"Yo! Assface! Out of the car!"
Gilbert groaned.
He pushed the girl away from him without a care and sat up, looking out the window.
Oh great. This asshole.
"Beilschmidt! Leave your whore inside and come and face me like a man, you fucking pussy!"
Gilbert gritted his teeth.
Great, just great. He had to deal with this douche bag. He was so not in the mood for this shit.
He yanked his pants on and tugged his shirt over his head, taking his time and ignoring the furious American screaming at his window.
"Is that Alfred Jones?" the girl asked, not even bothering with her shirt, only smiling at Alfred wearing only her bra and panties.
"Yeah. He'd probably screw you too, if you asked him," Gilbert said rudely. "Don't you have any decency? Put a shirt on or something."
The girl rolled her eyes.
"You are as rude as everyone says. I don't know why you've gotten laid so many times-"
"Because I'm friggin' awesome, that's why."
Slowly, Gilbert pushed the door open.
And suddenly two hands seized his shirt and threw him to the ground. He landed on his feet, stumbling a little and knocking his head against the car parked besides the car he'd so rudely left a second before. "The fuck?" Gilbert moaned. "What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me? Wrong with me? What's wrong with you, you stupid fucking Nazi?" Alfred Jones, Matthew's brother, screamed at him. Gilbert eyed him. He straightened his back until he was at his full height. He and Alfred were about the same height. Gilbert studied him. How could someone who looked so much like Matthew be so different? Alfred was an asshole. Which was why Gilbert had always liked him. He could see some similarities between himself and Alfred, so he personally felt the American was fairly awesome. But not as awesome as his brother.
"I thought we were friends! What the hell have you been doing to Mattie, you sick twisted fucker?"
Gilbert stared at him.
No way was he apologizing. He wouldn't apologize to Mattie and he sure as hell wasn't apologizing to his brother.
"Dude, you were so awesome. Don't drag yourself down by being some pussy-"
"Pussy? You fucking bastard, I'll kill you!" Alfred lunged at him, but Gilbert dodged sideways. The American swore as his fist collided with the car door. He was very, very strong and he'd put all of his force into that punch, so it had hurt twice as much as that hit would've if it had collided with its intended target. "Gaah!" the American cried. "Beilschmidt!"
"Care to explain why I'm seeing you again, Jones?" the principal sighed.
"Yes! For a good reason, this time, I swear-!" Alfred shouted.
"You say that all the time," the principal said exasperatedly.
"But this time I have a good reason for starting a fight on school grounds! Gilbert's been bullying my brother! I was just defending him!"
"What?" Gilbert squawked. "I was having sex in the parking lot. I mean, in the car. I wasn't even near your brother!"
"You know what I mean! Earlier today! Yesterday! Maybe even before that! So not awesome, Beilschmidt! Leave my brother alone! I thought you were my friend, you Nazi son of a bitch!"
"Alfred!" the principal snapped. "Don't use that word!"
Alfred didn't even look at him.
"If you ever touch my brother again, I'll beat you to death again!"
"Again? As if you managed the last time-!"
They began to argue back and forth, their replies progressively getting nastier and louder.
The principal sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
These kids were aging him twice as fast.
These two had been in this office more times than he could count, whether seperately or together.
"Uh-?" Matthew froze at his door.
His family all froze as well, for once noticing his presence. Alfred looked like he'd been in the middle of an outraged fit, his wide eyes almost crazy, his mouth open in protest. Francis's eyes were sad, pitying and upset, as opposed to Arthur, whose eyebrows were scrunched in annoyance, rage and frustration. His eyes narrowed as his attention honed onto Matthew. "Matthew! Alfred just told us Gilbert Beilschmidt has been bullying you! Is that true? Why didn't you tell us?"
"My poor Matthieu, why didn't you tell-?"
"That damned Nazi bastard-"
"Don't use that word!"
"Sorry! Anyway, Beilschmidt is so dead the next time I see him!"
"No, he's not! We should talk to the principal and see if we can get him suspended-"
"No, fuck that! You know that won't work! No, we have to beat him black and blue!"
"I think you're both stupid wankers. Matthew, how did this start? Why didn't you tell us?"
"Why couldn't you tell?" Matthew burst out.
His family froze again.
"Why did you have to figure it out? Why didn't you just notice? Why can't you just notice?" the last word had a sad, almost keening desperation to it.
"Matthew... I know you're... not always on the edge of everyone's minds, but... we don't ignore you. It's not like-like- we-uh, don't-"
"It's not like we don't care," Francis interrupted his husband. "It's just that... well-"
"Yeah, I get it," Matthew sighed.
"When did he- what did he do?" Alfred asked, his voice unusually soft.
"What do you think?" Matthew whispered. He hesitated, then pulled his shirt up, letting his family see what they hadn't seen, what he hadn't shown, what he'd felt for so many years and kept bottled up inside. He figured they'd leave him alone if they saw and knew. As long as he didn't need to explain it to them. It was hard enough to go through, much less talk about it. And it was even harder to think about, because the moment he did was the moment he felt like he was cheating on his boyfriend. Because the moment he thought of his bully, he thought about that kiss at the same time.
Vaguely, he heard his family talking loudly. Francis was upset and Arthur and Alfred were yelling something.
Same old, same old.
They'd get angry, make a few calls, then forget about him.
Same old, same old.
Sometimes he wondered if it hurt or if it just happened and he witnessed it, day after day. Day after day after day.
Either way, he couldn't feel it anymore.
"And we'll have him expelled-"
"No!" Matthew exclaimed. "No!"
Francis look startled.
"Matthieu, you don't have to be afraid-"
"I'm not afraid! Don't complain about him, okay? He's alright. He's just- I- he's just... misunderstood. I-I think we settled it today and I-"
"Settled it? He beat the daylights out of you!"
"I'm used to it," Matthew murmured darkly.
Alfred's face immediately crumpled.
And to the astonishment of everyone present, he began to cry.
"Al-Alfie?"
Immediately, Matthew's dark mood lightened immediately. He was a gentle soul and seeing his brother cry didn't give him any satisfaction at all. He walked tentatively over to his brother, who immediately flung his arms around his brother's shoulders and tugged him close.
"I'm so sorry," he groaned. "I'm so sorry I let this happen! I'm not the hero! I should've saved you from him-!"
He broke off into hiccuping.
"It's alright, it's alright," Matthew sighed. "It wasn't your fault."
"But it was! I should've been there! I'm so sorry! I should've been there for you and I'm sorry! I'm a terrible brother and a terrible hero and I'm so sorry! Please forgive me-!"
"Get ahold of yourself," Arthur said, somewhat irritated. "Matthew, what do you mean, you don't want to get this Beilschmidt boy suspended?"
Francis clucked like a hen. He scooted forward in his seat and pulled Matthew's shirt up again. His eyes darkening with sorrow as he saw the abuse inflicted upon his poor son. "Mon dieu, mon poor child," he simpered. "You poor child, how could you keep this from us?"
Matthew sighed.
All this fuss.
He'd already been damaged.
There was no going back now.
Maybe if they'd had this reaction, a long time ago, something could've been done.
But not now.
"Listen up! All of you! This is going to stop now, okay? I'm going to deal with it on my own."
"No you aren't!" Arthur said indignantly. "You clearly can't handle it on your own, judging by how long this has gone on. Let us help you Matthew. If you just let us help you, then maybe we can show you we do care. Honestly, if you don't give us a chance, then how can we meet your expectations? Don't suffer in silence-"
"I'm not," Matthew murmured. "Just... just trust me, okay? Let me handle this on my own."
As soon as he was done saying it, his family protested, but he blocked them out.
And it struck him at that moment.
He truly did mean it.
He was going to handle this on his own.
This wasn't that much of a shock. It had always felt like he was on his own.
But what struck him, was that he felt like standing up for himself. Actually standing up on his own two feet and going to try and solve a problem on his own.
He'd never considered doing such a thing, not before Ivan.
But this time... he actually wanted to stand up for himself, not anyone else.
And... it felt good.
He wanted to figure out his feelings. He wanted to figure out Gilbert's problems and his own problems.
All on his own.
How pathetic.
This voice didn't sound like Gilbert's. It sounded like his own voice, nagging, self-hating.
It was pathetic. He'd never been able to stand up for himself. The only time he had, was for Ivan.
How sad. He couldn't do it for himself, so he did it for someone else.
It's not pathetic. Being alone makes you hurt more than anyone on the outside can understand. Willingly choosing to be alone and stand alone is a helluva lot braver than facing the loneliness alone because you have to. So shut the fuck up!
There. That was Gilbert.
Besides, that Russian bastard cares about you, even if I think I do more. Fighting for someone else is better than fighting for nothing at all. I like the brave you, even if it's just standing up to me.
Something about that last few words sounded sad, almost regretful.
Damnit! Why was he hearing Gilbert in his head?
What was the matter with him?
Why was he hearing Gilbert's voice?
And worse... why did he feel comforted by this voice?
I did it again. I am so sorry. I made you wait a long time. So sorry... I feel so bad... I'd hate waiting this long for an update.
So sorry.
I can't express in writing for how sorry I am.
sorry for how short and crappy this update is and how long it took.
Apologies. I beg your forgiveness!