Alright so it's been like a year.

I'm done with this story, I'm not going to write any more of it. However I am willing to do a couple things to help wrap it up. I'll talk more about that at the end of this chapter.

I have no idea how many drafts this chapter has gone through so the quality of the writing is, well, I don't even know.

The story however, through this an subsequent chapters already half written, really starts to go down hill.

Fast

Read at your own risk


Matthew burst through the band room doors. "Elizabeta!" he called.

He spotted her off to the left, reprimanding one of the trumpets in her section. Matthew registered that It was the pale boy, Vladimir, the one she was always yelling at. She looked up momentarily and Vlad made his escape. "Uh, hey, what do you need?" she asked

He was bolting toward her, and only skidded to a stop inches from her face. "Matthew what-?"

"Five years ago, Antonia's birthday party, Hershey Park!" He exclaimed. He searched her face, looking for any trace of recognition.

Instead she paled. "What about it?" She asked quickly.

He grinned wildly. He knew, he knew it had to be her! The sassy brown haired girl! It had to be!

"Remember me?" Still nothing. Matthew began to bounce slightly, bringing his arms up in frustration. "Remember I was there-"

She cut him off with a shout. "Matthew!" and he shut his mouth. Many of the conversations around him went quiet as well. Elizabeta had winced at her own voice and now held a hand up, as if shielding herself from the possibility of another onslaught of words. He couldn't meet her eyes because she had them firmly squinted shut, and face averted as a second measure. After a few moments she began again. "Matthew, I have no idea what you're talking about." She said slowly but with gaining confidence. "You were never there with us, it was just a few of Antonio's close friends. How do you even know it happened? You weren't there so you couldn't have known"

"Because I was there!" Matthew's voice shook with frustration. He felt the insane urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she stopped lying. "Don't you remember me?" A crowd was gathering around, most of the kids, even Mr. Frederick, were watching the scene with muted interest.

Matthew for once couldn't care less who was watching, his mind was too busy whirling through how he could possibly prove that he had in fact been at hershey Park, that day, that time, and met them inside, met Gilbert.

GIlbert.

"No listen to me! Carlos was there!" Matthew renewed his efforts doubly. "I just saw him! So was Lovino, my science partner now. There was Emma" he pointed backward toward the flutist.

"Actually he does look kind of familiar." Emma told everyone around her, trying to insert herself in the very public argument between the new boy and the section leader that would most certainly be the topic of conversation for the next month. "We all went to Hershey Park for like Antonio's 8th birthday or something and I think we met this kid, like on one of the rides. His Grandmother lost him or something and couldn't find him for like hours after-"

"SHUT UP!" Elizabeta screamed, rounding on Emma.

The room went completely silent, all eyes on Elizabeta as she glared daggers in the blond girl's direction. To her credit, Emma didn't step back, but crossed her arms and glared daggers right back. Eventually though, she looked away and only then did Elizabeta look back to Matthew, who stood frozen in place.

She swallowed visibly, leveling her gaze onto Matthew's. "I don't know why you're making weird shit up like this Mathew." Her voice was low and intimidating. "I met you two weeks ago."

"But-" Matthew started "Gilbert-" A vast emptiness was fast devouring his insides and his throat constricted upon him. After a few words he found that he could not continue.

"Why are you say these things!" Elizabeta cried "don't Fucking talk about them!"

"Elizabeta?!" Roderich approached cautiously. He looked from matthew to his girlfriend and back. "Whats going on."

She completely ignored him "They wouldn't even know you." she put venom into her words now, and Matthew felt the sting like a viper bite"I barely know you. None of us know you. Why are you trying to pretend we know you? Who even are you?"

Everyone's eyes slowly swiveled toward Mathew, who stood frozen in place,mouth opening and closing like a fish. "But-" he found himself unable to pitch his voice above a whisper.

Rather than dealing a final verbal blow, Elizabeta simply turned away, leaving Matthew grasping at the brink of defeat. And with another confused glance backward, Roderich turned too. One by one every single band member turned away and as Matthew looked about, nobody would meet his eye. l

"But-" he whispered.

"But-"

He turned away then too, turned away and ran.

He fled to the bathroom.

So what if Arthur had some problem with him going there? It wasn't as if caring about what other people thought had gotten him anywhere in the past. He shut himself inside one of the stalls and only then let his tears fall. He had been sure, been so sure that Elizabeta must have been the Elizabeta from the theme park. And yet she denied it, vehemently. Did she want to hurt him? No that was ridiculous, she'd been so nice to him even just earlier that day. She had no reason to lie anyway. Did she really not remember? Was it possible that she really couldn't recall

Was he really that forgettable?

How easy was it for his parents to simply pretend he didn't exist, how effortlessly they excluded him from their life. How often did he sit alone, uncared for and unwanted. Overlooked in every single school he'd ever attended. Did they notice when he had gone, unlikely. Did they remember him now? Almost certainly not. So why should those who'd only spent a couple hours with him five years ago remember him any better.

But Gilbert.

The boy had been so kind to him. Even going so far as to winning that polar bear plush toy and giving mathew his number. Sure, he'd lost them both in the car crash later that day, but that didn't make the gesture any less meaningful. If he cared so much then, surely he cared even a little but now, or at least remembered doing so.

Remembered Matthew.

But that brought up a strange question. If Elizabeta, Carlos, and Lovino were here, where were Gilbert, Antonio and Francis? Did all three of them go to another school? Did they drop out or move?

The answer came when he looked up. All over the wall, drawings of flowers and wine glasses and little notes and quotes that varied from elegant to perverted dotted the walls in light blue sharpie. The only break from the blue writing was four black words on the bathroom stall door. Bad friends Trio, and below it, Francis.

There were three other stalls in the bathroom and Matthew had a hunch at what could be scrawled all over them. He remembered from the first time he'd walked in that the second one would be filled with red sharpie, drawing a of tomatoes and more writing with the exception of four black words, bad friends trio and Antonio. That's how he knew what he'd find entering the third stall. Yellow sharpie, drawings of birds from little baby chicks to Eagles and more writing. And on the inside of the door, Bad Friends Trio and under that Gilbert.

So Gilbert did go to school here. That just begged the question of where was he now?

And what was inside the forth.

The answer to at least the second question was easy to find out. Matthew pushed into the handicapped stall and was surprised to see...nothing. The stall was completely devoid of writing or pictures or any type of graffiti.

"Hey Matthew?" came a voice.

Matthew unlocked the stall door and looked outside. Carlos had propped himself up against the wall, and was now completely occupied in fingering his leather jacket. He looked up and met Matthew's eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, stepping toward Mathew. His eyes widened slightly "you're crying!"

Matthews hands flew up to his eyes. "I'm fine, really I'm sorry." His breath hitches a little.

"You sure?" Carlos asked, not looking very convinced. "We were talking and suddenly you just took off. Next thing I know I see you running through the hallway."

"I just-" Matthew swallowed forcefully. "I recognized you, and I realized that Elizabeta and-" he broke off, not trusting himself to speak.

"Awe that bitch," Carlos glanced to the side, face crinkling in anger.

"No, it's okay."

Carlos stared at him for a few seconds longer, trying to determine whether he believed him or not. But Matthew was a good liar, and Carlos hadn't seen him in five years.. Mathew offered a smile and that's all it took for Carlos to decide that all was well, or at least near enough so.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" He asked

"I should get back to class." said Matthew

Carlos shrugged "band's last block right? It was last year and Elizabeta and her boyfriend are band geeks. Come on, it's not really that important is it?"

The last thing mathew wanted to do was go back to class, face Elizabeta and the rest of them. But did he really have a choice? He had to go back to class

Didn't he?

Matthew shrugged "where do you want to go?" He asked.

"I can drive you home."

"No!" Mathew said immediately.

"Okay, Well I was going to go pick up some gas, we can figure out what to do from there."

Matthew hesitated for another moment, then nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

It felt odd, actually, just walking out of the school early. Carlos just made something up about a lacrosse game they had to get to. None of the administrators even looked up.

Outside, Carlos led him through the parking lot. Matthew wasn't sure what kind of car he was expecting Carlos to be driving, but the porsche he carelessly flung the door open to was not it. Matthew was much more careful as he gingerly opened the car and slid in.

"So," Carlos said as he started the car. "Nice backpack."

Matthew glanced at the stupid fourth of July shitbag at his feet and nodded. "Thanks."

"Um," Carlos started the car. "So how you been?"

The question just struck Matthew as so ludicrous he could help but start laughing. It started as just a chuckle, but then bubbled into an uncontrollable fit of hysteria. How had he been? For the past five years? Hell, Carlos didn't even know how he'd been before that. They'd met at an amusement park and sat down for ice cream one day. He'd been Matthew's first friend, sure, but they'd only known each other for a few hours. They were practically strangers.

"What's so funny!" Carlos exclaimed, but he didn't sound particularly angry.

"I heard you were at Aster Ends." Said Mathew.

Carlos snorted "that's not funny."

"No no no no!" Matthew put his elbows on his knees started to run his hands through his hair "I didn't mean it like that!"

Carlos shrugged "I got you." He said "But seriously, is that what they're saying?"

Matthew nodded.

"Nah, I had an extended stay at St. Matthews, but I'm not crazy."

"St. Matthews?"

"The hospital."

Matthew's eyes widened "what happened?"

"Fight, something minor turned into something major."

"With Roderich?" Matthew couldn't even begin to imagine the piano boy putting someone in the hospital, especially someone as broad as the Cuban.

Carlos barked a laugh. "Not really, seriously I would like to hear some of these outrageous stories people are telling."

"Than what?"

"I won't lie, I said something insensitive. Got taken the wrong way."

Carlos's eyes flicked toward Matthew. "I know Elizabeta's been around there too, seen her with my own eyes when I was going in to get my cast off the day before yesterday." He shrugged "Suppose it makes sense, but I didn't think I beat Gilbert that bad."

"You fought Gilbert?"

"Oh yeah, he was at Hershey too right?." Carlos grimaced. "Didn't want to, had no issue with the kid, till now anyway. But Roderich was talking shit. Didn't lay a hand on him, I'm not that kind of guy. But I set him straight. Gilbert got pissed and called me out after class."

"So what, he just came up and like..." Matthew trailed off. Carlos was pulling into the 7/11. They parked next to a Carlos turned off the gas.

"Well, not exactly." He said as he was getting out of the car. "He wasn't going to fight me, but then I said something about Francis."

"What?" Mathew asked. Sticking his head out the window. Carlos pulled the gas nozzle out of its holder and started punching numbers into the machine. When Matthew asked the question however he stopped and gave him an odd look.

"You don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

Carlos let out a whistle and propped his arm against the gas machine. He licked his lips.

"Francis committed suicide at the end of last year." He said, not bothering to sugar coat it. "He was Gilbert's best friend."

Matthew went inside the convenience store attached to the gas station. He didn't know Carlos well enough to pick a snack he'd like and he'd just tossed Matthew some money and told him to pick whatever, so it was kind of awkward at first. But As he was scanning through the shelves of candies and chips, something occurred to him. He smiled a bit and ducked into the freezer section before choosing two chocolate chip Ben and jerry's pint tubs.

This seemed to be the right choice because when he handed Carlos one, he smiled a little bit and opened it right away. Carlos had moved his car into a parking space after he'd filled up and he looked content to stay there until there wasn't a bit of ice cream left in the container. That was fine by Mathew. He had a lot to think about.

So this kid, Francis, had committed suicide. That was horrible, but Matthew could help but admit to himself that it did explain somethings. The band's tendency to tip toe over some subjects and Elizabeta and Roderich's blow ups and awkward silences all made sense. The bathroom had all of his scribblings on the stalls so it probably served as a reminder to everyone. Maybe Arthur was friends with Francis.

However, it didn't explain why Elizabeta had gotten so mad him. He cringed to himself at the memory. He forced himself to think back on it. He'd tried to remind her of the last time they'd met, five years ago. She claimed it had never happened.

Was it really possible she didn't remember?

"What are you thinking about?" Asked Carlos through a mouthful of ice cream.

"Uh, Francis really. Was Arthur, um, Kirkland ever friends with him?"

"Maybe, I dunno." he paused for a moment. 'Actually yeah, they might have even been dating."

They drove around a little bit after that and it wasn't until dusk that they arrived back at Matthew's house. They tried to exchange numbers, but this time it was Matthew without a phone. That got them to talking, Matthew found himself spilling his guts like never before about his family, about his invisibility, about his hatred for his father and anger at his brother, and even about his mother's death and the circumstances surrounding it.

"It was me." Matthew said, finding himself all choked up once again "I killed her. We were driving down the highway and I was so angry that I screamed at her to say something to me. And then she did only to tell me that I wasn't their son. That I didn't even belong to them. And then we were sit by a car, and she didn't make it."

Carlos's face had been growing graver and graver as Matthew continued. "Matthew." He said "you know that isn't your fault."

"It is!" Matthew insisted "it is and the worst part about it is that I don't even feel sorry, I'm relieved, even thankful that she's dead." And he was crying. He felt Carlos's arm wrap around him and Matthew leaned into his embrace. He found himself shaking, spraying snot and tears everywhere as he asked. "Does that make me a terrible person?" It's a question he'd asked himself many times, but never allowed to anyone else. It had been a crazy few weeks, full of new friends and confusing secrets.

"No," Carlos assured "no it doesn't." He let Matthew cry. Cry about his family, cry about the friends he might have just lost without knowing how or why, cry about his stupid backpack because that was reason enough.

"My backpack is fucking shit." Matthew choked out through muted sobs.

"That's what you're upset about?" Carlos asked in disbelief.

"It is!"

"I'll buy you a new one." Carlos said.

Matthew sat up. "You don't have to do that."

Carlos shrugged. "Or I'll find you an old one around my house. Regardless I'm sure you don't want to be seen with that." He gestured in disgust at the Fourth of July thing on the back seat

"Thanks."

Carlos looked away, but Matthew could have sworn he was blushing. "No problem." He said

Matthew looked out toward his house. It didn't look familiar, it didn't look welcoming. Every instinct was telling him to stay inside the car, with Carlos.

"What's wrong?" Carlos asked

"I don't want to go inside." Matthew told him.

After letting himself in with the key he'd nabbed that morning, Matthew let out a breath and walked down a foyar. He still had Calc homework to do, and that would take at least an hour, and it was already pretty dark. It would be a late night.

He went to through Alfred's eighth grade backpack down against the couch but another empty backpack was propped up against it. It looked brand new, and spacious. The design was simply, plain black, with two initials on the front of the first compartment. MJ, Mathew Jones.

Inside were a few binders, all filled up with paper and folders and dividers. There was a pencil case too, filled with all manner of writing utensils. He took out a purple sharpie, (what the hell would he need that for?) and drew a few lines on his hand. It was the kind that showed up best on black paper. Almost useless.

It must have been Alfred. His father would never have gone to so much trouble on his account. In fact, the only time he ever went out of his way was to cause Matthew trouble. But it had been awhile since Alfred had done anything like this, not since Matthew'd thrown out the replacement polar bear toy after their mother's death. He hadn't wanted one from his brother, he'd wanted Gilbert's.

Gilbert.

Matthew didn't like the way his heart fluttered every time he thought the name. He didn't even know if the other boy remembered him. Elizabeta didn't seem to. And yet Matthew couldn't imagine Gilbert forgetting him. Surely the hours they'd spent meant something, maybe not all the Matthew wanted them to, but something.

Matthew closed the new backpack and shouldered the fourth of July one off. He took all of his class work out from the old binders and put them into the new ones. He'd put Alfred's eighth grade one back in his brothers room tomorrow, just incase he needed it again.

He set his new one down behind the old one and turned off the lights. He couldn't bring himself to worry that his father wasn't home yet. What would he do? Throw out both backpacks? Carlos was getting him another one.

For the first time in his life, Matthew fell asleep unafraid of what he could loose in the morning.


Here's the deal.

I have the urge to write more fanfiction. I've been working on my own original stories for the last year and not allot of it clicked for me. So I might be coming back to this account. But to do that I want to have this story resolved.

There are a couple ways I'm willing to do this.

1) I can post the rest of the (three?) chapters I have half finished. The quality of writing is going to get progressively worse because they have not been beta read, they have not gone through my entire three draft process. Some haven't even had a second draft. But it you want them, I'll post them. (If I can find them)

2) I can post my outline for the entire story. See I had lots of good plot, Matthew just got progressively more insane as the wrote the story making the plot not possible.

3) If anyone wants to use the plot to continue writing the story, I'm completely open to that. Just let me know. If someone wants to continue writing the story I'll just send them my outline and they can stick to it, change it, do whatever they want. Doesn't matter to me. I'll make a note of who and where readers can find a continuation of the story.

Let me know in the comments if any of you are interested in any of these options. If nobody replies I'll just leave the story as is.