Alfred had to be happy. If Alfred wasn't happy, he would kill himself. Then Matthew would feel as depressed as he felt guilty, which would last until the end of time, and he'd want to die himself.

So Alfred had to be happy. That was why when Alfred woke up, he saw his favorite shirt and jacket laid out in front of him, and on the table were American flag napkins with a bacon, pancake, O.J., and coffee breakfast. His brother was putting on the finishing touches, adding a tiny U.S. flag on the pancakes before he noticed his brother. Alfred started to speak, but Matthew cut him off by hugging him and saying that he loved him.

Alfred asked why he was doing this, and Matthew said that it was just to show how much he loved him. He said "Okay", sounding unsure. Whether it was the reason or that he was loved was not mentioned. Alfred started to pull down his pajama pants before realizing that his brother was there. He asked if he would leave. They were twins who shared the same body, they never really cared before. Matthew rushed out. Alfred switched his clothes, feeling as if he was stealing clothing that really belonged to someone else, the one who everyone respected and admired, the one who Matthew really cared about, the one whose name he had stolen. The mature, strong virgen. He drank the O.J. that his brother made just for him. It was bitter. He finally cried.

This was how their day started.

Once he allowed Matthew back in, he began to talk about their plans for today. They would drive to Yankee Stadium and watch a game there, walk through Central Park on their way back, and go to Dylan's Candy Bar. Die Hard was on T.V. tonight, so they would watch that after dinner. It was the perfect day.

Like a teacher responding to his young students, Matthew asked if America had any questions. Alfred asked why he was doing this. Matthew grew a confused smile and hugged his brother. "I love you", he said. This was the second time that day.

It was supposed to be a twenty minute drive there. There was no traffic. But Matthew kept pulling out to show off semi-famous landmarks. Here was the 92nd st Y. Another place to train myself so it doesn't happen again. Here's the Islamic cultural center. They also hate me. Here's poor Richard's playground. Hey let's be kids. Kids who can drive and play at parks whenever they want. Innocent, happy kids who are blind about the world, so naive it hurts when thinking back, kids who are convinced that they will be forever protected and loved just for being them. I'm not a child, I'm… I don't know who I am.

Finally they arrived at the stadium, with still some time to spare. They could've planned ahead, gotten here earlier and skipped everything, no use delaying the inevitable, but no. Matthew was determined to stretch out everything as long as possible. He didn't know why, because Matthew seemed pretty busy, considering he kept looking at his phone and kept looking as if he wanted someone, anyone, to call him and take him away from him.

… Did he have to make even his brother miserable? What did he ever do to him? Anyway, the game lasted just over two hours, a very thorough beating. He was surprised why they didn't just give them mercy already. Matthew bought him a hot dog and an ice cream, and trying to force the long, sweaty warm meat into his mouth was torture, while shoving the disgustingly soft cream that just went everywhere, he couldn't get it out!- well, he prayed to the porcelain god to take away the disgust that resided in him.

They take a cab to central park. Matthew points out the plants and animals that Alfred has seen a million times before, but yet he can't really see or feel, like the faded colors of an old painting, forever lost, before he tries to indiscreetly watch for his cell phone to call and summon him away.

They look at the Onassis reservoir-Hey, Alfie, it looks as large as an ocean from this view. When Alfred was younger, dumber, he too would've confused something so insignificant for something so important. They go in the Metropolitan Museum of Art-Just faded objects that aren't of any use, people only act like they like them because it's a ritual. Just expouse it to the light, and it's ruined forever- and they go to the cafe. Matthew immediately informs the waiter that they're too young to drink. He wants Alfred to enjoy everything, he doesn't want everything to be dulled by alcohol. The only thing alcohol can do at this point is dull the pain, though.

Matthew drags him to the ruins of someone's prestige and power, Belvedere Castle, where anything that was once beautiful and worthwhile has long faded away. Matthew also tried to bring him to the Victorian amusement park, but Alfred swore that he would vomit going near those rides. He doesn't want to remember the past, especially England's latest Golden age. So they walk the few blocks to Dylan's candy bar, and all the sugary saccharine with the candy and the soulmates and children who are so excited and naive crush his mind and make his heart go fast, and-

Even though he barely ate anything the whole day, he ends up vomiting a lot. After dirtying himself, exposing the filth inside of him, he runs to the farthest most corner and hides, embarrassed and terrified beyond belief. Not only did he expouse such dirtiness to those who just wanted to be happy, but now they were going to get their revenge! He gagged from fear, but couldn't vomit anymore. There was nothing left in him anymore. He was hollow and empty.

Matthew came, saying some words, but most important was that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Even if Alfred was weak, at least he could be dependant on his little brother. Wimp.

So after buying a hoodie so Alfred could hide himself-coward-they bought some candy and left.

Mattie kept looking at his phone, practically saying saying that he cared about the phone more than he did then about Alfred- phones can't fuckup like you can- and kept showing off that lying smile that said that he indeed was focused on little Alfie, that he loved little Alfie, and that he would do anything for little Alfie. Hey, maybe he does care.

Only because he feels strong doing this, having a former superpower depend on him. He doesn't actually love you, no one does. Why won't you realize that, you naive twit?

Because the only reason why I'm living is for Matt. Everything I had loved and worked for has rotted before my eyes. I can't feel happy or enjoy anything, I'm paranoid about everything, and I don't know what to even work for in my life. I just want to rest and sleep. I don't want nightmares, I don't want to be half awake everyday until the end of time, I don't want to wait for it to happen again, and I just want to be loved, to have something that I can feel proud about, and be safe. Even if there's nothing after death, it's better than this constant agony.

What if you go to hell?

I'm already in hell. If I'm evil, then God won't punish me. A good God wouldn't allow this.

And if you're good?

I'm not good. There's not one good thing in me. I am worthless, inconvenient and abhorrent. Everyone wants me to die.

Then why don't you die?

… Hope. An inkling that maybe something will eventually get better in the future, that there is something redeemable in me, and that if I work hard enough, then maybe, just maybe, Matthew will love me.

… Very implausible.

More implausible things had happened before. This one can happen.

… Matthew seemed intent on waiting by the corner of the hotel for a bit of time, before he looked happily at his phone and dragged them up. Opening the door to their suite, Alfred saw several fruit baskets.

"Welcome home Alfred, we love you!" cheered Matthew, his face falling when he saw that it was fruit baskets. Before Alfred could ask, Matthew went to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes yelling on the phone things like "Why didn't you say that you weren't going to come?" "Don't you know how disappointed Alfred is going to be?", and "So why fruit baskets?" He finally walked out and said that he expected for his allies (let face it, even Matthew can't say that he still, if he ever did, have friends) to come and have a party, but their plane got canceled. Matthew didn't mention making up an excuse for them so they could come, so he either just hoped that they would come for no reason, or he did tell them and that's why they didn't come.

Matthew said that Die Hard was going to start in an hour, but he could help with the burgers so they're made so Alfred likes them. Alfred said that the last time he had a burger, he vomited because that's what he had right before the rape, and that it doesn't matter how he makes it because he can't really taste anything anymore, that it's either bitter or bland, and that it's like he's being slowly suffocated and that he can't fully feel anything anymore, his being being compressed. That, and he'd just fuck it up.

So Matthew says "Okay", and starts cooking while Alfred goes to his bed and wonders if he really did fuck up his relationship with Matt. He could say that it was a lie, but Matt would wonder why he lied and not trust or like him even more.

Matthew calls him for dinner, and it's some sort of salad. It honestly does look like it was thrown together, but maybe that's just him. But when he sees what Matt prepared himself, which… looks like care was put into it…

He really did fuck up. He could complain that a salad isn't really filling, but he doesn't really notice his hunger anymore. It's always there, but it's at such a low frequency, and he's so tired that he doesn't notice unless he or someone else tries changing it.

So he eats the salad, determined to not let Mattie's sacrifice go to waste, and watches a movie where he sees just how far someone would go to save the one they love.

It brings a bittersweet smile to his face. He could do that for Mattie, since he's really tired, and in between the nightmares, he can imagine someone doing that for him.

He almost feels happy. Going to bed, he dreams that he is loved.

"If who I am is what I have and what I have is lost, then who am I?" Anonymous

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