DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers — Hidekaz Himaruya

BROTHERLY LOVE

SIX

Al said goodbye to Matt four times before he was home again for the summer holiday. They celebrated their sixteenth birthday together—Matt on July 1st, and Al on July 4th—and only then realized just how much the other had grown. Al was becoming a big, strong-looking all-American; and Matt was becoming a slighter, decidedly-Canadian beauty. They still had the same sense of humour and the same taste in American junk-food, but Al's favourite films and bands were no longer Matt's, and he found Matt's interest in world affairs increasingly boring. Matt started to think that Al was too arrogant; he didn't need to be constantly reminded of his brother's triumphs, and—after sixteen years—it was starting to bother Matt that Al never listened when he talked. But they still got excited to see each other. They still ran and threw their arms around each other whenever Matt came home. They still spent the whole summer inseparably.

Against Arthur's better judgement, Francis bought Al a car for his birthday, and Al took great pleasure in cruising the New York streets with Matt beside him. He loved driving fast on the highway, blasting the radio loudly and laughing as he and his brother sang along. Someone even confused them for a couple at Coney Island, when Al paid for two ice-creams and then proceeded to lick Matt's anyway. He began to feel increasingly jealous of anyone—especially men—who flirted with Matt, especially when he was half-naked on the beach.

And Matt began to feel less and less secure when Al flirted with pretty, half-naked girls, his good-looks and natural charisma drawing them like flies. He started saying things like: "It's only because you're rich," or "it's the car she likes, not you," or "I bet she says that to every guy," feigning concern for his brother, all the while fighting the truth: that he was jealous, and terrified that someday Al would lose interest in him.

It was a long, hot summer in New York City. Arthur bought a splendid beach house on Long Beach, and that's where Al and Matt and their friends spent the majority of July and August. Matt invited his friends from Ottawa to join them for a long weekend, and the big, raucous group had so much fun together that the police were eventually called to quell the noise. They laughed and drank and smoked and swam; they fought and accused each other of illicit activities, while others actually indulged in illicit activities. It was a wonderfully dizzying time.

Then it was time for Matt to return again to Ottawa. "Take care of yourself," Al said, his hand resting subtly on Matt's head, tangled in his sun-bleached hair.

"I will," said Matt, pressing his cheek to Al's when he hugged him.

NEW YORK CITY 2012

Al was dead-asleep when he heard his cell-phone ring, playing an obnoxiously loud song. It shocked him awake, and he hurried to answer it before it woke Arthur and Francis. "Mm... hello?" he mumbled sleepily, rolling onto his back.

"Al, it's me."

Al's eyes snapped open. "Mattie? It's"—he glanced at the clock—"two in the morning. What's wrong?"

"Al... can you come get me?" Matt's voice was soft. He sounded scared.

Al sat up in bed, blankets pooling at his waist. "What's going on? Where are you?" he asked, worried.

"Syracuse, at a bus terminal."

"What?! Why aren't you in Ottawa— how'd you get to Syracuse?!" Al panicked.

Matt's voice got softer. "Al." He swallowed—is he crying? Al wondered. "Could you please just come get me?"

It took Al thirty seconds to get dressed, dragging on a t-shirt and jeans, pulling on a hoodie, and his shoes. He shoved his cell-phone into his pocket, grabbed his wallet and car keys, and was on the highway within ten minutes. It should have taken Al three hours to get from New York City to Syracuse, but he did it in two, testing his car's horse-power. The highway was empty so early in the morning; just transport-trucks and Al's speeding sports car. He arrived at the bus terminal at five-thirty in the morning, and pulled up just as an older, greasy-looking man leant down over Matt. "Hey, fucking piss-off!" Al shouted, opening his door. Matt sprang up like a scalded dog and ran to the car. He threw his satchel into the backseat and then climbed into the front, pale-faced and red-eyed. Al drove back to the highway, and then pulled off into a carpool lot. Matt looked confused, until Al said: "Tell me what happened."

"Al, can we not—"

"No," Al interrupted, sounding scarily like Arthur. "That wasn't a request, Mattie. Tell me why I just drove two-hundred and fifty miles at two in the fucking morning to come get you. Why aren't you at school?"

"I was at school. But I left," said Matt ambiguously.

Al stared hard at him: "Why?"

Matt swallowed; red eyes threatening tears. It was then that Al realized Matt's hands were shaking. "I was in the library afterhours, I've got a report due— today," he realized. "S-sometimes I work late so the librarian leaves me the key to lock-up. Then one of my professors came in," he shrugged, refusing to meet Al's eyes. "He was one of my... favourite professors. His classes were always... Anyway, it was just him and I, and..." Matt sucked back a sob; a pearly tear rolled down his cheek. "I don't know why, but he... f-forced himself on m-me. He tried t-to..."

Al stared at him in horrified disbelief. Matt's whole body was shaking. "Mattie—?"

"I just... I hit him with a dictionary," Matt laughed nervously, more tears falling, "and I fucking ran. I didn't even go b-back to my d-dorm. I just grabbed my s-satchel and ran to the bus s-stop. I'm not allowed to leave the s-school grounds without p-permission," he panicked. "And I assaulted a t-teacher. I'm going to be in s-so much t-trouble, but I d-didn't want to g-go b-back. I don't w-want to g-go b-back, Al."

Al pulled Matt into his arms and hugged him, rocking him slightly; petting his brother's hair. He didn't know what to say. He felt sick; enraged; worried, but furious at the same time. "It's okay," he heard himself repeating: "It's okay, Matt. You're safe, I'm here. I'm going to take you home. It's okay." Matt's fingers clawed at Al's blue hoodie. Al held him for almost a half-hour while he cried, shaking violently. Then, slowly, he released Matt and shifted the car into DRIVE. "Let's go home," he said. Silently, Matt nodded.

Where the fuck have you been?!" Arthur raged. "What the bloody-hell did you do, Alfred?!"

"Gone! No note, no text, just gone in the middle of the fucking night!" Francis yelled. "I can't— Mathieu?!"

Matt stood behind Al, half-shielded by his brother's body, clenching his satchel-strap. "Hi Dad, Papa," he said, somewhat anticlimactically given the circumstances. "I'm home."

"Yes, but why?" Arthur asked suspiciously, the ghost of worry in his tone. "Why aren't you at school? How did you even get here? Alfred couldn't have crossed the border to get you—"

"No, I took the bus. I paid for my own ticket. I just... wanted to come home," Matt told the floor.

"In the middle of the night?" Francis asked skeptically. "Mathieu, what aren't you telling us? Did something happen at school? Tell me, chéri."

Matt glanced at Al for help, big violet eyes tear-filled. "I just..."

"Alfred," said Arthur, reading the exchange. "What happened?" Pause. Al pursed his lips, keeping silent. "Oh, for fuck's sake," Arthur cursed in exasperation. "I'm not asking, boys. What sort of trouble did you get into that you had to run home, Mathew? How much is this going to cost me to fix? Do I need to call the school to—"

"It's not Matt's fault!" Al snapped, swelling defensively. "It's that fucking school!"

Matt closed his eyes, trying desperately to hold back the tears, but it was futile. Involuntarily he gasped, drawing everyone's attention. "Mathieu?" Francis worried, looking at Al in panic. He pulled Matt into a hug, and said: "Alfred?" in an expectant tone. Al sighed in defeat.

"Al, don't—" Matt started, but Al said:

"One of Mattie's teachers attacked him, tried to fuck him," he said indelicately.

For a moment the house was dead-silent. Then the English and Frenchman exploded in such a colossal rage that Matt flinched. They yelled at Matt and Al, and at each other, in fear and revulsion; not angry, just panicking at an intense volume; they used words that Matt didn't even know, but they did not sound kind. Francis held Matt tightly, seeming to irrationally think that it was somehow his fault. He asked repeatedly if Matt was okay: "You're not hurt, are you Mathieu? Mon Dieu, what a horrible thing, bébé— mon Mathieu." Matt assured him that he wasn't hurt, but Francis didn't seem to hear him. Arthur had whipped out his cell-phone and furiously dialed the school's head office. He was shouting: "Yes I fucking know what time it is! Do you think I'm a goddamned idiot?! Who do I speak to about having someone bloody-fucking fired?!"

It was chaotic for about twenty-minutes, until Al said: "Matt, maybe you should get some sleep."

Matt nodded. He took Al's hand: "Come with me. I don't want to sleep alone."

Al bundled Matt beneath the blankets and crawled in beside him. He was tired; Matt must be exhausted, but his eyes were wide awake, staring blankly. "He actually forced me down, Al," he whispered. "He touched me like I was—"

"Hey, look at me," said Al, pressing his forehead against Matt's. "You're safe now, I promise. Dad and Papa won't let you go back until that fucker's been fired, okay? They won't make you go back until you want to. You're home now, Mattie. I'm here." Impulsively he kissed Matt's temple. "I'm here," he repeated, pulling Matt's arms more closely around his own chest. "See? Despite my roguish good-looks, I'm not just a dream," he joked, provoking a pale smile from his brother. "I'm right here, Mattie. Just go to sleep."

Eventually Matt fell into a troubled sleep. Al could tell because his eyelids were fluttering, forehead creased, and his fingers clenched the folds of Al's t-shirt, almost desperately. Once, when Al thought Matt looked trapped in a nightmare, he woke him. "Hey, you okay?" he asked. Groggily Matt blinked, then nodded. He buried his head beneath Al's chin and fell back to sleep. Al, however, stayed awake, too angry to sleep. He looped his arms around Matt and stared at the ceiling. He could hear traffic outside, but his bedroom drape's were closed and it was dark. His clock read: 10:05AM, telling him that he was late for school. Fuck school, he thought rebelliously. I'm not going anywhere until Matt feels better. I'll stay here all day if he wants— just us.

Matt was home for a week, afraid to return to the boarding-school until his professor was removed, which—at the rate Arthur and Francis were throwing their weight around—should be very soon. "I should text Lars and tell him I'll be flying back on Monday," Matt said, snuggled against Al's side.

They were sitting in the living-room, watching old superhero films that they had both seen several hundred times, and eating candy-bars: "Because Mattie's upset," Al urged, taking advantage of the opportunity to make Francis buy prepackaged sweets. "What's the official story?" he asked, unwrapping a chocolate bar. He broke a piece off and offered it to Matt, who simply opened his mouth—both hands busy texting. Al grinned and slipped the chocolate into his brother's mouth, casually brushing his bottom lip.

"Family emergency? Maybe I unexpectedly came down with something contagious? I don't know," Matt said.

Al thought. "Maybe you were abducted by Hydra—"

"—and rescued by Captain America," Matt finished on-cue. They both laughed. "Yeah, let's go with that." He leaned back and heaved a sigh. "I'm going to be a week behind in schoolwork. I don't really want to go back yet. I'm not scared," he hurried. "I just don't want to leave yet." In indication he tossed his cell-phone aside and flopped down across Al's lap. Al, legs kicked up on the coffee table, pulled a blanket over him.

This time when Al and Matt said goodbye to each other, it was at the airport. Arthur and Francis were flying back with Matt to ensure that every one of their demands regarding a certain professor had been met. Al was staying behind, having missed almost as much school as Matt. It had, despite the horrific circumstances, been a rather enjoyable visit as far as Al was concerned. Sure, he would beat that fucking would-be rapist bloody if he ever saw him on the street (unlikely, since Arthur and Francis were trying to have him charged), but at least Al got to see Matt much sooner than expected, and they had got to spend an entire uninterrupted week together—no school and no friends (nobody else knew that Matt was home).

"Safe flight. Call me when you get there," Al said to him.

"Sure thing," said Matt, looking up just as Al leaned in to kiss his forehead. Al's lips missed and briefly kissed Matt's lips instead. "Oh— s-sorry," Matt said, flushing deeply.

Al opened his mouth to reply, thinking it a happy accident; he had wanted to taste Matt's lips for months. But Francis interrupted: "Come on, Mathieu. Behave while we're gone, Alfred."

"No parties," Arthur clarified. "And get to school on-time!" Then the three of them left.