
Oh Mathew knew all right, he most certainly knew. Why, just last night it was all pushed out into the open, into the harsh, unforgiving light. Oh sure, there were signs all the time, even in the beginning. He really should have seen it coming. Lies sugarcoated with, "I love you," seasoned with tender touches and warm, inviting embraces. Naturally he was stupid to assume they were all saved for him…
He was excited. He had just recently pitched an idea to his boss to help boost Canada's economy. His boss had been doubtful at first, but Mathew's idea ended up working even better than he had imagined. Naturally the first thing he wanted to do was tell Gilbert.
After the long drive back from his meeting, it was nearly 3 in morning. Assuming Gilbert was already asleep, Mathew was a slight bit shocked to see lights on in the kitchen window. Had Gilbert invited some friends over and forgotten to tell him?
He quietly unlocked the front door, and silently slipped into his small house. He could hear noises coming from the kitchen. Gilbert definitely had someone over. Most likely Francis or Antonio. He kind of hoped it was the former; there was only so much peppiness he could deal with this early in the morning.
As he stepped into the kitchen, any greeting he had for their guest fell silent on his lips at the shocking sight before him. There, on the kitchen counter, was his fiancé making love to another man.
"Gil- gilbert…?" he called out, his mind not fully able to register what he was seeing. Said man looked over at him, his face filled with shock, but completely devoid of guilt. In the back of his mind, he noticed that it was Kiku with Gilbert.
"Birdie…" Gilbert said simply, his tone implying that he wasn't going to offer up any explanation. He sighed. "Mathew… I think you should go." Mathew knew. He had known all along it was all too good to be true. He didn't try to fight or argue, simply giving a sad smile and a nod, before he began his long trudge up the stairs. He slowly, numbly began to pack up his things. His clothes? Into the suitcase. His 150th birthday gift from Francis? Tucked carefully inside. He took the picture of him and Gilbert from last Christmas and left it on the dresser. He wouldn't need it, no matter how much he wanted to take it with him on his long journey ahead.
He stopped only to pick up Kumijiro and put him in the truck. No words of goodbye were exchanged, no apologies, not even a smile to let Mathew know that the past decade hadn't been a waste. He was planning before he even reached the vehicle.
He drove down to D.C., despite the fact he hadn't slept in 24 hours. Making sure Alfred wasn't home, he dropped his bag and Kumijiro in the house, along with a note to keep them safe. He didn't bother to leave a name. Getting back into the truck, he headed towards California, his mind filled with grim determination. It was the only way out.
And so here you are.
Mathew smiled. After all this time, he finally had the push he needed. He had tried numerous times before, but each time he started to tip off the edge, Gilbert would be there, feigning words of love and looks of adoration. He was a fool.
A fool an idiot a coward to afraid to act.
He was a little surprised. Usually the voice in his head had been much more vicious, feeding him all the things wrong with himself in a voice so loud, it threatened to overtake him. The words would cut deep into his heart leaving it raw and bleeding. Now it seemed gentler, as though it was giving him a break, like it knew that it was the last chance it would ever get gentler to speak.
He looked up, realizing he was at his destination. The Golden Gate Bridge. He guessed he could've of all ways used a bridge in his own home, but he figured that committing the act in Alfred's territory was as close to poetic justice as he could get. He continued his trek over the bridge, without the worry of being struck by a car. He was going to die anyway, so he was sure it wouldn't matter how.
He reached the highest point of the bridge and walked over to the edge, looking into the vast miles of swirling tears below him. How many people had thought of jumping from here? How many had actually been brave enough to go through with it? He realized it probably didn't matter. They were gone. And soon he would be too.
They're sick you're sick everyone's sick.
He stepped onto the ledge and spread out his arms like a bird. You see, Mathew Williams knew the secret to flying. The trick is to fall and miss the ground. Mathew was going to make sure hit the target dead on.
For a brief second, Mathew realized that he could easily survive the "fall."
Silly boy, you can't swim.
He smiled at the thought for a mere moment. Then he jumped.
And the sky opened up and mourned for the one called Mathew Williams.
Um… wow. Just… wow. I just killed Mathew. He was supposed to survive my fic… Well if you made it this far, then thanks for reading my vent. Please R&R and if you hated it, tell me, because I want to know so I can learn.