I KNOW IM HORRIBLE. ENJOY YOUR CHAPTER. LAME EXCUSES AT THE BOTTOM.

The Bonnefoys (plus Ivan) decided to return home first to see if Alfred had simply come back. He hadn't. Arthur had searched the boy's bedroom and found nothing. No note, no message. Nothing. Just the same mess of a room he'd always seen and grown accustomed to. It made his heart ache.

Francis calm exterior had shattered. He was jittery, worried, nervous and argumentative. He needed a smoke. Just one and he would be fine. But there wasn't a single cigarette pack in the entire God damn house. He took a calming breath.

It simply wasn't working anymore.

This was worse than the previous time Alfred had run away, ten times worse. At least they had known where he was. He was at a friend's house. He was safe. He would be fed properly, have a bed to sleep in. They knew he would be perfectly fine.

But not now. Who knew where Alfred had driven off to. He could be in an alley being mugged or worse. He could be buying drugs. There were countless horrible things he could be doing and Arthur and Francis were powerless to stop him.

They wanted their boy back home, safe and sound.

Ivan had his own mess of problems. He kept going through his head any possible locations Alfred could be frequenting. But he dismissed them all, realizing Alfred wouldn't go to any of them. The blond was trying to get away from all of them, so he would not go to any area familiar to them. Alfred was much smarter than most people thought.

Matthew, himself, was horribly confused. He still had no idea what had happened. Nobody was giving him a straight answer. In fact, they were all ignoring him entirely. This always happened! He was always ignored at the crucial times he craved for any semblance of attention! Something terrible had happened, he'd gathered that. Something so terrible that Alfred had run away, for real this time.

Well fine then. If no one would tell him then he'd just ask Alfred himself. He pulled his cell out of his pocket, "I'm calling Al." He notified simply, casually. It was like they were actually listening to him-

Finally, everyone looked over at him and paid attention.

"Call him? He won't answer." Arthur assured, though there was just a tiny smidge of hope growing at the pit of his stomach. Maybe he would answer if his brother, his twin was calling him. Just maybe...

"We'll see soon enough." Matthew shrugged, dialing the number and waiting. It rang once, twice, and he frowned. Maybe Al wouldn't pick up, maybe it was that serious. Why wouldn't anyone tell him anything? It wasn't fair! He deserved to know! He was Alfred's twin. Did that mean nothing to his parents? It a rang a third, a fourth time and Matthew pulled the phone away from his ear with the intent of hanging up.

And then suddenly, Alfred answered.

Alfred drove around for a while, not really paying attention to where he was going. He was lost in his own thoughts. He felt so exhausted. He wanted to go home, but, at the same time, he didn't want to go near that place ever again.

He wanted a hug. He wanted someone to help him. He couldn't do this alone anymore. He didn't know how to save the situation. He didn't know how to save his boyfriend. Ivan still needed help since he obviously wasn't doing enough. He just didn't know who to turn to. Who would help him.

It was getting late, and so Alfred decided to drive to some cheap motel for the night. He paid with cash, realizing that his parents would find him if he used their card. He'd have to take some of the money out later... He didn't want them tracking him down already. He needed some air, some time to think. Alone.

He stumbled into the sparsely decorated room, falling on the bed. He curled up on his side and stared at the wall. What the hell was he going to do? He'd have to go home at some point. He sighed.

He jolted when he felt a sudden vibration, realizing it was his phone. He slipped it out, looking at the ID. It was Mattie. Matthew. His brother. His twin. If anyone could help him it'd be him! Desperately, he flipped his cell phone open and pressed it to his ear.

"M-Mattie? Mattie I need your help." He whispered, waiting impatiently for a response. Oh please, please, please let his brother help him! He needed. Oh God did he need it right now.

"He answered!" Matthew shouted out, notifying the rest of the people gathered around him. This was not the best idea he'd ever had. Suddenly there was a cacophony of noise in his and Alfred's ear. The American heard the distinct sound of three voices shouting, "Let me speak to him!"

Alfred panicked. He didn't want to speak to Papa, or Dad or even Ivan (a small voice inside his head wondered how the three were even in the same room together after all that happened but he shook it away). He wanted to speak to his brother, and only his brother, "If you put any of them on I'll hang up and turn my phone off!" He shouted back quickly, loud enough for the intruders to hear.

He was met with silence. A nice calming silence and then his brother's desperate voice, "Al. Al where are you?"

"I'm not telling you. I need to talk to you Mattie. I really need to talk to you. Please." He answered, his voice cracking slightly. He couldn't care less about how emotional he was sounding. He couldn't care less about anything.

Matthew was taken a back by the desperation in his elder brother's voice. Alfred hadn't asked for a bro talk in a long time, ever since he and Ivan had started dating seriously. A part of him was happy to be needed, another was extremely concerned. "I'm right here Al. You can talk to me." He replied softly, soothingly.

"No." Alfred hissed back, "No, you have to be alone. I want you to go to your room and lock the door. Please. Please, I don't want them to hear."

Matthew frowned, still so very confused about what had happened. No one had told him anything still and he was fucking sick of it. Alfred was his twin! He deserved to know what was hurting him! He hated seeing his brother like this and not being able to stop it. If only he knew what was going on.

"I'm going to my room. Don't bother me." He notified the eagerly listening trio. There was immediate protests but he ignored them all, stomping up the steps and into his room. He looked at the knob, hesitated but decided to lock it. "Ok. I'm alone. What happened? What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong!" Alfred snapped back, lying down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. "I thought Ivan was better and then he did—he did that!" He spat out in disgust.

"What did he do?" Matthew asked, tensing. How hard was it to get some information?

The line went silent before Alfred responded quietly, "...You...You don't know?" When his brother didn't respond, he answered the dreaded question, "Ivan...Ivan strangled Dad."

Matthew dropped the phone in shock, frantically searching for it again and pressing it back to his ear, "What? Strangled? Strangled? What do you mean strangled?"

"Mattie...Mattie remember how I said there was something I couldn't tell you?" Alfred asked softly, wiping at his watery eyes. He ignored his twin's blabbering, too focused on his own problems. He needed to get to the point so he could get some advice. He needed his twin's input.

The younger slowed, "Yeah..."

"W-well, I want to tell you now. I—I can't do this alone anymore. I can't. B-but you have to promise. You have to promise you won't tell Dad, or Papa or anyone!" He added quickly, tightening his grip on his cell.

Matthew hesitated before acquiescing, "O-ok. I promise." Hopefully, he'd be able to keep it.

Alfred sat up in the cold bed, drawing his knees close to his chest, "It's about Ivan...He—He has issues Mattie." He confessed with a long suffering sigh.

"What kind of issues?" The younger probed, trying to help his twin open up more with direct questions. It had always helped before.

"Mattie..He-He was abused when he was little, like a lot. And he-he...God Mattie he killed people." He said bluntly, cringing at himself. How could he had just dropped the bomb like that? Jeez he was bad at this.

Matthew blinked in disbelief, wondering if he'd misheard, "Wait, What?"

"He-He killed this guy who tried to..well basically tried to rape him...And he-he killed his dad who was touching his elder sister like that." Alfred explained hurriedly, a lame effort of defending his lover...Or ex-lover according to his parents...

"He...He killed two people?" Matthew repeated surreally as time seemed to slow. Ivan was a murderer. And he was in his house. He'd been at his house for months. His brother was dating a murderer, knowingly. Oh God, how could this have happened?

It couldn't be happening! It couldn't be! This was just an elaborate joke by his brother. There was no way any of this could possibly true.

"Y-yes, and I was helping him Mattie! Everything was going fine! And th-then yesterday Ivan—He snapped all over again and almost killed Dad!" Alfred wiped at his watery eyes, hating how the quiver in his voice seemed to only be getting worse. "I don't know what to do anymore! I thought I had fixed him! And now Dad and Papa won't ever let me see him, and he'll only get worse without me and-and-"

"Al." Matthew interrupted with the growing realization that Alfred wasn't lying. Horror was dawning upon him slowly as the shock began to slowly fade away, "Al, if what you are saying is true then Ivan needs professional help. You don't know what you're doing."

"N-No! They'll put him in jail! I'll never see him again!" Alfred shouted back quickly. He couldn't do that to him! Ivan would only get worse in prison he knew that!

"Al, Al you gotta do the right thing. Ivan's only going to get worse. You have to tell Dad and Papa." Matthew continued undeterred. Event though he still didn't believe it. Refused to believe it.

"I...I can't do that. And you can't either! You promised!" He added hurriedly.

Matthew sighed, "Ok, I won't." Not for now at least. Alfred should be the one. Plus, he still couldn't even wrap his own head around it. "You need to come home." He reminded quickly.

"I'm not. Not for a while. I need to think. Bye."

And before Matthew could get a word in his brother had hung up. He dialed Alfred's number again to call him back but only got the voicemail.

Alfred had turned off his phone.

"What do you mean you didn't find out where he was?" Arthur snapped, staring at his son incredulously.

"He didn't tell me! He says he won't come back for a while..." Mathew responded, wishing he could back away and disappear. He was always ignored when he wanted to be seen, and paid attention to when he wanted to be ignored. He needed to think. All those things, horrible things, Alfred had told him still had not yet sunk in. He was in a daze.

"This is why I should have spoke to him!" Francis said in frustration, "You should have given me the phone!"

"He would have hun-" Matthew tried to remind, but was interrupted.

"You? You're the reason he ran off in the first place!" Arthur yelled back, instinctively. Francis eyes widened, hurt prevalent in the sapphire pools. Then they hardened and he took a step forward.

"Me? You're the one constantly fighting with him! You're the one who keeps pushing him away!" He snapped back, too irritated to think rationally over it. He was too frazzled and worried and yelling made him feel better. And he knew it was his fault! The blame was already eating him up he didn't need Arthur reminding him.

"You're the bad influence! All you do is spout out sex and nonsense until that's all they think about!" Arthur growled out, knowing he should stop but he just couldn't. He was beyond worry, beyond furious. His nerves were shot. He needed to expel it all, and Francis had always been a wonderful target.

"D-Dad!" Matthew cried out softly in surprise. His parents fighting was nothing new... But this, this was different. Their tone was so much darker, nastier. Their voices filled with malice like venom. It scared him.

"And you? All you do is scream and shout and belittle everything they do! Why can't you ever say something nice! This is why he acts as if he hates you all the time!" Francis shouted, smashing his fist down against the counter.

"P-Papa!" Matthew squeaked out in surprise, shocked at how angry his papa had gotten. This fight was getting to be too much.

"Why did I marry such an incompetent sex crazed frog!"

"Why did I stay with such a bitter old man!"

"Please stop." The young teen whimpered, covering his ears. He hated this. He wanted to go curl up under his bed covers with Alfred, playing some game with their toys until it stopped. But Alfred wasn't here. And his parents were getting worse. And he was being ignored. Again.

"You're older than me! God damn it I hate you!" Arthur spat out, his sharp words slicing through Francis like a blade. And it hurt.

"You hate me? There isn't even a word for the hate I feel for you!" Francis quickly retaliated, with just as much hurt aimed at the Brit.

"The door is right there! Why don't you get out! The children would be better off without you anyway!"

"Is that what you really think? Then fine! I'll leave! I never want to see you and those hideous brows on your face again!"

Matthew whimpered as the door slammed shut. He wanted to sink into his bed and hide. His parent's hadn't fought like this in years. He couldn't take it. Not alone at least.

Arthur was shaking, trying to hold himself steady with the kitchen counter. He flinched when the door slammed shut, trying to keep himself together. He looked down at the marble, taking deep breaths. The glint of his wedding ring caught his eye and in a fit of anger and frustration he tore it off his finger, ready to hurl it away. But he stopped.

He backed away, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor, holding the ring tightly in his hand. And suddenly it felt like they were dating again, all those horrid fights that left his heart aching. He thought they were done with those. Apparently not.

He took in a shuddering breath and slipped the ring back into its rightful place, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He whispered to himself, wiping at his eyes.

He hadn't meant any of what he'd said. He was just so worried. He just wanted Alfred home. He couldn't stand not knowing where he was or if he was ok. And it had all just exploded out of him.

"D-Dad?" Matthew stuttered, hovering over him worriedly.

Arthur looked up, he'd forgotten the boy had been there. He forced on a smile, wiping at his eyes again because they just would not stop watering and standing up. "Don't worry Matthew. Everything's fine. Ev-Everything is just fine."

Matthew looked anything but convinced.

Francis sat on the front step, his anger having drained completely when he slammed the door. He held his face in his hands muttering French curses under his breath. It was getting dark. The stars were beginning to shine in the sky. It could have been a romantic evening, but he wasn't in the mood for any of that.

He hoped Alfred was alright wherever he was. That he had a bed to sleep in. That he was somewhere safe.

He sighed wondering if he should go and look for the boy some more or if he should wait here until Arthur let him back in. Did he even have his car keys on him? A quick check left him with a 'no'. He supposed he could walk around a bit or something.

His phone rang.

He blinked, wondering if it was Arthur already forgiving him. He opened the cell up, and pressed it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Erm, Hello Francis.." Francis knew that voice.

"Toris?" He questioned, surprised.

"Yes. Uh, I'm going to be back sooner than I thought..." The timid voice replied, nervously.

"Toris, we need to talk about Ivan." Francis said quickly, a slight bitter taste in his tone. There was no way Ivan was going to be let off the hook for what he had done. He blinked when there was a commotion on the other line. A feminine voice was definitely screaming something in the background.

"Ah I'm s-sorry, just a second Francis." Toris responded, before continuing in a muffled voice. The Frenchman couldn't discern what he was saying but he seemed to be speaking to the girl with him. Maybe to soothe her? She did sound quite distressed.

Francis tensed when he heard his friend whimper, and the phone clattering to the ground. What was going on? "Toris?"

"Privyet? Ivan! Ivan! I vant to speak with Ivan!" It was the girl's voice now, loud and desperate. Who was she? She was definitely foreign from her thick accent. And she sounded very young. (Francis was quite the expert in guessing a women's age. It came in handy when he was bachelor.)

"Ivan isn't with me right now, he can't speak on the phone..." He replied slowly, confused.

There was a growl on the other line, "Let me speak to Ivan! Ivan! Ivan!" She continued calling his name, louder and louder hoping that her target could somehow hear her. It was getting on Francis' nerves. He was tempted to simply hang up. He didn't have time for this. He had a son missing and an angry hurt husband and a violent teenager to deal with.

"Natalia! Stop it!" Toris shouted, stealing the phone back, "I'm sorry Francis, I have to go."

And before the blond could even think of saying goodbye, the line went dead.

Francis blinked, staring at the phone in his hand in confusion. What was that all about?

He probably should have pondered the conversation more but he simply didn't care enough. He had more pressing issues at hand. Like Alfred's whereabouts and Arthur's feelings.

He stood up with new found determination and knocked on the front door before opening it. He was slightly surprised to discover it open but shook it off. Hopefully Arthur would be calm by now and they could apologize and move on. They needed each other now more than ever. They shouldn't be fighting.

He closed the door behind him, walking slowly to where he'd left his husband in the kitchen. He almost didn't spot him, he was sitting on the ground, staring at his wedding ring. Francis bit his lip kneeling down beside him.

Arthur glanced up before looking away quickly. Francis sighed, unfolding his legs to sit more comfortably against the wall. They didn't say anything to each other, simply sat side by side silently. A few moments passed and Arthur leaned his head against his husband's shoulder, barely reacting as Francis' leaned his head on his in turn.

Arthur closed his green eyes tiredly, "When Alfred comes home..." He began, "I say we take a week off and just go somewhere. The four of us. Together."

Francis gave a slight nod, slipping an arm around the Brit to tug him a milimeter closer. "Arthur Je-Je suis desole..." (I'm sorry) He finally managed to utter.

"I...I-Me too." Arthur breathed out with difficulty, turning to face the Frenchman for the first time since he came in.

Alfred lay in bed, simply staring at the ceiling for a long, long time. He didn't know what he should do. Mattie was right, Ivan need help. Professional help. But what if he told someone and they put the Russian in jail? That would only make Ivan worse!

Maybe having his sisters around would help him, make him saner. To see that they were alright and not have to constantly worry over their condition. That had to help!

He just didn't know how to get them. Maybe he should have gone to Russia, so it would at least feel as though he was doing something instead of just lying around doing nothing at all.

He rolled over on to his side. Why was everything so God damn complicated in his life? Last year had never been so stressful, so painful. Ivan had done this with his presence, he knew it.

Perhaps it would have been better to have just never talked to the Russian again. Who knew, maybe he'd be at home having fun instead of lying here alone. Maybe everything would have gone right instead of wrong.

But, even though it had been stressful, he'd had some of the happiest times with the big lug. He didn't really want to sacrifice that. In fact, he was pretty glad he'd gotten that concussion a while back. It was the start of something new, something interesting, something challenging.

Very challenging.

He sat up.

What was he doing? Wallowing in self pity? He was a fucking hero! He needed to take action. Needed to do something to help his boyfriend! How else was shit gonna happen? He'd start researching psychologists in the area, look up info on a certain Russian orphanage! He would fix this, he would!

...First thing in the morning, though. He was exhausted. Probably from crying. He was so pathetic...

No. He needed to get out of that mind frame. Feeling bad wouldn't help! Everything would work out. Somehow.

"Feliks, you don't have to come. You've done enough already."

"Nah, like it's no big deal! Plus, I want to make sure they're all settled nice and safe! Also I want to see your house! I bet it's fabulous, not as much as mine but still!"

"But-"

"Shh, It's fine! I want to make sure Kat's alright, ya know? What do you expect when she's been like livin' with me for months?"

"I-"

The blond man put a finger to the other's lips, ending his protests with a little giggle, "Nope. I'm coming!"

"..Alright..."

Arthur didn't feel like sleeping. Ivan was in the guest bedroom. Matthew wasn't speaking to him, locking himself in his own room. Francis...Everytime he looked at him he wanted to cry on his shoulder. But he also wanted to scream at him and blame him for everything.

He wanted his son back in his home safe and sound.

He'd debated calling the police to file a missing person's notice but he'd decided not to, for now. He didn't trust the police. They never helped him before, why would they start now? All he could think about was the old neighborhood where they never gave a damn if he or Francis were harassed.

And if he did call them he'd have to explain the bruises. And he did not want to do that.

Arthur sighed, lying on his arms which rested on the table. He didn't know what to do.

He jumped when he felt arms encircle his neck, and a new weight on his shoulders. He relaxed as he felt the familiar scratchy feeling of the other's chin against his cheek.

"I don't want to fight." Francis murmured softly. Arthur didn't respond, only continued to look at the table sadly. He didn't want to fight either. Especially not like a few hours before. They'd sat on the floor for a long time before their legs started to fall asleep as their bodies demanded they get up.

"Arthur...Arthur what are we going to do?" Francis murmured into the blond unruly hair he adored so very much.

The Englishman's hands clenched on the table, "We're going to find him. We're going to look. And we're going to find him."

WHO'S A HORRIBLE AUTHOR? ME! OTL

THERE IS NO WAY TO EXCUSE MY HIATUS BUT, JUST IN CASE YOU'RE CURIOUS:

2. Vacation. For two weeks. With no comp.

3. Summer work. Which I'm still not done.

4. COLLEGE APPLICATIONS HOLY SHIT I'M FREAKING OUT IM GOING TO DIE FROM STRESS

So, that's my lame excuse. Anyways, again, i'm REALLY sorry. But don't worry. I'm not giving up on this fic! I made you guys a promise and I intend to keep it. Plus, we only have a few more chapters to go!

I hope the chapter doesn't suck. orz.

Review even if I don't deserve it. Because I do love you. I really do.

I'm not promising an update in a week because I honestly don't know. School starts soon.