A/N: Just as a shoutout to Roxas4ever (who has reviewed every chapter ^u^)… EXCUSE ME I THINK I LOVE YOU. And all my reviewers, much luff and Matthew-cookies to you all. I feel a bit depressed though, as I seem to be making people sad. But, 'tis needed for the plot. Gomenasai. T_T

And also, funny story… My grandma is currently visiting us, and I went out for like THREE SECONDS to get the morning paper, and she's on my laptop, reading the story I left open (it was mine, I was checking the reviews.)! I screamed, "OMFG GRANDMAAAAA!!" But all she said was: "… This is yaoi?" Terrified for my safety, I replied, "Y-Yup." "I think I like it." Me: -OMGGGGWHUT- -falls-

:I Uh huh. It was messed up.

WHAT THE DEUCE? A PLOT TWIST!!~ Also, this chapter may make you like Gil a bit more. (Maybe? Yes? :3)

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Oh goddamnit, Princess Peach was still at it. "COME ON, BITCH! GET ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FUCKING TRACK!!!" Unfortunately for him, our hero was pushed in response, and fell in a ball of flames down to Earth. Stupid Rainbow Road.

Fully exhausted from countless hours of Karting to the extreme (as Yoshi, fuck yeah), the blonde plopped down onto the sofa, whipping out his phone as it buzzed loudly. As he glanced down at it, the screen flashed, "One new message from Kirkland, Arthur (my bitch haha :p)." He sniggered, though he had been the one to enter the name into his contacts. It just never got old.

Alfred, pressing 'View,' scanned the text's contents quickly. It merely read, "Party at Yao's place. You in?" The American's face split into a wide grin as he quickly typed a response in the affirmative. Yao always did throw the best house parties. Though, that rather frightening Russian was always invited, too…

He shivered as he hit 'Send' with one lanky finger. He would have to stay cautious, then.

Alfred jolted as he heard a loud knock on the door. He groaned, as neither of his parents were currently at home, he would have to answer. Getting to his feet and stumbling to his bedroom door, he hastened his footsteps only when the knocks grew more frantic. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming…" He mumbled, then snickered at the double entendre. Not very mature, but who ever said he was?

The American finally reached the living room, rushing to the door. He opened it about halfway, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Anto-" Before the blonde could even finish, the brunette collapsed into his chest.

Blue eyes widened as the jock scrambled to catch his brother's friend. "Shit, dude, you okay? Where's Matt?" At the sound of that name, Antonio sobbed, clutching Alfred's shoulders so hard that the other boy winced in pain. He said awkwardly, "H-Hey, it's okay, come on in…" Evidently, his attempts at comfort were not very successful.

Half-helping, half-dragging a hysterical Spanish teen to the couch was much harder than it appeared. And it didn't look easy in the first place.

As Antonio was set down gently, his escort coughed nervously and attempted to straighten out his shirt, now creased and tearstained. However, there was another kind of stain around his shoulders that made Alfred gasp. Blood clearly marked where the teen's hands had been, the red liquid slowly seeping through his shirt and sticking to his skin. There were bigger worries, though, and the American brushed off the uncomfortable feeling.

Looking at the distraught boy once more, Alfred said, "Let me see your hands, please." Antonio, shivering both from the cold and the hysteria, held his palms out. The blonde cringed as he saw the burn marks and cuts. He stood swiftly, saying, "I'm gonna go get some bandages. Stay here." The Spaniard sniffled and nodded, pulling his knees to his chest.

Sure enough, within minutes Alfred had returned, large white first aid kit in hand. Finally, Antonio spoke up, voice cracking slightly. "I-I didn't know wh-where else to go…" The American opened the box and looked at him sympathetically.

"Hey, man, it's okay. Any friend of Mattie's is a friend of mine." "Matthew, he…" Alfred glanced at him as he prepared the ointment and bandages. "Yeah," he said slowly, "I thought you two were seeing each other tonight."

Antonio shook his head, whispering, "I saw them together. Him and Gilbert." The blonde froze, nearly dropping the box. The brunette continued; "I was so angry; I told him to stay away, but then he c-choked me, and…" Another rounds of sobs overwhelmed the teen, and he fell silent.

Meanwhile, Alfred was still, face expressionless as he clutched a roll of gauze so hard his knuckles paled. Eventually, he managed to speak, gritting his teeth as he said, "Matthew promised… He said they were over…" Antonio laughed, a miserable sort of laugh completely devoid of humor. "Well, amigo, he never said they were together to me."

The blonde gave him a look of pity, picking up the supplies once more and numbly starting to wrap his hands.

It was a menial task, and one that was done in complete silence, save for an occasional sniffle from the injured party. After nearly fifteen minutes, which had seemed more like fifteen hours, Alfred had finished, and he stood with a little sigh. Antonio gave a small smile of gratitude, whispering a small "Thanks…" He got a curt nod in return.

The American sat down softly next to him and gazed at the red finger marks encircling his neck, silently cursing Gilbert in his head. He leaned over and, without thought, pressed his lips to the bruising skin. Antonio jumped, but did not protest.

Alfred realized what he had done, and pulled back hastily, spluttering, "I-I'm so sorry, I d-don't know what I-" An easy laugh broke his mini-rant, and the other teen said, "It's okay. I didn't mind."

The blonde flushed, wondering if that meant what he thought it meant. He mentally chastised himself, thinking, 'What? That's ridiculous. Don't think about such things.'

But that thought was quickly overruled by the feeling of a warm mouth pressing hesitantly against his. Antonio trembled a little when there was no response, an unsteady hand coming in to rest on the muscular chest to his right. Alfred was shocked, cerulean eyes wide in disbelief.

And yet, the blonde couldn't help but kiss back.

--

Gilbert said, "Dessert before a meal, that's what I always say." Matthew just shook his head, smiling widely. The pair stood in front of, of all things, an ice cream parlor. The Canadian paid no heed to his bandaged hands as he quickly pushed open the door, running straight for the 'Maple Madness.' The German chuckled, following him to the glass display case.

Wrapping one arm around Matthew's shoulders and resting his chin on the back of his head, Gilbert considered the pros and cons of his spontaneous decision. Pro: It would (most likely) make him forget about Antonio. Con: A sugar-high birdie was, to him, uncharted territory.

The smaller boy said, "Maple, there's a lot of flavors…" The silverette nodded absently, scanning the rows as well. As an older man came over and asked them what they would like, Matthew, of course, decided on maple, while he himself went for the Coconut Pecan. The aproned employee smiled and got the cones, while the Canadian grabbed them a table. Gilbert picked up the orders after paying, one in each hand, and walked to their seats, handing Matthew his with a light kiss to the brow.

The smaller teen couldn't help but think that he much preferred this sweeter Gilbert to the one at the restaurant.

As they ate, they talked. The conversation started lightly enough, with inquiries about school, interests, and family, but it quickly morphed into an intense round of Would You Rather.

Matthew licked his lips (quite delectably, Gilbert thought) and pursed his lips, attempting to formulate an evil question for his opponent. The other teen, however, beat him to it, saying, "Would you rather catch your awesome boyfriend sleeping with Antonio or Alfred?" The Canadian groaned. "Um, maple, Alfred, I think…"

One silver eyebrow was raised in surprise as Gilbert gave a whoop. "Woah, birdie, seriously?" The sigh afterwards was all the confirmation that he needed. "That's a tough one. Me, I'd personally rather have you sleep with one of my friends than my brother."

Matthew gasped at this. "Gil, you have a brother?" "Yup," he replied, "An older one. His name's Ludwig." "Nice. You two get along?" "Pretty well, yeah," responded the German, taking another lazy lick of the frosted treat. The blonde yelped in surprise as one cold drop trickled down his hand.

Grabbing a paper napkin, the Canadian hastened to clean it up, but stopped halfway as Gilbert said, "Wait. I'll get that." Matthew put the napkin down, confused.

The silverette leaned across the table and, much to Matthew's horror, licked the drop's trail all the way from his finger to his wrist. When he was finished, the victimized Canadian's face was completely red, quite possibly due in part to him licking his lips so thoroughly afterwards. He said casually to the flustered teen, "That was good, but you tasted better." Matthew squeaked in embarrassment as a nearby couple chuckled.

And so, the two departed, Gilbert dragging the blushing Canadian in tow.

--

The dinner had been rather uneventful (though Gilbert had had boatloads of fun whispering naughty things into his date's ear), and he had dropped Matthew off in his driveway, wishing him the best of luck when dealing with his sure-to-be-pissed brother. The Canadian had invited him to help invent an excuse, but he had merely said, "I value my genitals, thank you," and sped off.

About twenty minutes later, his car rolled nearly soundlessly into his family's driveway, and he got out with a yawn, stretching his limbs with a few pops. But he soon tensed again as he realized his mother's car wasn't there. His stepfather's was.

He groaned, one hand running through silver hair as he shakily inhaled. That's right, his mother had gone to a conference. And it would be the same as it always had been when him and his "father" were alone. Looking around for his brother's car, he felt even more despair as he realized that Ludwig was at his part time job.

Well, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. Gilbert took a deep breath and approached the front door, opening it as silently as possible. About halfway through, though, a large creak sounded, and he heard, to his dismay, a drunken voice slurring, "Welcome home." He steeled his jaw and called calmly, "Hey, dad."

The man stumbled into the room, unshaven and smelling of alcohol, and gave a lopsided grin to his son. "Gilbert… How I missed ya." The silverette said nothing, keeping his eyes down and attempting to pass his stepfather without contact. The plan failed, the drunken man to his left extending a muscular hand and gripping one slim wrist. He gave several heavy, ragged breaths through his nose before saying quietly, "Dad. Please, I have to go to bed."

"Hmm? Then why not go with me?" "Stop it, please." The German was practically begging now, voice frantic and eyes filling with tears he was too proud to shed. But in the depths of his heart, he knew the pleas wouldn't be heard. They never were.

And as rough, cold lips attacked his own, he knew that this time would be no different.

The next morning, Gilbert awoke alone, and found that he couldn't stand. Today was a sick day, indeed.

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OH GOSH GILLY T_T It's okay, we still luff you. And Matthew will glomp you, dun worry.

Pivotal chapter in many ways, ne? :3 Reviews keep me writing and you happy. (and filled with Mattie-induced joy!~)

|:D Next chapter will be boss. Count on it.