Here it is on FF.net

And here it is here if you can't be bothered.

THE AIRBORNE TOXIC EVENT
TRACK SEVEN - SOMETIME AROUND MIDNIGHT

Author : Herringway
Rating : T
Genre : Angst/Romance/Friendship (I guess)
Primary Characters : Canada, Belgium
Supporting Characters : Prussia, Austria, America, Spain, Francis, Britain, N. Italy

And it starts sometime around midnight.
Or at least, that's when you lose yourself for a minute or two.

The bar was crowded as it usually was, and Matthew was planted at the bar, watching his friend Gilbert's band 'Always Awexome'. They entertained the masses with covers of classic rock songs and a few of their own originals (mostly written by Luxembourg). Even Roderich seemed to be having a good time onstage, even though most of the songs were guitar-focused. However, that came to a stop as Gilbert introduced a new, original song. He bowed out and let Roderich take over, playing a hauntingly beautiful piano sonata that fell somewhere between Beethoven and Red Hot Chili Peppers (songs like Scar Tissue and Otherside came to mind). His eyes were closed, focusing on the music as Matthew slid a ten-dollar bill to the bartender, taking his rum and coke.

As you stand under the barlights,
And the band plays some song about forgetting yourself for a while.

When Matthew opened his eyes as the alcohol worked its way through his body as a cool burn, his eyes fell on a blond-haired girl across the bar, swaying her body in time with the music, a chocolate martini in her hand and a grin on her face.

And the piano's this melancholy soundtrack to her smile.

He felt his heart sink at the sight of her. He had nothing against Sophie; she was a lovely young lady who was always bubbly and bright. ...Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. There was a time when he and Sophie were a couple. It was shortly after The Great War, after he, Francis and Arthur saved her and her brother, Ned, from near-death. To keep their strength up, Matthew would give them much out of his rations. During this time, Matthew and Sophie eventually grew to love each other, and dated for a brief time.

However, such was not the case now. They had broken up a few weeks ago and Matthew was still taking it pretty hard. She had given him the excuse that he was 'too clingy' and that she 'wanted a break'. Matthew, being passive, simply nodded in response and that was the end of that, however, he had started drinking more than he used to. He looked up at her as she continued her hypnotic swaying, and noted how blissful she looked, almost like the last time they dated. As a matter of fact, she looked exactly like she did before they broke up, clothes and all.

And that white dress she's wearing, you haven't seen her for a while.

No matter what, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Of course, the feelings he had developed for her weren't going to just disappear overnight. He still felt for her, dammit. He had since they had broken up. In fact, it was Alfred's idea that he come out. "It'll take your mind off her," he said, "You'll have a good time," he said. Yet here she was, and, though her eyes were closed, Matthew knew that she knew that he was there. She danced and grinned and he noticed that she had a firm grip on the drink in her hands, as if it were her last support. She used to hold him like that sometimes, when things got out of control; when everything seemed to slip out of their hands.

But you know that she's watching.
She's laughing, she's turning, she's holding her tonic like a cross.

Determined to forget about her, he pounded back Cuba Libre after Cuba Libre, slamming the empty glasses on the bar when he was done and shelling out more money for another, to the point of the bartender asking him if he was sure. Matthew simply nodded... he lost count of how many, but it certainly wouldn't have been his first, he fifth, his twentieth. He reached for the next, and simply curled his fingers around the small glass, staring into the amber as if it held the answer to all life's mysteries. He then felt a tap on his shoulder and there was a sudden smell of sweat and waffles. He turned slowly, and there she was, the playful, flirty smile on he knew so well, and she spoke. "Hey Matthew... How've you been?"

The intoxicating smell of both her fragrances combined and collided into Matthew's brain, and he mentally cracked. The smell was all too familiar to him; it was the smell he had grown accustomed to of he and Sophie after sex, when she would cuddle into the warmth of his body, laying her head on his rising and falling chest, listening to his heartbeat as she'd trace little shapes on his pectoral with her fingertips.

The room's suddenly spinning, she walks up and asks how you are.
So you can smell her perfume. You can see her lying naked in your arms.

Matthew managed to pull his head out of the clouds and maintain a phony conversation about how life was grand, putting on the same smile he did when he was mistaken for Alfred, or when Ivan would apologize for sitting on him during a meeting. What he didn't tell her was that, right now, she was the last person he wanted to be talking to this evening. It was her fault he was here in the first place. It was her fault he was drinking himself sober. It was her fault that all these feelings of hate and anger were rising in his chest, but he was unable to act on them because DAMMIT, he still loved her. And that was probably the biggest hurt of all, the reason why he was so mad now.

And so there's a change, in your emotions.
And all these memories come rushing like feral waves to your mind.
Of the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined.
And you feel hopeless and homeless and lost in the haze of the wine.

After a while of pointless chitchat, Sophie excused herself and retrieved her coat from a brown-haired gentleman across the bar. She had mentioned his name in conversation... Antonio or something. Matthew couldn't remember, but all he knew was that he sure as hell didn't know who exactly the man she was leaving with was. He felt his grip tightening around the glass as he slammed the last payment for his alcohol on the bar. He felt so many things all at the one time: wrath, sorrow, envy, desire, though he supposed the biggest was shock... he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice that the glass had broken in his hands.

Francis blinked at the sudden change in Matthew's composure. "Mon petit, what is it?" He asked, a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. Feliciano, Alfred and Arthur were suddenly at Matthew's side, and he felt smothered now.

"You look like you've seen a spook or something, Matthew," Arthur noted. "Did something happen?"

"Sophie was here earlier," Feliciano noted. "Did she see you?"

"AWRIGHT! Little bro makin' the sweet moves on all the ladies, huh?" Alfred asked, tactful as always; oblivious to what had just occured. Arthur gave him a quick smack across the back of the head, prompting a whiny 'whaaaaat?'. Matthew glanced to the door and as quick as he had seen her, she glanced at him and found his eyes locked with hers, and she left quickly.

Then she leaves, with someone you don't know.
But she makes sure you saw her. She looks right at you and bolts.
As she walks out the door, your blood boiling, your stomach in ropes.
Oh and when your friends say,
"What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."

All these questions... it was too much. He ignored pleas to stay where he was (At least until we bandage your hand, Matthieu, Francis requested) and lurched from the bar and out the door, not even hailing a cab. He winced at the brightness of the lamplights that lined the streets and staggered down the sidewalk, ignoring the jeers of the swarming, faceless crowd he found himself lost in. He didn't care at this point. He was nothing without Sophie. It might have been the alcohol talking, but right now, if he didn't have Sophie in his life, Matthew might as well have ceased to exist.

Then you walk, under the streetlights.
And you're too drunk to notice, that everyone is staring at you.
You just don't care what you look like, the world is falling around you.

He fell and hit the pavement hard.

You just have to see her.

He picked himself up and continued his staggering gait.

You just have to see her.

He pulled himself into the doorway of an apartment complex, blood from his hand still dripping to the floor.

You just have to see her.

He pushed a button in the elevator and just sat there until it stopped on her floor.

You just have to see her.

He couldn't pick himself up now. He crawled on his hands and knees to her door like he did in the trenches all those years ago to save her. He knocked on her door weakly.

You just have to see her.

Sophie came to the door in a bathrobe and initially looked around in confusion, then, hearing a sound like a strangled gurgle at her feet, looked down. She gasped at the sight before her, and helped Matthew into her apartment. He cracked a small smile and she couldn't help but smile back, though her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "...Matthew..." She whispered as she wrapped his hand in a bandage. "I can't... I'm with Antonio now."

"I... I know." Matthew slurred. "I jusht... I jusht wanted ta shee you ag'n." He said, his shoulders shaking. He knew she'd reject him now. But he came anyway. She hugged him close and rubbed his back soothingly.

"You can't stay... Antonio is here." She said, standing him up. "I'll call a cab..." She said, reaching for her phone. Matthew reached over and held her hand, shaking his head. He stood up and headed for her door, almost tripping as he did. "Matthew, please... please don't do anything stupid..." She said. "Promise me."

"Awright, awright, I... I promish." He said, heading out the door. He got to the elevator and hit the ground floor button, and crumpled in the corner, letting out a loud, mournful sound; the sound of ultimate emotional suffering.

You know that she'll break you in two.