Chapter 7 - When Words Fail

(A/n) I'm sorry to say that this is the end of my rapid fire chapter updates. I've done all this writing after I vanished back in December. XD So you'll have to wait for the next update! ^^ 

*****

Well-worn tires squealed in protest as the car they belonged to was urged quickly out of the driveway by a rushing albino.Completely preoccupied by the previous day's events, Gilbert had forgotten all about his date with Roderich.

As one of the more popular students of his high school, not much was private about Gilbert's social life. However, his homosexuality and his raven-haired boyfriend were his two best kept secrets. Only his closest friend, Antonio, knew, and he wanted to keep it that way.

That wasn't to say Roderich did, though. Gilbert could tell the bespectacled boy was growing tired of all the secrecy, and he knew he was really pushing it by being late.

Pulling up to the restaurant and combing hasty fingers through his tangled silver hair, Gilbert sprinted inside and glanced breathlessly around the vast room. After catching his breath, he managed to spot the familiar black hair and pair of glasses of a lone figure sitting in a booth near the back.

Gilbert hastily made his way over, not being entirely careful, which resulted in him nearly knocking an old lady out of her chair and receiving an evil look from said old lady.

By the time he reached the booth, he had enough glares on his back to burn a hole in his shirt.

Unlike all of the fuming people Gilbert had left in his wake, Roderich had an interesting way of showing his anger. Being polite and proper, he rarely ever yelled or lost his calm. Instead, he'd let his emotions show through his eyes.

Although he didn't make eye contact with Gilbert upon saying, "You're late," Gilbert could tell his irises were aflame.

"Sorry, got held up in traffic," Gilbert said lamely, sliding into the seat across from Roderich.

Deep blue eyes peered at Gilbert over the top of the menu for half a second before returning to the words printed on the laminated page. "For twenty minutes?"

"You know how people get," the albino muttered, hiding his own face behind a menu and pretending to read it.

"That's the third time you've used that excuse," Roderich said curtly. "Try again."

Gilbert lowered the menu and offered his boyfriend a sheepish smile. "My dog ate my homework?"

A sigh. "I don't want to get upset over something like this. But it's been happening so often, I'm beginning to think you forget about our dates altogether."

"I don't!" Gilbert cried, quick to defend himself. "I was just... busy."

Roderich set his menu down and met his eyes for the first time since his arrival. "You forgot." It wasn't a question.

All of a sudden, Gilbert was desperate for something to focus on besides Roderich's eyes. The stain on the corner of the table, the fly buzzing about the light above them, the scuff marks on the floor, anything but those flaming blue eyes.

"Gilbert."

Crimson was forced to meet blue at the firmness in the Austrian's voice.

"I don't want things to be like this every time we go out."

"Look, Roddy, it was an accident. It won't happen again."

"Really, Gilbert? Because considering how punctual you've been these past few times, I am inclined to believe you're making up excuses."

"I swear... I'll try harder," Gilbert replied, trying to hold eye contact. Roderich could be quite intimidating at the best of times.

There was a long silence, which may have, in reality, only lasted a few seconds. But it felt like an eternity and a half to Gilbert.Finally, Roderich nodded. "Alright."

Gilbert grinned. "That's my Young Master," he said, winking. "Now, let's order. I'm starving."

***

"So... how did he do?"

Francis gave Arthur a pained look as he arrived at the waiting area at the end of the long hall. Tears still glossed his blue eyes as he took a seat next to the Briton.

"It made him sick," Francis said in a shaky voice. "Physically sick." He met green eyes as he continued, voice growing ever softer as a sign of his distress, until he was nearly whispering. "I know the doctor said it was normal... but Arthur... he was crying... he was in so much pain..."

Arthur glanced at Alfred, making sure he was out of earshot, before turning back to his distraught husband. "I know it's hard to see him like this," he murmured. "But if he doesn't endure it now, he'll never get better."

Arthur would never admit it aloud, but he was trying to convince himself just as much as Francis.

"I-I know," Francis whispered. "I just... hate seeing him in pain."

"So do I. I hate it more than anything." Arthur paused to look Francis in the eyes again. "But we can't keep wishing it away. Because it won't just go away." He drew in a breath. "No matter how hard it is, we have to endure it with him. We need to be supportive."

"I know," Francis said again, sounding exhausted. "I know..."

Glancing at the window, Arthur saw the deep red of sunset and wondered when it had gotten so late. He looked at Francis sympathetically, knowing the Frenchman had to be worn out from all the stress.

When Francis began to nod off, Arthur spoke up: "Close your eyes, Frog. I'll wake you if we get any news."

Francis did not need to be asked twice. He leaned his head on Arthur's shoulder and promptly fell asleep.They sat like that for a while, undisturbed by the small stream of people that still remained. Arthur was beginning to doze off himself when his eyes caught movement and he snapped awake.

Alfred was moving towards the elevator, steps direct and unwavering. However, before he could reach it, Arthur spoke up."Where do you think you're going?"

The teen hardly hesitated. "To go sit with Mattie."

"Alfred," his father said firmly, and this time, Alfred did pause to turn and face Arthur. "Your brother isn't feeling well. Let him sleep for a while." When Alfred looked like he wanted to protest, Arthur interrupted him. "I know you're worried. We all are. But chemo is tough, and he needs as much rest as possible."

"We've been waiting for hours, Dad."

"Well, it's not exactly a quick process."

"I just wanna make sure he's okay..."

Arthur sighed, not at all oblivious to his son's emotion, despite the facade the boy was putting up. He held out an arm. "Come here."

Alfred stood stubbornly where he was for another few seconds before giving in and returning to his parents. He slid into the seat next to Arthur, wordlessly accepting the one-armed hug.

"Why don't you try to get a little sleep?" Arthur suggested. "You'll feel better."

Upon hearing those words, Alfred was hit with a wave of exhaustion that he hadn't known was waiting to crash. He nodded sleepily, eyes beginning to slip closed.

Soon, Arthur was left with a sleeping face on each of his shoulders.This time, there was nothing to stop him from dozing off.

***

Matthew was, in fact, not asleep.

His thoughts kept him awake, wandering wildly and preventing him from properly relaxing. His stomach churned and his chest was sore, but his mind was far too preoccupied to care.

He thought of his family.

His brother, he had noticed, was being uncharacteristically overprotective. Alfred, who abandoned him in the school hallways at school in favour of talking to more interesting peers, Alfred, who left him home alone to attend parties, Alfred, who was probably seen as a sort of superhero to everyone... was worrying about him.

His fathers, too, were not themselves. Arthur seemed to have become less irritable. His papa hardly smiled, and when he did, it did not carry all the way to his eyes, like his smiles normally would.

He already missed Papa's smiles.

His mind wandered to school, where he thought about Gilbert's words: no one had noticed him collapse.

Even if his family cared... his classmates did not.

But as he considered it... one did.

One person had cared enough to run over and save his life.

Once again, Gilbert Beilschmidt's face was what finally lulled Matthew to sleep.

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