Regrets

Rated M for Mature

AN: I'm not really sure what the hell I was thinking. Please don't bash me or anything. I was just in kind of a vengeful place of my own and needed to inflict pain on a harmless fictional character. I'm evil. Sorry ^^"

Warnings: RAPE, broken hearts. (Real names used)

Pairing: One-sided UK/Canada
...

The week was a blur of color.

Sounds simply melded into one.

Arthur Kirkland didn't give his body five minutes to detox before poisoning it again. He showed up to meetings half-conscious.

But no one cared. He was the drunk. It was expected of him. No one bothered judging him anymore. No one told him to stop. No one cared.

...

Perhaps in retrospect, arriving drunk to a world conference was a poor decision. Perhaps he should have at least called in sick. But he was really only a danger to himself. And no one cared.

The meeting passed like everything else. A blur. A whipping wind. A fleeting glance. He was soaked in his poison. Drenched in his emotions. Emotions he would never succumb to, sober. Emotions that he welcomed, drunk.

...

And so it passed that after the conference, Arthur found himself stumbling into his office for some vague reason, perhaps to file his papers before going home, if he could remember the alphabet, anyway.

A startled figure whirled around to face him. "A-Arthur, is something wrong?" The glasses, golden hair, and innocent face were ones from Arthur's memories, but he couldn't, for the life of him, place the young man's name.

Arthur glanced around. This wasn't his office. His office was a round room with mahogany panels on the walls and potted plants in the corner. This office was small and cramped, with a golden wood adorning the walls, and what was that? A Pink Floyd poster?

"Y-you look like you're gonna pass out, d-do you need some water?" The boy put his folder down and walked toward Arthur, concerned.

Arthur was silent for a moment, straining before speaking. "...A-Alfred?"

The pale boy frowned. "No. It's me, Matthew." The name flicked a switch in Arthur's head.

Of course. Matthew. Francis's son. He started thinking. Francis was so close to Matthew, even after being ripped away from him by Arthur himself. And Arthur had never had that bond. Matthew seemingly never forgave him for breaking his family apart, even though they were cordial now and he didn't seem like he held a grudge. Arthur knew how easy it was to hide one's emotions. He gave Matthew a small, crooked smile. "O' course. Matthew..."

His eyes glanced over Matthew then, and he missed the little spark of recognition that passed over the Canadian's face at the look. He knew that look.

"Y'know, Matthew..." He took a step forward. "We ne'er really got a chance t' get close, did we?" Another step.

Matthew took a tentative step backward, toward his desk. Though his mannerisms and expression suggested that he was calm and collected, a shrill alarm of panic was going off in his head. Matthew wasn't stupid. He knew when someone was undressing him with their eyes. But he also knew the Englishman drank a lot, and had a tendancy to do things he later regreted. "Oui. I know. B-but it's... it's a little late for that now... l-let's just let bygones be..."

Arthur closed the space between them before Matthew finished, a wicked grin on his face. It sent chills down Matthew's spine. It wasn't until Arthur suddenly leaned in and kissed the boy roughly on the lips that Matthew's panic alarm went into overdrive. His eyes widened and he pulled back, terrified. "N-non! What are you doing?"

"Sssh..." Arthur grabbed Matthew's thin wrists and pulled him close again, ignoring the boy's frantic struggles. He kissed him again, wrapping his fingers in the blonde locks so he couldn't pull away.

"Mmmmgh!" Matthew tried pleading, but it was no use. He was locked into the kiss, choking as Arthur jammed his greedy tongue down his throat. He tried to push away, but the man was just stronger than him.

Arthur's free hand found Matthew's waistband and unbuttoned his jeans. He ignored the boy's sudden thrashing and pulled the jeans off, dropping them on the floor. He grinned when he saw that his actions had Matthew almost hard already. Then he removed the only thing keeping him from his bond with Matthew.

Matthew teared up as his boxers were removed. He was still begging, still struggling, but Arthur ignored him. Why? Why, oh why wasn't he invisible when he needed to be? Why did all the bad things find him? Arthur's hand around his growing erection unleashed a new string of pleas and begging.

Arthur shut out the boy's cries, stroking him. His strokes were erratic, more tugging and squeezing than actual stroking. He was probably hurting Matthew, but it was worth it. The boy would forget the pain in the end. He put three fingers to Matthew's lips pointedly, frowning when the boy shook his head vehemently.

"Non! Arthur, p-please stop!" A few tears excaped noiselessly down his face. "Y-you're drunk, you d-don't know what y-you're doing!" He attempted to break out of Arthur's grip, but the man had him pinned between himself and Matthew's desk.

"If y' don' do it, it's gonna 'urt, Matthew." Arthur explained gently and cocked an eyebrow. He sighed when the boy still shook his head defiantly. "V'ry well." He unzipped his trousers and unleashed his own stiff hard-on, lining up at the begging Matthew's entrance before thrusting in unceremoniously.

Matthew screamed. He couldn't help it. The pain shot right through him and forced the sound out of him. Never before had anyone entered him in this manner. Fast and hard, with no concern for what happened to him. He sobbed into Arthur's shirt as the man pounded him into his own desk. He choked and pleaded and it all fell on deaf, drunk ears.

Finally Matthew felt a heat building in the pit of his stomach. He refused to give in. He refused to get any kind of enjoyment from this. He forced his feelings down into a dark, dead place, but it was no use. Arthur was too deep and every thrust hit that sensitive spot that made him cry out despite himself. Matthew's brain was a raging storm of thoughts and emotions, hurt and shame and anger. And then they were gone for a second, as Matthew's body arched against Arthur's and he came, moaning loudly through his choking sobs.

Arthur felt the resulting contractions of Matthew around him when the boy came, and it was enough to make him follow suit. He filled Matthew with his seed, crying the boy's name out in pleasure before it was over and he was panting heavily.

Matthew's body was motionless. Even if he wanted to move, he didn't think he could. Arthur was the only thing holding him up or he would be a crumpled heap on the floor. Though his tears still ran freely, his sobbing and begging had ceased. There was no need of it anymore, it was over.

Arthur pulled out of Matthew, holding the boy up when it became clear he couldn't stand on his own. He sank to his knees, Matthew in his arms, and cradled him like an infant. He whispered in a voice still slurred by the alcohol. "I still love you, Matthew."

Matthew looked up at Arthur. He looked into those emerald eyes and tried to find a lie somewhere. He couldn't. His heart was broken, and his body, and his mind, but Arthur 'still loved him'. He sobbed anew and this time Arthur took heed, hugging him close and rocking him gently.

...

The week was a flash of color.

Sounds clashed together like thunder.

Arthur Kirkland sat down at the conference table and looked over at the broken boy sitting at the other end. He wished he could go back and rip the bottle out of his own hands and hit himself over the head with it. And Matthew stared at his folder like an empty shell of a person.

But no one cared. He was invisible. It was expected of him. No one bothered asking why he cried. No one told him to smile. No one cared.

...
MESSED UP FIC IS MESSED UP. GAH I'M SO SORRY MATVEY TT_TT

...UPDATE
A few of you have left reviews asking for another chapter. Tell you what. If more people leave reviews and some suggestions, I'll consider tacking on at least another chapter.