DISCLAIMER: Hetalia isn't mine.

Thank you to those who took the time to click on this story and read it. Sorry if there are any mistakes, be it in grammar of character development.

CAIN AND ABEL

When Matthew Williams dropped by his mother's house and noticed his mother inside WITH his father, full of energy and acting like an almost-married couple (ALMOST being the key word), he instantly knew something good was happening.

During the short divorce process of Miranda Williams and Andrew Jones, they had decided that they should at least be friends for the sake of their twins. Nevertheless, one could only be seen with the other whenever one of the twins was there and even then, their awkward hospitality was painful to see.

So, when he saw his mother dancing while dusting the old brown leather-backed couches, and his father humming a cheery tune while outside at the grill, (and all of this was done naturally without him – the usual catalyst of normalcy between them – being there), yes, Matthew Williams was almost certain something equivalent to hitting a lottery had happened.

But, when his father came inside with his specialty – grilled hamburger patty (because no one does it better than a Jones, his father had said), Matthew almost immediately knew what had caused such a thick air of happiness and elation to permeate in his mother's usually dull house.

When his father clapped him on the back, Matthew wasn't even surprised.

"Dad," he smiled. His father smiled back, matching violet eyes watched amused at the only woman in the house continued to twirl and spin as she tidied up furniture.

"Your brother's coming home today," his father's words were brief and curt, but Matthew already figured it out in the first place, so it wasn't actually necessary.

"That explains it, eh?"

"Aren't you happy?"

Matthew smiled, but somehow, for a very unexplainable reason, his eyes couldn't exactly sync with his lips, and he found his eyes weren't as shining as his smile was.

"Elated."

His father believed him, though.

25 years ago, when twins Alfred and Matthew were first welcomed in the world, they were the shining stars of the house.

Now, 25 years later, Matthew's light had eventually faded to that of a dying ghost light. Alfred, however, continued to shine, and was even brighter to become not only the star of the house, but of America as well.

Matthew was an ordinary nine-to-fiver in a relatively unknown company. The pay was okay, at least enough to cover the bills, rent, groceries and occasional takeouts. He wasn't anyone special. Technically speaking, he was a ghost.

During Sunday, he occasionally visited his mother and stayed with her until night. Sometimes, he'd go to the local football field and watched as flocks of bright-eyed fifth-graders tried their hand at playing. It was amusing to see how the kids would scream strategies and argue about how that was a foul in their shrill voices, mainly because it was fun seeing the kids so upbeat and enthusiastic about the game.

Because then, he'd remember how his brother Alfred was exactly the same when they were the same age.

His brother Alfred, before he became what he is today, used to play in that same field when they were children. He would drag Matthew and their parents to every of his football games, where they would see him at his most enthusiastic and playing at his best. Matthew would always sit quietly at the bleachers and cheer for his brother. And it has always been that way.

Ever since they were kids, Alfred had been the brasher and spoiled outspoken one, while Matthew was the quieter and reserved calm one. Whenever Matthew was pushed down, he would be the calmer and more rational one and would brush it off as an accident, while Alfred would be the one marching up to said perpetrator, pick them up by the collar and demand him to "go right now and apologize to Mattie".

And as they grew up, Alfred grew to be a handsome heartbreaker, blond, blue-eyed, charming personality. While he grew up too, also blond, violet-eyed, same features and exceptionally similar to Alfred. He just didn't have that same aura Alfred exudes, that vibrant and natural air his brother had that made people flock to him. His brother was talented, he was charismatic, intelligent, but most of all he was kind and sincere. Matthew was just...

Whenever they walked together, people flocked Alfred and pushed him away. When they bought things together, Alfred gets giggly girls flocking to fill his order while his went unnoticed. Matthew supposed their parents never meant to do that, but sometimes it's not hard to notice that extra enthusiasm they had whenever Alfred told them he'd made the school team as opposed to their normal smile and mandatory congratulations when he told them he'd won spelling bee.

Alfred was always there for him, though. Whenever he was pushed down, Alfred had always offered his hand for support. He supposed he was thankful for him, but Alfred, as much as he is kind, he was also very much oblivious to the fact that people getting to HIM was one of the reasons why Matthew was always pushed down.

Alfred never meant to be so demanding of the limelight, though. In fact, he was actually very down-to-earth and very innocent whenever he was with Matthew. Alfred was just the kind of guy who shows extraordinary talents unconsciously and just accepts the recognition from others with as much obliviousness possible. So, Matthew could not hold any sort of grudges towards his brother.

Matthew supposed he was normal like any other people. Unlike any other people, though he has a brother who was outstanding. And when in comparison, it made him look like a shadow in Alfred's light.

And now, years later, it seems Alfred's light never went out. Matthew can attest to that, as he walked down the streets of his hometown, fairly amused at the excitement in the air. Everywhere, the town was buzzing with anticipation. After all, America's golden boy, the young quarterback superstar Alfred F. Jones WAS returning home today.

"Dear, you're Alfred Jones's brother! Well, send him my regards, will you? He sure made us at Lewiston here proud!" a chirpy old woman, with graying hair and crooked teeth, greeted Matthew as he walked past them. Matthew replied with a quick nod, a polite smile and continued his aimless walking.

Yes, he's the shadow. Alfred is the light. Alfred always had that talent and the strength to make every dream he had a reality. Matthew didn't have that.

But even the sun HAD to be eclipsed sometime, right? When it was actually the shadow who claimed the spotlight?

Perhaps, but for now, he continued his day in this town, only recognized by others as Alfred's brother.

A carbon copy. Identical, but not exactly the same.

Sure, he was known throughout town. Just not the way he wanted to be known, though.

Every time they see him, it was always Alfred's name that came out first. Everywhere he went, he is always Alfred Jones's twin brother.

Never Matthew Williams.

The young prodigy shielded his baby blue eyes with a calloused hand when cameras, as if on cue, flashes instantaneously and aspiring reporters began bombarding him with thousands and thousands of questions. The flashes blinded Alfred for a while, jumbling his view into a disorderly color format, while the sudden barrage of questions from the reporters and screams of his fans was a tad too loud for his ears, especially so sensitive right after landing. But Alfred was used to it. He recovered quickly and threw the fans a charmingly honest smile that made the girls gush and answered as many questions with impeccable professionalism.

Yes, he was happy to go home.

He was thankful for his family, his coach and his team. The win was a team effort.

His unbeatable record of touchdowns was due to practice and probably some luck. But he's happy and definitely not questioning it.

He was still in shock that the coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers contacted him. But he's still considering the offer.

No, he did not have a girlfriend. The rumors of a fling with model Alice Kirkland was a hoax.

For all his perfect "golden boy" image and untouchable coolness, Alfred was, at his core, a simple and innocent town boy who was actually itching to go home. He felt that for people who talk to others about their hobbies for a job, reporters sure couldn't see that he was actually wishing this to be over. And the fans, he was thankful for them, truly he was, but even Alfred sometimes would have had enough after seeing too many signs from young teenaged girls asking him to marry them, for which he still unsure was a brave move or a stupid one.

When the formalities and the questions and screaming are all done with and Alfred could finally let go of that unattainable-hottie façade and all the bravados, he heaved out a small and weary sigh and trudged sluggishly out of the local airport. It wasn't for long as his lethargic state was, however, completely wiped out and his blue eyes sparkled in pure excitement at the sight in front of him.

His brother was waiting outside.

To Alfred, more than all the "you-are-the-greatest-human-on-Earth" adoration from his fans, more than the "praise-the-golden-boy" commotion amongst the reporters when it concerns him, his brother just waiting there for him had meant the world to him. Because his brother meant the world to him.

With that, the widest smile came naturally to his face, and Alfred found he had just laughed his happiest and most honest laugh ever as he waved to his brother.

"Mattie!"

Alfred was grinning from ear to ear when he reached him and immediately crushing him into a long overdue bear hug. What followed next was Matthew laughing knowingly as his brother broke into a rush of jumbled words.

"Welcome home, Al," Matthew grinned.

"Your games were really great…" and there Matthew paused to look at his smiling brother with a look of sheer unadulterated pride and admiration on his face.

"And we're so proud of you."

"Thanks, man! You're the coolest," Alfred beamed, foolish toothy grin ever so present. "Is Mom and Dad together? Are there dinner?!"

Matthew laughed at his brother's excitement and punched his shoulder.

"Yeah. Dad is at Mom's, and of course we're having dinner, idiot! Dad is making your favorite hamburger, and Mom's been fussing over spaghetti and all. Kinda like a meal for an army but I guess you could finish half, eh?"

"That's super awesome, man! Then, what the hell we're waiting here for?! "Alfred exclaimed and began fussing with stuffing his bag into the car's trunk.

Matthew helped him. He was silent. And then…

"Hey, Al…"

"Hm?" Alfred didn't even look up.

Matthew watched his brother's every move, how his golden hair billowed with every powerful step, every graceful stride. Not a hair out of place, not a tad imperfect.

And suddenly, Matthew wondered why he was so average. Or why Alfred was so outstanding. There was never a balance, was there?

Just as Alfred was ready to hop on the car, something was thrown lightly to the back of his head. Turning in confusion, he saw that it was his old football from his mother that he had kept and held onto ever since he was 14, which rolled harmlessly to Matthew a few feet behind.

"What is it, Matt?" Alfred suddenly asked, a look of pure confusion in his sky blue orbs as he saw his brother's lost look.

Matthew smiled a little.

"Could we…"

"Could we stop by the old football field and… throw some balls for a while?"

Alfred and Matthew just smiled happily and honestly.

When an old janitor went to the police to report a murder, the whole town was put at unease. Reports of a charred body leaning against the goalpost at the community center's soccer field had caused a stir in the small town of Lewiston, since nobody ever expected that their small town could bear witness to such a ghastly murder.

It wasn't until Miranda Williams filed two missing-person report for her sons – quarterback superstar Alfred Jones and brother Matthew Williams – did the incident escalate and caused a nationwide uproar, especially when the hysterical mother went to the murder scene and claimed that the old football in the burnt body's hands were in fact, that of Alfred's. DNA prints did little to the investigation because they were twins, but 2 months of reconstructing bone structure later confirmed that the taller and sturdier Alfred was the victim.

America was suddenly caught in uproar over one of the most high-profile murder case in history. People from all over the country grieved over the loss of one of their most celebrated figure. Many awaited the ransom note for the younger twin. None came.

After that, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. Police found evidence linking Matthew to the murder scene, and the search party was released shortly afterwards. Wanted ads then covered every street and women gossiped about him at the market. Suddenly, there are people knowing his name. He was suddenly known not as only Alfred Jones's brother, but just as Matthew Williams himself.

Granted, the notoriety he gained wasn't the same as his brother's fame, but it was fame all the same. He would never be able to go out casually, but people finally began to know and respect him, though it wasn't on the same terms he had hoped they would. If Alfred's name was mentioned in awe and admiration, his name was whispered in fear, anger and sometimes hatred.

Matthew had watched them all from afar with a cup of maple coffee and a white plush bear at his side. He watched as cries of many men and women echoed in grief for Alfred's passing, and he watched as the same voices echoed in contempt for him and cursed his very being for causing said passing. Once, he tried to call his mother, but his father spat curses at him while the sound of agonized wailing from his mother rang clear even from behind the phone. And just as easily as he built normalcy in his household of four, he had tore it down and left it in ruined shambles. Suddenly, his parents had a dead son and a murderer son. It was never normal afterwards.

He never cared for all those consequences from the others, though. The thought of Alfred was the thing that kept him awake at night for a year.

He had never meant for it to happen. He never meant to get so angry in the first place. Sure, he had felt that he wasn't appreciated as much as Alfred was, and sure he did put some of that blame on his brother's shoulder for being too caught up in the limelight, but Matthew never meant to put out said light forever. He never meant to deal the blow to Alfred. Matthew loved his brother dearly.

It's just sometimes… No, he didn't… But, he…

Even Matthew himself now was having troubles distinguishing his thoughts. Which is black, which is white? In his mind, everything was now a hazy and blurry grey.

He just couldn't remember. When he did come to consciousness, Alfred had been bleeding on the head, more blood flowing from his stomach and panting heavily for dear life.

He smiled bitterly as he remembered his brother's peaceful face. It had been a year and he still couldn't get it out from his head. It had been so serene, so coldly perfect – and that was to be expected of Alfred, he always had been perfect, even in death. And Alfred had smiled at him. Truly. Not the charming smirk or the forced grin that he always had.

It was a genuine smile with true happiness. Which was bizarre in itself, considering such a genuine smile from Alfred was accompanied by such a sickly crimson color around him.

"I'm sorry, Mattie."

With a smile on his face, Alfred had said that. He had smiled up to him, as he lay drenched in his pool of crimson blood and still manages to whisper that small apology. His brother was sorry. Why?

Sometimes, Alfred visits him in those rare nights where he was able to sleep. Usually, Alfred would smile goofily and wave at him. Sometimes, he would smile softly and pat Matthew's head and then he would apologize.

"I only wanted to play. I never wanted the fame that comes with it."

"I'm sorry you felt that way."

"You're my brother, Mattie. And I'm sorry."

Why, Alfred? Why were you the one sorry? You were the one murdered and burnt. I was the one who killed you. Why are you sorry? How can you still smile at me? Why?

Sometimes, Matthew would scream in frustration. Sometimes, he wept.

Before this, he had always thought Alfred was brasher and more spoiled while he was calmer and more reserved. Now he began to wonder if that table had turned somewhere over the course of time.

Sometimes, he would wonder how he could have become such a green-eyed beast. Sometimes, he pleaded to have a bit of rationality at that time. Just at that precise moment.

Maybe then, things wouldn't go so haywire.

The local football field was deserted when he came. It always had been ever since the case. People were too shocked over the ghastly murder that this old place had witnessed to use it often. Other times, they were just scared said murder would repeat itself.

Matthew slumped onto the grass, right next to the spot where he knew a pool of velvety red once stained its greenery. He chuckled into the cold night.

"It was never worth it, eh, Al?"

His smile remained despite the tears that were flowing down his cheeks.

A click. And then…

BANG!

And then, there was silence.

"Wh-Where am I?"

"You're with me, silly! C'mon, it's like way cooler up here! We can have fun for ages, Matt!"

"Y-You forgave me? You don't hate me?"

"We're brothers, Mattie. I could never hate you."

"Breaking news tonight. The people of small town Lewiston, New York was shaken once again with yet another grisly murder when a dead body was found shot on the same local football field where only a year ago, the murder of quarterback star Alfred Jones took place. The victim, Matthew Williams, brother of the late sportsman, was said to have committed suicide just 2 days after the first anniversary of his brother's death. His parents have now confirmed that…"

Author's Notes:

Sorry if I did that! Please don't hate me, America or Canada fans. I don't think I even like emo!Canada very much. Sorry!

I am back! Yes, I am not dead, thank you very much. I also never left FanFiction. I just stuck around being a generally creepy reader-stalker. After 2 years of cramming from exams, I have finally got off and started writing again! Yay! It is a bit rusty, (in fact, it's a LOOOOT rusty) and I'm sorry if this fic is bad or anything, but I couldn't possibly edit this any longer. This is also isn't beta-d so… yeah.

A special shout out to one of the most talented Hetalia writer whose work I have had the pleasure to read, Galythia. Not only did I really adore her as a writer, she was also really nice and helped me get my courage back since I was really frightened to write again, at first. I doubt she will read this, but if she does, then thank you so much for your encouragement! And to those who haven't checked out her story (though I doubt that), please do! It's really good.

In this story, I wanted Alfred to be really good in something but I cannot figure out what. So, I took the easy way out and chose sports, especially since if it is in normal life AU I would totally picture Alfred as a sportsy kind of person. At first, I went with soccer but then scrapped it because I don't know if it's that famous in America as in Europe. Then I got inspiration from America-Canada catch ball scene in Hetalia, and opted for baseball but then I settled on American football, mainly because I had a hard time imagining Alfred as a baseball player. That said, I've never watched American football, I've never caught up the American football hype, so I know nothing about the sport. So sorry if there's anything wrong.

This story is taken and modified with permission from a Captain Tsubasa fic of the same name. In fact, this author was one of my first favourite ones.

And I'm sticking around for the Hetalia fandom, now. Sorta.

To anyone who's following me since my crappy Prince of Tennis fanfic, Chronicles of Catastrophe will be taken down for a while. Initially I planned Chronicles of Catastrophe to be just a prologue but then it got so damn long before I could even start on the main idea. So, the idea with Fuji and Miharu will still be there, it's just under a different story called Living Lies. And after a while, Chronicles of Catastrophe will be put up again as side stories for this story.

Thank you for taking time to read this horribly long Author's Note.

Reviews make me happy! ^_^

-FyeRin