Chapter 9: Rotten

With a few more strides and a couple quick turns, Ivan arrived at the porcelain-framed kitchen, pushing through a wooden door to enter the familiar room.

Glancing inside, he wasn't too surprised to see the commotion of servants bustling back and forth, hurrying across the tiles in a multitude of directions. Some had dishes, others carried rags and clothes; one even held a large container of beverages— the contents known all too well to the Russian teen. (For those who were unsure of the contents, the prominent stamp reading 'Водка' settled any remaining questions.)

Ignoring his frenzied occupants, Ivan hurried right on in, pushing and searching through the crowd to locate Katyusha. He knew she was in here somewhere. His sister had a tendency to try and help out as much as she could in their home, and while that might seem normal for any other person, the Braginski's weren't exactly your everyday family. Living in a large, secluded mansion in the middle of who-knows-where was one of many reasons. Having a small army of over one-hundred males and females always ready to serve you was another one.

Ivan had gotten used to the sudden influx of people rather quickly, even if he himself wasn't a huge fan of crowds. After all the paperwork had been finished, it had been properly declared that he and his siblings owned the rights to their aunt and uncle's land, and immediately they had been sent there. That however was after their cruel past. Back in Russia, and even for their first few months in Canada, Ivan and his siblings always lived on the edge. Even back when their parents were still alive, money had been hard to come by. He could remember having to search the streets for the city's scraps; not always for food, but spare clothing, metal, utensils— anything extra that could be located. It was a hard life, but it had been the only thing the Braginski's had ever known until their parents passed away, and left the three children as orphans. From then on, their innocent lives grew worse.

It had taken months of watching and waiting for the siblings to leave the country, finding their way to Canada through means Ivan would much rather not recall. For almost a year, they stayed in an old, rusted apartment, with Ivan as the sole supporter. Katyusha might have been able to locate a job, but her brother hadn't allowed her to get one. Whether it was from either his protective instinct or stubborn independence had been unknown, but that choice had been final.

When they were suddenly approached by strangers one random day, startling them with questions and concerns about their family name and origin, all of that changed.

Apparently, they were long forgotten relatives to some big-shot couple, who both had enough money to bathe the city in twice over. Ivan didn't know how he, Katyusha, and Natalia had been found, but it was one of the few times he was truly grateful.

They got everything; with no other known family, there was really no one else to give it to. The house, the land, the servants, the title; so much was piled on the couple of kids. Ivan had barely been sixteen at the time. It was so much!

From then on, all got better. Finally, they were at peace without having to worry where they would find their next meal. Katyusha could finally smile, Natalia was able to let a few grins show, and their brother didn't have to worry... as much.

If only things could stay so peaceful, calm and pleasant. It was a dream never meant to truly be, Ivan always thought. One could say it was his nightmare, with him in the main role. His actions lead to the conclusion; because of him and his horrid decisions, they lived in fear, not knowing when they could strike and Ivan would be left in even more debt, unable to pay back his loan. He knew all too well of his failures and all the pain they had induced. And now it would have to stay, with him living in constant hope for a solution, but not knowing what would help. They would have to live with it, even if the ending would—

"Mister Ivan?" A timid voice pulled him from his thinking, concern-filled orbs of green looking up in question. "Are you alright?"

Taking in his surroundings, Ivan was surprised to find he had somehow ended up on the other side of the kitchen with his hands resting on the counter, facing a cupboard. How the heck did I end up here? He turned his head to peer at the maid next to him. She looked confused and the littlest bit concerned. Probably wondering just what he was trying to accomplish by staring at a piece of furniture.

Clearing his throat, he pulled back his arms and awkwardly slid his hands into thin pockets. "Sorry. I must have gotten distracted."

"It's fine." A small smile replaced that worried frown. "Is there anything you're looking for? I don't mind helping you with something."

"Actually," he averted his eyes to properly assess the room, noticing no sign of Katyusha. "Da, there is. I would like to speak with my sister. Would you happen to know where she is?"

"Yes, I do. She's over by the sink with Melanie." The young girl pointed to another section of the kitchen, probably trying to ensure Ivan didn't get lost again. "Is there any problem?"

I hope there won't be… "Nyet, I just want to talk with her. Thank you."

"You're welcome." The brunette gave a weak smile before she continued on her way past the Russian, quickly disappearing around the corner to return back to her previous task.

Ivan steadied himself, shaking his head to hopefully clear any remaining thoughts. That had been... strange. He couldn't believe how he just dozed off while in midst of thought. That doesn't happen too often.

He decided it wasn't worth the questioning, instead remembering the objective at hand. He needed to speak with his sister. That was the whole purpose of coming to this kitchen in the first place.

Looking in the direction the servant had directed, Ivan began to walk again, a determined frown clear on his face.

It took a couple steps and some more asking, but Ivan finally managed to locate his sister. Placing a cautious hand against the wooden frame, he peered across the connected room, instantly sighting the light-haired blonde alongside the counter. Another maid was beside her, hands held up in a scolding fashion and speaking loudly.

"Mrs. Katyusha, I know you wish to help, but I just can't allow it." With the tone of her voice, Ivan could tell they'd been going at this for awhile.

She frowned, "B-but it doesn't seem right... Is there anything I could do? Even something small, I wouldn't care! Just something!"

The Russian sighed. This was exactly what he had expected. After witnessing the same scene many times prior, this was not a surprise for him. Kat had been this way since day one of their improved lives. While he and Natalia had instantly accepted the sudden help and generosity, Katyusha had been skeptical. Not that she wasn't thrilled with their new life— it was much the opposite— but rather, the change was too much for her. She had always looked out for them, while Ivan would work late nights and come home exhausted or when Natalia would be upset and cry, she cheered them up. Protected them. Taking responsibility was what Kat did, but after the move, it just couldn't stay that way.

She felt guilty, only able to sit around and observe as everything else was completed. It was in her nature to be kind, generous, and helpful, and she desperately wanted to show this and prove her thanks to others.

"I appreciate your offers, but I just can't have that." However, Katyusha still had yet to be successful with this. "You don't need to help out; I'm fine on my own."

"B-but... are you sure? I have nothing better to do. Just something small? Melanie, please…"

Ivan smiled softly. Kat would never stop trying, though. That was for sure.

Hearing enough of the endless arguing, Ivan strolled into the room, immediately heading to the pair standing around the sink.

"Yes, I am sure, and—" The maid paused as the tall teen's form came into view, her tone slipping into one of surprise. "Master Ivan! It's great to see you!"

At hearing her brother's name, Katyusha stopped talking as well, tilting back her head to find her younger sibling standing right behind her, a look of displeasure placed across his features. She gulped.

"B-brother! What are you doing here? I thought you were dismissing our guest?" Kat gave a harsh attempt at a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood before it got awkward.

"Matthew already left." Ivan crossed his arms, raising a brow as he stared down at his sister. "I'm wondering what you're doing here."

"Well," Kat began to stutter and played awkwardly with the end of an apron she had put on some time earlier. "I just wished to help out with our dishes. After all, it's only the polite thing to do..."

He shook his head and breathed a heavy sigh. "Melanie, if you'll excuse us; I need to go talk with my sister about some things."

"O-of course! Whatever you have to do, sir." She allowed a smile, the smallest hint of fright visible in her eyes.

"Da. Katyusha," he turned to the blonde, reaching forth a hand, "Let's go."

His sibling jadedly took the offer, waving a quick goodbye to Melanie before she allowed herself to be led out of the room.

"…Are you mad at me?" An eerie aura hung over the siblings as they left the kitchen, Ivan's grip still tight on her hand. He hadn't said a word to her the whole walk; she was beginning to suspect he was angry again. "I know you don't like me asking to help out, but I just hate acting so worthless—"

"Nyet," he interrupted, bringing them back into the dining room where he finally released his grasp. "I'm not concerned about that."

Her eyes widened in surprise; Ivan always gave her a lecture. "Oh, well, what did you want to talk about, then?"

"I wanted to discuss Matthew with you." He spoke through another scowl, recalling the distasteful agreement he had made with the teen. "I want to know why you decided to bring him here without telling anyone else about it."

"I believe that reason is quite obvious, Ivan. You were doing badly in school; I wasn't going to let you simply fail." She replied confidently.

"That didn't mean you had to bring that kid here!" Ivan retorted, firmly crossing his arms. "I don't want him in our house. Now he knows where we live! I don't know why you thought it be a good idea." He wanted answers. It was that simple.

"I don't know why this is bothering you so much." Katyusha said, frowning. "The visit is over and done. It's not like anything horrible happened anyway; I'd say some good came out of it! You did learn something, right?"

"That's not the point! He's gone, yes, but it wasn't a friendly visit. Why would you ask such a pathetic kid to come and—"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong with him." She repeated, more statement than question. "He hasn't done one thing to hurt you. He's tried to help you. Why do you despise him so much?"

Ivan was a little taken back at the question, but he was even more surprised at himself when he couldn't think of an answer. Why did he dislike Matthew?

He tried thinking of a time when the blonde had hurt him or shown anger, but nothing came to mind. There were a few times during their detentions when the Canadian had raised his voice and yelled, but Ivan had always started those fights. He was the one who had been insulting.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how kind Matthew had been to him.

He went against his own brother to retrieve the Russian's scarf, being as delicate with the material as Ivan himself. He'd never tried to start a fight, even when Ivan would glare and throw insults his way. Matthew had shown concern for him while in the alleyway, throwing himself into upcoming traffic just to come to the teen's rescue. If Katyusha hadn't arrived yesterday during their detention, who knows what he would have done to the poor teen. And he had still offered to tutor Ivan, even after everything the Russian had done to him.

Matthew had showed nothing but kindness, and all Ivan had done was shove him away. No wonder his sister was so surprised…

"W-well…" He turned away to think. He didn't want for Kat to win this disagreement. He had his reasons, and they were final. "He annoys me."

There was a short pause as Katyusha looked at her brother like he had just said the most childish thing ever. After a confused frown, he was shocked to see a small grin cross her face as she let free a few laughs.

"Ivan." Her tone mimicked that of a scolding mother, but her bright smile made it clear she wasn't angry. "Is that really the best reason you have?"

He didn't reply, lowering his head to block her gaze. His cheeks reddened a tad in embarrassment.

"Look," she approached him, placing a hand along his shoulder and using the spare to raise up his chin. "I know you don't enjoy meeting new people, but just give Matthew a chance, alright? You're going to be spending a whole month of detentions with him; I think it's worth a shot."

Ivan let her words settle in his thoughts. He really didn't enjoy befriending others— besides his sisters, he didn't have any friends (if you were even able to call your siblings "friends"). But, if at least getting along with the teen would make Katyusha smile, then perhaps it was worth a shot.

He nodded, looking into those lively blue eyes appreciatively. "If it will make you happy, then I'll try my hardest, sister."

She sprung forward, wrapping her tiny arms around his large frame and burrowing her face into his thick coat. Tears of joy were visible as she looked upwards. "Oh Ivan, thank you!"

Untangling his arms awkwardly around her, he returned the embrace, letting his sister enjoy the moment for as long as she wanted.

After all, even if Ivan wasn't very good at it, making Katyusha happy was all he really wanted to do.

..oO0(|)0Oo..

"Get off the road, kid! Move it!"

"Hey! You're going to—"

The Canadian's sentence was cut short as a wave of murky puddle water splashed over the sidewalk, the force of the car's tire directing the wave right onto him, covering his entire upper torso in the liquid

Matthew looked down at his jacket in shock, shaking of his coat best he could to remove the excess water. He turned to shake a fist at the driver, but the vehicle was already long gone.

His arm fell limply to his side to rest alongside his wet leg. Matthew had already been drenched (by the storm prior to that rush of water), but the discourtesy of the driver along with the smelly street water made the situation go from bad to worse. He pulled up his hood once again, in a feeble attempt to keep some of himself dry on the walk back. Wrapping cold arms around a shivering chest, he continued down the lonesome cement path, no fellow passerby's visible through the relentless storm. .

Matthew shook, his grip tightening. "T-this was a h-horrible idea." His own sudden sneeze interrupted him and he frowned at his body's admonition. "W-why do I have to be so rude? Gilbert's probably freaking out so badly…"

It had been several minutes since the Canadian lost his German friend amongst the crowd, but it had only taken a few moments for him to realize his horrid mistake. Coincidentally, the rain starting worsened the effect.

Even though Matthew and Gilbert had known one another practically since they could walk, their different opinions still always managed to show. While Gil did get along with Alfred, he had always held some measure of dislike towards him that Matthew didn't quite understand. He wouldn't say Gilbert preferred him over his brother, but there was always some sign that indicated it when they were all together.

Since the day their friendship formed, Gilbert had been known to demonstrate a protective nature over everyone he cared about: his younger brother, Ludwig, who he always kept a watchful eye on; Gilbird, his faithful and loving feathered companion; and yes, Matthew.

He had never agreed with Matthew's choices involving his younger sibling, and how he allowed himself to be treated. He couldn't count how many fights there had been between him and the German over the issue, and how many had ended in the exact same way with Matthew storming off and Gilbert regretting his words.

"Oh god, finally." The blonde released a sigh of relief, picking up his pace when the restaurant finally came into view. He hurried past the decorative front and made his way back to where he parked the red Corolla. "I better get home; Alfred's might be— huh?"

Matthew stared in confusion at the front windshield, noticing for the first time a soaked and scrunched up piece of paper stuck between the wiper blades. He reached forward nervously, able to slide the material out from under its cover without much trouble, but bringing it to his face for further examination, he saw the problem.

The writing, what little there had been, was no longer legible.

If it was from the rough winds or harsh downpour was unknown, but the Canadian couldn't make out the words no matter how hard he tried. Even twisting around the sheet, he could only see black dye.

Matthew knew it was pointless; the message was no longer readable. Abandoning his efforts, he threw the sheet into a nearby trash bin before returning to his car to fall into a much longed-for car seat. Hopefully, the message hadn't been that important.

"Ahh, that's much better." The heater was instantly flipped on, and the Canadian leaned back in the warm leather seat to appreciate the feeling of warmth.

His clothes were still horribly drenched, but he tried to not let that get to him too much— he had enough to be worried about as it was.

"Darn it, my dumb glasses…" The new heat had fogged up his cold lenses, and now instead of a clear view, he was met with a foggy blur. Matthew took them off quickly, drying them with a spare tissue he found in the glove box. He held up the plastic to inspect his work, grinning proudly at the now clean glass.

"Now then, to getting home." The engine started with a rolling purr at the twist of his wrist, and soon he was pulling out and beginning the treacherous drive back to his apartment.

He wondered if Alfred would be there. He might've gone somewhere with Arthur; those two never left each other's sides. A faint smile crossed his features at the thought. He so badly wanted someone just like that to stand by him— to speak with, to hold, to care for. He didn't mention it often (Al had always joked about him acting like some middle-school girl) but it was a dream that remained placed in the back of his mind.

How much he would give to have that: for someone to finally accept him for him, someone who would promise to always hold him, forever, and never let go…

"Good grief," Matthew felt ashamed at his own use of words, a hint of red blossoming across his cheeks. "I really do sound like a high school girl."

He let out a few laughs, even if he was embarrassed. Matthew was sure that if he dared to say that to anyone he knew, he'd be met with a fit of laughter worse than his own. No one ever said being different was easy.

Before he knew it, Matthew had arrived back at his apartment complex's garage. The trip seemed far too easy compared to the day's other occurrences, but he took the recognition as a blessing, knowing better than to question it any further.

He stepped out of the vehicle, ensuring it was locked tight before heading to the elevator that would take him to the proper floor— he didn't feel preppy enough to take the stairs.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Matthew shut the apartment door gently behind himself, peering across the vacant entrance way. When there was no response, he frowned, turning to remove his hoodie. "Guess not… I'll just go make myself some—"

"Mattie!" Two bulky arms wrapped around Matthew's back, instantly lifting him off the ground in the sudden rush of commotion. "I'm so glad you're back!"

With the strong smell of hamburgers and cologne assaulting his nose, Matthew wasn't surprised to know it was his brother. He smiled, beginning to struggle as the grip tightened. "Hey! I'm happy to see you too, Alfred, but please let me go, you're going to suffocate me…"

"Oops— sorry, bro!" The American released the grip and placed his brother back on the ground, turning the shorter blonde around to properly face him. "I underestimated my own strength, there."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Yeah, don't get too cocky now. Is Arthur here with you?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen preparing your special surprise!" Alfred gave a wink to emphasize the statement.

Thought so. Wait… He looked in confusion. "'Surprise'? What's that for?"

"Because we were worried about you! You were gone all day, and at the commie's house, no less! Who knows if he could've hurt you!"

"He's not that bad, Alfred." Sure, Ivan was intimidating and everything, but communism? Was it because he was from Russia? Didn't his brother know that nation hadn't been communist for decades? "And, you know, Russia's not governed that way anymore."

"I don't care! He might be working undercover; you can never be too careful." Matthew should have known better than to question his sibling. Alfred wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Matthew sighed. "Whatever. I'm not discussing this with you. Let's just go have this 'surprise' you keep talking about; it better be good."

"Oh, you bet it will be! I'm sure you'll love it!" Alfred grinned, grabbing Matthew by the hand and dragging him to the kitchen.

"Wait! I need to get changed first! Don't you see how wet I am—"

"No time for that! Food first, clothes second!"

"I don't want to sit in a wooden chair while I'm drenched! Just let me go and—"

"No way! You don't want to keep our guests waiting, now do you?"

That caught his attention. "Guests? I thought you just had Arthur here?"

Alfred smiled, a devilish grin flashing across his features. "Nope."

Matthew was rushed into the nearby kitchen, without any time to take in his surroundings before being pushed down into a chair and shoved up against the table. He was ready to yell at his brother for being so rough, but at the sight of four people occupying their kitchen, he fell silent.

"Bugger, you nearly killed the poor lad!" Arthur shook his head at the American, coming closer to Matthew to stand beside him. "Be a little more careful next time."

"Sorry, Artie, I just wanted to get him in here to eat."

"Stop calling me that! You know that's not my real name!"

"Works for me; and besides, you look more like an 'Artie' than an 'Arthur'."

"They're both practically the same—"

"Enough!" A new voice yelled out. "Please, stop bickering for once. You two don't need to argue over every single thing."

The two blondes gave annoyed glares to the German, but both knew he was right, and they turned away grumpily.

"Whatever, dude. Just go back to your fancy dandy baking." Ludwig's face flushed, as if he was embarrassed by such a name.

"For your information," he started, placing a batch of fresh flapjacks onto a nearby plate, "you were the one who wanted me to make these in the first place."

"Well, duh." Alfred leaned against the cupboard, grabbing a can of soda to drink. "We all know I'm an amazing cook myself, but you're the best baker out of all of us. Did you think I was going let Arthur make 'em or something?"

"Hey!" The group's designated "angry Brit" stormed up to the taller male, gritting his teeth. "My cooking's not that bad!I just don't do well with batters and mixes."

"Or vegetables, or fruits, or bread…" Al snickered, taking another drink of his cola. "Or practically anything else."

England sputtered before he came up with an acceptably scathing comeback. "At least I'm not some fat, overweight American!"

Alfred froze. "Now that's crossing the line!" He grabbed the smaller blonde by his shirt collar, lightly pulling him in as Arthur beat his fists against the American's chest. "You're a boring hypocrite!"

"You probably don't even know what that word means!"

"I do too!"

"Do not!"

"Ummm, guys…?" Matthew weakly spoke up, resting his arms atop the table. He'd been watching with dismay for far too long— his friends were supposed to be doing something special for him, yet had completely forgotten in less than a few seconds. Typical. "Weren't you supposed to be giving me something?You seem to have forgotten about—"

"Stuttering little twat! Show some respect." Arthur yelled, pushing Alfred away, completely oblivious to the younger male speaking behind him.

"'Respect'? You're being rude to your elder!"

"I'm older than you!"

"Stop!" A familiar voice called in from outside the kitchen, the owner most likely moving towards the room if the loud, booming footsteps were any indication. "Would you two please stop arguing over nothing? You're supposed to be serving Birdie right now."

Matthew was surprised to see Gilbert enter the room— When had he left?— and could only stare as the German approached the loud blondes, a look of disgust across his face.

"If you two aren't going to help, I'll do it myself." Alfred and Arthur shrunk away at the threatening tone, looking at Matthew as it dawned on them. Their faces flushed, ashamed.

It was a sight the Canadian would never fully come to accept: the raised eyebrows, the open mouth, the bewildered look hidden in the eyes. He had been forgotten once again. This in itself didn't bother him too much—after all, Gilbert was standing up for him to give the pair a piece of his mind—but knowing that your own brother could care less… Matthew smiled feebly. It killed him a little inside. Makes you wonder if you're even—

A silver platter was slid across the wooden table to land in front of Matthew, several golden delicacies scattering across the glass. Crisp honey brown edges, an amazing circular form and perfect stacking that would put a professional cook to shame. A bottle of fresh, smooth, and real maple syrup was placed beside the food, all coming together to form an image from heaven.

Matthew's previous thought was instantly thrown from his mind as he grabbed the nearest utensil he could find, which just so happened to be a plastic fork, and dug into the flapjacks.

"Now that that's finished," Ludwig averted his attention away from the feasting teenager and instead on the blondes over by the corner. He walked over to them, grabbing their arms in one swift motion. "We'll be going to the living room now."

"What?" Alfred protested. "Why would we do that?"

"To leave Matthew alone for a bit. I'm sure he doesn't want to speak with you two right now, anyway." Without a second spared for an argument, Ludwig pulled them along through the open door and off to the spare room, making sure to give his older brother a small wink on the way. Television would keep Alfred distracted for a little while.

An awkward silence hung over the two remaining occupants of the tiled room, Gil staying by the counter's edge while Matthew ate away at his much-desired meal. It was a couple minutes before Gilbert gathered up enough courage to speak.

"I… I'm sorry for saying what I did," he started, keeping his head hung low. "It was rude and ignorant, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I shouldn't have left you like I did. Not to mention that I forgot about our get-together in the first place… and ditched you to go somewhere else." Matthew admitted with guilt.

The German let free a laugh. "That's perfectly fine. You needed to go somewhere to help someone which is a very valid reason to leave me in the dust." Both giggled softly at the remark.

"Thanks for understanding, but I'm also sorry for running off like that. I overreacted a little." He stood up from the table, taking his now empty plate along with him to rinse in the sink. Gilbert walked over to stand next to him.

"No, it's fine. You had your right; I shouldn't barge into your life like that. But…"

"Yes?" Matthew tilted to peer at his friend.

"If… if you ever go somewhere, or need someone to talk you… just call me first, okay? I know I worry a lot and everything, but it would just keep me assured, and I'd stop prodding so much." Gilbert's cheeks turned pink, nervous to be saying such things. To his surprise, and luck, Matthew's mouth curved up into a sweet smile.

"Of course."

Shaking off his hands, he moved towards the German to carefully wrap his small arms around the older teen's chest, smiling calmly as those larger arms wrapped back around him. He basked in the shared moment, feeling at peace. When they pulled away, two grins reflected one another and Matthew laughed.

"I still feel bad about leaving you like I did so how about to make up for it I take you to the zoo with me? Special access, so we can see Kumi together!" Gilbert always enjoyed going to visit the small bear; aside from Matthew, he had the closest connection with the Arctic creature.

"Really? That'd be awesome! I'll go get my stuff ready right now!" Gil adoringly ruffled up those blonde curls before he rushed out the side door, beginning a search for a proper jacket and shoes. Matthew watched the display with glee, glad that his friend was feeling better. He hated to fight with Gilbert like he did, but some days it just happened. He sighed, surprisingly more calm than he originally thought.

With a few quick steps, he hurried after the German, passing by his other friends in the living room and running to grab his own supplies. After all, he needed to ask his bear a few important questions. "Hey Gil, wait for me!"

..oO0(|)0Oo..

.-~Thank you for reading~-.

-Could we try for 50+ reviews this time around? That would be a brand new milestone for me. I'm sure you can do it! It's only three more!-

It feels like it's been forever since I last updated, even though it's only been barely three weeks. Well, still a lot to me.

My awesome friend, Mirka, helped correct this chapter and edit it for me. Without her I wouldn't be able to write this story, she's inspired me so much and kept me going for so long. So, I thank her dearly.

I hope you enjoy this one, I tried to add a little more personalities and prepare some plot. I currently am having exams at my school, so I am unaware of when the chapter will be out, but I'll try my hardest.

-Radi0

I Do, Sadly, Not Own Hetalia