Chapter 7

Matthew dreamt that he was at home, sitting on the living room couch. Matthew had a pen in his riht hand and a letter in his left,

'What was I just doing?' he thought to himself, then he looked at the letter.

It read,

Dear Family,

Why don't you see me? Am I such a bad person that you refuse to even acknowledge me? I have only ever had Alfred and Francis. And Alfred hates me. Why do I even bother to get up in the morning? Oh yeah, Gilbert. I loved him with all my heart, but I messed up. I tried to hide something, something that I now see was too important. Gilbert, I'm sorry. Alfred, I'm sorry. Francis, I'm sorry. I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry I'm Sorry. Goodbye.

- Matthew

Matthew stared at the letter for what seemed like forever, he knew what he had been doing. He had planned this out in his head forever, what his letter would say, how he would do it, when, where and who he would tell.

This is how it would go, he would wait for Gilbert to leave, so he was alone, hen he would write his letter, he would take out the bottle of aspirin that he hid under his bed, then he would call Francis, just to say goodbye. Then he would take the aspirin and it would all end. It would all be over. All the pain, and sadness, and the sorrow that was his life.

Matthew looked to his left, sitting on the couch was the aspirin. He picked up the bottle and opened the lid, every instinct telling him to stop, but his heart was screaming to keep going. The deep hole he lived in would end. Then he closed his eyes and chugged the pills.

Matthew woke up in a cold sweat, his face covered in tears. He quickly reached over to his drawer and pulled out a knife, wanting to get the dream out of his head, he pulled up his sleeve and saw all the existing scars, showing the dream and how many nights it had plagued him. He placed the knife on his arm and-

"Mattheu?!" Francis barged in, having heard the noise from his room down the hall,

"F-Francis…" Matthew sobbed, dropping the knife, hearing it clatter to the floor. Francis ran over to Matthew, pulling him into a hug,

"Mattheu! Why would you do this?" Francis whispered, seeing how upset Matthew was,

"F-Francis, i-I'm so sorry…" Matthew sobbed into the Frenchman's neck, holding him closer.

'I'm going to call someone.' Francis vowed. Matthew wouldn't last much longer without Gilbert, and it had only been one day!

"Shhhhh, Mattheu… it's going to be alright…"

Gilbert had slept in the couch that night,

'well,' he thought,

'I really didn't sleep all that much, so it doesn't really count as sleeping.' He smiled for a second, then winced, remembering the thoughts that had kept him awake for all those hours. How he had run out of the house, Matthew's face as he left, and contemplating why Matthew had not told him what was going on.

Gilbert sat up, rubbing his head and cursing under is breath. He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and looked at his phone; it was 8:00 in the morning. His bruder and Venesiano would be up soon. He got up and walked over to the washroom to take a shower, sleeping in his clothes didn't do him any real good in that department either.

After his shower, he put on the same clothes and walked back out into the kitchen, where he smelt pancakes cooking. He winced at the memories of Matthew, lively and happy, making pancakes in the morning for Gilbert; he looked away and saw Ludwig on the couch, watching the news. He moved to join him, only to be stopped by a tugging on his arm,

"Gill?" Venesiano asked, his voice was laced with worry,

"Hey Venesiano!" Gill once again tried to sound happier that the night before, but failed. Only managing to sound slightly happy.

"Gill, Francis called while you were sleeping…" Venesiano sounded uncharacteristically serious,

"He got a call from Matthew and is staying with him, Matthew isn't doing so well. How do you feel?" the young Italian laced the last sentence with pity, feeling bad for the German.

"Oh… I'm, I'm alright. Aren't your pancakes burning?" Gilbert smelt smoke,

"Veh? Oh! Pancakes!" He dashed over to the kitchen, leaving Gilbert to handle the news on his own.

"Not doing so well…" Gilbert could only imagine what those words meant, and he thought of the worst.