Warning: A certain Canadian being abused by a certain Cuban, mention of cutting, thought of suicide. I don't think I have Cuba in character, but...
Matthew slowly opened his eyes. "Another day..." he stared up at the maple leaf painted on the ceiling, hearing heavy footsteps run up the hallway. "Three... Two... One..."
"MATTIE!" Alfred burst into his room and jumped onto his bed.
"What is it, Al?" Matthew groaned, sitting up.
"I want pancakes..." Alfred looked at him hopefully.
"I'll make them... After I take my shower."
"Okay!" Alfred bounced out of the room into the hallway, where Matthew heard him slide down the rail. Matthew wearily got out of bed and went over to his dresser, where he chose a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt at random. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door, kicking off his socks. He removed his pajamas, and finally, peeled of the bandages around his wrists, wincing as the slightly bloodied cloth pulled at the edges of the cuts. Matthew turned on the water and stepped into the warm spray. He sighed. "Why don't I just end it all..?" he mumbled. "Right. Who else would take care of Alfred?" He reluctantly got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom.
"Pancakes pancakes pancakes pancakes..." Matthew heard a steady chant coming from his room.
He sighed once again. "Alfred, go jump on your own bed."
Matthew went downstairs and made the pancakes. When Alfred smelled them, he zipped into the kitchen and sat down at the table, eagerly awaiting his breakfast. Matthew watched as Alfred wolfed down the pile, slowly nibbling on his own pancake.
Alfred didn't notice how thin his brother was getting.
The pair locked up the house and walked to school together, Matthew ignoring his twin's mindless chatter. He mentally braced himself for his daily game of "Cat and Mouse," the last of which he'd recovered from over the weekend. When they reached the school, Alfred immediately dashed up, yelling to his friend Iggy about something. Matthew saw Carlos coming and gulped.
"Oi! Jones!"
Matthew ducked behind a group of girls and made his way around the yard, ending up on the steps in front of the school. He slipped inside and sprinted away, not caring where he was going. The light pattering of his feet was soon drowned out by Carlos's heavy footsteps, and Matthew didn't need to look back to know he was being followed. "Where ya going, Jonesy?"
"I-I-I'm not Alfred!" Matthew stumbled to a stop. He'd run into a dead end. He lloked around desperately for somewhere to hide, but as "luck" would have it, he didn't have enough time. Matthew saw Carlos's rather large shadow appear on the wall before him. He turned around, pale and trembling.
"There you are Jonesy..." He saw Matthew's expression and laughed.
"I'm not Alfred.." he whispered, tears pricking at his eyes.
"'Course you are. You can't look that much like him and not be him."
"Th-that's because I-" Matthew was silenced by a punch to the jaw.
"Shut up, your excuses annoy me." Carlos managed to raise his leg far enough to kick Matthew in the chest. He stumbled back, barely able to breathe. "You don't deserve to live." Carlos slammed Matthew against the lockers and held him there by his neck while he gasped for breath. Carlos noticed a slightly opened locker and yanked it open, shoving Matthew inside. He slammed the door shut. "Have a nice day, Jonesy."
Matthew's jaw throbbed, and he could feel bruises forming in a ring around his neck. "Help me!" he cried out pitifully. He heard someone make a noise of confusion directly in front of the locker he was trapped in. "In here!" Matthew weakly bangged on the inside of the door. He heard the lock click and tumbled out as the mysterious person opened the door. Matthew looked up from where he lay on the floor and his eyes widened. It was their, as Alfred called him, "Friendly neighborhood creepy Russian."
Ivan smiled, a real smile. "Hello, Matvey." He extended an arm to the smaller boy. Matthew grabbed his hand and let Ivan pull him up. He brushed himself off, flinching when he ran a hand over a bruised, and probably cracked, rib. "Matvey, are you okay?" Ivan looked genuinely worried.
"Yes..." It was then that Matthew realized something. "Y-You didn't call me Alfred!"
"But you aren't Alfred. You're Matthew."
"Yes, but... Everyone calls me by my brother's name.."
"You aren't your brother."
"Um... Can you help people... Recognize that?"
"Of course, Matvey!" Ivan smiled a little wider. "It won't do to go through school being thought of as your brother!"
Just then, the bell rang for class to start. "Let's go, Matvey."
Neither realized that they were still holding hands.
I'm so sorry Canada! D: I hate tormenting you like this.. But I really don't get why you're still friends with Cuba. I DESPISE him. And please excuse any mistakes after the "dead end" part, I was listening to Sweden's Hatafutte Parade, and it makes me soo sleepy... -u- I'll get to writing the next chapter...