There comes a time in every competitor's life where things get too great for them to handle. Matthew Bonnefoy, a high school senior, was by far no exception to this rule. He did have a calm, passive demeanor that made him get forgotten at times, but he didn't mind. Though there was a certain time where he would completely neglect that large portion of himself. Two times, to be precise. When Bonnefoy was out on the ice, he fought with all he could. It got to the point when people wouldn't play Hockey with him anymore because they went home with bruises and the occasional broken bone.

But one thing his brother loved as well, was competing with his step-brother. Their parents, Arthur and Francis, got married when they were young so the actual division of being non-blood related wasn't there. Even if both his step-'mother' and -brother forgot about him very often and made him do chores, his Papa was always there to make it better. Wether it was telling them to do it themselves or simply doing it he never let his Mattie lift a finger. Though Matthew did do some cleaning, but none more then what was necessary.

In the Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence, there was a frozen lake in the backyard. Matthew absolutely loved having it and maintaining the slick ice. Matthew did have a lot of grace on the frozen pond, when he was only with himself (which was often) he would do some figureskating like he was now. That was until Alfred came out, flailing his arms around,

"DUDE!" he cried brightly, trotting over to the other, causing Matthew to falter and fall right on his rump. He whimpered a little, rubbing his back and tried to say something before he was rudely cut off, "Wanna play hockey now?" he asked excitedly. Normally the smaller would have eagerly accepted this, but Arthur scolded him (when Francis wasn't home of course) and threatened him after Alfred had to go to the hospital with a broken wrist. That wasn't even Matthew's fault! Kumajiro ran out onto the ice and Alfred fell! If he was going to get in trouble with something, he might as well have done it right? But he shook his head, standing up and fighting for balance for a few moments,

"You know we can't, Alfred.." he pointed out quietly, blushing lightly and squeaking as Alfred hit him on the back, causing him to skate forward and fall on his bum again.

"HAHAHA!" he laughed brightly, "Well, I don't care!" Probably because he wouldn't be the one in trouble, "I want to play anyway man!" It was the second time that the French-Canadian got up that he came to a very good revelation and ended up grinning brightly.

"Lets play a game called 'curling'." Matthew offered. This seemed to capture dear brother's attention as he did fall silent into listening for once, "It's really simple. You throw a curling rock on the ice and sweep a path for it. Sounds fun eh?" he asked happily. Alfred crinkled his face. How did that sound like fun? But well, it was better then watching Matthew prance around like a fairy on the ice.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeh...okay." he agreed after a while looking at the broom forced in his hand and when he looked back up, Matthew was gone. "Micheal?" he called, looking around, "Maaaaaar~shall!" he called louder, huffing lightly. Where the hell did he go in such a short time? That kid was a shadow, man! He took in a breath again to call out before Matthew materialized in front of him,

"I had to get the spray-chalk and rock." he pointed out, grunting as he dropped the heavy fourty-pound curling rock. Alfred's mind wandered again as Matthew went to the ice to spray on the goals for the curling. Well...that was a huge ass heavy rock! He was really shocked that ol' whats-his-name could even carry it as far as he had! And there were even a couple more nearer to the rink. How strange.

Alfred couldn't get the hang of it for quite some time. He kept on throwing it wrong, couldn't sweep it in the right directions, and it'd always fall flat of the closest mark. Matthew thought it'd be fruitless to even bother until Alfred actually had it. Then, it was game on. Matthew was really good at curling (better at Hockey though) but Alfred...he was a natural. When the game was finished, Alfred was cheering brightly,

"YES! MOTHAH FUCKAH I WOOOON~~~!" Alfred shrieked. He never won a game of ice hockey (or roller hockey for that matter!) with his brother. Matthew was quite skilled and now he got beat at his own game. Though the blonde took it hard, staring at Alfred as he pranced and danced around happily. Alfred's victory was cut short by Matthew.

He picked up one of the curling rocks and screamed angry French as he swung the hard granite to the other's comparably soft head. But when Matthew opened his eyes, he realised Alfred was staring at him with wide eyes. He missed...he missed! He didn't want to miss! "W-Woah man...calm down...its just a game.." he said, backing up only to fall on the ice, sliding a few feet back. Matthew growled, glairing at his brother,

"Vous petit salaud!" He screamed, throwing the curling rock as hard as he could. It went whizzing down the ice and into Alfred's side, which allotted a loud scream, a nasty crack, and blood staining on the ice. Matthew smirked widely. Goal. But what does that mean?

Time to go for another goal.

He picked up his second rock and did the same, this one cracking his brother's shoulder out of place, shattering the bone. He giggled lightly, watching the blood and coughs erupt from the other who was on the floor. But he quickly changed those giggles to scared tears as he heard Arthur and Francis come out of the house.

Arthur was in a panic as he ran to the ice, immediately looking at Matthew,

"What did you do you bloody wanker!" he barked, "I told you not to do this anymore! So help me I'll-" he was cut off when Francis pushed him away, holding his own son tightly. Arthur ignored those 'bloody Frogs' as he went to Alfred, holding his head in his lap, "Alfred...love, we'll get you to the hospital...' he assured the bleeding boy. "And we'll kick Micheal out." he assured. Francis frowned deeply at this, crossing his arms as he kissed Matthew's cheek,

"Matthieu didn't do anything. Alfred is just a klutz, right mon cher?" he asked his little French son who cried crocodile for his brother,

"We...We were curling...and he slipped in front of my goal...!" he choked out, which was actually believable on both parties. Arthur wasted no time picking up his son and running to the car,

"You two stay home." He commanded, and that was obeyed. Francis held his son tightly against him, holding him and cuddling him lightly. He whispered soft French reassurances, but they fell on def ears. Matthew was looking passed Francis' shoulder, smirking widely as he saw his brother's broken body get loaded into the car. Victory wasn't sweet for Alfred, was it?

Fin.

Hey again! I'm back...again. Ahahahahahaa...well here's the promised Chapter! Dedicated to dear sweet Audacitte for giving me the inspiration and motivation to violently attack America with a fourty pound graphite curling rock!

Also~ Thanks to my dear friend Sam for telling me not to just hit Alfred in the head. It made it so much better.

ALSO thanks to my dear, lovely friend Sixta for uploading these bad boys to Fanfiction!

And also to my readers! Please comment, they make me so happy!