A/N: Okay here you guys go. I'm updating faster now! YAY! Anyway. I feel really awful about taking so long between chapters to update up until now. I promise that it's not my fault. I've just had so much to do and It's hard to find time to type with my brother hogging the computer all the time and especially since my life was taken over completely by marching band. However the season is over soon so I will definitely be updating much faster. Well I'll try to at least. I still need to focus on getting good grades. Oh and I forgot to mention in last chapter, whoever is the lucky person to be reviewer 10 gets a one shot from me. Same rules as the one for the 100threviewer, I'll do anything except for smut, and incest. Any pairing you want, but as I said before, no incest, with the exception if it's a Germancest with brotherly love. Sibling love I can do, incest no. Anyway I'm going to stop babbling and let you get onto the story that I'm sure you've all been eagerly waiting for.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, Canada, Prussia, or any of the other character (Except for those not belonging to Hetalia like Matthew and Gilbert's biological parents). All characters belong to the glorious HimaPapa.

Well here you go then, chapter 17. :)

Chapter XVII

~Time Skip~

~One Week Later~

Gilbert's POV

It's the night before the big art show and I'm laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I've spent the past week trying desperately to search for some kind of clue to what pushed Birdie past his limit. So far, I've found out nothing. I tried going to Birdie's house, but he's locked himself in his art studio in the attic. I've sat for countless hours with my back against the studio's paint splattered door, trying to get him to speak to me, but to no avail. His parents told me that he won't come out for meals or school. They have to use an old dumbwaiter to give food to him, and he always waits until everyone else is asleep to use the shower. They did tell me, however, that he has said that he will be going to the school's art show. Apparently. that's what he's been doing the whole time: working on his painting for the show.

I'm going to confront him tomorrow at the show, but I need to make sure I do so in a way that won't make him run away from me. I know exactly how to do it, too. The night I saw Birdie in the woods, after I went home, I sat at my desk. As I thought about what I was going to do to help him, a tune came to me. I quickly grabbed some blank sheet music out of my bag and started to write it down. It just kept coming, flowing from my mind, down my arm and through my hand to the page. Before I knew it, I had a full song written out, lyrics and all. I had read over it, and a small smile and had formed on my lips. It was perfect. I've showed it to Rodreich, too, and he approved it for the show.

I talked to Birdie's parents, and they promised me that they will make sure that he's there when I sing it. Even Alfred agreed to help. He said that as much as he hates me, even he, the one who couldn't see the elephant in the room if it was sitting on him, can see that I make Matthew happy and it hurts him to see his brother in so much pain without me.

I wrote the song for him, and I know that he will know that it's for him. I just hope that he won't run away when he hears it. I want to help Mein liebe so badly, but I can't do that if he keeps running away from me when ever I draw near.

I look at my guitar case, which is leaning against the wall at the foot of my bed. My black and red guitar, the one mein parents gave to me before they passed away, is inside, waiting for tomorrow, where it will play in what will probably be the most important performance of my whole life.

I stand and pick up the case, returning to my place on the bed and setting it in front of me. Taped onto the case are photos of people who are important to me or close to my heart. If I want to make someone proud, or want to always remember them, I put a picture of them on my case. There's a photo of me and Lud from when we were little. Right next to it is one of our parents from right after Lud was born with us at the hospital. Mein mutti is in the hospital bed looking tired and worn out, but she is smiling softly with joy as she holds a sleeping Lud in her arms. Mein vater is standing next to her with and arm around her shoulder, and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed on her other side, grinning wide and wearing a t-shirt that says, "World's Most Awesome Großerbruder." There's one of me with Old Man Fritz in which his arm is around me as we smile for the camera in nice suits. I'm holding my black violin that he gave me as a gift after playing in my first recital since he'd started teaching me how to play it. The next one is a formal portrait of me, Lud, Opa, Roderiech, and Elizavetta.

Lastly, and most importantly, there are two photos of me and Matthew. One is a multi-shot strip from the photo booths in the mall. The second is one that Elizavetta took of when we were having a private moment. My arms are around his waist, and he is pressed against me. His head is bowed, and a light blush paints his cheeks as I kiss his forehead lovingly. This one is my favorite out of all of the ones on my case. I'd gotten Elizavetta to give me three copies of it; one for my guitar case, one to put on my actual guitar, and one to keep in my wallet.

I stare at the photos for a long while before opening the case and taking out my guitar. I carefully tune and clean it, for what must be the third time today. I play through the song a few times, wanting to make sure that it's absolutely perfect. I have this feeling that I'm only going to have one chance to show Birdie how much I love him and that I will always love him and be there for him, regardless of anything he goes through. I'll be there to support him no matter what. I need to show Birdie how much he means to me. I just pray that my song is going to be enough to get him to stop and listen to what I have to say. Mein gott, I pray that it will be enough.

Matthew's POV

I put down my paintbrush and take a step back to survey my work. I just placed the finishing touches on my painting for the art show. I let a small smile play across my lips as I gaze at the result of all of my hard work. It's perfect.

I pack away my paints and place the large canvas in front of a fan to dry the paint faster. It's acrylic, so it should be dry by tomorrow.

I sit down on the make shift bed in the corner of the room, made up of blankets and pillows. I look at my arms. I don't have my hoodie on, not wanting to ruin it by getting paint on it. This exposes my bandages for anyone to see.

I've cut each day since then. It kills me each time I do. I made a promise to Gilbert that I wouldn't, that I would call him whenever I felt the urge. I just can't stop, though. The guilt of breaking that promise weights heavily on my heart, growing heavier with each passing day, pushing me to repeat my actions again and again. I can feel myself being pulled further and further under each time. I continue to hold out, however, not letting myself end it until after the art show, knowing that I'd be able to have peace of mind if I could see Gilbert sing one last time before I go.

Tomorrow I'll wrap up my painting carefully, ensuring that it won't get damaged on the way to the art show. I'll dress in nice clothes. I'll go downstairs and make pancakes for everyone and make sure that I remember to give some to Kumataco (BETA NOTE: "Kumataco"? Can't tell if typo or purposeful...)one last time. Then I'll go to the art show with my parents and Al.

They announce the winners for the visual arts department first, music is second, followed by theatre and then dace. I'll stay until after Gil sings. I promise d him that I'd be there to watch him perform. I've already broken one promise to him by cutting, and I don't intend to break a second.

After Gil performs, I'll slip away to the roof. Gil and I would sit there together at lunch everyday of the two weeks we were able to be together in peace. There, surrounded by memories of happy times spent with mon amour, I'll end it. I'll leave the letter I wrote, addressed to Gil, beside me. I hope that whoever finds my body will make sure that he gets it. I don't want to die without leaving some kind of explanation of my actions behind for him. I just hope that Gil will understand that is isn't his fault, that this was my choice, and mine alone. I don't want him to feel any guilt over me. I want him to know that I love him, and I always will. I'll make sure to heaven, or well, wherever people who commit suicide go when they die.

I lay back on the makeshift bed. Everything's ready for tomorrow. My painting's done, my outfit's set aside, the letter is written, and a razor is placed aside with the outfit. All that's left to do is wait for tomorrow to come. As I relax, my mind fills with thoughts of Gilbert. I feel horrible for betraying him. I want nothing more then to run to him and have him hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I can't do that, though; I don't deserve it. Gilbert deserves to have someone who isn't so broken and who will stay true to their promises. I hope that after I'm gone, he'll forget me, move on, and find someone new to love. I'm not worth remembering, nor am I worthy of his love. I want him to find someone who is. I love Gilbert with all of my heart and I always will, but he should love someone better than me.

I eventually drift off to sleep, my mind playing through memories of happier times with Gil.

~Time skip to the Morning~

Gilbert's POV

I open my eyes and just stare at my ceiling for a bit. Today's the day, my last chance to try and get through to Birdie. I don't know why, but I have this feeling in my gut that is telling me that if I fail today that I won't get another chance. I pray that my gut is wrong. I don't want to lose mein Birdie. He means more to me than anyone else has in mein entire life. Hell, Birdie means more to me than my own life. I'd die for him. I would give up my life in a moment if it would save my Birdie.

I get out of bed and get dressed in my good black skinny jeans, a white V-neck t-shirt, a grey vest, my purple doc martins, and my black fingerless gloves with a small, red maple leaf sewn into the back of the left glove, right below my thumb. Birdie gave them to me the day before I fond him bleeding in the woods.

Next to the gloves on my dresser is a small velvet box. Inside of it is an iron cross, identical to the one I wear. The only difference between the two is that engraved on the back are the words "Birdie, ich liebe dich. Je' taime. Always." I was going to give it to Birdie the day after the incident, because it was our one month anniversary. Birdie locked himself in his studio, though, and I never got the change to give it to him. I hope that I can do so today. There's been a tradition in my family for centuries to give the one you love an iron cross. Supposedly my mother's side of the family is descended from King Frederick the Great of Prussia, which is where the tradition began.

I pick up the box and stare at it for a moment before placing it gently in my pocket. I pick up my guitar case. After double-checking that my guitar is tuned properly, something I tend to do when I'm nervous before an important performance, I head downstairs and go to the kitchen, where Lud and Opa are eating. There's a plate set out for me. I sit down and attempt to eat some of my breakfast, yet I find myself unable to stomach more than a few bites.

Opa sighs when he sees me not eating. He and West both know about Matthew locking himself in his studio, and they can see how much the worry is doing to me. I haven't' been able to sleep or eat properly all week, since that night.

"Gilbert, he will be okay. He knows that you love him and you want to help. He will listen," Opa says, placing a reassuring hand upon my shoulder. I look up at him and give him a grateful smile.

After we finish eating, we clean up and pile into the car. There's no school today as the whole day is taken up by the art show. Once we arrive, I do to the music room to sign in and drop off my guitar. It'll stay there while everyone is looking at the gallery. They won't announce winners for music and let us perform until later. Until then, we're allowed to go look at the art with our families.

I quickly go through signing in and leaving my guitar. I want to look for Matthew. Hopefully, I'll be able to find him before they start to announce the art winners. I say a quick, silent prayer to the souls of mein mutti und Fritz. I ask them for help und guidance in finding mein liebe. If anyone can help me, it's them. Even though they've passed away. I have always known that they and mein vatti have been watching over me und West from heaven as angels. I know that they'll help me somehow. With that knowledge in my mind, I head off to find mein vögelchan.

Matthew's POV

Waking up the next morning, I get out of my makeshift bed. I quickly get dressed in my dark blue skinny jeans, the long sleeved t-shirt that I bought with Gil that has the polar bear and maple leaves on it, and his leather jacket with the Prussian Eagle on the back. I'd never gotten around to giving it back to him after our first date. He always seemed totally fine with that though, making sure to comment on how cute I look in it, whenever I wore it. On my feet are my worn red converse.

After I'm dressed, I check if my painting is dry or not. When I find that it is, I carefully wrap it in bubble wrap and blankets, making sure that it's safe and secure so that it won't get damaged on the way to the art show. I carry it downstairs, barely able to fit it through the doorways, and set it by the front door.

I then head to the kitchen, getting started on making pancakes for my family. I want to have pancakes one last time, and I also want to make sure that today is special for them. I love them, and I want their last memories of their time with me to be happy ones. As I cook, the smell of pancakes fills the house. I set the table, putting coffee and tea at Alfred and Arthur's seats, respectively. I make sure to set the newspaper at Arthur's seat and a coffee at Francis's. Just as I finish and go back to watch the pancakes and flip the first batch off the pan, everyone else begins to wake up and make their way downstairs, drawn by the smell of pancakes.

Francis if the first one down. He looks a little surprised to see the table set already. When he sees me standing at the stove, he breaks into a joy-filled yet gentle smile. He walks up and hugs me tightly.

Placing a kiss on the top of my head, he speaks in a quiet voice, "It's so good to have you back, mon petite garçon. You had me and your father so worried. I'm glad you're better now, though."

He pecks my cheek, goes to the table, and sits down. As he takes a sip of his coffee, his eyebrows shoot up.

"Mattieu! Did you put vanilla in this!?"

I smile. On special occasions, Francis likes to put a small touch of vanilla extract in his coffee.

I nod and respond, "Oui. I thought today should be special. You know, with the art show and all."

He chuckles, "That it is. I can't wait to see your painting. You've been hiding it away in your studio this past week, and I'm so excited to see the final product. I shall have to make extra sure to get a good seat when they announce the winners."

"Are you talking to yourself, Frog!?" Arthur yells, entering the kitchen and not noticing me at first, as he's facing the table with his back to me.

"Non, mon doux Anglais. I was talking to Mattieu," Francis replies, an amussed smile on his lips at the Englishman's disheveled hair and rumpled shirt. I find myself unable to suppress a small giggle which manages to escape my lips.

Arthur whips around to face me when he hears my giggle. He rushes up to me and hugs me tighter than Francis did, throwing me off guard. Arthur is definitely not one for big displays of affection, so needless to say, a hug like this from him took me by surprise.

"Don't you dare scare us like that ever again, young man. You have absolutely no idea how worried we've been," he says, trying to sound angry but it's easy to see that he's really relieved.

I hug him back and reply, "I'm sorry, Dad. I just got so caught up in my art piece. I didn't want to leave it."

He sighs and releases me, giving me a smile, "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I won't," I reply, giving him a smile in return.

Arthur nods and straightens his shirt and tie, sitting down at the table to read the newspaper and sip the tea that I set out for him. There's a silence for a bit as I give them each some pancakes before cooking more. If you're wondering why I'm making so many, well, let's just say Al has one hell of a stomach.

Al comes down not too long after Arthur. Alfred is kind of like a zombie in the mornings before he has his coffee, so he goes straight to the mug I set out for him. It's his superhero one I got him for his birthday a few years back, covered in the symbols of different heroes. After he is somewhat coherent, he looks around to see the whole table set and smell the pancakes. When he turns around, he sees me standing at the stove cooking more.

He stares at me for a minute, not making a sound. He walks towards me silently, and without saying a single word, he wraps his arms around me. He just stands there for a while, holding me. I hug him back, despite being totally shocked by his silence. I had expected him to yell and pounce on me, so this silence is extremely concerning.

"Mattie…please don't' do that again. It's not cool to make the hero worry like that. I know that we're not brothers by blood. but you're still really important to me," he says, his voice as quiet as mine is normally.

I smile and hug him back. "Sorry, Al."

He releases me and sits down at the table. I place the rest of the pancakes down and sit down with everyone else to eat my own pile of the fluffiness drenched in liquid amber heaven. We eat peacefully, occasionally chatting aboot different things. It's nice; the perfect way to spend the last bit of quality time with my family. Once we finish, we quickly clean up. We head out, piling into Al's pick up truck, since it's the only car big enough to hold the painting. I sit in the bed of the truck with my painting to make sure nothing bad happens to it on the way to the school. The others get in the front, and we head off.

I begin to grow more apprehensive the closer we get to the school. My stomach ties itself into knots at the thought of running into Gil. I wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes, not after having spent the last week breaking my promise to him over and over again. I'll have to do my best to avoid him until he performs. I'll definitely watch him sing; I can't break that promise, too.

After that, I'll slip away to the roof, where I'll finally be able to free myself from this overbearing guilt. I reach into the pocket of his leather jacket and finger the envelope in it. Inside is my letter to Gil.

A sense of calm seems to wash over me as the school comes into view. There's no going back now; this is the point of no return. Somehow, knowing that once I walk through those doors, I won't come back out alive calms me. My suffering is almost over. I take a deep breath as the car comes to a stop and climb out of the back, ready to die.

A/N: Hallo mein lieblings! Oh yeah! I got two chapters done so fast! I feel so accomplished! I am so happy. I'm on a roll and I hope that it won't stop anytime soon. Thank you to those who've already reviewed chapter 16. I love your reviews. They are truly what keep me writing. I hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as I do. Matthew having sweet moments with his family is just so touching. I love it. Well I hope that you enjoyed it.

As always a word from my fantastic Beta Sakura 414:

So... I keep catching musical references in this story... Thankfully, according to the remainder of Wolf-chan's note, I'm not crazy this time! :D *pets Gilbird* Anyway, my theatre geek-ness aside, thank you all for continuing to read and support Wolf-chan's work!

Again. You are all freaking amazing and deserve Gilbird's. In fact. Anyone who can spot the Phantom of the Opera Reference in this chapter get's their own little Gilbird. Enjoy searching.

I have nothing left to say so, Until next time mein lieblings, Wolf-chan out.