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Peering through the window of the meeting room, you would expect to find only eight countries in there. Of course, there were only eight of them; for they were the ones that the meeting was most applicable to. Outside of the meeting room and within the larger building, however, there walked few stray countries wandering about hallways, and one all on his lonesome falling back against the drywall and sighing.
The people walking by didn’t pass even the slightest glance at him. He laid there, head resting against the cold wall, defeated. He had tried to make his way into the meeting time and time again; he had important things to discuss in there. Despite this he had gotten turned down unintentionally, for people just truly did not see him.
Oh, how Matthew Williams wished to be seen. It was something he had revolved his entire life around; the concept of being noticed. People did see him, yes; they could tangibly interact with him and talk to him, however he had a strange effect on those around him which caused them to seemingly forget who he was completely. The only person who didn’t seem to lose him in the depths of his mind was Alfred. Perhaps it was the fact that they were twin brothers, or that Matthew was practically Alfred’s shadow; all Matthew knew was that the person he blamed for his invisibility was also the only one who did not see it.
Matthew did not want to be here. With every new passing country in the halls that he knew the names of, they acted as if he was perfectly camouflaged against the wall. As his vision becomes cloudy with the onset of tears, emotions far outpacing his sense of rationality and logic, he sees out of the corner of his eye a short figure seeming to be walking towards him. As his head snapped over to the strange person, he found that it happened to be Romano. Despite not knowing his informal name he had been at least somewhat familiar with the Italian.
His eyes, color of the dark spruce lining a small cabin in the dead of a tundra, looked at him. Not through him, like most others would. His irises gleamed with a little bit of curiosity.
“Hey. You doin’ alright?”
His voice, although gruff, was still soothing in its tone. Perhaps it was the fact that it was directed towards Matthew specifically.
Matthew fumbled over his words a little, tugging at the ends of his coat he had scrunched into.
“Well, yeah… I think…”
His voice wavered in pitch. Matthew knew that if he said anything else he would burst into tears from the sheer overwhelming emotion of actually being addressed by someone. His sentence carried off, leaving the other confused at the sudden break.
“I just saw you sitting on the wall here and wanted to know if you were good. I mean, obviously to me now it seems you aren’t. But what’s got you so down?”
Matthew hadn’t expected this behavior from him at all.
He knew Romano as the short tempered, hot-headed older brother of Feliciano Vargas. Matthew had seen him on occasion blowing up on anyone who interacts with him, even in the most minimal ways possible. He had the shortest fuse he believed was even possible to have; ticking off almost instantly when poked the wrong way.
Yet here he was, talking to Matthew in that same voice that he heard shouting swears at others. Talking to him as if he were just any other person.
Matthew couldn’t believe it.
His eyes immediately welled up with tears, his face scrunching up just like his coat as he rolled into himself, trying to protect his body in the vulnerable state it was in. Romano immediately reacted and he kneeled down on the ground in front to him; reaching his hand out towards the other as if he were a wounded animal.
“Hey, hey! I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would make you cry. I’m sorry.” Romano repeated, coming closer to Matthew in an attempt to console him. Matthew responded by almost leaning into him despite not knowing the man that well at all. He just needed any sort of interaction right now, and this was the best way he could show it. Matthew was still trying to repress his tears, completely ignoring the fact that at this point, any boundaries still present of showing this kind of vulnerability towards Romano had been broken by the fact that he was practically laying in his lap at the moment.
“Hey, listen. I know we don’t talk a lot, but I do still notice you. I guess it’s a perk of being in our brothers’ shadows, si?” He finished the last part with a chuckle, although it came out as more of a grunt due to the cracking of his voice.
“…I-I guess.” Matthew finally replied. At that point he completely breaks loose; tears flowing out with broken sobs and whines following suit. Romano pulled Matthew in a little tighter, petting his head a little as if he were a dog. His fingers ran through wavy hair, attempting to soothe the mess of a boy.
“I’m r-really sorry, Romano…” Matthew’s sentence was broken into bits and pieces as his heavy intake of air interrupted the flow of words. He felt so horribly awful that his first interaction with someone besides Alfred in weeks had immediately resulted in his breaking down in their arms.
Romano does not respond, but he does start rubbing circles into Matthews back lightly with his palm. The two knew that no words needed to be shared to still have the presence of each other be noticeable.
When Matthew’s breaths became a little bit slower, and his sounds become much less horse-like, Romano added on to his last unfinished sentence under his breath, raspy and head slightly turned away from Matthew as if he wasn’t meant to hear.
“I-I’ll always notice you. Even in the shadow of him, you stand out like light to me.”
It came out a little choked; either from the vulnerability of the sentence or transferring of tears, Matthew had far bigger things to focus on with the implications of those words. He turned to face Romano, despite his eyes being red and puffy and glasses being almost sideways against the bridge of his nose.
“…Really?” He says carefully; scared that he’ll chase the moment away if he tries to jump onto it too quickly.
“…Would I have said it if I didn’t mean it?”
Matthew had to let out a chuckle at that. And his arms had to wrap around Romano, hugging him tighter than anything else. He sat up slightly, allowing himself to be parallel to Romano completely so that he could bury his face into the crook of his neck. He smelled vaguely of tomato.
Matthew, however, did not expect to feel the face of the man above him fall into his hair like it was the softest pillow ever. The two rocked back and forth slowly, embracing each other, digging each other out of their own sorrows by virtue of being present, as Romano rubbed circles into Matthew’s back.
Romano. That name wasn’t right. He knew that the other too had a less formal name, one used by close friends and family in situations like this. As he racked his brain to find it, the clue that led him somewhere was a curious thought. Love.
Lovino rubbed his face into Matthew’s hair as if he were a cat rubbing itself against a person to transfer its scent. As his hand still traced itself methodically over the area of Matthew’s back, he finally settled into the idea. His face grew warmer, and his breath slowed yet again; taking in the scent of Lovino in its entirety.