Summary: Matthew loves his Tumblr, he just hates the anon hate. Written for my friend who was being harassed online.

Matthew never knew what he did to deserve it. He had tried on many occasions to figure it out, to go through his posts and try to find the straw that had broke the camel's back, but he never could. For the love of God, all he did was post hockey pictures. He had posted pictures of himself maybe twice, and since it started, he had taken those down. He simply could not figure out what would make strangers online had him as much as they apparently did.

He knew this was ridiculous, he knew it probably should not bother him, and he knew there were far, far bigger problems in the world, but somehow, that did not stop the messages from hitting like stabs to the gut. They ranged from as juvenile and simple as 'you suck,' which Matthew could actually laugh at, to things as insidious as 'you disgust me. You're pathetic.' Those hurt, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that they didn't.

Still, Matthew did not deactivate his tumblr. He did not even turn off anonymous messages, because occasionally, anonymous messages were nothing but kind. He had made friends on this website- a shy girl from Ukraine, a guy who ran an ice cream blog from Cuba- and he was not willing to give that up. Most days were fine. But when his inbox showed an influx of messages that ranged from uncreative taunts to things that bordered on being threats, he could not stop them from getting to him. He could not stop them from ruining his day, from sending him into a spiral of vulnerability and occasionally, self-loathing.

Today was one of those days.

Matthew was never sure what he did, but today, he was truly lost. This person was claiming that he took something from them, that he did something that supposedly ruined their life. At first, Matthew was nothing if not confused. Part of him was even amused. Surely, this was a prank. Then, just when he was about to go back to his homework, he got another message.

"You're a waste of space, you know that? Just kill yourself. No one would even miss you."

For what felt like about an eternity and a half, Matthew just stared at the screen. He tried to convince himself that this was nothing, just a silly teenager with too much time on their hands and a dark, sick sense of humor. He almost let himself believe that it didn't bother him. But in the end, he couldn't. He couldn't even exit the page. All he could do was stare, his stomach turning cold and sinking to his feet, wondering once again what in the hellhe ever did to these people. Usually, he simply deleted these. This time, he could not stop himself from typing out a response. His fingers trembled over the keys when he did so.

What did I do? I'm sorry…

After he hit answer, he noticed he was crying. Of course he was crying; it was just like him to cry over something this meaningless and petty. Matthew swallowed though his throat felt dry and closed, shut his eyes to block out the room that was spinning around him. What did I do? The words beat into his head like falling hail and the air suddenly turned to hot tar. Maybe he had done something. Maybe simply existing was enough to merit such a statement. Of course, how had he not thought of that before? His existence was the problem. It always was. That was why everyone always loved Alfred more, that was why no one at school even knew his name; that was why…

The sound of another message landing in his inbox caused Matthew's eyes to open. He bit down on his lip, hard. God, what could it be this time? Without even thinking about, he opened it. The first thing that surprised him was that this was not an anonymous message. It was not from any of his Internet friends, either. He had never seen this username before: my-five-meters. The icon was a small yellow bird.

'Mein Gott, who the hell is sending you this shit? These people really don't have lives, do they? Not awesome. Look, kid, your blog is great. Fuck them.'

Matthew had to smile, though he was not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the ridiculous username, maybe it was the crudeness of the message, and maybe it was the cute icon that offset it all. No matter the cause, he felt the grip around his lungs release and the dizzying sensation in his head diminish. With hands that now felt steadier, he typed out an answer.

'Awe, thank you! I don't know why they hate me so much, really.'

Once the answer was posted, Matthew came to the conclusion that was probably the end up of it. Some stranger had insulted him; another stranger had backed him up. What more could there be to it? He almost closed the lid of his laptop when another message popped up.

'Well, might as well say this now since I have your attention. I wish you would post more pictures of yourself. You're cute. ;)'

This caused Matthew to freeze for an entirely different reason. The temperature in his bedroom seemed to just about double, at least three different shades of red passed over his cheeks and for a moment he nearly forgot to continue breathing. Okay, so maybe this was ridiculous too. If a stranger insulting him should mean nothing, then a stranger complimenting him should be just as menial. Somehow, neither of those statements was true. Both of things meant something. Matthew much preferred the latter. With an embarrassing smile on his face, he responded.

'Wow, thanks! I can't say I've been told that before.' Matthew hesitated, wondering if his answer sounded pitiful, but he posted it anyway. After all, beyond the occasional off-color comment from his cousin Francis, the statement was true.

Now that homework was the absolute last thing on his mind, Matthew clicked on this person's blog- titled 'Prussians Do it Better!' Strange. Oh well. With just a bit of scrolling, he concluded that this blog had no specific purpose. It ranged from pictures of birds much like the one in his icon to humor to historical facts- mainly about, of course, Prussia. Matthew had to smirk. What an interesting person. He continued to scroll, only half paying attention until he saw something that absolutely demanded to be seen. White hair. Eyes that looked red in the light. A grin that seemed perpetual.

Though Matthew could have easily said to himself that he had never seen someone who looked like this, he knew he had. He was not sure where, however. Before he had time to think about it any longer, he noticed he had another message.

'You've probably never been told that because you never leave your room.'

Matthew barely had time to read, much less understand the first message before he got the second one.

'Blame Francis. He gave me the URL.'

Again, Matthew could only stare. Again, another messages popped up before he could.

'For the love of Christ kid I work at the music store literally five minutes from your house just cOME VISIT SO I DON'T HAVE TO STALK YOU ON THIS DAMN HIPSTER WEBSITE ANYMORE.'

Gilbert. This was Francis's friend Gilbert, the very same he had seen a few times but never had the courage to talk to. Matthew froze again, then smiled, closed his laptop and left the room. The anonymous messages could wait. Right now, he had to choose between killing his cousin and praising the ground he walked on. No… that could wait. Right now, he had to go buy a CD.

Matthew was not sure what he did to deserve this, either. This time, it hardly bothered him.