# Dreams Of A Vague Reality 03 #
I had this all written up, AND THEN IT FUCKING DELETED THE WHOLE DOCUMENT. WHOEVER MADE THIS APP IS GOING TO DIE. WHOEVER MADE THIS KEYBOARD IS GOING TO DIE. I SWEAR TO GOD, SO FUCKING DEAD-
*ahem*
### ####
"They've come to get me again,
The cloud is over my head,
My polyamorous friend,
He got me in a mess of trouble again,"
Polyamorous- Breaking Benjamin
The night air was refreshing, cool. It was always nice in this city at night; the lights shining in the comfortable darkness of the place, like a photograph one might take of a stereotypical city night life. It was picturesque, to come up with simply one word for the sight. Even the sirens in the background were something that had always been around, and would only startle ones who were unused to this type of thing. It simply was part of life, the chaos that was there but never quite seemed to reach anyone but the extraordinarily vulnerable. And the vulnerable never ended up in places like this anyway.
Except for the most extenuating circumstances.
Matthew took a breath and let a wry smile cross his face as his ears picked up the still-going commotion on the inside of the building. The 'Mr. Vargas' who had seemed in another world when he'd tried to start a conversation between them was still upset about his sudden recruitment. He'd seemed distracted at the time, when Matthew had asked him why he had turned up at this strange building, but maybe he was always like that. Matthew knew there were people around who acted like their brains had been dropped out of their heads as children.
Like Heracles, a man he worked with sometimes. The Greek was a genius, but he got easily distracted and things tended to turn out badly whenever he managed to sight a cat or Sadik Anan, his competitor (who Matthew also suspected he was sleeping with). But Matthew didn't really feel interested about that.
What Matthew was interested in was a certain albino man.
Make that a hot punk albino man.
He turned his gaze to the side, where Gilbert was stretching, clearly happy to be out of the slightly confined room. Unfortunately, as he stretched, his Slipknot t-shirt lifted to reveal a nicely-toned stomach and the edge of dark red boxers, the same colour as the man's eyes. Matthew felt his face redden and he looked away quickly, before the other could notice his rather blatant staring.
Merde, that would have been embarrassing! But he certainly did have a nice body, with muscles but not so much as to be one of those horribly muscled German men with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. No, he was quite perfect as he was, Matthew decided.
"...which way do you walk?"
Matthew realised with a start that the sex god himself was actually talking to him, addressing him, and struggled to come up with a coherent answer that didn't involve 'ohmygodyou'resohotlet'sfuckrighthererightnow' or anything along that line of speech.
In the end he settled with pointing in the general direction of the university he was studying. He was staying in a dorm room, mostly so he didn't have to stay with his parents any longer, and it was heaven. No more of his twin brother stealing his beautiful maple flavoured icecream, no more of having to deal with being the perfect child. His parents barely paid any attention to him because of how normal he was; it was like he was invisible.
"That way."
"Me too! That's good, we can chat...Birdie."
Birdie? What the heck kind of a nickname was that for someone you've just met? Did he look like some kind of bird to people...? The baffled look on his face must have been incredibly funny to the other, judging by his reaction. Gilbert's grin widened and shockingly, he slung an arm around the only slightly shorter Canadian. Matthew pushed aside his blush, even though he knew it was visible still, and hoped he didn't look like a tomato, like the brunette man inside had. How could someone literally go so red they looked like a fruit?
Completely confusing mindset away, Matthew did try to keep up a conversation with Gilbert as they walked along the streets, and the other seemed quite willing to do enough talking for both sides anyway. Luckily, the shy Canadian did manage to pick up some strings of information from the other's constant blathering, which was quite amazing looking at the rate he was talking.
His accent was odd, quite heavily German (even though the other was insistent it was Prussian, dammit) and it was pleasant to listen to. Matthew was quite happy to just simply let him talk away, as he learnt about Gilbert's stuffy grandfather, who had left him to look after his brother who sounded like he was taking care of Gilbert, he learnt about the basement Gilbert lurked in, he learnt about Slipknot, a band from the nineties.
"Well, this is where we part, Birdie!"
"...eh?"
That damn nickname. Matthew opened his mouth to say his farewell, but was immediately stopped by a single pale finger as Gilbert rummaged in his pocket with his other hand, pulling out a scrap of paper and somehow managing to write on it. Eventually he dropped the pen he was using and had to bend down to pick it up, leaving Matthew wondering why when sex gods had piercings in their lips it was damn attractive. Gilbert straightened again and grinned at him, slipping the piece of paper into the Canadian's hoodie pocket and waving mockingly before crossing the street.
"...eh?"
He repeated himself as he watched the other disappear into the traffic with wide eyes. Matthew wondered if his brain had been short-circuited, as he blinked and tried to regain some semblance of cognitive ability. He stood on the corner of the street, cars racing past him as if they were fleeing something frightening. One might have even crashed near him. Matthew was oblivious to all of this, however. Because he could've sworn...
That Gilbert Beilschmidt had just given him his number.
### ####
The next few days were spent in a dreamy daze, which didn't go down well with his university lecturers, or it wouldn't have if they'd even noticed his complete inattention to everything. Even if he failed, no one really cared anyway. He was practically invisible.
So, as such, Matthew Williams became what was known as a 'space-case', being often unresponsive to others and failing to hand in work. He got away with it somehow, due to some remarkable kind of luck...or otherwise. No one really knew for sure, but it was almost supernatural, how he was unnoticed as a nerd and unnoticed as a distracted rebel.
If by some miracle he was asked about his behaviour, his mind would immediately slip to Gilbert and he'd get embarrassed, confirming the rumours about him being seen with a punk. Some people were even assuming they were dating, and the wildest rumours involved marriage and sex in the street. It was preposterous, some of these ridiculous rumours.
But really, in a dark corner of his mind, somewhere unseen by all, he knew that wasn't what was bothering him at all. Something had been tipped off of balance in the world, and it was slowly falling. It was still a long way until it hit the ground and burned, but the minor disturbance of the trip was the simple beginning.
### ####
"Hey, Mattie!"
"...mm?"
"What's this?"
Matthew turned unfocused-looking violet eyes from the open window to his brother, who was currently sprawled out on his bed, and the Canadian was once again thankful that his roommate was out of the country. The boy had a tendency to kick Alfred's ass for the smallest things whenever he was around.
Alfred grinned at him, waving a very familiar piece of crumpled paper, and once again he was struck by how disturbing it was that they looked so alike, because that predatory expression was something he would never wear. It unsettled him; how similar they were in appearance, and yet polar opposites when it came to personality. And, most likely, taste in women- or men, in Matthew's case.
"This your girl's number, bro?"
"I- er..."
"She's got some hella bad handwriting. She hot?"
Matthew's eye twitched. He hadn't told his brother about his preferences for the male gender, and he didn't plan to anytime soon. What he needed right now was bravado, and lots of it. He needed to fake it, and fake it good-
But wait, why was he even admitting to anything?! Gilbert and he weren't going out, he just had a really unhealthy crush on the older punk man that he'd seen like, once. While he frantically deliberated in the chaos of his mind, Alfred had typed the number into his own phone and slid it away while his only slightly younger brother went bright red and realised he wasn't getting away with not answering.
"Nice ass?"
"...maybe."
Alfred grinned again at the unfortunate concession. "When're you meeting her again?"
"...the place I got hired at."
"You mean that weird place I got that mail from? Epic. You move fast, little bro!"
Matthew turned back to the window, not willing to discuss his romantic situation any more with his, frankly quite nosy, brother. Even if the blonde was the reason he'd gotten the accursed job in the first place, Alfred was still a terrible hoser at the best of times and he really didn't want to deal with it.
It was snowing outside, and he found himself thinking of Gilbert's hair. When he'd looked at it inside, it hadn't been white. More of a platinum blonde. Maybe his hair was just really light, and it just appeared to be white or something. It didn't really explain his eye colour, though. Was he albino?
"Why don't you call her now?"
"I don't want to. It's just three days, Alfred."
"Oh, I get it. You're playing hard to get."
Matthew mulled with resignation that he could come up with a million things to say to Alfred, and the man would still find a way to ridicule him somehow. Therefore, he turned his attention into his own mind as he thought, still not aware of the darkness watching him, a small smirk on their face as the Canadian waved off his brother. Soon enough, he would notice.
All that happened now was to wait.
### ####
Translations;
Merde- Shit (French) ((I have this headcanon that Mattie uses French when he wants bad words))
Names;
Matthew Williams- Canada
Heracles Karpusi- Greece
Sadik Adnan- Turkey