The first time Gilbert noticed him, the blond had been dangerously far over the edge of the bridge. A look that seemed torn between jumping and being too scared to jump was evident on pale skin, and seemed to cause the small body to shake and make glasses fall low on an equally small nose. Gilbert would have done something, sure, if he hadn't been shoved into a car with Antonio, Francis, and Romano (the latter having been dragged against his will), heading downtown for a class project. Gilbert, with pale hair, matching skin, and dark eyes, was easily pulled toward the boy who was seemingly contemplating suicide, but he was unsure if he should have been; he'd never seen him before, so why should he care about a random stranger? The German whipped up his camera from lap (he'd been holding it just in case), pointed, and snapped a shot.

The second time Gilbert noticed him, the blond was scrunched against the Arts building, a large red hoodie pulled over his knees to protect from the cold January air. The pale expression was different this time. The blond appeared lost and helpless and he visibly shook, something that Gilbert was surprised he could see. In fact, Gilbert was surprised that the boy was even still alive (he sighed inwardly, for some reason glad that the blond hadn't gone through with his plan to jump). Gilbert would have done something then, but he was late as it was, and he really didn't want to hear another lecture from his younger brother for wasting their parents money by not showing up to class ('University is essential,' Ludwig constantly preached, but Gilbert could care less). He paused (one minute wouldn't hurt, would it?), pulled out his camera, and snapped a shot.

The third time Gilbert noticed him, he breathed a sigh of relief that he was neither busy or late. The blond was walking begrudgingly through the park, toward the direction of the university's dorms, hands shoved into his (black this time, Gilbert noted) hoodie. The dark color brought out the blond in the boy's hair tremendously and Gilbert found himself staring as he brought out his camera. A click, and the boy started.

Blue, no, cerulean met scarlet, and Gilbert's heart was in his throat. The blond looked scared beyond relief. The German gulped audibly and moved toward him, stretching out a hand.

"I-I'm Gilbert."

The boy stared at the appendage as if he'd never seen fingers before, then turned his gaze up to Gilbert's face.

"You can't see me…"

The voice was barely there, but he heard it and frowned. "What do you mean? Of course I can. You're right here, aren't you?"

Those blue eyes glazed over before a timid hand, emaciated but soft, reached out to grab a hold of the other.

"I'm Matthew…"