I look around anxiously. I am fairly certain the house is empty, but I still have a voice taunting me in the back of my mind. I slide my ax from my pocket as my eyes rove the kitchen. I notice what looks like a hidey-hole set low down in the wall. The edges look dusty, as if it hasn't been used in a long time. There is a note taped to the refrigerator. The handwriting is neat and precise, but I can't read it. I think it's in German.
The stairs creak under my feet. I wish them to be silent, but they ignore me. I reach the top of the steps and examine the short hallway. There are three doors, and I immediately enter the one nearest to me.
I think it's the master bedroom. The bed is neatly made, and everything is in place. It almost looks like no one lives in it.
I hear the distinctive sound of someone on the stairs. Silently cursing my luck, I peer out of the door. I can see the crown of a silver head rising. I dart across the hall to await their arrival.
A man reaches the top of the steps and looks around. Before his gaze can reach me, I instinctively swing out with my ax. The blunt edge connects with the back of his head, and he goes down hard. Relief that he hadn't seen my face escapes me in the form of gasping laughter. It silences when he shifts slightly and suddenly he is falling down the stairs, as boneless and lifeless as a ragdoll. I hear a sickening crack, more deafening than the sound of my ax, and then all is silent.
Is he dead? I can't tell. Damnit, this wasn't part of the plan! He can't be dead. Damnit!
Heart pounding, I take the steps three at a time, carefully avoiding the blood. Blood…my stomach turns, and will power is all that stops me from throwing up.
I swing back into the kitchen. I can't keep the ax, it's proof-positive that I did it. I rub the handle down with my shirt, but leave the head alone, unwilling to disturb the congealing maroon liquid. The hole I had noticed before catches my eyes. I tug it open, and notice that the interior is both dusty and empty. I doubt the owner of the house even knows about it, let alone uses it. I toss the ax in, and carefully close it.
I look around one last time, running through my head all the things I might have touched while I was here. Nothing comes to mind, so I leave the same way I had come in: the front door. I wonder if anyone looking would be able to tell that I was frightened, so scared…
Mathias rolled over on his bunk. "I hate that dream," he muttered, but he knew better, knew it wasn't just a dream. "It was an accident, damnit," he hissed, thin pillow pulled against his chest. "I…I never meant to…" I never meant to kill anyone…
,,
"So what're you gonna do with it?" Gilbert gestured to the small ax Matthew held.
"Throw it away. It's not worth anything, you know? It's just a replica." Matthew skittishly avoided the dark stain.
"Yeah, I guess. But, uh, don't you think you ought to call the cops, or something? You did say it was blood-stained."
"Well, yeah. I did. But I was looking at it, and I think it's animal blood. See where it is? That's about where it would be if it were used for slaughtering something. I doubt it was always this dull. It was probably used by one of the family who lived here before I did, in traditional things. Maybe to help remember Viking heritage, or something." Matthew dropped it into the trash can, with the hope that he could just forget about it.
,,
"Hey, Alfred!"
Matthew turned to face the familiar voice. "Hello, Alejandro. I'm not actually—" His words were cut off when Alejandro's fist crashed into his jaw.
"You put him up to it, didn't you? I bet you hired him to break into my house. Stupid asshole, thought I wouldn't figure it out? Huh?" He slammed his elbow into Matthew's stomach. "Bet you thought it would be funny, didn't you?" Matthew stumbled back and pulled his arms across his abdomen protectively.
"Alejandro, please! I'm no—" Alejandro's foot connected with his side, and Matthew never hated his brother more.
,,
"Welcome home, Ma—oh my God, what happened? Mattie? Mattie, are you okay?" Gilbert grabbed Matthew's arm as he stumbled in the door, but released it when he winced.
"It's nothing, I'm fine." Matthew managed to make it as far as the couch before he collapsed into a heap of battered flesh and torn clothing.
"Like hell you're fine! Who the fuck did this to you?" Gilbert snarled. His hands fluttered uselessly over Matthew, not quite touching, unsure of where his injuries lay.
"No one important. H-he thought I was Alfred. I really am f-fine." Matthew tried to stand. His head began to spin, and he grabbed Gilbert's forearms for balance.
Gilbert sighed. "Sit down and tell me how bad it is." He lowered Matthew back onto the couch and sat next to him.
"Really, I'm…" Matthew trailed off at the look on Gilbert's face. "It's not as bad as it looks. It was a beat down, plain and simple. I'll be bruised up for a while, but nothing's broken. It's not the first time something like this has happened, actually. Alfred's good at making enemies."
"Let me see." Gilbert demanded.
"What?"
"You said nothing was broken, but I don't know if I believe you. So let me see." Gilbert gestured toward Matthew.
"I…okay…" Matthew slid his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Matthew sighed and carefully removed his shirt. "Happy now?"
"Shit, Mattie, you look like you got worked over with a baseball bat." Gilbert frowned at the bruises covering Matthew's skin.
"Thanks, Gil, that makes me feel so much better." Matthew crossed his arms self-consciously.
"Do you have any first-aid stuff?" Gilbert stood to fetch whatever was available.
"Um, there're some band-aids in the medicine cabinet in the smaller bathroom, and some peroxide under the sink in the kitchen." Matthew watched Gilbert jog from the room.
"Alrighty then, I've got everything. I grabbed some cotton balls, too." Gilbert returned to the couch.
"Th-this really isn't necessary." Matthew protested as Gilbert opened the bottle of peroxide.
"Like hell it isn't. Hold still." Gilbert dabbed a dampened cotton swab gently against Matthew's skin. "This might hurt a little," he warned just before brushing the swab over a stretch of raw skin. Matthew hissed quietly.
"You don't have to do this." Matthew whispered. Gilbert ignored him in favor of continuing with his rudimentary first aid. "Really, I'll be fine."
"Matthew, I am trying to focus, so could you please shut up?" Gilbert continued cleaning Matthew's injuries.
"O-okay. Thank you." Matthew shifted to allow Gilbert better access to his back, and the myriad cuts and scrapes that covered it.
"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert was extremely glad that Matthew couldn't see him blush. "What's his name?"
"What?" Matthew turned his head to look at Gilbert.
"The guy who did this to you. What's his name?" Gilbert continued gently disinfecting.
"Oh. Um, no one important, just someone I've got a couple classes with. Aleja—he isn't really a bad guy. He was just mad at Al for some reason. That's all." Matthew absently rubbed the bruises on his arms.
"You said earlier that he thought that you were Alfred."
"Yeah. It happens a lo—ow! It happens a lot."
Gilbert discarded a bloodied cotton ball to sit back and examine his handiwork.
"All right, I think I'm done." Gilbert sketched his hand over Matthew's back, skillfully avoiding the worst of the injuries.
"Thanks." Matthew repeated. He put his shirt back on, trying not to pull too much on his sore muscles. "Gi-Gilbert?"
"Verdammt, Mattie. You scared me." Gilbert mumbled, Matthew pulled against his chest. "When you came in, I thought, I don't know what I thought. You-you looked like you about to keel over." Gilbert buried his face in the crook of Matthew's neck.
Matthew hesitantly returned the embrace, arms wrapped loosely around Gilbert. "I…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"I'm glad you're okay. I-I don't know what I'd do if you weren't." Gilbert whispered. Matthew could feel his lips moving
"Whatever it was you did before I came here, probably." Matthew lets his grip tighten slightly.
Gilbert just shook his head.
"Um…" Matthew drew back to look Gilbert in the eye. "Were you really that worried?"
"Of course I was. Why wouldn't I have been?"
"People, people usually don't care what happens to me." Matthew looked away.
"Yeah, well, fuck 'people', 'cause I care." Gilbert hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of Matthew's jeans.
"Thank you. For caring. For everything." Matthew leaned forward slowly, face crimson, and gently pressed his mouth to Gilbert's.
Gilbert hesitantly returned the kiss, and could feel Matthew's lips quirk into a smile. "You're welcome." Gilbert murmured.
Matthew pulled back quickly, suddenly self-conscious. His eyes flicked around the room, landing on everything but Gilbert.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Gilbert admitted. Matthew laughed quietly. "Seriously." Gilbert insisted.
Matthew pecked Gilbert on the lips. "I'm going to go take a nap. Getting beat up is tiring."
..
Matthew doesn't know what he's talking about, with the ax, I mean. Actually, he can't believe that he could have something in his house with human blood on it. So yeah. Um…still want those cameo opinions! What else…Did any of you read Epic? Awesome, right? If you didn't, you should. I don't usually advertise in my AN's, but this comic seriously needs more love. Equilibrium out!