A/N: Oh glob! I'm so sorry for this delay. I had to do several things that I deem far more important than writing this (eg studying for a college entrance test, making money). Because of that I wrote this in like forty minutes and I haven't gone over it properly. But don't worry, this was really intended to be a short chapter... just introducing the OC of an antagonist.

Good thing is that it's almost the holidays and setting aside all the projects due next year, I could do whatever I want for two weeks~yay!

I am very, very, very grateful for the feedback I got on the last chapter and the whole story in general though I myself am not very pleased with my writing capability. So, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Honestly, I just want to get over this without ruining the entire fic with a crappy ending. I'm itching to write a Spamano haha. It'll have to wait.

Lastly, (if you're still reading this, ohmy~ thanks for putting up with my senseless rambling) what do you think about the December 21 doomsday rumors? If it were true, it'd be sad that I won't get to finish this story and worst of all, I wouldn't know what happens in Hetaoni (there are rumors that Hetaoni will resume sometime around early next year). But anyways, I don't really believe it. So 'til my next update.

Hope you like this. And don't hesitate to point out mistakes or anything that could improve this story. I really, really, appreciate those kind of response.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters...

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

Matthew is pale and beautiful with his blonde hair and purple eyes.

Oh yes, yes, the boy is breath taking and beautiful.

Matthew is kind and gentle.

He wants him all for himself because such purity needed to be hidden from the dark and cruel world.

That smile he had offered a stranger and the comfort to his grief… he needed to be saved from the evil of this place.

Matthew was born in Canada but raised in the suburbs of America where he almost didn't exist.

She deserved that death. She always forgot about him. Poor, poor, Matthew.

He attended school where the teachers and students overlooked him.

He had only made one real friend in his long years of stay there. The Cuban moved away shortly after middle school though.

He always brought an extra shirt with him whenever he goes. As well as a small first-aid kit.

He knew how to sew and does this better than most ladies.

Matthew had never lashed out on anyone.

He spoke fluent French – Canadian French, at least.

He loves pancakes and can go all week just eating pancakes. He had when his mother went to a week-long conference leaving him all alone with nothing.

He had learned to live by himself at the tender age of seven.

He loves the colour red, read Jane Austen, and plays hockey quite well.

But you can't expect him to outrun anyone.

He knows everything about him now. He knows. He knows.

He knows because he follows. He worships and he loves.

Yes, yes, he loves Matthew.

Matthew is his and no one else's.

Matthew is his and he's going to take him somewhere far.

Matthew is his and he's going to protect him.

Matthew is his.

Matthew is his.

oOoOoOo

The first note he sent was immediately disposed. The piece of paper was burned in the Russian's spacious backyard, with its ashes joining the earth.

He watched the boy return inside with a sly smile.

"Oh, Mattie, you cannot indeed leave evidences. Soon, my lovely, lovely pet, I'll come for you."

The second time Matthew took the note from his lockers; he ran to the rest rooms and skipped classes for the rest of the day. He had called Gilbert who called Francis who advised them to tell Ivan. It was opposed by the Canadian himself. "I couldn't drag him into this. I feel grateful enough he's letting me live with him." Francis had sounded upset with this but respected the decision in the end. "Just be careful, mon cher… be careful."

The next few days, Beilschmidt kept a close eye on him while lurking the shadier parts of town to gain informants (because surely they would come handy). He followed the boy to school and usually walked him home. On days that certain circumstances wouldn't allow him to, he'd shamelessly ask Braginski to pick the boy after work hours finishes which then leaves Matthew in the company of his friends a little while longer.

Ivan's curiosity grew by the day like how Matthew's anxiousness did. As they opted to share whatever meal they can, he noticed how jumpy the Canadian was being that even the slightest unannounced tap of the shoulder would send him jumping.

It wasn't until a crumpled paper from Matthew's pocket fell while he was getting of the car that the said Russian had a gist of the entire situation. He looked at the younger boy with such intensity, meeting wide purple eyes that seemingly pleaded not to ask.

'You can never hide from me.'

oOoOoOo

He was clever - very, very brilliant indeed. In just one week he had been able to slip five notes without being traced. The panic in the albino's eyes and the confusion in the Canadian's were amusing. Then, the added apprehension of Braginski made everything than it already was.

'You will soon realize this is for the best.'

"I have to get rid of the Russian. He's becoming quite a bother now, yes? Always clinging to my Mattie and walking with him everywhere. Then there's that scary looking Swede and friendly Finn. But I guess the Spaniard and Italian are harder to deal with? You've gotten quite a lot of friends, haven't you?"

It was bad for him and it was bad for Matthew.

They were feeding him lies and filling his face with false smiles.

"I'll come and take you away soon, love." He laughed in a high pitch maniacal tune.

"Oh, Mattie, Mattie, Mattie," he sang in a sickly sweet tune.

"My Mattie, we'll be together soon."

Matthew was waiting outside the campus. His friends had just left a few minutes ago. Dominique wonders if he could risk approaching his love. He could be a tourist looking for directions or an old man just passing by and giving his greetings. Would it be too much risk? Would he recognize him?

All the possibilities made him cringe in anticipation. It's only several days from now. He could wait. He cannot be rush. He has to stick to the plan. If there was a chance of jeopardizing his well thought idea, he shouldn't do it.

The view was perfect from where he was. The cafe was bustling with people all the time so it wouldn't really seem suspicious to be sitting by the large clear window. He could see him perfectly and he has no clue.

Surprise. Surprise.

The car that had come to drive and pick Matthew up arrived and the blonde rode the passenger's seat. All the while, Dom could feel himself seethe in anger.

Ivan Braginski.

That man could ruin it all for him. It had been easier when he had kept quiet and ignored his love. But now, it seems like he couldn't take his eyes of him.

Unconsciously he gripped his mug tighter and watched as the greyish blue vehicle went out of sight.

Could the Russian be after his Matthew? Has he seen what he saw in him? Does he want it for himself?

No. No. No. No.

Matthew is his.

"Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?" The voice startled him. He turned and saw crimson pair of eyes and white hair. He shook his head. "It's free, go ahead."

The albino sat with a tray of hot chocolate and a piece of cake.

Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt

– the bastard of a detective who's keeping an eye out for Matthew. He has talked to him once before in the hospital, but the lad probably won't recognize him just like he wouldn't recognize him after this meeting.

"So, what's the boy's story?" He asked idly like it was the most normal thing as he pretended to write notes regarding the sleeping Canadian. It had been fairly easy to sneak into the employee's locker room and steal off one the uniforms.
"Nothing interesting: he accidentally fell down the stairs." Lie. Of course, Gilbert was lying. After all, he was there when it happened. Matthew shouldn't have struggled. Then again, he should have stuck to the plan.

It's not too late though. Not yet, at least.

One day he's blonde, the next a brunette, one day it's long and straight, after that, curly and black, sometimes a business man, sometimes an old man… there were numerous of disguises he could pull off.

"Pretty cold weather we have. Don't we?" Gilbert said trying to strike a conversation. Dom contemplated on answering or simply smiling. This is how the minds of people like him should work: always thinking and planning a step ahead. Which one would be less suspicious? Does he recognize me?

"Yes. But living here for years make you get used to it."

Fifteen minutes later, he stood up, tipped his head towards the albino, and left the café.

He rode a bus and got off just outside of the town where trees were abundant and where not many visit. Deep in the woods was a small brick house. Its broken windows were covered with wood and cob webs littered here and there.

The inside wasn't any better but it was undeniably cleaner. There was no other room except for the bathroom. On the left were a sink, plates, and cooking utensils and just beside it was a stove. On the right, an old TV atop a wooden box laid. In the centre was a table with three chairs and on the farthest corner was a single bed. And if one would look even closer, there were chains and ropes scattered in the place, as well as scraps of metal and various junks.