Three more targets later, Matthew couldn't feel more comfortable and confident. His backpack was much lighter now he was wearing more clothes. The stickiness between layers wasn't exactly comfortable, but it spurred him on in a sick sort of way that had him thinking 'What did it matter?' Some sick part of him enjoyed the aesthetic of being covered in blood as if it were a testament to how far he'd fallen.

He couldn't wait to see the aftermath of tonight. When the police realised that this series of killings was committed by the Trail Killer. It was wrong to find this so entertaining. But it wasn't like he had any other hobbies. This consumed his life and was all he lived for.

He wandered through the streets as he reflected on tonight's inspired streak. His mood had certainly recovered and he was endlessly entertained by churning over new thoughts related to what he had done. He wondered if any of his victims from tonight had been discovered. It was a possibility considering he didn't take any effort to lure them away to someplace secluded. But it shouldn't set off alarm bells immediately. So far, if he struck, it was once a night. They would be convinced that the body they found would be the only one. Until they found the others... maybe they'd be convinced it was the work of a copycat coincidentally striking on the same night... until they noticed that each corpse had the same signature marking implying that this was the work of only one individual...

He was sure the smile on his face was foul just thinking about the autopsies. He didn't bother hiding it, having put on a plain mask for that reason. It probably didn't hide amusement from his eyes, but no one really looked at him anyway.

He was on a roll tonight and he had no intention of stopping until he was satisfied.

He analysed his surroundings as he sauntered through the quiet streets, the only sound coming from a running river. It wasn't that late at night and a lot of businesses were only just closing. But this area wasn't known for its nightlife. Matthew was sure he would still find someone around anyway. Someone stupid enough to not have scurried home or maybe someone with nothing to go home to.

Finding someone was easy enough. When he couldn't see anyone he took the footbridge over the river and stalled when he saw a dark silhouette standing in the middle of it, leaning over the edge with their head hung low. Matthew almost shook his head at how easy this one would be. Just another tally to add to tonight's total. He glanced around and did his routine checks. No witnesses, no cameras... And, as an added bonus, the lights on the bridge were faulty. The only light working was at the end of the bridge, plunging the middle into darkness.

Where was the self-preservation? Didn't they know that there was a killer about? Though lurking in the darkness probably freaked out others who were more street smart.

Matthew shrugged it off. As long as there were people who thought they were invincible and went out at night, he could keep doing what he was doing. It was the only thing he really cared about anymore.

As Matthew approached he could see the person with more clarity. The man didn't seem to notice or didn't seem to feel the incoming threat. Instead, he threw his head back and Matthew could see he was drinking. How many victims were going to be drunks? The man finished his can before dropping it to the ground. He kicked the can beside a box, which turned out to be a case as he grabbed another and Matthew heard the telltale hiss of another can being opened.

The man must've been in his own world because he didn't notice when Matthew was standing right beside him.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asked politely, eagerly waiting to lunge. The man jolted to look at him, spilling his drink all down his chin and shirt with one clumsy movement. Matthew might've found it amusing... if he wasn't staring at a familiar face...

Fuck, this was one of Alfred's friends. What were the chances?

"Si, I'm fineee," Antonio chuckled and wiped the mess with his sleeve, sighing as he did. It didn't escape Matthew's notice of how slurred his words were. "This'sss embarrassing."

The chances were low. There was nearly one million people in the greater area and city combined and no matter how much of a social butterfly Alfred was, he couldn't possibly have that many friends.

"It's okay, eh? I'm not judging," Matthew said reassuringly.

"Awwww, thanks. You're suuuuuch a good person," Antonio said, "Why's there so many good persons...?"

Matthew noted that half of the box had been emptied and if the crushed cans surrounding it were anything to go by, they were all drunk at this spot. How long had Antonio been here?

"Aren't you a good person?"

At face value, he was simply keeping the conversation going but he had a feeling something was going on.

"Maybe?" Antonio shrugged and finished his drink. A logical and concerned part of Matthew wondered what the percentage was. But the apathetic and disconnected part knew it wasn't his problem. Even though he was on the fence about whether or not he'd kill Alfred's friend - If he chose to then it didn't matter how much Antonio drank.

Antonio laughed sharply before cutting himself off and staring down into the water.

"I'm not."

Then he shrugged like he didn't care, leaned forward and almost hit his head on the railing. Matthew cringed at the uncoordinated display and watched as Antonio took something out of the case. Inside he could see a large bottle lying down but in the dark, he couldn't see much else, like if it was alcohol or if there was any liquid still in there. But considering it didn't have a cap...

Antonio pulled out a clear takeaway container and stumbled as he pushed it towards Matthew, who inched back at the other's approach.

"Here, take this," Antonio insisted as he tried to grab Matthew's arm.

"No, you keep it," Matthew physically evaded.

"Please take it. I don't want it to go to waste," Antonio's voice sounded strange as he tried to laugh.

"It's yours, save it for tomorrow."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I- uh my fridge is broken," Antonio stumbled over his words and held the box out. "Please, it will make me feel like I've done a good deed if I can feed a stranger."

"Fine," Matthew took the box to make him back off. "Thank you."

The box was warm and the inside of the lid had droplets clinging to it. He couldn't really tell what exactly it was in the low light, but he had a funny feeling it was pasta.

"I couldn't eat it," Antonio mumbled as he continued drinking. "It tasted wrong. There's nothing wrong with it! I'm ah... just picky."

Unknowing how to respond to that, Matthew just nodded and shoved the box into his backpack. Instead of reaching for his switchblade, he clasped his hands together and squeezed.

He didn't have any urge to kill Antonio. Sure, he wanted to kill as many as possible tonight, but he told himself it was for the best if he left Alfred's friends be... for now. Who knows how his brother would react when he was already upset and unstable.

But because he was drunk out of his mind, Antonio clearly had lost all of his sensibilities. And because Matthew was being honest with himself, he knew he just wanted to dig for information about his brother's friends.

"Thanks," Matthew, paranoid, refrained from leaning on the railing. "Were you not hungry...?"

"Yeah, sorry," Antonio chuckled too quickly. "Yeah, but I don't wanna bother a stranger about it."

Funny, Antonio gave him the impression that he didn't mind who he was talking to, he could just talk all the same. His personality was consistent and never had to be altered to appeal to anyone. He was genuine and that was enough. Everyone just liked him for who he was. Matthew never disliked him, Antonio was always just friendly to him. The only thing he had against Antonio was a distaste for how desperate the man must be to try and amuse Lovino, wasting his efforts on someone who never appreciated what he had. Matthew thought Antonio was an idiot.

"I already said I'm not judging. And I'm just a stranger to you, it might make you feel better and you won't have to see me ever again, eh?"

Never mind the fact Antonio might not even remember it.

"Yeah, that is veeeery true. But I'm not all here-" Antonio snapped his fingers in front of his own face "-so I should probably do what I know is right." His pleasant face slipped and his tone became sour and spiteful. "Like jump off this bridge."

Eh?!

Matthew's brow furrowed as he stared into Antonio's lazy and unfocused eyes. After a moment of thoughtful swaying, Antonio screwed his eyes shut tightly and smacked a hand over his face.

"Ah, that was a joke. I know it probably wasn't funny very - ah, very funny, but it's a joke with me, si? I get it. It doesn't mean anything." Antonio attempted to clarify with his eyes still shut. Why was he pretending he wasn't blackout drunk? "Dark humour. It'sssss not really landing well, is it? Ah, do you want a drink?"

"Yeah, I'll have a drink," As long as he didn't leave it around with his DNA on it, he should be fine. And accepting it kept the conversation going...

Antonio clumsily handed him a drink and Matthew was careful to take it. It spat as he opened the can and he pulled his mask down to take a sip. It was too dark to see the label on the drink, but he could predominately taste cola. He pulled the mask back up and analysed Antonio, who hadn't grabbed himself a drink and was now staring over the edge of the bridge.

"Thanks."

"Ah, of course," Antonio said distractedly.

"Are you alright?"

"If I have any more, I am going to throw up," Antonio was gripping the railing as he pressed right against it. Matthew was surprised that he hadn't thrown up already considering how much he'd drank... He was due to throw up soon.

"You should ah, take my drinks," Antonio said as he teetered forward and tried to laugh. It came out bitter. "I think I've had enough and I won't need them."

Antonio gave him the impression he'd give someone the clothes off of his back if he believed someone needed them more... Matthew understood, he used to do so much for everyone, desperately trying to keep their attention and make them like him. If people were happy with him and he kept them happy... He felt sick. He felt angry and sick and liquid spilled from the can as he clenched it and it ran down his arm-

But the days of bending over backwards for nothing were over. He used to blame himself but then he realised it was never his fault. He couldn't care less if people were unhappy with him. At least if they were unhappy with him then they noticed him instead of just dismissive and brushing past, and that was something he never wanted to experience again.

But something was still bothering him. Antonio was only being held up by the railing at this point and with each passing moment it became evident that Matthew had something in common with him. Because with each passing moment, what Matthew recognised to be a facade, was slowly and surely slipping out of Antonio's grasp.

It was impressive Antonio was able to keep it up for so long despite being so drunk, but maybe it was just desperation. Or he didn't know who else he'd be without it.

Maybe Matthew did understand why Antonio sucked up to Lovino so much because Matthew did the same damn thing to everyone else.

He felt sorry for Antonio, but feelings of confusion and bitter dismissal arose. Why the hell did Antonio need a facade?

He made it clear that he had no interest in burdening a stranger... but... Matthew figured it'd be worth a shot as he stuffed his mask in his pocket. At the very least, it would be easier to manipulate and guilt an answer.

"Antonio, what's going on?" Matthew stepped closer and Antonio's face morphed into recognition.

"Alfred you-" his face broke. "Thank God you're okay. You weren't at the restaurant? Why-? Mierda, what are you doing here."

Antonio gripped the railing and looked down, his head swivelling between his apparent friend and the river below.

"Why are you here?" He asked so desperately it took Matthew off guard.

"I- I was just taking a walk. To get my mind off things, eh? Because-"

Antonio moved quickly as he stuck his head over the railing and began retching. As he caught his breath he steadily brought himself up and didn't bother wiping his mouth as he fixed Matthew with a stare. Matthew fought through the intensity to not break eye contact or stumble over words to explain himself like he would've done once upon a time. Alfred never did that and he never had to.

Finally, Antonio sighed with what seemed to be relief and the tension in his body drained, his posture slumping as he leaned on the railing.

"Thank God, I worried the worst... stupidly, I see. You come uh, have come at a good time, you know that? You know what it feels like so I probably don't need to explain but I really want to anyway. I can't stop spiralling, amigo. It's times like these... I don't feel as strong as I should be."

Antonio rubbed his sleeve aggressively against his face but didn't stop talking, his words becoming muffled.

"I feel disgusting," Antonio said with an air of amusement that didn't match the words, then looked sadly at 'Alfred'. "You do a good job at pretending to be strong but... you wouldn't jump, would you? Even if you really, really wanted to...?"

Matthew was careful to not let his disbelief show on his face. Of course Alfred wouldn't jump! He was stubborn and believed that his influence held much more weight than it really did so if he had a problem he'd try to solve it instead of getting caught up and running from it. All of that was evident in his pointless attempts at becoming a vigilante.

But Matthew still wondered if this was a part of what he was missing. Why would Antonio ask that? Sure, Matthew knew Alfred had been sad and distressed ever since Arthur died and with each new death he started to react worse and worse, but Alfred wouldn't jump from a bridge-!

Did Antonio only ask that because Matthew was standing here, as 'Alfred', and the thought just happened to cross his mind?

Even if Alfred had those thoughts or feelings - which Matthew doubted because his brother was toxically optimistic - he was certain Alfred wouldn't even entertain them. His brother was stubborn and he wouldn't die before making the Trail Killer pay. Matthew knew that his brother would sooner risk becoming a victim of the Trail Killer than becoming a suicide statistic. He'd rather go out, doing something because he believed in because from the youngest age Alfred had always delusionally believed that his presence was great and he could make a difference.

But how should Matthew answer? With Antonio's question, everything fell into place and he knew why Antonio was here and asking that.

A nagging urgency told Matthew to be careful.

"I don't know..." Matthew replied slowly. "I don't think I would."

"Yeahhh, I cannot picture you actually going through with it. You just think about it and hate yourself for it... can I tell you the truth? Well, I know we promised each other to tell the truth so I guess there's no point in asking but... I'm ashamed to say it. Alfred... I was going to do it," Antonio chuckled without a smile, "Thinking about it isn't enough and every day I wake up I can't take it anymore. I just can't stay here and keep living how I am."

Matthew really didn't know what to say. His old self would be saying anything that could come out of his mouth in a desperate attempt to say something right and fix this.

"But now I can't do it... not when you've seen me now. I don't want to hurt you too and drag you down with me."

Matthew thought about asking why he wanted to do it, knowing even though 'Alfred' would already know Antonio was too drunk to realise that, he could already figure out why. He didn't know how Antonio felt about Arthur. But he did know how he felt about Francis and Lovino. Matthew knew that Francis was Antonio's 'brother from another mother'. He also knew about Antonio's excessive obsession with Lovino... and how Antonio had left early the night Lovino was killed.

But if he also had to make an educated guess... Matthew was sure that Antonio was suffering for longer than that.

"It hurts to live but I can't stop thinking about how I'll be passing on that hurt if I- drinking did nothing to stop it. Now I think I should stay alive and suffer for what I did to Lovino. He was there for me but then I left him and I- How could I call Gilbert my brother if I left him behind and made him suffer like I was? But then I tell myself he'd be fine because he's stubborn and strong and I wish I could be like him but I can't stop being me, I don't want to be me and I just... it's all I can think about. Does that make sense?"

Antonio laughed humorlessly.

"And a little voice in my head says that everyone else can handle it, it's just me that can't. Because I couldn't handle it I killed Lovino. I feel so guilty, it's all my fault. Then I feel guilty for how I can't just get myself together. And Francis too... he was my brother, he was always there for me and cheered me up when I couldn't be cheerful myself. And I wasn't there for him."

Matthew could tell Antonio's thoughts were scrambled as he blurted out seemingly unconnected statements, each an ongoing thought or conversation that Matthew wasn't privy to.

"Alfred, I know we made a pact to reject these feelings but... this bridge... Mierda, I'm a coward. It's all I want but if you can keep this up then surely I could? I've kept it up my whole life. I'm sure that when I wake up tomorrow it won't be so bad and I'll just put on a smile and make sure I don't burden anyone but myself with my inability to cope... because I'll be fine. I've always been fine."

Antonio chuckled but Matthew could see his eyes were tearing up.

"No, I can't keep doing that. Even though I know suicide is bad and I wouldn't want everyone to know that I... I did something bad because I am bad... when I'm not here to defend myself, but... I think it would be worth it. I've weighed it up and this is what I really want. But I'm such a coward! Just thinking about it- even if I'm dead I still can't- I wish I could make it look like an accident because then... no one could blame me for it, right? No one could hate me and if it wasn't my fault that I died then maybe everyone would remember me fondly instead of just being the filler person that was just there to be happy and when the slightest amount of stress was piled onto his shoulders he couldn't even do that."

Filler person, eh?

Merde... Matthew couldn't...

Matthew sighed as he thought about how relateable Antonio's obligations were, how he recognised the stress that ate away until no flesh remained. Before, Matthew was just like that and he knew how tiring and disheartening it was. He knew that the facade and feelings of inadequacy never ended, because even after becoming the Trail Killer Matthew could see he was still a slave to obligation and wearing a mask. He was freed in his mind but he didn't know if Antonio could ever do the same. Not when he was being swallowed up.

Matthew was confronted with a strange feeling... he wanted to help Antonio. And not because he felt like he needed to or had to. The feeling caught him off guard and shame quickly followed because he thought he'd put that all behind him and he wouldn't let himself be used again... but this time it was coming from genuine pity. He knew how Antonio was suffering.

At the very least Matthew wasn't in a place to kill Antonio, which he thought said enough. Why wouldn't he take the opportunity when it presented itself? Not because he's one of Alfred's friends but because he was right there-

He couldn't unkill Antonio but not acting made him feel weak, like his resolve was slipping and he was reverting. So he reasoned that he'd get another opportunity. But now he felt worse for having the moment of weakness altogether. He could prove himself by killing others but if he was hesitant when it came to Alfred's friends... did that make him weak?

He reacted too late when Antonio stumbled with a sudden urgency and crashed into Matthew, hugging him tight and making him drop the drink.

"I'm so sorry Alfred. I'm sorry to always be dumping everything on you, it's really not fair. I promise I won't jump. I know you'd do everything you could to stop me if I tried... But you're such a good friend for always being here and listening."

Matthew was stiff as Antonio clung to him and the only thing he could think was, merde, he can't kill Antonio now. The choice was made for him.

"Now I just feel really really guilty because I haven't been here for you... I know that everything's been getting to you too and I'm worried that you'll be next! What if you're next because I wasn't here for you! Please promise you won't go out at night anymore amigo, because if you get killed too- I-"

Still, despite his issues Antonio was worrying about other people.

"I'm sorry for always making you worry, I wish people didn't have to worry about me. I wish Lovino didn't worry... I'm only here to be happy and I can't even do that- but there's no way I could put you through losing another friend-"

There wasn't anything Matthew could do for Antonio besides hug him back and pat his head as he cried, acting unlike Matthew's ever seen before as he supported Antonio's full drunken weight. Matthew couldn't work out if it was out of obligation or not, but he doubted it would actually help. Maybe Antonio was beyond help. Matthew had never been pushed that far - or at least not in that direction, but he couldn't imagine how he would come back from feeling that way.

He definitely pitied Antonio. He could see how much the facade was destroying him and he'd never be able to break free. Antonio was irreversibly and inherently fucked up, just like Matthew was. But he couldn't do anything to help... at least not in a conventional way.

Should Matthew kill him? Part of him wanted to kill Antonio to prove he wasn't weak because he didn't want to, and another part screamed that it would be a kindness and a mercy. Maybe if Antonio stopped denying that his problems were overwhelming him he could've gone to the right person for help... he wouldn't have to continue to be a slave for a facade. But Matthew knew that Antonio didn't see help as an option or even a possibility. He was just stuck that way.

If only Antonio didn't touch him, Matthew could've just killed him and he wouldn't be in pain anymore.

But... maybe Matthew could kill him without taking out the knife? What if he encouraged Antonio to go through with it and take the plunge. The result would be the same; Antonio would still be dead.

That left Matthew with an odd question. That kill wouldn't go towards the Trail Killer and he had to think about whether or not he liked that idea. Did he find it pointless to kill if it wasn't going towards something? The Trail Killer was now his legacy but... that wasn't why he started. He did it for the sake of the act. For some sick sport that he couldn't justify. Initially, he did it just because he could. He did like what he was doing, but the serial killer status made it so much more interesting. It made him feel like someone.

He didn't know why analysing his motive was so conflicting, especially when somewhere in his heart he'd already gone home for the night. He wasn't going to kill Antonio.

"How do I stop being like this?" Antonio agonised as he dug into Matthew's clothes, causing a flash of fear that Antonio was getting evidence on him. Matthew needed to take control of this.

"I don't know," he replied as he tried to escape Antoino's hold. "Where do you live? I'm going to take you home."

Antonio gave him a sheepishly drunk look as his eyes squinted around their surroundings.

"I have no idea."

Matthew didn't know what he expected. But his mind quickly came up with another solution. He almost dismissed it... but he knew how to make it work. Plus it just might help Antonio, considering Matthew couldn't.

Conveniently, it took little convincing for Antonio to follow him after cleaning up the scene. Matthew helped keep Antonio steady as they traveled and the drunkard was surprisingly cooperative, though it was likely all guilt - stronger than any drink.

Matthew had everything he needed to do at the forefront of his mind as they arrived home at nearly 1 in the morning.

"You need to be quiet," Matthew insisted, making sure Antonio understood as he dumped the box of empty drinks outside, planting the evidence. "My brother's sleeping so be quiet."

"Ahh, who?" Antonio squinted as Matthew pushed him through the front door but left it wide open. He needed to make it look like Antonio stumbled in here all by himself.

Matthew shook his head at Antonio's question and sat him down on the couch. His first priority was dealing with any evidence. He couldn't risk loose ends. He struggled to get Antonio out of his outer layer of clothing, leaving him in only his boxers and shirt as he flopped down onto the couch and groaned at the ceiling.

Matthew rolled him onto his side so he wouldn't choke and die if he threw up. Strangely, everything Matthew was doing was hardly felt an obligation. Maybe it was because he wasn't actually performing in the hopes of being liked because he had already given up on winning anyone's affections.

Matthew took Antonio's clothes and as he stood- Antonio was pleading for him not to leave. Surprise surprise, out of worry for 'Alfred'. It hardly felt like a burden to promise he would come back.

As he dumped Antonio's clothes in the washing machine he realised there was something in the pocket of the other man's jacket - a note folded in a tied-up small plastic bag. He was almost hesitant to open the note but considering Antonio explicitly told him his intentions, reading them should be no different. But he didn't have time for it now so he put it in his backpack, which reminded him about the now cold pasta. He stopped to put that with the case of empty drinks before dumping his backpack into his room and changing his clothes. He put his contaminated clothes into the washing machine and started it. He reminded himself to take Antonio's clothes out after and dump them near him but until then he had some more pieces to put in place.

He filled up a cup of water and put it on the table beside Antonio, leaving the cupboard open to make it look like Antonio helped himself. The only thing he couldn't explain was how Antonio would've found the bucket that Matthew put under him, but Matthew would rather not be cleaning up vomit. No doubt Antonio would have some blank spots in his memory that he could creatively fill.

Matthew found it amusing to picture what Alfred's face would look like tomorrow when he discovered their guest.

Antonio was still awake, but Matthew could tell he was out of it from his squinting eyes, like if he opened them fully he'd throw up again.

"Alf-migo, you really are such a good person. I'm so sorry you have to put up with me."

Matthew thought about how Alfred would respond, but dialled down the intensity that would surely have Alfred grab Antonio and scream. But he had to respond quietly because the real Alfred was sleeping in the other room.

"It's really not a problem. I love all my friends! If you ever need me, I'm there."

"I'm worried about you... What you told me- I'm so sorry to make everything all about myself. I know you're just like me. I'm such a bad person."

"Worry about yourself," Matthew suggested, slightly amazed at how desperately Antonio was ignoring his own problems. "You're suffering more than I am."

Antonio made an unintelligent noise like he was going to throw up and Matthew took it as his opportunity to go.

"It's late eh? Just... go to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

Antonio said something in reply but it was half-slurred and ended with Matthew thanking his foresight to grab the bucket, cringing at how loud the sound was. He didn't want to encourage any more back and forth so he quickly went off to have his shower and wash his hands clean of tonight.