So, I kinda had this idea some time ago and decided to write. This is just the prologue, but I want to know what you guys think, 'cause I really don't know if I should write more or not. Comment, please, if you liked and if you have an opinion.

[This was written in portugues, originaly, so sorry if there are any mistakes]

Us/Can ahead!

Prologue

Two minutes to five.

Alfred had never imagined to be in this kind of situation

Of course, he had already imagined himself in love –madly, for someone who would be as madly in love as he- but never something like this. He shifted on his bed for the twentieth time and looked at the clock. Four and fifty two in the morning. He hadn't even taken a nap and there was only one thing (better saying, one person) who prevented him from having his herioc slumber. He burried his face on the pillow, images of the first time he realized he was in love passing through his eyes, like a movie that he didn't want to, but couldn't resist to, watch.

It was more than two weeks ago that he started sleeping less. The others noticed –Arthur had been asking more than once if he was okay and if it woulnd't be better to take a mug of tea to calm down.- but he refused, with the good and olg though "Tonight, I'll sleep well, tonight, I'll clean my mind and rest, tonight, I'll forget him" and this routine was getting tired.

The laugh of his brother echoed in his mind. They were sitting in the chairs of the McDonald's near the building where the meeting had just happened. Francis and Arthur had gone to have lunch together, saying something about a bet, and that just left the two North American brothers by themselves. Matthew was looking at him, violet eyes watching him with tenderness while Alfred ate his burger. He said something stupid and ketchup slipped on his shirt, making him curse without actually being mad. He looked up when Matthew laughed, the light of late afternoon on the window behind him made his smile even more bright. And just like that, exactly two weeks ago, Alfred saw himself falling for his brother, completely in love.

He shook his head, throwing the images away. His heart skipped a beat and he sighed, wondering if it would be like that forever. He turned again and looked at the clock. Four and fifty three in the morning.

He grunted, feeling a lump on his throat and sat on his bed. He put his elbows on his knees and his hand over his face. His fingers grabbed his hair and he cried –cried like he had finally let out the children that lived inside of him, but without losing himself. He cried silently, the tears rolling down his face and his heart tightening, and he stayed like that, for what seemed like hours, but his clock –and dammed clock!- insist it had been merely five minutes.

"Alfred?"

His eyes shot open, still with tears on it, and he heard that voice again. It was his mind mocking him and he knew that. But the voice persisted. Matthew's voice in his mind, making him remember how much he loved him, desired him, needed him. And how he couldn't have him.

"Al, you're the best brother in this world."

He clenched his wrist and slammed it against the wall behind his bed, leaving a nice black scar on the white wall. He faced the floor, his wrist still against the wall. Suddenly, he lifted his face, blue eyes shining with determination.

He was going to put everything at risk: Their friendship, their old relation, the strong bond that only brothers could share. He was going to tell everything, all his feelings. Tell him how in just two weeks, he could steal all his nights of beautiful sleep, and how he could fill the most special place inside his head and heart. Tell him how suddenly all he had was upside-down and the only thing that made sense was him –and how much he loved him.

Alfred wiped the tears of his face and, finally, smiled. A sad smile, of someone who is ready to lose everything, but still determined. And just like that, he lied down, ignoring the sound of his bed and the little dust that came out of the cracked wall. And he slept.

It was four and fifty eight in the morning.