This is my first FanFic, reviews/suggestions welcome! Enjoy, children!

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Matthew was resting his forehead against his arms folded on the desk before him. He was trying desperately to force air into his (what felt like they were dented) lungs– unsuccessfully, I'm afraid. Carlos must've been pretty mad at Al about something. He thought weakly.

~Señor Flashback~

Matthew burst in the school panting heavily, wondering what possessed his brother Alfred to think it was a good idea to unplug his alarm clock. Probably the only time Al ever remembered him was either to pull pranks on him or ask for a favor. He doubled over, hands resting on his knees, struggling to remember what breathing felt like. Matthew knew his hands were shaking slightly, in his mad dash to get to school he hadn't time to eat breakfast. Alfred, you hoser! Matthew thought as he wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve. You owe me pancakes!

"Oy! Jones!"

Matthew sighed. It was all too common for others to mistake him for his older brother Alfred. Which was bad for several reasons. Apparently they looked so alike to the point of his psuedo-parents completely forgetting anyone named Matthew existed on occasion. The first (and main) reason having a face similar to Alfred's was that he made enemies at school. Lots of them. Strong ones. Most everyday. People at school who were a victim of Alfred's "heroic" pranks often ended up beating his weaker doppelgänger up instead. So Matthew wasn't too thrilled about being called out in his brother's surname. When he looked up, he saw a very familiar Cuban student who had made a bad habit of confusing his friend Matthew for his obnoxious American brother and shoving him around in lieu of the actual perpetrator. He gave a shy wave and greeted "Hey, Carlos."

"Don't 'Hey Carlos' me, tu hijo de puta!" Matthew cringed. What had Al done this time?

"L-listen," Matthew began nervously, cursing his soft voice. "It's Matthew, Al is already in class."

"I know it's you, idiota! I'm not stupid!" Carlos stomped nearer the Canadian with a distinctive look of murder in his eyes.

Matthew slowly started to back up, getting scared. "Carlos, I swear it's me M–" but was cut off by the Cuban grabbing his throat.

"Did you read think you could just post those pictures? Huh?" he growled furiously and shook the blonde in his grasp, lifting him off the ground momentarily. Matthew attempted to speak but was prevented by both the hand that restricted air to his lungs and Carlos shouting at him again. "You think it's funny, don't ya, cabrón?"

Matthew suddenly was rammed against the nearest lockers and felt hard metal locks digging into his spine. His eyes brimmed with tears but refused to let them fall. Carlos gave his throat one final squeeze before releasing him to watch Matthew slide onto the ground and gasp for air. As he fought for oxygen, he suddenly felt himself sideways on the floor with an ebbing throb on his cheek. He didn't need to wonder what happened. . . He'd been punched before but it still hurt like hell. Still on the dirty tiled floor, Carlos continued to hit the blonde until he was sure his face would swell bigger than his head. Matthew looked up to his attacker from his lying position with a silent plea and hoped that he might recognize him as Matthew.

Carlos was currently looking on with pleasure as "Alfred" squirmed in pain and begged him with his eyes to stop. He could only grin and watch the blonde fight off tears. Just before he left "Alfred" to writhe, he bent down and whispered "Remember this next time you try to screw with me." and landed one last well-placed kick to the ribs before strutting away. Carlos had to admit, it felt great to finally dish out what Alfred had deserved. Revenge feels awesome, he decided while ignoring the niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

Matthew held his stomach and curled in the fetal position on the floor until it no longer felt like he was going to vomit or pass out. Slowly, he sat up and grabbed his backpack that was thrown aside haphazardly in the scuffle. He pulled himself up with the aid of the locker handles and trudged to class.

~to the present~

Matthew already knew that his right cheek was starting to swell and more than likely bruise. This wasn't the first time he'd been kicked around and it wouldn't be the last (knowing Al). Anyone else would probably March right up to Alfred and tell him to quit acting like his usual idiot self and pissing people off– there was no doubt that Matthew was the one getting the full runt of the attacks meant for his brother –or go to the discipline office and demand something be done.

. . .but not Matthew. He sighed– despite how much it hurt –knowing exactly how this all would go down. Carlos would come up to Matthew at some point in the day and apologize for beating him up, Matthew would forgive him– he cursed his Canadian roots for his politeness –and Carlos would buy him ice cream as an apology. With just the attacker varying, the cycle would repeat most every school day. He doubted much would ever change.

Narrator: Aw, but Mattie, we would have no story if nothing was going to change!

~Gilbert P.O.V.~

Gilbert grinned as he approached his homeroom, fashionably late. Time to grace these people with mein awesome presence!

Kicking open the door awesomely, Gilbert swaggering in and shouted "AWESOMENESS HAS ARRIVED!"

While most people either snickered or rolled their eyes at his antics, the teacher Mr. Edelstein just spoke as if Gilbert had smily walked in like a normal human being. "Take a seat, Mr. Beilschmidt."

Gailbert sauntered towards the open seat at the back, winking back at the professor. "You got it, Roddy!" [A/N: Roderich would like to mention that his name is not "Roddy".] To which the teacher shook his head, disappointed and fearing for the future generations, and continued teaching Algebra II.

Upon reaching the desk, Gilbert dropped his backpack on the floor and flopped into the empty seat dramatically. He noticed the person in the seat to his left had their head down on the desk, probably asleep. It bothered him that the kid was ignoring his raw awesomeness and not paying homage to his glory. For whatever reason, Gilbert couldn't remember their name. He frowned. Come on, brain! I'm sure I know everyone. He looked down and to his disdain the mystery student's face was covered by the enormous red sleeves of a hoodie. The only thing shown was some wavy caramel hair and an odd errant curl peaking out in the front. Gilbert had the sudden inexplicable urge to pull it. His hand crept forward silently, but apparently not as stealthily as he thought because the head turned away from him, pulling the curl out of his reach. This only made Gilbert even more determined to touch it.

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" a voice called Gilbert's attention up front where an irritated teacher stood. "If you would kindly pay attention, maybe you could pass my class."

Gilbert smirked. "Actually, Roddy," the professor's jaw clenched slightly at the nickname. "I was just asking. . .er," Gilbert looked over quickly in an attempt to find his desk partner's name somewhere, but all he saw was a cute fluffy bird drawing on a red backpack under the chair. "Birdie here to help me with the classwork."

Roderich cossed his arms in annoyance. "There's no one even there, Mr. Beilschmidt. Think of a better lie next time."

Gilbert assumed he couldn't see the student with their head down, so he grabbed an arm clad in bright red and waved it in the air without its owner's consent. "Birdie's present and accounted for, Roddy."

"I'm going to assume this is some kind of joke, Gilbert." Everyone who had Mr. Edelstein as a teacher knew when he called you by your first name, he meant business. Not that Gilbert cared. "Stop drawing attention to yourself so we can continue."

Gilbert could feel himself getting more frustrated. The (so-called) Prussian grabbed the student's shoulders and hoisted him up so there was no way the teacher could overlook the teen. "This person," he gesticulated wildly toward the one beside him. "You can't see this person right here?"

Roderich's eyebrow's furrowed, concentrating straight in the blonde's direction. Gilbert thought Can he seriously not see the teenager in a bright red hoodie and one big curl in his hair? After a belated moment, the teacher's eyes widened and he looked embarrassed. "Oh! So sorry, Mr. . ." he looked confused again and Gilbert's mouth gaped. First he can't see him, then Roddy can't even remember his own student's name?

"Williams. . ." a weak voice supplied to his left.

"WILLIAMS!" Gilbert announced, acting as a megaphone for the soft-spoken blonde.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Williams," Roderich said awkwardly, not looking at all like he knew his name in the first place. "Would Mr. Beilschmidt and. . .um. . .you please return to your seats?"

Gilbert grudgingly sat back down. He looked over to "Birdie" who had already put his head back down. "Hey!" he whispered fiercely. "Birdie!"

The one next to him mumbled into his jacket, but Gilbert could just make out the words "leave me alone".

Seeing as he wasn't wanted, Gilbert calmly turned back to the teacher and listened to the rest of the lesson.

Narrator: HAHAHAHA! Yeah, right~!

"Gilbert sontinued to poke at the teen, whispering directly into his ear. "Birdiebirdiebirdiebirdiebird iebirdiebirdiebirdiebirdiebi –"

"WHAT?" The blonde's head snapped up to glare at the one nonstop annoying him as he whispered back furiously.

Gilbert fought the urge to gasp. The little Birdie's wavy caramel hung just below his chin, framing his soft face perfectly, and the one rebellious curl waved just in front of his face tauntingly. He had such soft feminine features (not quite to the point that he looked like a girl, though) that the attempted glare just looked adorable– like a puppy trying to look fierce. His eyes, though, made Gilbert question his eyesight– his irises were such a rich navy blue that in the light they almost looked violet. But what made Gilbert feel slightly sick to his stomach was the red puffy eyes that made the cute little Birdie seem like he was crying, and a darkening green-purple bruise violating his cheek. It looked so. . . .wrong. Gilbert unconsciously felt himself getting both upset and angry at the same time.

"Oh mein gott, what happened?" He whispered, reaching over to touch the bruise.

Birdie jerked away from his hand. "N-nothing. It was an accident. I fell."

Gilbert suddenly wanted to know exactly what had happened. Wait. . . Why did he all of a sudden care about someone else? Why would the random blonde kid matter to him in the slightest? The most awesome person in the universe shouldn't have to care about strangers. But all Gilbert knew was that his hand was moving over to touch Birdie's arm (comfortingly?) without his consent. Birdie shuffled under his touch and a few fingers gently brushed against the red material on his chest accidentally. Unwittingly, Gilbert just made sore ribs start to ache all over again and the Canadian clutched at his chest, trying to use pure willpower to cease the tear-jerking pain, doubled over.

Contrary to popular belief, Gilbert was not as stupid as people might think. He quickly connected the bruise, the stuttering, unwillingness to show his face, and the crippling pain in his stomach until everything clicked.

"No!" Gilbert screamed, seemingly out of the blue, bolting out of his chair.

Everyone turned to him curiously. Roderich was furious. Birdie looked at him worriedly. "What now?" Roderich spat between gritted teeth as Birdie quietly asked "Are you okay, Gilbert?"

The only thing going through Gilbert's mind was This is unacceptable! He pointed to the blonde and shouted "This man needs medical attention!" but before anyone could ask "Who?", Gilbert bent down and scooped Birdie into his arms, carrying him bridal-style.

Birdie flushed a lovely shade scarlet and started to say "W-what are you–" but Gilbert had already broke out in a run.

~Matthew P.O.V.~

Without any warning whatsoever, Gilbert ran through the classroom door with Mr. Edelstein souting for him to "get back here this instant!" Gilbert didn't seem all that concerned with the threats of suspension. (Why was Matthew not surprised?)

Matthew looked up and saw determination set in the albino's features. Red eyes flickered down to the Canuck, a smirk playing across his lips, and Matthew realized he had been staring. He blushed, remembering he was in Gilbert's arms.

Several questions prodded for Matthew's attention, How can he see me?, How did he not forget me already?, Why does he care about me?, but he settled for: "W-what are y-you doing?"

"WE ARE GOING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM!" Gilbert declared proudly, his loud voice reverberating through the empty halls. His tone suggested that there would be no debating the matter.

Oh, maple. Matthew thought How am I supposed to deal with this insanity?

So, what thinkest thou? Should I continue? Review please!

Until next time, mein children!

~Ginge