PART I

Chapter 1: Solitude

Matthew lived an okay life. At least, that's what he would reply with if asked such a question.

He was in his senior year of high school, succeeding with rather impressive grades. He had a steady job that paid decently and lived in a small apartment with his twin brother; one who also had a job and an athletic scholarship to boot. Both got along fine; they paid their halves of the rent and helped each other when it was needed.

Anyone looking from the outside in would say he had a good life, if not a great life. That he had nothing to complain about. Matthew hated to complain, or to be a bother, but there was just one problem in his life of otherwise endless joy.

Just one simple fault keeping him from the happiness he desired...

"Alfred, please pay attention to the lesson."

A quick swat of a ruler against his desk made the Canadian jump and drop his pencil. Looking up to meet the eyes of the history teacher, who stared back with irritation, he sighed quietly. Not again.

"M-Ms. Mary... I'm sorry, but… I-I'm not Alfred. " He frowned at her questioning expression. "I'm Matthew, his brother? Alfred's over there." He gestured across the small classroom, the other students not in the midst of laughing following his hand. The teacher did the same, looking dubious as Matthew pointed to a very similar-looking blonde seated next to the wall. Bangs draped over his forehead, he glared out the window, oblivious to the current situation.

"Alfred?"

The boy turned, aqua blue eyes glancing at his teacher from behind the thin layers of glass. "Yeah?"

She looked back at Matthew and a sincere look of guilt crossed her face at the realization.

"Oh Matthew, I'm sorry…"

To many, this would annoy them. Being mistaken for someone else would surely bother, or even anger said individual. Having it happen more than once, each and every day, would definitely frustrate them, and they would try to find some way to end it.

But Matthew had grown all too used to the simple mistake of being thought of as his brother. A long time ago, he too would have gotten mad at anyone who had mistaken the two, and argued with how they had been somehow compared. But now, it just seemed like a daily occurrence to the male; maybe because, sadly, it was. It happened every day to him, and he just couldn't care too much anymore to try and fix it.

"I-It's okay, Ms. Mary. Happens all the time." He laughed, holding his pencil awkwardly between two fingers. She returned a sad smile, before continuing the lesson she had been teaching.

Matthew looked back at his notebook, continuing to sketch across the blank white sheets, the sound of his teacher's voice turning faint and other noises finding their way to his ears. Students pretending to pay attention as they talked amongst each other. His brother's laughter, which Matthew observed out of the corner of his eye. The quiet sound of rain against the windows. Melded together, it created a beautiful hum of activity, complete except for the odd silence coming from the farthest back seat to the left, occupied by the tallest male in the room, who, taking no interest in the rest of his peers, let his pale violet eyes instead waste time watching the weather outside.

Matthew groaned, counting the moments until the bell would finally go off and signal the freedom he so desperately wanted.

..oO0(|)0Oo..

A loud ringing suddenly echoed through the classroom, students and teachers stopping in place to hear it finish.

Chairs were slid out from under desks in a matter of seconds, bags grabbed from their spots on the back of seats, and the sound of small chat erupted in the room.

"Remember to finish all your homework for tomorrow!" Ms. Mary called over the commotion, only a few managing to hear her voice in the flurry of chaos.

Matthew shut his notebook, standing to grab his knapsack. He glanced over to his brother's seat, now empty. Alfred had been called from class a few minutes earlier along with a couple other students to help with some event outside. Matthew laughed to himself; his sibling always had the best of luck when it came to the two. Alfred always was the lucky one.

He grabbed his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and following the crowd outside the door. He pushed his way through the students who, for some reason, always decided to stand right in the middle of the hall, of all places.

He finally arrived to his locker. It was located on the first floor, luckily very close to his last classroom, so he didn't need to walk very far. Bringing his hand to the small lock in the center, he opened the green metal door, greeted with the familiar pictures placed along there. A smile spread across his face, taking in and recounting each memory they held within. A large majority of them were of his brother and him wasting their time away in some manner (normally of Alfred's choice), but a small few were of Matthew and his friends. His few friends, suspended in time laughing and smiling.

That's what everyone else would be doing: leaving school to head out somewhere—maybe the movies, a restaurant, the park—with their friends. Matthew couldn't imagine such a luxury. He had a couple friends, yes, but they almost always were too busy to spend time with him, or too occupied with other matters. So while everyone else was getting ready to spend the afternoon with their closest pals, Matthew was preparing to just walk home and read a book or two, maybe bake something. He never had anything too excited planned on his schedule, and today wasn't going to be an exception.

But as soon as Matthew saw his brother, running down the hall towards him and screaming his name, he knew he was about to be proven wrong.

Alfred crashed into Matthew, barely stopping in time as he put his arms on his brother's shoulders to catch his breath. Matthew stared in confusion, pushing his twin back and taking in the rather odd appearance of him. His shirt had been torn on the sleeve as if someone had reached for it, and a large bruise mark was on his cheek, already purple and beginning to swell. There was also a strange looking purplish fabric sticking out of his pocket.

"Alfred? What the heck happ—"

"No time, Matthew!" He yelled frantically, eyes in panic, turning backwards as if looking for someone. "Look, I need you to cover for me!"

"Cover for you?"

"Yeah, just stay here and—" The loud sound of footsteps was suddenly heard behind the pair, Alfred tensing at the noise. "I'll pay you back later; just go with what she says!" He let go, quickly running past Matthew.

"Alfred, I don't understand—"

"Alfred Jones!"

Matthew made a mental note to beat Alfred senseless when he got home. Turning at the call of his brother's name, he was greeted with the sight of a teacher standing down the hall, pointing straight at him as she repeated the name. Rage was clear on her face. Matthew glanced back, hoping to maybe see Alfred behind him, to for once take the blame for something he did. But Alfred was gone, and Matthew was all alone at his locker.

Sometimes he hated his brother.

..oO0(|)0Oo..

"Alfred, I'll have you know I'm very disappointed in you."

He sighed, letting the angry teacher continue to ramble on as she pulled him down the hall by his arm, a firm grip locked on his sweater sleeve.

When she first grabbed him, he had tried to tell the truth saying he wasn't his brother, but after the usual response ("Don't lie to me!") he gave up and decided to just allow himself to be taken anyway. It wasn't the first time Alfred had asked him to take the blame. He never took it as actually being Matthew, but pretending to be Alfred. He had sat through tons of lectures, talks, and even a few detentions for his brother. Why? Matthew didn't really know why he put up with the treatment as much as he did. He could just tell him no and walk away, but again, he was just used to the occasional incident from his brother, and this one was no different. So he decided to just go with it once again, wondering what kind of trouble Alfred had managed to get himself wrapped into this time.

"I can't believe you would fight with another student! You know the rules, Jones!"

Matthew groaned. So that's what it was. So Alfred had managed to get in a fight with someone in less than twenty minutes, to such a point that a teacher had ended up chasing him through the halls. Perfect.

Alfred wasn't a very violent person, but that didn't mean he hadn't gotten into more fist fights than he could handle. The fights were never because he picked on someone, he wasn't a bully or anything… at least, not towards anyone at school. The only people he ever fought with were the larger kids, the ones in their current grade, normally over the stupidest of reasons: grades, opinions, people, or simply the fact that Alfred could be an ass. Most of them weren't very serious and had ended in a matter of seconds, thanks to the calming voice of himself.

They finally arrived at the principal's office, the teacher releasing Matthew's arm from its death grip. They walked past a few rooms before the teacher stopped in front of a door, bringing a hand up to knock. They waited a few moments before a call from inside said to come in. The door opened and Matthew followed timidly, wondering who Alfred had managed to piss off this time. Maybe Antonio again, or perhaps Francis—

Matthew froze in his tracks.

Remember when he said he was going to beat his brother senseless for having to do all this? Scratch that, he was going to murder him in his sleep.

Seated in a chair placed up against the wall, hands in pockets, a large bloody cut across his forehead and a badly swollen lip, was Ivan Braginski.

Out of every possible person in their school to mess with, out of so many people to piss off, Alfred had to choose Ivan, and today of all days.

Matthew strangled his backpack straps.

Nobody knew the lonesome male personally, but everyone would have something similar to say at the mention of his name. A Russian student transferred to their school earlier in the year, Ivan had two sisters, one that was sweet and kind and one that was as creepy and scary as hell. But that was nothing compared to the lesson you'd learn if you laid a finger on either. In fact, if you simply messed with Ivan, he would hurt you. He enjoyed fighting, and didn't mind scaring the shit out of anyone. His impressive height added to the effect.

Everyone avoided him and was terrified of him. Matthew was much the same.

Thinking hard, Matthew tried to think of why Ivan had gotten into a fight with his brother. Ivan was in a few of his classes, including the one he had been in a mere few minutes ago. Ivan had been called down as well to help out along with Alfred. That's the most logical explanation, Matthew thought.

"Alfred, please sit down," the principal called, his voice calm as he pointed to a set of two chairs placed in front of his desk. Matthew nervously walked over, taking a seat. "Ivan, you too, please." The Russian sat down in the chair beside him, sending a death glare towards Matthew who in response shuddered in his seat.

The lecture went how one would expect; the principal going over why they were here and how they went against the rules, how their behavior needed improvement. Matthew nodded and agreed at the appropriate times; Ivan simply grunted every so often.

"Alfred, you're a good kid. I know this. You need to stop getting into these kind of fights, okay?"

"Yes sir." Matthew replied, earning a soft smile in return.

"Ivan, you need to stop this and start behaving. You can do well if you try, I'm sure." His eyebrows dropped, face in a frown. "You can change your life around for the better." Ivan turned away at the comment, not looking to anyone.

The principal stayed quiet for a bit, not bothering to speak. He continued to look back and forth between Ivan and Matthew, before smiling weakly. "You know, I'm sure you two could be friends if you tried..." Ivan chuckled, only loud enough for Matthew to hear, who glanced down feeling awkward at the comment. He wasn't Alfred, so having it said to him was... odd.

After this they were assigned a month-long detention that was to be served after school— Alfred isn't going to be happy about that— and then they were dismissed. A teacher followed them back to each of their lockers (Matthew was thinking it was to make sure Ivan didn't beat him to a pulp when they weren't looking) and after gathering all their things, they were escorted to the front doors.

The teacher waved a goodbye to them as they slowly walked down the steps in a rather awkward silence. Ivan hadn't said a word since they left the office. When the teacher saw they were walking away from the school and everything looked fine, she turned around and left.

The moment she was out of sight, a large hand suddenly gripped Matthew's red sweater, pain slightly tensing in his arm.

"Where is it?" Ivan spoke, pale violet eyes locking onto the Canadian, eyebrows furrowed. Matthew gulped, staring back uneasily.

"What?"

"Where is it." He repeated, more statement than question, gripping more tightly onto Matthew's sweater.

"I don't know what you—"

"Don't play games with me, Alfred! Tell me where it is now, before I smash your face in." He grabbed Matthew's other shoulder, holding the boy in a tight grip, face close. Matthew shivered, but stared back. The ability to feel Ivan's breath was not how he wanted his day to end. This is just how he had wanted his day to end, being threatened by the scariest kid in school all because he was covering for his stupid brother who had done God knows what to piss off Ivan. Whatever his brother did must have been pretty bad; he'd never seen Ivan so angry.

"Ivan, I don't—"

"Alfred, stop messing with me or else—"

"I'm not Alfred!" Ivan stopped, raising an eyebrow and showing a facial expression that said 'Are you kidding me?' He laughed.

"Is that your best excuse? Alfred, I'm not stupid."

"I'm being serious." Matthew hadn't wanted to rat out his brother, but this had gone too far. He could handle a lecture, a couple detentions… heck, even doing extra work, but nearly being beaten was crossing the line. "I'm his brother Matthew."

"Who?"

He sighed. His life had gone from sad to pathetic in one word. It's not like he had expected Ivan to have a clue who he was anyway. If even the teacher he had couldn't remember who he was after a month, then the chance of Ivan Braginski knowing anything was next to nothing.

The Russian seemed to look him over, tilting his head up and down Matthew with his eyes in a focused gaze, considering his hair, face, and finally eyes. Finally realizing the truth, Ivan's own eyes widened. "You really aren't Alfred."

Took you long enough. "I said I wasn't, didn't I?" Ivan let go of his arm, stepping back a step and looking him over again, still confused. Matthew brought a hand up to rub where Ivan had held him. The Russian had a tight grip.

"If you're not Alfred, then why the heck were you in the office for him? And responding as if you were him?"

"I was covering for him." He laughed a little at the odd look Ivan gave him. "We look a lot alike, so it's easy to pretend… to be him."

Ivan nodded, understanding what Mathew meant but not wanting to get too invested in conversation. He paused in thought then shook his head. "Alfred's an ass."

Both stayed where they were standing, glancing at each other every so often as a slight drizzle began to fall. Ivan reached at his neck, rubbing the skin. Matthew cleared his throat.

"Ivan... what did you mean earlier by where is it?" Matthew asked, flipping up his red hood as the rain picked up.

"Alfred stole my scarf." Ivan pulled at the top of his jacket, curling up the sides to cover more of his neck. "I was chasing him through the school, but a teacher caught me before I could catch him."

"Oh." Matthew frowned, looking away. Ivan would go through all of that, just for a scarf? How much could a simple piece of fabric mean to him? He heard the Russian sigh, while brushing a few fingers through his hair. He glanced at Matthew once more, before turning and beginning to walk away, feet splashing through the puddles.

Matthew watched, not knowing what to do. Hearing what his brother had done made him feel bad for Ivan, almost guilty. It was only a scarf, but it obviously meant something to the Russian.

"Ivan, wait!"

He stopped, tilting his head back to Matthew. "What?"

"I can get your scarf back for you." Ivan's eyebrows rose doubtfully.

"You can?"

Matthew smiled. "I live with Alfred, so it shouldn't be too hard." He laughed. Oh, what a joy it was living with Alfred Jones.

To Matthew's shock, instead of giving an excuse that he could get the scarf back himself—what the Canadian had expected—Ivan instead smirked, replying, "Promise?"

"W-What?"

"Do you promise?" The Russian repeated, tone same as before. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he waited for a response. Matthew glared back, confused. Did Ivan want him to seriously promise this? Clearing his head, Matthew decided not to question it, and spoke weakly.

"I-I… promise…?"

"Good." The Russian smiled, running his hands through his hair once again. "I expect it back by tomorrow." Matthew nodded, deciding it was best to not argue. He was surprised he was even talking with Ivan at this point.

As if catching Matthew's insubordinate thoughts, Ivan turned back for a brief moment. Eyes cold and voice back in the tone everyone was used to hearing, he added, "I'm sure you know what will happen if you don't."

Matthew shivered where he stood. Ivan flashed one last smirk before turning and walking off into the distance, Matthew watching as he disappeared into the rain that was now pouring down all around him.

After a few seconds he shook his head, realizing he was still staring at the empty sidewalk where Ivan had been. He pulled his bag tighter around his back, and adjusted his hood before heading the opposite direction the Russian had gone, to his apartment, beginning to recount the events of today.

He'd been forgotten a few times; that was normal. He covered for his brother; that wasn't anything new. He spoke with Ivan Braginski. The Canadian frowned. Now that was something different. He still couldn't quite believe what had happened; that he had talked with Ivan, and casually at that, without ending up beaten to a pulp. That was something good, wasn't it?

Then there was the scarf he had to get back from his brother. Hopefully that wouldn't be too difficult a task.

He sighed, continuing on his trek home, still thinking of the day's occurrences.

So much for my regular Tuesday evening…

..oO0(|)0Oo..

.-~Thank you for reading~-.

So, I've had this idea stuck in my head for a little while, and decided, why not write it out? Here we have it, a brand new fan-fic that I hope some of you enjoy! Did you like how it was, seeing any need for improvement? Please leave a review below if you do! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I love me some RusCan, and boy daddy do I enjoy a nice High School Au.

-Radi0

19/04/2014 - My beta helped me correct the mistakes, and fix this up. I hope it's a little neater now! (I also changed the chapter title!)

I Do Not Own Any of These Characters or Hetalia