WARNING: Talk about sensitive topics of drinking, anorexia, and depression. Read at your own discretion.


The bitter fall was wind was clashing with the weak sun, bringing a coldness to the air that made him jog a little faster. He quickly got to Gilbert's house and before he even had a chance to knock or catch his breath, the door opened. "Oi Birdie, you made it!" Gilbert grinned and pulled him inside.

Matthew nodded and shed his layers, Gilbert still talking. "So before I tell you anything, I want you to tell me what happened after I came over yesterday."

"Okay," he agreed and Gilbert led him down the hall, to his room.

He walked in, the room surprisingly clean. Spotless, really. He was almost afraid to sit on the bed, in fear of creating wrinkles. Gilbert didn't seem like the kind of person to keep an immaculate room, maybe his parents just cleaned it.

Gilbert sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him. Matthew sat next to him and Gilbert wrapped his arm around him, drawing him close. "So tell me how much fun of a drunk I am."

"Oh, well, um, you showed up at my door, confused and drunk. So I let you in and I took the bottle of beer from you. You pouted and I said to go to my room and you ran up the stairs. And when I got there you were..." he blushed slightly at the memory, "posing for me and you were flirting and making out with me and then... Al accidentally saw... but he left quickly. And you were still all over me and I asked you to stop. You did and then just passed out."

Gilbert listened to his story and nodded. "That sounds like something I would do," he grinned then his look turned a little more serious, "But why did you ask me to stop?"

"Because you were drunk," Matthew said.

"Well I'm not drunk now," Gilbert smirked and caressed his neck and collarbone with his fingers.

"O-Oh, um, yeah," he stammered and blushed.

Gilbert grinned and leaned toward him to kiss him. Matthew put his hands on his chest to stop him. "G-Gil?"

"Is something wrong, Birdie?"

"No, it's just that you were going to tell me what happened."

"Oh, right. Can't that wait?" he asked.

Matthew bit his lip and shook his head. Gilbert sighed and laid back. "Okay, but after I tell you, I might not be in the mood," he said and paused, probably hoping for a reaction from Matthew, who just looked at him patiently. "Fine, okay. So that girl Natalia found out where I live. I was just minding my own business when I saw her looking in through my window like a creepy stalker. I opened it and asked her what she thought she was doing and she said she was just admiring me and all my awesomeness and I was like 'thanks but you don't have to be all stalker about it'. And then she climbed through my window like some kind of demon spider, and totally tried to come at me. It took awhile to get her to leave and when she did I couldn't think about her anymore so I got drunk. Then Luddy was all like 'you're not allowed to drink here. You're an alcoholic and you need to stop' and I was like 'make me' and we got in a fight and I stormed out and ended up on your porch."

"Oh... what did you say to make her leave?" Matthew asked quietly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that..." Gilbert sighed, "Basically I told her that I needed to break up with you so I could be with her."

"Gilbert!" Matthew gasped.

"I'm not going to do it Birdie! I don't want to be with crazy stalker girl," he said and shook his head, "I just didn't know what else to say..."

"She's just gonna come back. What are you gonna do? Kill her?" he asked sarcastically.

"I was thinking about going back to Germany," Gilbert mused.

Matthew hit his shoulder lightly, "No! You need to fix this, Gil."

Gilbert frowned, "How?"

"Well..." Matthew racked his brain for what to do, but all of them had to do with talking peacefully. No blood needed to be shed. Then an idea hit him in the face. "Wait doesn't she have a brother? That really tall guy, um, Evan?"

"Ivan," Gilbert said, "he's kind of strange too. Maybe it's inherent."

"Don't be mean," Matthew said and hit him lightly again, "What I'm saying is maybe we can tell her brother and he can help or something."

"You think so?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah, I do," Matthew said confidently.

"I guess it's worth a shot," Gilbert said.

Matthew nodded, "We can do that Monday. Right now, I'd like to talk about your drinking problem."

"It's not a problem if I have it under control," Gilbert said.

Matthew sighed. "Just hear me out. Drinking beer is really bad for you, no matter if you 'have it under control'. By the time you're 30, you're going to need a liver transplant if you keep this up. And I don't know how you're getting beer, and I don't want to know, but I don't think you should get any more. And I also know it's hard to quit cold turkey, so I'm not asking you do that. I'm just saying to stop getting drunk and face your problems sober," he lectured, pretty sure that was the most he'd ever spoken at once.

"Do you really think all of that, Birdie?"

"Yes, Gil. I care about your health," Matthew said and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I care about yours," Gilbert said.

"Good, then we're on the same page."

"No I mean, you need to eat."

"What?"

"If I'm going to quit drinking, then you're going to start eating."

"What are you talking about?" Matthew stared at him and let his hand fall off of his shoulder.

"I'm talking about you being anorexic," Gilbert said, looking at him with worry.

"I-I'm not-"

"You are. Ever since I've met you, you've been getting skinnier and you were already a twig. You never eat at breakfast or lunch, and I'm pretty sure that means you've been skipping dinner too."

"I'm just not hungry..." Matthew said. He really didn't think he had an eating disorder. Is that was Al was going on about?

"And I'm just tired of being sober," Gilbert said, "But I... care about you... a lot. And I don't want you to end up in the hospital because of it."

"I'm fine," Matthew muttered. So what if he didn't eat?

"No, Birdie, you're not. This morning you didn't want pancakes. And you've told me how much you love pancakes. So if you don't even want to eat your favorite food, something is seriously wrong," Gilbert said, looking sad. Matthew couldn't look at him anymore so he stared at the clean floor. "I don't want you telling me that you're fine because you are always 'fine'. I should have told you sooner and I'm sorry but I didn't because you told me and Alfred not to worry. I do and I didn't say anything but I'm stopping this before it gets too far."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"No, don't be. I just... I've seen people that do this go to the hospital. They get sick and it just ruins their body and nothing is ever the same again. And sometimes... Sometimes they don't come out. You..." he choked up a little, "you could go in and not come out too. I don't think I could deal with that."

He bit his lip and shook his head, "It's not like that. It's different."

"Different? What's different? That you're a guy? Because it doesn't matter if you're not a girl, it's all the same when you end up being force fed through a tube."

"Gil, please stop," he said, tears springing to his eyes. Gilbert was scaring him. He didn't think it could go that far for him. He didn't want it to go that far.

Gilbert gently grabbed his shoulders. "Matthew," he said and hearing his name spoken like that scared him more. He slowly brought himself to look at him, "I want to help. I'm not letting this go on and... can I ask you something else?"

"Yeah," Matthew said quietly. He had a feeling he knew what Gilbert was going to ask.

"Are you depressed?" Gilbert asked straight out, placing a hand on his back.

"I-I, um, I don't know," he said and choked up. Hearing the question out loud was worse than it was in his head.

Gilbert hugged him close and told him the list for common symptoms of depression, as if he'd done this before. Matthew felt worse and worse as he was able to check off quite a few symptoms.

"I guess I am... I didn't know... I just thought this was how it's supposed to be," he said quietly, tears finally falling.

Gilbert wordlessly held him and let him cry. He didn't want to in front of him, but he couldn't control the sobs wracking his thin body as the tears fell. He pressed his face into Gilbert's shoulder, soaking his shirt.

After he finally calmed down and un-latched from him, Gilbert took off his glasses. He wiped the tear stains off the lens' with the bottom of his shirt then carefully placed them back on his face. "This is serious, and you know it. But I can help, okay? I went through the same thing sophomore year."

"You did?" Matthew asked quietly, sniffling.

"I did, but I had people to help me through it. And you have people too, you just have to ask."

Matthew stared at him, tears gathering in his eyes again as emotion overwhelmed him. "Gilbert, please help me," he barely whispered and realized that's what he wanted all along. Someone to help him.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Gilbert said and hugged him tightly, almost crushing his malnourished body, "Okay, Matthew?"

"O-Okay," he agreed, pressing closer to him. He just wanted to be held for a minute. He needed to pull himself together. And he did, slowly, with Gilbert coaxing him to stop his tears and emerge from his embrace. He looked into Gilbert's red eyes, the white area around it slightly red from drinking. Matthew was sure his eyes looked worse. But neither seemed to care. Gilbert moved his hair out of his face with care and grabbed him a few tissues to blow his nose in. When he felt composed, he looked at Gilbert once more.

"Thank you," he said softly and Gilbert nodded, smiling slightly.

"Everything for you, Birdie. Everything."


I went over to Gilbert's house yesterday, after he showed up here drunk. We talked about Natalia and if that wasn't enough, Gilbert made me cry. I don't want to admit it, but I did. Gil didn't do anything wrong, I actually think he helped. He helped me realize that I'm depressed and anorexic. I guess I should have realized this awhile ago, but I didn't. I just needed someone like Gil to tell me. So that's why I cried. He really cares about me. I know he does because of what he says and does. I hope he can help me more. But I'm still not completely sure that I should start eating a lot. I like the way I look. Although it would be nice to be happier. And that's what's kept me going all this time. I've always had a little hope, even if everything looked hopeless. I was just waiting for my Gilbert. I think everyone needs their own Gilbert.

Sincerely, Hopeful

Matthew stared at the words, particularly at the word "Gilbert". Gilbert had promised to not tell anybody about this, especially not Alfred. Even though Alfred might already know, but who knew what he thought since his head was so hollow.

He didn't want to see a therapist or a doctor and he definitely didn't want to go to the hospital. He could control this, right? He could get better with just the help of Gilbert. He told himself this over and over again, but Alfred told him dinner was soon, and he didn't want to eat. He promised them both he would eat. But saying and doing were two very different things.

He slipped the notebook back under his bed and got up. He opened the door just as Alfred was raising his hand to knock. "Dude, nice timing," he said and walked down the hall. Matthew silently followed him into the kitchen.

Francis was busy finishing the food while Arthur looked like he was trying to help. "Arthur, if my food burns I will bury you with it," he was saying.

"Sod off, I don't burn everything," Arthur said and thumped his head.

"You're pretty smoking in bed," Francis smirked and Arthur blushed slightly.

"Shut it, the kids are in the room."

"I'm practically an adult!" Alfred spoke up.

"Once you actually start doing things on your own and get a job, then I'll consider you an adult," Arthur said.

Alfred stuck his tongue out childishly and sat down. Matthew, who seemed to be completely invisible at the moment, sat down next to him.

"Don't make him grow up too fast. Because once he's gone, you'll miss him," Francis said, placing their bowls on the table. Chili, delicious on a cold day like today.

"I will not, I'll be glad to have a little peace and quiet," Arthur said.

"You'll miss me," Alfred said, already eating. Francis sat down with Arthur and they started eating.

"Think what you want. Now close your mouth when you eat, I raised you better," Arthur scolded and blew on a spoonful of chili to cool it.

Matthew looked down at his bowl of chili. It was undoubtedly delicious since Papa had made it, but he didn't want any. His stomach felt queasy with the smell of it floating around him.

"Bro, eat before I force you," Alfred said with his mouth full, earning a look from Arthur.

"Okay," he murmured and picked up his spoon. He blew on it and took a bite. It did taste as delicious as it looked. He forced himself to eat a few bites before he set his spoon down, deciding he was done.

"Mattie, eat," Alfred said, nudging his arm.

"I did," he said softly.

"Not enough," Alfred said.

"Look, I ate some, and that's all you're getting from me," he said and stood up, walking away. He didn't have to put up with Alfred. He was his own person and he had everything under control.

"Goddammit!" he heard Alfred yell in frustration, and Arthur promptly scolded him. He stopped in the hall to listen as Al kept speaking, trying to calm his churning stomach. "I don't fucking care about not swearing right now, and you shouldn't either!"

"And why is that?" Arthur asked.

"Because something is wrong with my brother and I fucking care about him!" Alfred yelled even louder, causing Matthew to flinch.

Moments later, Alfred was in the hall, looking pissed off. He grabbed Matthew's wrist and yanked him to his room before he could protest. He was shoved in, none too gently, and tripped over a pile of clothes. He landed on his hands and knees and by the time he stood up, Alfred had closed the door. They stared at each other a moment, Alfred looking more serious than he'd ever thought possible.

"Take your shirt off," he instructed.

"W-What?" Matthew asked and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Mattie, I'm 100 percent sure that if you take your shirt off, I'll be able to see your ribs. I want to see if I'm right, which for once I don't want to be."

"I-I..." he stood still, not moving.

"Fine, we'll do this the hard way," Alfred said.

"The hard w-ahh!" he let out a gasp of surprise as Alfred grabbed him and pushed him back on his bed. He sat on him and tried to pull his his shirt off. "No, Al, stop! Please!" he begged and struggled.

"Come on, Mattie!" he groaned, almost too easily managing to yank his shirt up. Matthew panted slightly from the struggle and let his head fall back. After a moment he looked up to see Al's shocked face. "Its worse than I thought. I can fucking count your ribs. Mattie, what the hell is going on!?"

"Calm down, please," he said quietly and Alfred stayed silent, waiting, "I'm, um, anorexic..." he admitted and it felt so weird to say it. He didn't want it to be true, it couldn't be true, but the evidence was right there.

"Why? You were already skinny enough and... are you trying to impress Gilbert with this? Trying to look your best for him? Because you look terrible now! You look sick and you are sick!" he said, his voice raising again.

"I-I know," Matthew whispered and shook his head, "but I'm not trying to look skinnier."

"Then why?" Alfred asked, finally letting him pull his shirt down, but not getting off him. Matthew hesitated. He really didn't want to tell Al because if he really cared this much, then he would tell their parents. And if they cared enough, then he'd have to go to a therapist or a hospital. "Please. I want to help."

"You always want to be the hero," he spat out bitterly, surprising them both. He clamped his mouth shut, wondering where the hell that came from. "I'm sorry," he whispered, this time saying what he intended, quietly and meaningful.

Alfred looked pretty hurt and he hated to see that, because mental pain hurt so much more than physical pain. He should know. "Please don't yell, okay?" he asked and Al nodded, "I-I'm depressed a-and I have been for a while I think... I guess I'm just too sad to eat, I don't know, and I know I'm too skinny, but it hasn't really bothered me."

Alfred looked over at the wall while Matthew spoke, and continued to do that as he got off of him carefully. "I'm sorry, Mattie," he said and hugged him gently, as if afraid he would break.

Matthew hugged him back, then silently walked out. He moved across the hall to his room, needing to alone. He just needed to be by himself for awhile.


So that was... a chapter. An extra long, very sad chapter. Again, I'm really sorry if this hit any sore spots. You don't have to agree in any way with what has been said as these are mostly my personal beliefs on these issues.

On a lighter note, there was a small bit of cute FrUk there to help, although I don't know how much of a part they'll have anymore considering I had no idea this was going to happen when I began writing. Oh and did you catch that whole "Once he's gone you'll miss him" thing? Yeah that was a small American Revolution reference, if you hadn't been sad enough already. Next chapter, in my opinion, is a little lighter, but things have to get worse before they get better. Have a good day and thanks to everyone who actually reads my end dabble!