Chapter 2: Red Eyes in Blue Water

Matthew couldn't feel anything.

He was numb, absolutely numb.

Years of work in med school, wasted.

A life of trying to make Mom and Dad happy just one damn time, gone. With the single snap of a finger.

Oh, yes. Matthew felt like a fucking phoenix.

But he also felt numb.

In fact, he scared himself with how calm he felt.

A sensation of peacefulness fluttered through his chest, a sensation of relief and release and revelation that'd never washed over him before, not even once, in his entire goddamn life. As Matthew sat down on a park bench, mind dazed and hands cold, he found that he couldn't feel a thing, not a thing at all.

He didn't feel on top of the world, yet he hadn't hit rock bottom quite yet.

He wasn't flying, nor did he sink. He simply bobbed, up and down only slightly as he struggled for air, on top of the water.

Matthew felt around his near empty pockets, and pulled out a few crumpled dollars as if destiny had intended it. It was destiny; he could feel it.

Never in Matthew's life could he ever imagine himself being a doctor, and fate came a few years late, but it came nevertheless.

Matthew stood, his feet unable to feel the ground they trekked upon. He neither stomped nor had steps light as air. It was just a normal walk, one at brisk pace yet at minimal effort. Matthew couldn't remember the last time he'd done minimal effort. 110% every second of every day, but machines like that age slowly to become slow. It was only a matter of time. Matthew knew, because for such a life-altering, world-ruining blowout which threw away his career, future, and parental relationships, Matthew wasn't upset at all.

Just numb.

Very numb.

From his hands to his toes to his own soul, he felt numb.

9:00 A.M.

Matthew, using the crumpled dollar bills he found in his pocket - bills he was sure destiny had kept, just for him - paid his bus fair.

He had just enough money. Down to the very cent, he had just enough money to make it to Alfred's neighborhood.

Yup, destiny. He was sure of it.

Cold hands folded on his lap, shoulders slumped, and back backed into the back corner of the bus, Matthew sat, not sad nor mad, or happy or joyous or anything.

He just focused on the rumble of the bus underneath his seat. His sneakers vibrated and so did his brain. Everything was in a tizzy, an absolute tizzy, yet everything stood still, just for a second-moment.

Matthew felt it, felt it deep down in his bones. This deep, deep, down appreciation, approbation, consolidation of everything and everything and everything and just nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing went through his head. Everything ran circles around his cranium. No, skull. Everything ran around his skull. Matthew felt the medical terminology fade from his head by the millisecond.

Stupid milliseconds. They were so sciencey, so official.

Matthew's head was purging, was burning, was disposing just month's upon month's worth of knowledge. It was as if Matthew's brain had hit the incinerate button. No medical term, no lecture, no medical demonstration was safe from being tossed into the fire of Matthew's soul. There goes the phoenix again, destroying ruin.

Matthew felt dizzy.

And numb. Very, very, very, very numb.

11:00 A.M.

Mathew felt nothing as he reached his hand up and rang the all too familiar doorbell of his cousin Alfred's house.

The front door opened with a swing too powerful for a man of Alfred's stature.

Matthew stood there, silent. He wasn't contemplating a thing. He refused to contemplate. He did that all the time in grad school. He couldn't do that anymore, not now. His brain was about as useful as a scrambled egg right now.

"Mattie!"

Alfred's lone hair cowlick perked up hilariously high. For a moment, just an infinite moment, Alfred said not a thing.

Just as soon as the silence came, it left.

"You. You alright, man?" Alfred asked, words stumbling on top of each other.

Matthew shook his head.

"You look like death, by the way," Alfred pointed out.

Matthew nodded.

"Here, let's get you inside. Take a shower, and then we'll talk." Alfred gingerly grabbed Matthew by the shoulders and led him into his small yet cozy house.

Matthew's hair was dripping wet through the towel on his head. Other than that he wore nothing but a bath robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers.

Alfred really liked his fuzzy slippers.

Matthew and Alfred sat on the couch, Alfred offering tea and Matthew declining. Matthew's face rested, expressionless. His face had gone through a lot. Contorting anger, the holding back of tears, the yelling from only half a day ago.

"So," Alfred began, his voice so much softer than it'd ever been."Your parents called. Yelled me up a storm, all that shit. I'm proud of you; you should know that much. I know how you feel about med school. And I know that your folks are, well. They're assholes. Although I think you already know that."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Hey, chin up, kid." Alfred looked Matthew right in the eyeballs. He smiled. "Shouldn't call you kid since you're older, but the expression's fitting." Alfred chuckled.

Matthew still said nothing. He didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile.

"Dude, you're starting to worry me." Alfred gave out an audible sigh. "I know you're not one to talk much, but I'm worried, okay?"

Matthew stayed quiet. He was used to staying quiet. He was used to being the good one, the quiet one, the one who didn't jump around and mess things up and make a ruckus.

"You know, not to scare you, but they're probably going to kick you out of your apartment since you're no longer a medical resident." Alfred stood, hands in pockets and expression one of pure uncertainty. Then, he suddenly looked certain again. "But you can stay here as long as you like."

"Thanks." Matthew decided that he wanted Alfred's nasty tea after all.

Alfred smiled and ruffled Matthew's hair up a bit.

"No problem. Stay for a while. You deserve a break."

"Thanks, Alfred."

"You're welcome."

"You want some space?" Alfred asked, tentatively.

"Yeah. That'd be nice. Thanks."

"No need to thank me."

3:00 P.M.

Alfred stayed around the house the entire day. He'd left Matthew alone for the better part of the afternoon, but he was always within yelling distance as Matthew sat on the couch and mindlessly flipped through the T.V. Matthew was numb, and his feelings were numb, and so was his face.

Alfred offered Matthew lunch, but Matthew just couldn't. His stomach was doing flip-flops.

"You sure?" Alfred had asked. "You look awfully gangly."

"I'm sure," Matthew had said.

Alfred hung around like an air in a room. He dusted, and shuffled through what looked to be an electricity bill, and did work on his computer some, and eventually he just joined Matthew on the couch as they watched awful, awful daytime television.

"You want to do something?" Alfred inquired. "A movie? Eating out tonight? Anything to take your mind off of, well, everything?"

Matthew was about to say no when a thought struck him. "Swimming?"

"But it's the middle of winter," Alfred replied.

"Exactly."

Alfred broke out into a wide grin. "I like it! Let's go in, like, say an hour?"

"Alright," Matthew agreed. His face stayed blank, his voice nothing more than flat.

There. Like a fucking phoenix. The metaphor didn't even make sense anymore, but Matthew's soul burned and blazed and bubbled. He felt hot. He needed water, desperately, to quell the flames.

"I'm wondering who's crazy enough to go to the pool in the middle of winter." Alfred drove with Matthew snugged and bundled up in the passenger's seat.

"Us?" Matthew replied after a moment of fake ponder. It'd been a while since he'd put his sarcasm to use and cracked a joke in dry-as-a-fucking-saltine-cracker humor. He missed joking around. He missed being human.

After a moment, Alfred nodded dramatically in agreement. "Yeah." The two shared a chuckle.

Then, the street lights turned green, and Alfred fucking drove. Matthew was having the time of his life.

Okay, so maybe swimming in an indoor pool was a bit tame in comparison to what Alfred had been implying, but it was freezing. The inferno that was Matthew's emotions could only flicker, gently and quietly in his chest, as he sat chest-deep at the pool's shallow end.

No one else was here. No one else was crazy enough to jump even into an indoor pool in the middle of winter, and Matthew was certain that the only thing preventing the pool from freezing over was the burning smell of chlorine and the filter.

"OH, FUCK!"

Matthew turned to see Alfred splashing about in the water. Judging from the waves that surrounded him and the suddenness of his entry into the pool, Alfred must have done a cannon ball. Matthew shook his head. Alfred had always been the impulsive one of the family.

Matthew smiled. Actually, genuinely smiled, as he let the stress melt away. The anxiety melt away. The expectations melt away. His very brain was melting. The cold was taking the edge off everything.

He leaned against the pool wall, head rolled back so that his face was up and his hair was bobbing, up and down, up and down, in the water.

"You alright, dear cousin?" Matthew asked as he felt his old sarcastic self coming back to him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Matthew could hear Alfred say. "The water's totally not freezing my ass off!"

Oh, how many fucking times had Matthew said that he was fine?

He wasn't fine now, though. Fucking phoenix. Rebirth hurts when your soul's on fire.

Eyes closed. Chin up. Nothing's fucking fine.

"And what brings you here?"

Matthew opened his eyes.

He had his face straight up, but what should have been the ceiling was instead a man.

Oh. Everything was fucking fine.

In Matthew's field of vision was the single hottest person he'd ever seen in his goddamn twenty-six years of existing.

Red eyes against the pool's blue. Hair, as white as snow. Skin that looked like milk. Defined jawline, sharp chin, muscles that could snap a two-by-four in fucking half. His German accent was just the icing on top.

Fuck was this stranger hot.

"Oh, hello there." Matthew couldn't help but stare, his head completely still as he took in this handsome new face. "I could ask the same for you. What brings you here, eh?"

"I'm Prussian," the man simply replied. He was smiling. Or was it a smirk?

Matthew could sense the ego dripping off this man along with the pool water.

"Prussians like the cold, you know?"

"You mean Germans?" Matthew asked, face both pouty and doe-eyed. Matthew prayed to God that this man was gay. So fucking hot; it'd be such a shame if he were straight.

"No, Prussian." The man scowled. He looked offended.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Prussian. Please, please, I am but a lowly ant. Please accept my apology." Oh yeah, that sarcasm was coming back. It came back to Matthew real quick. Sarcasm was in his blood. Sarcasm is his blood. He could be mean, real mean if he wanted. And a fucking tease. Matthew contorted his face to look innocent, eyes wide, lashes flirtatious, lips opened slightly just so. He put the French in French-Canadian to good use.

He could hear Alfred off in the distance, yelling at this strange man to get the hell away from his cousin. Matthew ignored him; a man this fucking hot was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Well, awesome me accepts your apology." The mysterious man exited Matthew's field of vision. Then, there was a splash, right next to Matthew, and Matthew flipped himself back around to be face-to-face with this white-haired, red-eyed, milk-skinned stranger. Don't forget those fucking gorgeous cheekbones.

Matthew leaned back, shoulders high and arms outstretched. Let's be a goddamn flirt today.

"So what's a cutie like you doing here? In the dead of winter?" the man inquired, lips lop-sided and eyes focused on Matthew and Matthew only.

"You think I'm a cutie? How sweet." Matthew smiled wide, his eyelashes only growing more flirty. He was a fucking flirt cause this hot man straight from heaven was being a flirt. Everyone was just flirting. Well, except for Alfred. From Matthew's vague attention to Alfred's yelling, Alfred just sounded mildly annoyed. And over-protective.

"Yeah, an absolute snack." The man winked. "What's your name? You're an absolute doll."

"Matthew. Your's?"

"Gilbert."

"Well, Gilbert," Matthew leaned in teasingly close, "I think you're quite the dish yourself."

"Oh, really?" Gilbert smirked.

Matthew licked his lips. He wanted a kiss, but withheld. Things are always better when you wait.

"Yeah, really," Matthew replied. His eyes were devouring Gilbert like the absolute dish that he was.

Matthew looked at Gilbert's chest. It was pure muscle.

"Oi, my eyes're up here!" Gilbert got in line with Matthew's vision, words irritated but tone the absolute opposite.

"Well, excuse me. Just admiring an absolute work of art," Matthew defended.

"What's your number, sweetheart?" Gilbert asked, smirk still growing if that was even possible.

"Ego, ego now." Matthew rolled his eyes, as if he was keeping a long-time friend in check. "Yesh, you're impatient, aren't you? Can't get enough of this, huh?"

Gilbert hootered out a big, loud laugh.

"So what's you're number?" Matthew returned the question.

"So sorry, but I don't have a paper. And even if I did, we're surrounded by water, yeah?" Gilbert said as he feigned regret and loss. "Paper would get real, real wet."

Oh, fucking tease.

"No number until you tell me what you're all about first." Matthew could tease back real, real well.

"Well, I'm in college." Gilbert was getting closer, hands just brushing Matthew's damp hair.

"Studying what?" Matthew asked as he puckered up his lips all fine and dandy.

"Political science major."

"You mean the useless one?" Matthew snickered.

"Oh, it's not useless, if you know what I mean." Gilbert winked. Matthew whistled. He knew exactly what he meant.

"Big deal, huh?" Matthew eyed Gilbert playfully. Matthew fucking moaned.

"Yup. Works just fine."

"On the inside, too, right?" Matthew asked 'innocently.'

"Oh, it's real good on the inside. You like it inside, right?"

"Not the right, the bottom." At this point he and Gilbert were just oozing sexual innuendo.

Gilbert decided to throw caution to the wind altogether. He brought up one hand, formed a little hole out of his pointer-finger and thumb, and jammed that other pointer-finger right through them, hard and quick.

"You're rough, aren't ya?" Matthew was excited now.

"Very," Gilbert replied. "So, what's your number?"

In the distance, Matthew could practically hear Alfred faint.

Matthew hadn't had the time. He hadn't had the hour to flirt for a long, long time, but he was damn good at it. His uncle Francis had taught him and taught him well.

Daring. Disastrous. Flirtatious. A flaming homosexual through and through.

That was. This is.

Matthew.

Matthew leaned in close to Gilbert's ear and whispered to him his number, and on Gilbert's face spread the widest grin a man could ever hope to muster. Well, it was actually Alfred's home phone number. He'd thrown his phone into the lake, remember?

Alfred was going to be hilariously livid once Gilbert called.

On the drive home, Matthew had a stupid-happy grin on his face.

Alfred was just annoyed, and perhaps concerned.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you, flirting with a random, a fucking random dude! What if he's," Alfred paused for a moment to think. "A murderer or something? Luring in guys he thinks are pretty and then slicing them to bits!"

"Calm down. I'm the one with anxiety, not you," Matthew retorted. He was so happy right now it was stupid. Being able to flirt, being able to be himself, having the goddamn time to pursue something other than med school, for now, he only wanted that out of life.

"Calm down? Calm down! That man was motioning anal sex to you with his fucking fingers! And I'm supposed to calm down?!" Alfred had paused at the red light, and he turned to Matthew, face conveying that he was very, very disturbed to have just seen his cousin, his blood relative, insinuate anal sex with some random German - Prussian - man.

"And I gave him my number," Matthew added.

Alfred paused again to do a double-take. Silence was he for just a moment.

As the red light switched to green and Alfred hit the gas, his jaw dropped to the floor, his teeth so comically far apart that you could stick a hand up in there.

"YOU WHAT?"

Matthew chuckled. Leave it to Alfred to be annoyingly, adorably, over-protective of his older cousin.

On the other hand, Matthew was having the high of his life, a high which scared him. He'd just made a life-altering decision a little more than twelve hours ago, and yet he was, metaphorically, high as the fucking sky. If he reached far enough, he'd touch the stars.

1:56 A.M.

Matthew laid in bed, staring. Blue walls. Blue ceiling. Blue bed. Blue, blue, blue. Alfred had painted his guest bedroom just fucking blue.

But Matthew could only think of red. Red and white.

Those fucking red eyes of that stranger against the blue water. His white-as-the-actual-snow hair.

It was midnight, and Matthew could only think of Gilbert.

He didn't want to think of anything else.

He didn't need to think of anything else.

If he thought of anything else, his mind would explode, then implode, and then he'd cry.

Matthew sighed as he turned himself over. He couldn't stand staring at the blue any longer, so he closed his eyes, thinking of red eyes and white hair and milk skin.

Matthew's eyes snapped open all on their own. He sprung himself up, his steps automatic.

It was still dark outside, but he was used to that. Stupid medical residency, making him get up at five in the goddamn morning.

Matthew looked at the clock to see that it was six.

FUCK.

Hands frantically throwing his shirt and pajama pants off, feet running to the bathroom, Matthew was going to be fucking dead for being so fucking late.

Matthew ran around the room, unsure of why it was so damn blue, but he was far too tired to even stop and think about it. He glasses still on his face, his hair an absolute bird's nest, eyes blurry and feet shaky and hands cold, cold, cold.

6:05 A.M.

And Matthew was fucking late.

Matthew ran to the bathroom, but he found no toothbrush, no toothpaste, no floss.

He checked, he ripped apart ever drawer and door. He looked for a bag, a suitcase, anything.

Floss. He sighed in relief as he pulled open a drawer and found a travel-sized floss, among other similarly sized dental-hygiene-related items.

He started flossing, brushing his teeth, and washing his face, all at once. No time to shower. Matthew never had time to shower.

Oh, fuck, where'd his bag go? Where'd his alarm go? His phone? His keys?

Matthew shook his head. He'd cross that bridge once he got there, but now, he just had to make it to the hospital, no doctor's uniform and all.

He'd find his stethoscope later.

Matthew ran downstairs and out the door. He didn't bother to close it.

It was cold, and Matthew looked behind him.

It wasn't his apartment complex. What was he doing at Alfred's house?

Then, yesterday came to him. It hit him like a crane.

He'd quit his residency. He'd gone numb, then gone to Alfred's house. The pool. The red-eyed stranger. Phone numbers. Well, Alfred's phone number.

Matthew screamed.

In an instant, the lights of Alfred's house turned on. There was a rumble, a crash, and not a minute later, Alfred stumbled out the still-open front door.

"Mattie!"

Matthew was upset, crumpled onto the snow on his knees, as everything came crashing down on him, all at once.

Matthew, for the first time since he'd quit it all, wept, but this time, Alfred was there to catch him.

Alfred hugged Matthew, and Matthew just cried.

The shock, the numb, the high, had worn off. Matthew now just felt despair.

He heard Alfred say something about getting inside and frying up some eggs and bacon.