I can't say that I really believe it. I only got 2 reviews for the last chapter, and although they were both wonderful (thanks once again K-Ojousama and vc103221 :)), it's just a bit disappointing at times. I got a wonderful response for the first chapter but it seems like the feedback is dropping... So, if you could review, even to tell me that 'I like pie' or that you didn't think a part of the chapter flowed right or something, I would love you forever. Mhmm, forever.

Regardless, here's the 4th Chapter! I hope that you enjoy it just as much as I did. Yes, yes, I'll leave you alone to read it now.

I don't own Hetalia, I'd be rich if I did. As I'm not swimming in money... well, you get the point.

Tear Me Apart
Chapter Four: Sunny, Fruit Orchard

"Mathieu, you cannot still be upset with me. You must admit that it is not difficult to forget about you at times," Mr. Bonnefoy muttered, frowning at his younger brother.

"And as my older brother, you are not supposed to forget about me, regardless of how easy it may seem!" the normally quiet man insisted.

The carriage fell back into a relative silence, the only sounds being the horse pulling the carriage in front of them. The Parisian frowned but finally gave up trying to convince Matthew that forgetting him at the hotel they had spent the night at was not as bad as it really sounded. The younger man had been the one who was forced to sit in the lobby of the hotel for just over an hour, after all, hoping that they would eventually come back. There was no point in trying to convince that at least Mr. Bonnefoy had not forgotten about him for longer.

Matthew, on the other hand, had completely forgotten the event, at least for the moment. His indigo eyes were glued to the beautiful green, mountainous landscape around them and he was thoroughly enjoying the scenery as the carriage moved past it. It was so different from the climate back home, and yet so similar at the same time.

It was not that he did not notice Mr. Bonnefoy pouting in the seat across from him; it was just that he no longer cared. His brother would pout no matter what actions he took until the whole event was put behind them. In other words, when Mr. Bonnefoy forgot that it had ever happened in the first place. It would most likely take a few more hours at the very most.

Suddenly, the horses began to slow down and a large house appeared as they turned around a corner. Vegetable gardens filled at good third of the land around the house and the plants were already missing a large majority of their fruit, despite the currently warmer weather. An orchard could be seen almost behind the house, filled with many different types of fruit trees. As the house slowly got bigger and bigger, it was easy to tell that it was a good size bigger than Mr. Bonnefoy's residence. It was aging though, despite the love and care that had obviously been put into its upkeep over the years.

A well-dressed man was waiting for them at the front of the house, with a look of barely masked irritation on his face.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, Mr. Williams, I hope that you had a nice trip here. I will get someone to grab your luggage for you. The tomato bastard is waiting for the two of you in the sitting room," the man informed them.

Matthew blinked blankly at the words that did not sound any better as they slowly repeated themselves in his mind. Had this man, who appeared to be some sort of servant, perhaps even the butler, actually referred to Mr. Carriedo as a… 'tomato bastard'? Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him.

"It is nice to know that you have not changed since the last time that we met, Lovino! Although, I must admit that you have grown a few inches since then… and you have filled out quite nicely," Mr. Bonnefoy commented, as he climbed out of the carriage with ease.

A casual arm was placed over the irritated man's shoulders, confusing Matthew even further. Just what was Mr. Bonnefoy trying?

"Get away from me, you wino bastardo! Keep your dirty, perverted hands off of me!"

The arm was quickly shrugged off, and the servant almost looked as if he wanted nothing more than to hit Mr. Bonnefoy.

"You should not use such a dirty language when you are around polite company, Lovino. What do you think Antonio would say if he saw you harassing his precious guests?"

The Italian looked around the area for a moment before spotting Matthew nervously climbing out of the carriage. "Wh-what? That is your fratello, wino bastardo! If you consider him polite company than you must be a nun. Now come on, wino bastardo and wino bastardo #2, the tomato bastardo is probably getting worried, the idiot."

Mr. Bonnefoy let out a strange sounding laugh as Lovino almost ran into the house, an odd curl on the side of his head bouncing slightly as he moved. Matthew quickly followed behind him, determined not to be left behind with his brother when he was like this. He had been around the Frenchman enough over the past couple of years to know that bad things happened when that laugh appeared. Women were groped and flirted with when everyone else in the general vicinity was left confused and ever so slightly jealous.

The inside of the house did not seem to be quite as well cared for as the outside of the house was. There were oddly shaped cracks in the walls every once in a while, and partially broken decorations were lying on old table and stands. A bookshelf was almost completely missing any books that may have sat on its shelves at one point in time. One of the only things that seemed to be in good condition was a rather new painting of Mr. Carriedo sitting up tall in an old styled chair with Lovino standing behind him.

"Francis, it really is nice to see you again after all this time, mi amigo! Ah, and this must be your hermanito – Mateo Williams, was it?" a tall, Spaniard greeted them as they walked into the sitting room.

"I must say that the feeling is recuperated, Antonio. If only I were able to say the same about a certain blonde friend of ours. It seems that his troublemaking ways are not so… fun, when you are on the receiving end," Mr. Bonnefoy responded, sitting down gracefully on a small conversation couch across from Mr. Carriedo.

Matthew hastily sat down on a small chair, not wanting to feel awkward standing with the help. Lovino stayed by the door, looking as if he wanted to be able to leave at a moment's notice. It was difficult to miss the bright grin that Mr. Carriedo had sent the man as he stayed in the room along with the scowl Lovino gave him in return.

"A blonde friend of ours? Um, he gets in a lot of trouble… Lovi, do you know who it is?" the Spaniard asked, obviously.

"It's the potato bastard's older brother, obviously."

"Ah, Gilbert! But he told me that he was going to go to Timbuktu when he left my house the last time. And I thought that he was running away from the Prussian authorities still!"

Mr. Bonnefoy gave him a small smile. "Oui, he is indeed still running from the Prussians but that did not deter him in the least from taking up a semi-permanent residence in one of my guest rooms. He is under the impression that they will not think to find him in rich Frenchman's house, regardless of any contact we may have had prior to what happened."

"Ah, I see! So, what type of trouble is he getting into then? It must not be too bad if you and the help are the only company he has in that big house of yours! At least I have Lovi to keep me entertained."

A small snort could be heard from around the doorway, as Lovino half listened to the conversation. Matthew could almost see the Italian looking over at him as he did so.

The Canadian's attention began to waver though as the two older men began to talk about things that he had no interest in. Instead, his mind began to wander to a topic that he held a lot of interest in – much to his own disgust and embarrassment. A man began to form in front of his eyes, a couple of inches taller than he was. Messy golden blonde hair adorned the top of his head, perfectly complimenting the sun-kissed skin that was just barely visible with the nicely pressed clothes that he was wearing. And then the man's head turned, revealing those beautiful baby blue eyes, filled with an unknown heat, that had been haunting his dreams for weeks now – both the good and the bad ones.

He quickly erased the image from his mind as he realized just what he was doing. He could not allow those thoughts to race through his mind or even slowly appear as if they had always belonged there. It was a sin to think of those types of things, never mind what would happen to him if those things somehow became reality one day. Surely, Alfred would push him away and then immediately contact the authorities who would come to arrest him. He would never see the light of day once more.

No, it was better if these twisted daydreams remained idle fantasies.

"Come on, wino bastardo #2, I will show you to your room for your stay while these two idiots go and get drunk. I do not think that they will miss our company."

Darkness surrounded Al, and not a single thought was going through his mind other than how very comfortable he was at that very moment. There was some sort of weight on top of his chest but it seemed rather distant and far away… plus he rather enjoyed the odd sense comfort that it brought. So, he decided to stay right where he was, floating in and out of consciousness.

Two coffee mugs were sitting on the table in front of the coach, but Al knew, somehow, that Arthur would most likely put them away for him – like he always did.

"Al, are you awake?" the strawberry blonde muttered, from his place on top of the blue eyed blonde.

The only response that Mattie received was a half muttered, half moaned sentence of complete and utter gibberish. Emerald green eyes watched carefully as the Canadian turned so he was facing the blue eyed blonde and placed a soft kiss on Al's forehead before settling back into the comfortable embrace. The Englishman hesitated for a single moment, almost walking away from the scene before staying right where he was, rooted to the very floor. He could not let it go – not when he had almost figured it all out.

"How long have you actually been in love with my younger brother, Matthew?" The words sounded desperate, as if Arthur was looking for an answer other than the obvious one.

Mattie almost jumped off of the couch and Al at the sound of the unexpected voice. He relaxed for about a second as he noticed Arthur standing over the back of the couch before his mind finally comprehended the words that had just come out of the Brit's mouth.

It was almost funny how the Canadian shrunk into Al's embrace, making himself seem smaller and subconsciously seeking comfort from the American. Mattie didn't seem to care about that though, as he tried to think about how to answer Arthur's question properly. His head was still cloudy from the nap that he had just woken up from.

"Forever, maybe," was the slow response, "Maybe forever and a half, if everything from the journal is actually true."

A sharp inhale came from the green eyed man standing behind the couch, leaving Mattie with a small but knowing smile on his face. The strawberry blonde easily let his head drop back onto Al's shoulder, the effort to keep it up quickly becoming way too much. Al muttered something unintelligible before shifting ever so slightly and bringing his second arm up around Mattie's waist.

The words that he had just heard were dismissed as a somewhat crazy dream, inspired by his recent thoughts.

"I did not once dare to imagine that you would be here."

Matthew turned slightly to see the tall, blonde man walking up to him, enthusiasm in each step. He fought the urge to pinch himself for if this really was some sort of twisted dream than he did not truly want it to end. Not when the American was smiling at him like that and his baby blue eyes were even more beautiful than he had remembered them.

And he had pictured those eyes in his mind many, many times both willingly and not.

The morning sun shone through the branches of the fruit trees in the orchard, bright and warm despite the slightest bit of a cold autumn's breeze that came along with it. Through the fruit trees, a clear blue sky could be seen with the smallest wisps of white cloud that were way too high in the sky to present any problems. The world around them suddenly seemed bright, richer, and more vibrant than it had ever seemed before. And the soft trill of a bird's song could be heard a little ways a way, singing good morning to the still waking Earth.

"And I did not think that you would be here except for in my wildest dreams," Matthew responded, his words carrying a lot more weight than he had intended.

Those baby blue eyes brightened at the words, at the sound of an acceptance instead of the inevitable rejection. Delight was reflected as fear and resignation in matching eyes of a darker shade. The Canadian was nothing if not cautious. Yet those indigo eyes stayed glued on the blue eyed blonde as he slowly walked in circles around the quieter man.

And yet, not a bit of Matthew's fear was reflected in his posture. In fact, it told a very different story.

"One really should be a bit more optimistic sometimes. It is not always bad things that happen, good things happen too," Alfred informed the strawberry blonde man.

Alfred stopped right in front of the Canadian, not even a foot away from him. Electricity seemed to silently flow through the air and only the two men were able to tell that it was there at all. Not that there seemed to be any other people around at this time of the day. The two of them were the only ones who would have thought to go for a walk through the orchards at dawn.

Matthew found himself thanking the fates that this was happening now compared to later on in the day, when there would be more people around. He was well aware that neither of them would have been able to hold back these vague half-hidden answers even if they were in polite company. Not when Alfred was making it clear that he had been going through the same thing over the past month or so.

"I feel that if I am more pessimistic than I will enjoy the good things more when they do happen. Which I have to admit does not happen very often, although it does seem like my luck has been changing lately, Alfred."

The sun around them was growing brighter, but neither of them could see anything other than the person right in front of them. That unknown emotion hidden away in the American's baby blue eyes was more than enough to completely consume the both of them right then and there, along with at least some, if not all, of Matthew's fears.

A pale hand reached up to a clothed chest, shocking both of them with its movement. A shock ran through Matthew's fingertips and down his arm into his chest but he did not dare to move it now that it was there. He could feel the faint beating of Alfred's heart this way, and it was easy to tell that neither of them wanted it to move.

"What is this?" the question was barely audible, and neither of them was quite sure who had spoken it.

Regardless of who had been the one to ask, Matthew answered it. "Lust, I believe. One of the Seven Deadly Sins and with another man, no less. If we are not imprisoned and killed for this then I do not know what will happen. Surely, if we do… continue this, we will find ourselves in the depths of Hell one day."

"For some reason, I don't believe that it'll be all that bad as long as you're there with me, Matthew."

A black, leather glove was peeled off of a tanned, callused hand before it was placed directly on top of a certain pale hand, resting on Alfred's chest. Both of them quickly inhaled at the foreign tough and the sudden feeling of skin to skin contact that they had been craving for over a month now. Neither of them made a sign to move. The loss of touch at that particular moment would have most likely devastated them both while any more would have driven them to point of complete insanity.

The sudden appearance of Alfred's honeyed accent was doing much more than just driving Matthew insane though. He was well aware that it was a sign that the American trusted him in a way that he did not even trust his own brother, by the looks of it. And it was because of this that the indigo eyed man slowly turned his hand around and let their fingers intertwine with each other before letting the linked hands fall away from that strong, toned chest.

"No, I suppose that it really would not be such a bad place, as long as you were by my side," Matthew agreed, almost silently.

A soft smile graced Alfred's face, filling Matthew with that strange emotion once again. Lust, it had to be lust. What else would make him want to completely ravish the man in front of him and then let the man ravish him in return? Even when they were both well aware that anything more than this would make them beg for more and more.

"Oh, bloody Hell!"

The sudden curse had them jumping away from each other, overly aware of what had just happened between them, even if the words themselves had never actually been spoken. Matthew's fear was quickly reawakened and he mentally cursed himself for falling into such an obvious temptation. Even Alfred, who had always seemed so reassured of himself in the past, looked afraid of just who might be coming through the orchard, and just what they might have to say about him and Matthew.

"It is your own fault for insisting that we come out here to find your wayward cousin, cher. At least mon petit frère has the decency to stay inside in his room on such a cold morning," a second voice replied.

Two blonde men slowly became visible in the distance; an Englishman and a Parisian who were most definitely scowling at each other.

A look was exchanged between the American and the Canadian and they slowly started to walk towards their family members as if that was what they had been doing from the very beginning. And to the outside world, that was all that it would ever appear to be. But there was something else there, something that had most definitely not been there before this morning. It was an understanding, if not something more than that.

"What is this about Matthew having the decency to stay inside on such a beautiful morning? He has been outside with me for the last hour or so, if not longer, Mr. Bonnefoy," Alfred asked, sending the Frenchman a charismatic smile.

"Yes, frog, your brother is clearly standing right there in front of us…"

"Al, what do you think this journal is? There's no way that it can all just be a coincidence," Mattie asked, absentmindedly sipping on his second cup of hot chocolate.

The blue eyed blonde looked up at the Canadian from the leather bound journal that was lying in his hands. Both of them were sitting on opposite ends of the old yet extremely comfortable couch in the living room. Mattie was drinking a cup of hot chocolate while Al slowly flipped through the journal. The thing hadn't left his hands since they had woken up from their sudden afternoon nap not long ago.

"I… don't know. I was kinda thinking that it was one of those 'old magic' things that Artie used to tell us stories about years and years ago. I know that he had told us that they weren't real but what if they were and he didn't know it?" Al answered, enthusiastically.

"I…" the words seemed to completely disappear as Mattie lost himself in thought.

"You… forgot about them, didn't you? Artie used to tell us them all of the time! And you say that I'm the forgetful one."

"It's not that I forgot about them, Al… it's just that I couldn't remember anything about them, at least not properly. And then you mentioned it and now I can remember all of it, the way that it's supposed to be…. I must sound like I'm talking gibberish, eh?"

Al quickly shook his head as they fell back into silence. Thoughts of 'old magic' filled their minds, as they contemplated the possibilities. They were stories about the fae, and spirits that were constantly causing trouble for other, about objects that cursed people to horrible fates and other objects that granted someone's biggest wish. Nothing like the stories that other children had been told throughout their childhood.

"Hey Mattie, I want you to take the journal to your house tonight, so that you get the chance to read it! It's not fair if only the hero gets to read it, after all."

The subject was carefully and subtly avoided, and Mattie smiled at his friend.

"Thanks Al, I really have been wondering what's got you so immersed in it."