Again, thank you everyone for the reviews. Now, on to the story!

When Dr. Corcoran first led him down the hall, Alfred's first thought was that it was too white. It was just white with no other colors save the black letters printed above some of the doors. He hated it and couldn't stand the thought of living in this monochrome white place. He hoped that they would realize he wasn't crazy. That it was a mistake and that they would send him back to his beloved brother and his bitch of a mother. Who was going to protect Mattie from bullies if he was stuck here in this pure white hospital?

"Ah, here it is," said Dr. Corcoran, stopping in front of a door with a black 'E' painted above it, "Group E. This will be your group. You will live with them, eat with them, and go through similar treatments with them. Boys!" he called while opening the door, "This is your new group mate, Alfred Jones. Alfred, these are your group mates. Arthur Kirkland," he pointed to a sandy blonde with green eyes and huge eyebrows, "Feliciano and Lovino Vargas," here he pointed to a pair of brunette twins, "and Berwald Oxenstierna," an intimidating-looking blonde grunted in response to his name, "Your group is fairly small right now, so you should probably expect some others to be put with you. Boys, make him feel at home. Remember, group therapy after breakfast tomorrow." Then the doctor left, leaving Alfred alone with these four strange boys.

"Um, hello," Alfred said awkwardly.

"Hi!" one of the twins, he was pretty sure it was Feliciano, greeted excitedly, "I'm glad we got another group mate! I mean, the others are great and all, but Berwald is a bit scary," the tall blonde seemed a little depressed at that statement, "and Arthur spends a lot of his time embroidering and Lovi yells at me a lot so it's really great to have someone else here. Do you like pasta? I like pasta! Maybe we can play a game where I am the pasta maker and you are the customer? That would be so much fun, ~ve!"

"Shut up, idiot," the other twin, Lovino, told his brother. Feliciano meekly hung his head and stopped rambling.

"Ah, it's okay, I'll play with you," Alfred said to the bubbly blonde, "I just don't know how long I'll be here. See, I'm not crazy-"

Arthur snorted, "Of course you're not crazy. No one here is. Well, Group C is a bit twitchy, but that started after their 'treatment' began. But whenever we complain to the doctors or nurses, they tell us that crazy people can't tell that they're crazy. So, who knows, maybe we are all crazy."

Feliciano nodded as if Arthur uttered some profound truth. Figuring that there was nothing else to do, he turned to Feliciano. "So you want me to be the customer, huh?"

~o~o~o~

Alfred woke up to someone calling his name and poking him.

"Five more minutes, Matthew," he grumbled, burying his head beneath the sheets.

"Who's Matthew?" a British voice that Alfred vaguely recognized asked. Alfred uncovered his head to see the bushy eyebrows of Arthur looming over him.

"Ah, he's my twin brother. He's nice and a bit shy and we look exactly alike accept for our eyes. His eyes are prettier than mine. They're nice and purple, much better than my ugly blue ones."

"I don't think they're ugly," Arthur blushed, than cleared his throat, "Well, anyways, you need to get changed. We have to go to the cafeteria for breakfast soon."

"Fine," Alfred muttered, grabbing a football t-shirt from the duffle bag he and his brother packed. The familiar logo gave him some comfort in that white, unfamiliar hospital. He quickly threw on some clean underwear and shorts, then left his bedroom into the Group E common room.

The other four boys were already in the common room. Feliciano was poking his brother who was apparently not a morning person. Berwald was sitting in an armchair and reading a book whose title was not in English while Arthur sat in an armchair next to him…wait, was he knitting? Alfred did recall Feliciano complaining how Arthur embroidered all of the time; Alfred guessed he knitted, too. That was such a weird and unmanly hobby. Maybe Arthur belonged in this loony bin after all?

Before he had time to contemplate anymore on Arthur's activities, a nurse whose pitch-black hair was done up in a tight bun entered the room. "All right, Group E, everyone ready? Good. We can go to breakfast now."

"That's Mrs. Pollitz, our group leader," Arthur explained quietly as they followed her to the cafeteria.

"Yeah, she's in charge of us. She makes sure we behave and takes us to the cafeteria and therapy and stuff," Feliciano chimed in.

"I don't like her," Lovino added, and Berwald grunted in agreement, "She slapped Feliciano once when we first got here and he was crying for Grandpa. And she's always yelling and never smiles. She's a bitch."

"Lovi! Remember what Grandpa used to say about your swearing," Feliciano admonished. Lovino looked slightly apologetic.

The cafeteria was a fairly large room that housed a little less then a dozen circular tables. Each table could comfortably fit about ten people each and was labeled with a black letter. The other groups were already seated at their designated tables, and Alfred noticed that there weren't many patients in each group, barring one. Alfred commented on this.

"Yeah," Arthur answered, "most of the groups only have four or five people in it. The exception is, quite obviously, Group C," Arthur gestured to a table that sat eight patients. Alfred recalled that Group C was the one Arthur described as a bit 'twitchy.' Sure enough, those in Group C either shied away or flinched whenever one of the cafeteria workers came close to them. One boy began whimpering when a cafeteria accidentally brushed him while setting down a plate of eggs on his table.

"So," Alfred said while stuffing bacon into his mouth, "what do we do here?"

"We eat! They even serve pasta almost every day!" Feliciano said.

"Hmph, pasta isn't that great. I don't know why you're so obsessed with it. It's just food."

"Oh, and tomatoes are 'just food' too?" Feliciano retorted to his brother, somewhat uncharacteristic of his usually happy-go-lucky mood. Alfred figured he must really like pasta. Lovino just scowled.

"W' s'met'mes g' t' ther'py," Berwald added, ignoring the bother's fight.

"Yeah, today we have a group therapy after breakfast," Arthur said.

"Do we do anything else?"

Arthur shrugged at Alfred's question, "Not really. We just stay in our group rooms when we're not eating or doing therapy. I suggest you take up embroidery. It's very relaxing and time consuming."

"Eh, no thanks. But this place seems really boring. You mean we don't even get to go outside?" Berwald nodded negatively, "This sucks! If I'm not crazy already, I think this place may drive me to it."

"Are you boys finished?" Mrs. Pollitz asked, suddenly appearing at their table. The look in her eye implied that they'd better be or else. Alfred gave one last mournful look at the eggs before he and the other boys followed her to group therapy.

Mrs. Pollitz led them down that same white hallway Dr. Corcoran led him down the day before, and stopped in front a door with the words 'Group Therapy Room' aptly written above it in black letters. Inside the room was a dozen armchairs arranged in a circle. Sitting in one of those armchairs was Dr. Corcoran himself.

"Hello, boys," he greeted warmly, "Come, sit." The boys each picked an armchair. "Since Alfred is new here, why don't we go around and introduce ourselves. Berwald, you first."

"M' n'me is B'rw'ld 'nd I l'ke d's'gn'ng 'nd r'd'ng 'nd th't k'd T'no fr'm Gr'p H."

"All right," Dr. Corcoran said, "Very good. That was a whole sentence, you are getting better. Feliciano, why don't you go next?"

"Ve~ Of course! My name is Feliciano and I like pasta and my brother and pasta and playing and pasta and friends and pasta and, oh, yeah, pasta!"

"Er, okay. Your turn, Lovino."

"I'm Lovino and I like tomatoes and my idiot brother. Sometimes."

"Arthur."

"My name is Arthur and I'm from England. I enjoy reading, embroidery, and the occasional knitting. I'm also a fan of football. I mean real football, not that pansy excuse for rugby you Americans call 'football'" Arthur said, gesturing towards Alfred's shirt.

"Hey, I'll have you know-!"

"Alfred, Arthur, no fighting," Dr. Corcoran intervened. "It's your turn, anyways, Alfred."

"Okay. Well, I'm Alfred and I think football is the most awesomest sport on the planet!" Dr. Corcoran glared at him and Arthur muttered something about improper grammar. "I also like aliens and other sports. And I'm a hero! Just like Superman! I also really like my twin brother, Mattie! He's smart and kind and awesome!"

"Mattie?" the doctor asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Yeah, you know, my brother? You saw him when you took me yesterday."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't see him and there is no record of a brother in your file. Your file said you are prone to delusions, you must have imagined this Mattie of yours."

"No, no, Mattie is real. He's my brother and Mother likes him more because he has her eyes and Dad's like I do! I beat up bullies for him and we share a room when I-he has nightmares. He's real!"

"I'm sorry, Alfred, maybe you made him up so he could be the perfect son? The son that you could never be?"

"No, he's real! Real!" Alfred broke down into sobs in front of those four other boys that he barely knew."

"Mrs. Pollitz," Dr. Corcoran called, "Perhaps you should take Alfred back to his room while I finish up group therapy."

Mrs. Pollitz entered the room grabbed Alfred's shoulder in a vice grip. Before she left the room, however, she and Dr. Corcoran shared a small smile. Alfred was too busy hyperventilating to catch the look, but Berwald and Arthur weren't. they both noted the look and kept it in a mental vault of weird things about the hospital.

~o~o~o~

Alfred sat in his room thinking about what the doctor had told. Matthew wasn't real. Impossible! He even had Mattie's stuffed polar bear, Kumajiro to prove it. He reached into his duffle bag and pulled out the aforementioned polar bear, hugging it close. All of those memories couldn't be faked. Could they? No, of course not! Mattie was most definitely real. Still, an inkling of doubt had been planted in Alfred's head.

Alfred heard a knock on his door. "Come in!" Alfred called and the door opened to reveal Arthur. Arthur walked over to Alfred and sat next to him on the bed. The two just sat on the bed staring at the wall for a while.

"I believe you," Arthur said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"I believe that you have a brother. You seemed too genuine when describing him for you have made him up. Those memories can not be imagined."

"Thanks," Alfred smiled slightly, "but I don't understand why Dr. Corcoran would tell me that Mattie isn't real!"

"I don't know, but there's something weird going on in this hospital. The doctor lying about your brother, the fact that no one is really crazy, and what's happening to Group C. None of it makes any sense," Arthur sighed in frustration.

"This place is weird. The doctor claims I'm mentally ill, but the only time he saw me before yesterday was at a random physical at my school. It's just too odd. Anyways, thanks again for telling me that you believed me. You didn't have to, we've only just met."

"Yeah, well," Arthur said, somewhat embarrassed, "we have to stick together. Our group has been thrown into this weird situation and we have to look out for another. We're all in this together, right boys?"

The other three boys must have been eves-dropping, because they all yelled "Yeah!" Maybe this wasn't as terrible as he thought. Sure he missed his brother and the freedom he had before, but at least these boys were nice and would look out for him. And he was a hero, so he'd look out for them, too.