The first one to visit after that was Alfred.

Alfred was the type of person who came barreling down the hall, ramming into the door and throwing it open without even knocking first, then tripping over his feet when he took a single step inside. In a hospital, even.

"Dude! Mattie bro! How ya doing?"

Matthew had been quietly playing with his dog, Kumajirou, who was so kindly brought over to him by his parents, on his bed. The presence of the dog itself made the Canadian especially happy, since the he brought back so many memories. He used to bring his little ivory ball of fur everywhere with him, from parks to schools to friends' houses... Though despite all this, he still constantly found himself tripping over the name he gave the pup.

The only problem was that Matthew bought Kuma on his own, when he moved away from his parents. This meant that he was no closer to the brother-lover situation than before. Sure, he had memories of James and Alfred playing with Kumajirou, but just how someone played with the puppy didn't mean anything about the type of relationship he had with them.

"I'm doing well. Mom and dad came over, so they gave me some things to do while I'm waiting to heal. Apparently work isn't too angry at me about missing a few days..." the Canadian replied quietly, giving a light smile to the other. Despite every movement bringing another painful jerk to the male's figure, he was feeling better than being completely immobilized like before. The nurse from before had brought a few more blankets to keep the Canadian warm, and now his hospital bed looked like some kind of cozy nest. The doctors were talking about bringing Matthew home as soon as possible, so he could heal in the comfort of his own home with someone he knew taking care of him.

Matthew, even now, still didn't know who that 'someone taking care of him' would be.

It should be his lover. His partner. Yet, because the male was by himself in the hospital, information wasn't easy to achieve. Even his own phone, which was returned to him with his dog for something to do, had the vague screensaver of a Canadian maple leaf, and his contacts only said names, no 'hubby' or 'that idiot bro' labels. The most frequent calls went out to Alfred, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, the Canadian soon realized. James was the strong and silent type, talking only when he needed to. Alfred would call even if he saw the grass blowing in a different direction than yesterday.

Alfred paced over to the bed leisurely, despite the racing attitude earlier, and gave Kumajirou a quick ruffle of his head as he plopped into the seat beside the Canadian. The same seat as he was in when Matthew woke up, and even in a similar stance: leaning against the fluff of the covers while glancing over at the hospitalized Canadian. The dog's tail wagged slightly, poking the visitor with his nose before it glanced back to his owner with a look of confusion. For some reason, whenever someone gave the pup attention, he would always look around in bewilderment as if he had no idea who had just been there.

"You been taking care of Mattie, right Coco?" the American asked, trying to pick up the dog to pull him on his lap. The dog wasn't exactly light, and seemed to worm around in the visitor's grip, but as Alfred was pretty strong, the dog eventually ended up on his legs anyway.

"His name is Kumajiji."

"Yeah, something like that."

There was a pause, and the visitor turned his attention to Kumajirou, muttering not-so-quiet greetings and praises of 'good boy' to the curious pup. Matthew watched the two of them with a smile, sitting back and letting the two have their bonding time.

He loved Alfred. The scene in front of him drew a gentle pounding in his heart, but...

The American glanced up a moment later, his bright cerulean eyes meeting with Matthew's, creating a jarring pause through the Canadian's body. "What'd you say? You got some stuff? That's awesome! The happier you are, the quicker you'll heal, right? Keep strong and happy, dude!" The male burst out laughing, casually leaning back in his spot and slinging a lazy arm over the back of the chair. "Maybe I should bring you some of my super-hero-get-well shake! That'd speed up the process! I bought some dye to give it that extra zing too! It'll taste awesome!"

Matthew tensed up at the recommendation. "I...think I'll be okay." He really didn't need to get another internal injury.

Alfred patted the dog's side as a warning, before lifting him up and placing him on the foot of the other's bed. After this, he himself hopped over and flopped next to the Canadian, leaning back on the pillow and tossing himself against Matthew's shoulder. The male twitched, because the American was somewhat laying on an extremely painful area, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he tried to focus on what the visitor was doing, noticing the light sigh of content and watching as those eyes slid shut in relaxation.

"When're you getting out?" he spoke quieter than usual, and the fulfilled hum of Alfred's lulling voice somewhat made the pain of open flesh and bone being laid on tolerable.

"A week, I believe." Shuffling to the side made the American's head move off the wound, but it still felt awkward to bend in the way Matthew was bending. The news of him getting out in a week might have been a stretch though. The real news was that the Canadian might stay in a bit longer, especially with some damage that was done, but most looked alright. They said at least a week and a half. A week sounded less of a burden though. Besides, it might happen...

"A week's not bad!" The male threw up his arms, wrapping them around the Canadian who had wrongly assumed he had avoided the rest of the pain for the day. A small squeak of agony left the boy's throat, though it seemed as if Alfred didn't hear, as he continued chatting away. "To be honest, dude, it's like you never left! I mean, you were always invisible and in the background anyway, so it's like you're always around with us!"

Matthew let out a rigid laugh. The truth hurt sometimes.

Though with Alfred cuddling against him like a child would, the warmth he spread made the Canadian's heart flutter. The male smiled to himself upon a glance at the other, and he pushed back into the embrace, with only a slight wincing in his movements.

This was nice. It was warm. He loved things like this.

"Let's play baseball when you get back, alright? I'll go easy on you."

Alfred always had a way of ruining the moment. Like Alfred ever 'played fair'. "Sure. That sounds like fun."

The warmth of a brother who would always laugh and smile around Matthew. The warmth of a lover who would always focus on the positives to make Matthew feel at ease.

Alfred F. Jones was still a mystery.

The next time James came over, he was dragging Matthew's laptop, a hockey stick, and some type of duffel bag into the hospital room. Unfortunately, when the husky male trudged inside, the Canadian was fast asleep against the bed, his numb head laying against the pillow after a stressful attempt to recollect his memories. Whenever he wanted to speak up about his troubles with deciphering who was who, he usually opened his mouth, only to chicken out with the hope that he could handle this on his own. He could figure this out. It should be so, so easy to figure out.

The Canadian awoke, however, at the noisy footsteps of the visitor. The male couldn't recall hearing a knock, but it was the distinct thumping of heavy shoes that echoed through his mind and dragged him into the annoyed consciousness. James, unlike Matthew, was someone one could never miss when they entered a room. Even his footsteps could be noticed, whereas Matthew could shout and still be mistaken for someone else...

The blonde let out a groan, easing his eyes open to see the hazy image of other Canadian in the room, placing his laptop on a nearby table. After a moment, James appeared to notice Matthew wake up after he put the object in its place, and glanced over from his spot. He didn't react much, but merely turned his gaze over with dull, violet eyes. Even now, compared to days before, he still looked as sleepless and distant as he had always been.

"Ah. Didn't mean to wake you." James's voice was always grating to the ears, with its guttural growl of a noise out in the open, and the way it snapped and scratched when contained inside a room.

"It's alright," Matthew replied, rubbing his eyes and glancing up from the hospital bed at the new visitor. James slunk over to a seat beside Matthew slowly, lazily tossing the bag he held to the edge of the bed, as well as holding out the hockey stick to the other male.

The Canadian paused, staring at it for a moment, before he finally reached his hand out and curled his fingers around the wood.

"Something wrong?"

This was Matthew's hockey stick. It wasn't just something precious, it was like gold and treasure was brought right to his doorstep. With just this, his mind flourished with the memories of holding this, playing with it. Kumajirou glanced over at it curiously as the Canadian began holding it in its correct way, moving it around, tilting it, shifting it. This was normal. This was his life.

"No, that's fine..."

His memories weren't dead. He could still remember moments in the past, events that he had with and without both if the unknown males. With this hockey stick, he had won games, and practiced with both James and Alfred. He had brought both to important games of his. However, these events were ambiguous and not very detailed with who Matthew kissed and who Matthew hugged.

Yet, they were memories. Little by little, the Canadian would figure things out.

"The bag's full of food. Don't know what crap they're feeding you, but it's probably horrible," the harsh one said, giving a shrug of his shoulders in dismissal at the act of kindness. James hadn't exactly been known for acting gentle and nice out of his own will. Matthew knew that, deep down, the gruff man was a sweetheart though.

"Thank you..." A nagging question tugged at Matthew to ask if James brought over four bottles of maple syrup so he could down some coffee with it, but that seemed like asking for too much. Maybe asking something more simple would do, as there were a few other things that the Canadian wanted to ask. "How's the team?"

James appeared to dismiss this question with a shrug. "They're terrible without you."

Flattery was always nice, and it made the Canadian's chest glow with confidence. Yet... Was James the brother who would discard all the others because his own brother was the coolest? Or was this the lover who would compliment the male over and over just to see him smile?

This was terrible. He was thinking about this damn problem constantly, and it was starting to affect his general thinking. This whole ordeal had gotten to the point where even trying to visualize the two men in either roles seemed to be null and void. Picturing James as that person Matthew sat on the couch with making out on a simple day of leisure was just as vivid as picturing Alfred as the one Matthew held in a passionate embrace under the mistletoe at Christmas.

Looking even farther back wasn't any help either. When Matthew was a kid, he remembered his brother standing up for him by threatening bullies to back off. However, Matthew could picture both scenarios: Alfred holding a baseball bat, James holding a hockey stick. Then there was a brother memory of Matthew being mistaken for his sibling quite a lot. This, however, played no use to an ending either. James and Matthew looked quite alike, as did Alfred and Matthew.

He could remember so much of these two and their beings, but no label.

Matthew forces a chuckle anyway, leaning back in his bed. "How many games are left?"

"Enough that you could play the final one," he answered in a monotone, glancing off to the side. "If they even get that far."

Even though James didn't seem into it, talking about the subject that Matthew had a passion for at the distance the visitor placed himself in was more relaxing than being crushed into Alfred's arms. However, it definitely seemed more loving and familiar with Alfred being close compared to being quite so far away from James.

He really was no further than his first step.

James was a person of few words, so he didn't bother to stay long. The idle chit-chat could only last for so long before there was just nothing to talk about. However, only at the end did he end up giving a kind act of familiarity as he was walking out. He paced over, gifting the fellow Canadian with a quick ruffle of his hair, as he upturned the corners of his cheeks just slightly. "Get better soon, alright?"

As the husky male left, Matthew felt a heat spread through his face from the pat. However, the same problem arose as with Alfred.

Lover, brother. Brother, lover...

It had been a week since Matthew had woken up, and a check-up with Doctor Beilschmidt was due. Throughout prior meetings, it appeared that the doctor, Gilbert (as he insisted to be called), was a rather relaxed male with a bit of an overconfidence issue. If he gave a diagnosis that he was confident about, he stuck with it, despite how the other doctors rolled their eyes after every time he did such. At least he was friendly instead of the terrifying stereotypical doctor that wouldn't give one the light of day.

Luckily, the Canadian wasn't feeling as stiff as usual throughout these past few days. He could move around, but walking was still somewhat of a hassle. Someone was needed to help the Canadian over to the room where he would be examined.

The beginning was the same as any form of check-up earlier. Gilbert asked how everything was, if there were any problems, and Matthew answered accordingly: No, just some pain here and there and numbness, but it would probably go away with time. He didn't want to declare that the pain somewhat got worse at that one point when Alfred hugged him, since that was to be expected that a tight hug wouldn't lead to healing. His arm still throbbed as bad as it always had, though he assumed that it was because the Canadian had been moving it the most to write and play on his phone and prevented it from resting. He didn't feel any of this was worth speaking up about.

However, after the conversation went on, and the X-rays and the scans repeated, the Canadian pursed his lips, tempted to speak up about the one thing that was really bothering him all this time. The results came out clear though: Matthew was healing. Jut a few more days and he'd be out. No problems, the doctor declared with a smirk, even though the patient was biting his lip on the sidelines.

His heart pulsed as the check-up started to end, and as the doctor ended off the paperwork and collected the objects to clean. He should have spoken up sooner. He should have said this right when he walked in, and yet, he had been too nervous. He was still nervous, but the chance was dimming. Once Gilbert left, he would have to wait another week.

"I just...have one thing I'm worried about."

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. His memories were getting better! Honestly, with every passing day, he could recall more and more things... It was probably his own fault that he got this 'problem', making it into such a big deal and trying to force it out instead of waiting for things to happen naturally... He could have even just asked James or Alfred! They wouldn't have minded if Matthew just told them, right? Well, it would be offensive to say that your own partner and your own sibling forgot who you were... At the same time, it wasn't like Matthew forgot who they were, just-

"Yes?"

Oh, gosh, here it was. The moment of truth. There was something wrong, despite all the things that appeared correct. There was one little memory issue that Matthew had: one he didn't want to admit so outwardly.

He had to, though. He promised himself he would ask the doctor first, then his family.

What if even knowing who was who wouldn't change any form of confusion?

"I... Well, there's a problem. A memory problem. I think." This was turning out worse than the male hoped it would be, and it didn't help that now the doctor's eyes were latched onto him with intrigue. "I can't... Um, remember certain people. I mean, I can remember a lot of people, just not two important people."

Gilbert blinked at this confusion, which Matthew had to turn away from. Why did he have to suffer through this? Eventually, the doctor chuckled though. "You think you have a bit of amnesia? That's not terrible. Usually after a concussion, the memories just before the incident are more vulnerable to being lost. You said you remember most people though?"

"Yes?"

"Then you still have a lot of your memories, right? And you still remember things that happened after the crash?"

Matthew nodded.

"Then you have a mild retrograde amnesia," the doctor answered, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. "It's not a big issue."

"You- You don't understand," the Canadian now interrupted, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't... I don't know what to do! I mean, I can remember my parents, and my dog, and my friends, but... When it comes to James and Alfred, I can't tell which one is my soul mate and which one is my brother! I... I don't even remember if I was married or not, but I remember them, kinda... They both seem so similar, and I don't know who they are, but...!"

The Canadian ran a finger through his hair. This was just so...aggravating! And he didn't know how to explain it! It was only a bit of memory loss, yes, and it wasn't the end of the world, and it really wasn't like he was memory-impaired... He wasn't in trouble, and it wasn't like he tried the obvious solution of merely asking.

Damn it, maybe this wasn't serious at all.

And now he was wasting this doctor's time with his problems. Great. Wonderful, Matthew.

"So... What's the issue? You can't tell people apart? That might be prosopagnosia then, but if you can tell other people apart but not those two, then I doubt it would be this..." The male hummed, and Matthew's gaze flickered towards him. "Are they twins? Maybe you just forgot how to tell them apart and you need different tactics to deal with this."

"It's not that. They look different, but I don't remember which one I loved and which one is only my brother."

"Did you ask them?"

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not...the easiest thing to ask."

"Why not?"

"Well..." The boy fidgeted, but he had a point. It wasn't a problem of high degree... All it was was asking who was who. Yet... "Would you just...ask? I just want to know...how should I go about this. Without offending anyone. I mean..." Ugh, he didn't know how to explain this. He attempted to wave his hand around, a nervous tick of a motion that tried to help him explain the situation. "What would you do? If you couldn't tell two very close people apart from each other?"

Gilbert scoffed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wish I forgot the one I'm 'in love with'," he muttered bitterly, rolling his eyes. "There was the intelligent, college-bound policeman and the annoying cook and I had to choose the damn cook..."

Matthew blinked. Perhaps this wasn't the best person to go to for romantic advice.

"Is the problem just that you're not sure who you love and who you don't? Because if that's the case, you could just start anew."

"Pardon?"

The doctor glanced over, scarlet eyes beaming with his smirk. "I'm asking what the real problem is, because it seems like it's more than just a label that you're worried about. If it was only the labels, you could have just asked, right? But maybe it's more than that. Maybe your feelings have just...changed." To this, however, he merely shrugged. "Maybe that amnesia hit made you change, and you don't see your brother or partner as those roles anymore. Maybe you love both of them equally, or neither of them. That's not really a problem, just a change."

Matthew tried to follow, thinking back to James and Alfred. Loving both of them? Neither of them? Both of these thoughts were terrifying, but it wasn't like Gilbert was tapping on the wrong string.

"Why don't you just start anew, if you're really unsure about who these two are? Treat them like friends, and if you fall in love with your partner all over again, perfect! If you don't, that's a downer, but at least you're not lying to yourself with a mere 'label'."

"B-But what if I fell in love with my brother?" the Canadian screeched, looking over to the doctor in terror. He, however, didn't appear phased by this, and began collecting up the rest of his documents and shoving them inside a particular folder.

"I've seen worse things happen than a mere incestuous relationship. And hey, what's in the way of stopping love, huh?" A few seconds after this, Gilbert cussed. "I've been spending too much time with Francis..."

Matthew paused, glancing down to the ground as the doctor finished off cleaning the area. He nodded to himself, his teeth grazing over his lower lip, trying to piece together what to do. He loved Alfred, and he loved James. Maybe it wasn't so much faulty memories as much as the problem was based off of actual emotions. He wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure. Maybe he didn't actually love his partner, or maybe he just wanted some weird kind of polygamous relationship?

"So...what do I do again?" he asked, looking back up at the doctor, as he got up from his seat. He just needed to be sure on what to do. He still wasn't entirely sure about what the male was telling him to go with.

"Just relax, take a deep breath, and see where it goes. It's not the end of the world if you love someone different, or if you forget someone, or anything like that!" After a laugh, Gilbert gave the male a pat on his shoulder; though quickly apologized when he heard the light screech of pain the blonde emitted. "Try it out for a few days! Nothing should stop you from the future you truthfully want!"

Gilbert left the room, and Matthew soon trailed behind. A nurse aided him in stumbling back to his room, though the Canadian found himself quiet through the entire walk. Deep in thought, the male eventually came to a small, tentative conclusion of what was happening.

He forgot his past life with his brother. He forgot his past life with his true love. Those lives were gone, and in the future, here...

Alfred and James were both potential partners for him.