ReturnMatthew covers his mouth as he sobs silently.
Tears are streaming down his face, dripping onto his pajama pants, his knees curled against his chest. He wants to quit his tears, but is unable to. He cannot force himself to stop. He has held this inside of him much too long, and he wants this pain to end more than his tears.
Matthew swears silently, in his head, inaudible to human ears.
His cheeks begin to sting from all the water drizzling down, and he hopes and prays no one will come in to check on him at this hour. He hurriedly wipes his face, but knows it still has the mark of a crying one. He swallows heavily, and tries to calm himself.
He does not succeed. Instead, Matthew cries more.
Matthew cries for everything. He cries for being bullied when he was younger. He cries for his brother who's had to protect him for so long. He cries for Gilbert, the one who couldn't return his feelings for him. He cries for Victoria, the island girl who's stood up for him for as long as he could rem
Our First Kiss (America X Canada)Matthew had his first kiss when he was twelve.
He remembered it was almost the best day of his life.
The only problem was that it was with his brother.
"C'mon, Mattie!" Alfed yelled, running faster than his little brother.
Little Matthew panted as he tried to pick up the pace. "I-I can't... Alfred!" He yelped, tripping over his own feet. He rubbed his head. "Owie..." He muttered. He had always been clumsy; even more than Alfred.
Alfred stopped running and looked over his shoulder. He laughed loudly. "Dude, you're so clumsy!" He exclaimed, jogging back to help the younger.
Matthew glared at him. "Shut up..." He said quietly, hoping Alfred did not hear it. Arthur had made strict rules not to be rude to each other, or they would be punished. Alfred was known for telling on Matthew. To be honest, since Alfred had told Matthew that Arthur was a former pirate, he would rather not be punished. (He was sure Papa -Francis- would not let Arthur lay a hand on him, but you could never
Cuts - FrUk familyMatthew yawned as he entered the kitchen. Of course, no one was awake yet. He grumbled about how lazy they were, searching through the cabinets before pulling out a medium-sized frying pan. He set it on the counter top before going to the fridge and taking out pancake mix, butter, syrup, all that stuff. He set that on the counter top as well, and sighed. He paused, trying to remember what else he needed to get out. "Now..... ah, plates." He mumbled, slowly making his way to the last cabinet to the left, and opening it.
A loud crash woke Francis up. While Arthur paid it no mind, the Frenchman shot out of bed and into the kitchen. He knew Matthew was always the first one awake. And sure enough, there was the Canadian, standing barefoot on a pile of shattered glass, far too afraid to move.
"Mattieu, what happened?!" Francis helped the smaller man away from the glass, picking him up as best he could.
"I-I broke a plate.. Je suis tellement désolée, qui a été a