August, 1942, Paris, France
Matthew still hadn't gone back to that bar yet, making him feel as if he let Francis have the last laugh. But at that moment, he almost didn't care. He had finally recovered from what happened, and he hoped he never had to experience something like that again. It was awful to him. He was completely traumatized from it.
Alfred sat on Matthew's bunk. "I want to write to Arthur, but I just can't do it, Mattie," he sighed. "It's just so hard, you know? I just can't do it because he can't even write back to me. How do I know if it's even getting to him anyway? There are so many factors in it."
"You're thinking way too far into this," Matthew sighed, yet he let his brother continue as he thought of a new training regimen. "Just write him a damn letter."
"Easy for you to say," Alfred said. "When was the last time you wrote to Irunya?"
Matthew looked up from his notes. "That is none of your business," he stiffly stated to his brother. "I write to her at least once a week, if you must know." He huffed and went back to his notes for his troops, writing them in both English and French. "So you should write to Arthur since you've only written to him twice."
Alfred nodded and sighed. "I guess so. It's just hard. Because then I feel bad that I only wrote to Leon once. Then I remind myself that Leon can't really even read right now. But then I think about when Leon will be able to read if he'd want me to write then. And how old were we when we started reading, Mattie?"
"First off, breathe," Matthew began, pointing at Alfred with his pen. "Second, we started reading when we were about seven years old. So we were around Leon's age."
"Fuck, Matt! I need to write to him, too!" Alfred nearly shouted.
Matthew smacked his brother with his notebook. "Calm down, Al! You're making a fool of yourself! It's fine to only write to Arthur and include a side note for Leon. Like a 'tell him hi for me' sort of thing." He sighed and went back to writing. "Do I have to think of everything today?"
"Mattie, what's got you so aggravated anyway?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side. "You seem very irritable today."
"It's Delacroix," Matthew sighed. "He's making me come up with new training regimens for my men. I have to have two new ones to try out by tomorrow. So if you could please stop talking so I can write them up, that would be great."
Alfred nodded his understanding and mimed zipping his lips shut. He stared at the blank paper in front of him, determined to write something on it to Arthur, yet not motivated enough to. Instead, he began to rock back and forth.
"Stop that, it's distracting," Matthew grumbled, glancing up from his notebook. "I will hit you with this again. Don't test me." He felt so irritable and cranky from everything going on in his life, but he was especially pissed off at Delacroix, resenting that man's mother for giving birth to him every moment of every day. "I'm really not in the mood for it."
Alfred sighed. "Fine, I'll go somewhere else." He picked up his stuff and walked away. "Next time, you can just say so. I hate when you drop hints and make me feel stupid."
"Sorry, but either way your feelings get hurt. You're a fragile person. I find this method more effective," Matthew stated without looking up from his notebook.
"I'll remember that," Alfred warned before walking away.
"You always say that," Matthew carelessly reminded. He rolled his eyes as he kept writing. Now that his brother was out of the way, he could continue with the regimens. Damn that stupid Delacroix! Matthew almost wanted to storm into his office and demand to know what was wrong with the original training regimen!
"Calm down, Matthew," he softly told himself. "You can't just go and tell people off, no matter how unreasonable they may be." He grabbed the notebook with both hands and shook it like he wanted to shake Delacroix. It helped relieve a little bit of the stress, yet it got him nowhere as he began to write again.
.
Matthew laid in bed that night, dreading having to wake up in the morning. It was the worst time of day for him. Mornings were the absolute worst. Everything seemed to drag on forever for him, and he just couldn't get a grip on reality or anything. He hated it. But as he came to realize, he was just starting to hate everything in general as time went on, not just getting out of bed anymore.
He like to think of happy things as he fell asleep, though. He thought of Irunya, the only thing that could even make him smile anymore. He used to be so proud of the fact that he was a captain in the military. He was so proud of that position, but ever since he got transferred to France, he had grown to resent it. Delacroix was a good reason to hate everything about life but Irunya.
Matthew couldn't wait to be back home in America with Irunya. Hell, he couldn't wait to even be in Russia with Irunya. Anywhere with Irunya sounded wonderful to him. Just as long as he got to be with her, and not with Delacroix.
His hatred for Delacroix was almost equal to his love for Irunya. That was how much he hated that man. Delacroix was the bane of Matthew's existence. He knew that much was for sure. There was no one else on earth who could get Matthew's blood boiling just from him hearing their name. Just him.
Yet Matthew always had to be civil with that damn man. He just made it so hard to be nice to him with the way he always looked down his nose at everyone! It pissed Matthew off to no end! He just wanted Delacroix to disappear or cease to exist suddenly, whichever came first, it made no difference to him.
.
Matthew was extra groggy the next morning. He was so tired of waking up earlier than everyone else so that he would be out of bed at the same time as them. It made him even more cranky during the day, but he knew it was necessary. If he was late to morning training, he would never hear the end of it from Delacroix, and just the thought of having to talk to or look at that man was enough to encourage Matthew to get out of bed so he wouldn't have to.
Something about this morning seemed different to Matthew, though. For the life of him, he just couldn't get out of bed. He hated it, too. It was making him mad that he couldn't. He had no motivation. Not even Delacroix could scare him out of bed, and that was saying something. He just couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, and it was starting to make him nervous. As much as he hated to admit it, did he have depression? Was that what was wrong with him?
Matthew didn't want to think about what that could mean for him if he was depressed. It could mean the end for him as a captain in the military. They could kick him out of the military and lock him away for it, especially if Delacroix were to say he was around firearms all the time. That would be just his luck as well, getting locked away so he could never return for Irunya like he promised to.
Matthew sluggishly drug himself out of bed. He slumped against the wall as he went to take a shower to wake himself up a little more, but the whole time the water poured on him, all he wanted was to disappear down the drain with it. It seemed preferable to the current situation he was in. And only when he realized how absurd that kind of thinking was, he drug himself from the showers and back to his bunk to put his dirty clothes away.
"Good morning, Mattie," Alfred greeted when Matthew walked out onto the training field. "What's on our new regimen thingy?"
Matthew scowled at him. "Wait until everyone else is here, will you?" He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap at you first thing in the morning, but Delacroix is on my ass about everything right now and I'm really stressed out. I barely slept last night."
Alfred frowned. "Are you sure you want to stay being a captain, Mattie? You're not you anymore. You stopped being you when you came to France. I don't like this side of you." He crossed his arms and huffed. "It's almost like you're not even my brother anymore. What happened to the old Matthew Williams? I don't like this new guy. If you happen to come across the old Matt, could you send him back this way?"
Matthew sighed. "I'm trying, Alfred, okay? I have a lot going on."
"Like what, moping over Irunya?" Alfred challenged. "You don't see me moping, and I'm just as lovesick as you are! You're not the only one hurting, Mattie!" He glared at Matthew. "I'm also hurting because of what happened to you back in June! I want to kill that French bastard who runs that bar!"
"For the last time, Alfred, I'm not ruining some man's life over someone as meaningless as myself!" Matthew yelled back. "You're out of line! Either you straighten up, or you pay the consequences!"
Alfred glared at Matthew for a few moments before dropping his gaze and sighing. "Fine." He looked away. "I'm just afraid I'll never be straight enough for you," he snarled angrily at him. His breathing was heavy and ragged through his anger. "Just fuck off, Captain."
"Excuse you?" Matthew demanded, but Alfred had already stormed off. "Alfred! Get back here! I'm not through with you!"
"Well I'm through with you!" Alfred shouted back without turning around. "I'll talk to you when I'm damn well ready!"
Matthew had no words to say, and he knew better than to argue with Alfred when he was in one of his royal moods like this, so he just let him go. Besides, there were no witnesses, so there was no one to tell Delacroix that Alfred got away with disrespecting him yet again. He sighed as he watched Alfred disappear over the lawn, the distance between them getting larger and larger with every step his brother took. Matthew wanted to run after him and say he was sorry, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too miserable to motivate himself to do anything.
Instead, Matthew sat on the grass for a few moments, the morning dew seeping in through the seat of his uniform. He laid back onto the grass, feeling it in his hair, cold and wet. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he began doing sit-ups until he felt like he was going to vomit all over the grass. His hands clutched his stomach as he sat in the grass, unable to move. He regretted every choice he had made that morning, especially getting out of bed. If only he hadn't gotten out of bed. Then he wouldn't have gotten into an argument with Alfred, causing him to take it out on himself and work out until he felt the urge to vomit everywhere.
Matthew just wanted to take back everything at that time. He was so filled with doubt that he could barely think straight anymore. There was just too much to think about. His mind could never focus on one set thing anymore unless if it was either his love for Irunya or his hatred for Delacroix, never anything else. And that bothered him so much. Why was his hatred for Delacroix overpowering nearly everything else in his head? He just didn't understand it.
.
Alfred found Matthew later. "Look, about earlier…"
Matthew looked away, choosing to focus on something else. "Look, let's forget it. I can't talk about stressful things right now, Al." He sighed. "I'm trying not to stress myself out. I can't keep stressing myself or I might kill myself or something."
"Please don't say that," Alfred softly said. "Don't ever say that you'll kill yourself, Mattie. If you actually were to kill yourself, I don't know what I would do." He wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him close to him. "Don't bear every burden on your own, Mattie. Let me in. Let me help. You need me, and I need you. We'll never make it otherwise."
"I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm just too stressed out right now," Matthew sighed. "I don't mean to worry you. And I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. After all, I am a captain in the military. I can't be in charge of other men if I can't handle myself."
"Maybe you shouldn't be a captain anymore, Matthew," Alfred quietly said to him. "And before you get angry, just hear me out. I worry so much about you right now. Your condition is getting so much worse with every passing day. I know that you struggle to even get out of bed, and that you just lay in bed on most days off. Maybe it would be best if you just stepped down."
Matthew couldn't believe what Alfred was saying. "Step down? I can't just do that, Alfred! That would be letting down my country and all of the men that I am in charge of! Not to mention that Delacroix would never let me hear the end of it! How could you even suggest something like that to me?!"
Alfred sighed. "Mattie, please stop that. Hear me out. You're so stressed all the time, and you're always pushing me away."
"I am not," Matthew argued, but he knew deep down that Alfred was right. He had been pushing him away. Ever since Alfred caught on to how bad things were in his mind, Matthew had been slowly distancing himself, and he hated himself for it. But he only did it because he thought it was what was best for Alfred.
"Even you know that you're lying," Alfred said. "I know that you know that's a lie. Mattie, I don't know why you're pushing me away, but I know it has to stop soon. You're miserable, and you'll have no one if you keep it up. I don't want you to be by yourself. It's lonely, and it'll make me worry about you more than I already do. I'm just so scared that you're going to kill yourself or something."
"Alfred, I'm not going to kill myself," Matthew sighed, yet deep down even he didn't believe himself. Lately things had been so bad that not even the thought of being reunited with Irunya could keep him happy. He felt like he was slowly going braindead and numb, unable to feel normal human emotions anymore. "Please stop worrying about me. I'll be fine."
"And what if you're not?" Alfred asked. "What if one day I wake up to find out that I'm an only child? What then? You won't be there to tell me what to do next. I'll be all alone, and I'll probably resent you for the rest of my life and be left to wonder why you left me all by myself."
Matthew shook his head slowly. "Alfred, please don't say that," he softly pleaded. "I can't listen to you talk like that right now."
"Then when, Matthew?" he asked. "You're never ready to have reality thrown into your face these days! When did I start acting like the older one here? When did we switch personalities? When did I start caring more than you do?"
"That's not true!" Matthew weakly argued, but once again, he knew Alfred was right and that he was in no position to argue against his brother. "I care! I really do! It's just-"
"Just what, Mattie?!" Alfred demanded. "It's just that you can't control your depression anymore, and it's eating you alive from the inside out! You're worse than the guys who get 'Dear John' letters, and you know it! Only the thing is, you have so many things going for you in life! You have so many things to be happy about! So why the fuck are you so sad and depressing?! Why is it so hard for you to get out of bed in the mornings?! I don't understand! Make me understand! Help me understand!"
Matthew gave him an incredulous look. "So much going for me?" he softly asked. "I could get demoted at any given moment if anyone hears you talking to me like that, Alfred. I was raped by a bartender because I let my guard down after offending you. I care too much about the people I love and it always comes back to bite me in the ass in the end! That's what I fucking have going for me! I bet by the time I get back to Russia at the end of this stupid war, Irunya will be married to someone else or over me! Then what will I have, Alfred?! You tell me!" His breathing was heavy as he glared at his brother. "Then there truly will be nothing for me to live for!"
Alfred's face resembled that of a kicked puppy. "I'm not going to continue this conversation, Mattie. I tried to talk to you reasonably. But even I don't matter enough to you. You have just made that perfectly clear." He tipped his cap to his brother and walked back toward the barracks.
Matthew took a step after Alfred and froze. It was true. What he had said did make it sound like he really didn't care about his brother at all. "Alfred, I didn't mean it like that!" he called after him, but he knew it was no use. He was cruel and heartless these days.
Alfred was right. Ever since they had come to France, Matthew had become cruel and irritable. He had just turned into a monster that even he himself didn't know. He had lost control of himself and was losing everything he once cared about. And for what? A role in the military that he didn't even want anymore.
Matthew sat back in the grass again like he had done that morning. He grabbed handfuls of it, ripping it from the ground. "I hate it here," he kept grumbling to himself. "I hate France. I hate everything about this country. It's destroying me and everything I love. I want to go home…"
.
Matthew laid in his bed that night and thought about many things. He thought about Francis taking advantage of him when he was drunk and vulnerable. He thought of Delacroix and his constant lectures. But most of all, he thought about his constant fights he kept getting into with Alfred. With every thought, he came closer and closer to a decision he felt he wanted to make. No, it wasn't a want to him anymore. It was more of a need.
He got out of his bunk and crept out of the sleeping quarters, unaware of the shadow following him. His footsteps were stealthy as he crept to the gun and ammunition stock. This seemed like the only reasonable thing to do at that point as he crept out onto the lawn. It was the only thing he could do to make everything better for everyone else. Alfred would no longer have to fight with him and get upset anymore. Delacroix wouldn't have to yell at anyone anymore. And then Francis wouldn't have to worry about him telling what he did to him.
Matthew had grabbed a small pistol out of the gun cabinet and went to the far field where his men did their training. He had made up his mind as he put the barrel into his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he cocked the gun and put his finger on the trigger guard.
"Mattie, stop!" Alfred yelled out. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
Matthew pulled the gun out of his mouth. "Alfred, what are you doing out here? Go back to bed. Everything will be better in the morning."
"Not if my brother isn't here, it won't be," Alfred said, knocking the gun out of Matthew's hand. He wrestled Matthew's arms to his sides and hugged him, holding him in place like that. "Why would you do this? I can't live without you, Mattie! You're all I have left! I can't let you do this!"
"I'm no good for anyone! We can't even have normal conversations anymore!" Matthew sobbed. "All I do is upset you and you storm off every time! What kind of a brother am I anyway? All I do is piss you off! I suck at being a brother, Alfred! I'm better off dead! We both know it!"
"That's not true, Mattie! If you kill yourself, I'll shoot myself right after you, I swear to fucking God," he said. "And then Arthur, Leon, and Irunya will hate us. And that's only naming three people, Matt. Delacroix would come and spit on our graves. Matthew, we have so much left that we need to do. And then when this stupid war is over, you can quit the fucking military, okay? But until then, please stay strong!"
Matthew turned to Alfred and started sobbing into his little brother's chest. "Why? Why can't I be strong like you? Why is it so hard?"
"I don't know, Mattie," Alfred softly said, rubbing Mathew's back comfortingly. "I just don't know."
