The glitz and glamour of the city were lost on the blond walking the streets, baggy hoodie hiding his body from anyone and everyone looking at him. Glasses rest on his nose, allowing his blue eyes a small area of sight as he took in the same old people, on the same old day. It seemed every day was the same for the youth, no matter how many times he ended up living it, it just repeated itself.

A bladder-jump by a dog at three am, his brother coming in at five for him to help with homework, and, around six, he'd leave for "classes" that his parents didn't even pay for because they completely forgot they had a second son. After all, when their oldest was the best at everything he did except for public relations with "stupid fucking Brits who can't keep their eyebrows on", who needed a runner-up, right?

Certainly not his parents. All they wanted out of him was a simple request; that he vacate the house when they had company, and that when he was home, they expected absolute quiet so they could bask in the Absolute Perfection that was Alfred. Particularly since Matthew wasn't really born to the "right" mother, he was ignored like a blemish.

The only thing he requested in return for his complete cooperation was a bag of quarters every day so he could go and play DDR at the mall arcade. Which was where he was heading right now, music blasting into his ears from a pair of bright red over-the-ear headphones to set his pace.

That is, until he smacked into a brick wall of a man who absolutely had no right to be brick-walling in the middle of the sidewalk like that.