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Mexico wasn’t sure why he felt like this. Trivial things appeared to tick him off, and change his demeanor entirely. He’d always been this way, even when as a chibi, which made socializing difficult. Eventually he learned the best way to keep people around was to mask all his negative qualities, as he couldn’t make them go away.
Though there’s one problem—he could only keep a box over the cheese for so long, it wouldn’t take much time before it began to smell. Mexico was dating a gentle soul by the name of Canada, who made his stomach twist, and turn with a single glance. José loved Matthew with his entire heart, but also was afraid of hurting him in any way. That’s why he’s been unsure how to bring up his recent diagnosis to the man, he didn’t want his view on him to change because of the diagnosis. José knew the stigma behind the disorder, how they were all apparently “manipulators” and “avoidant.” Alright, maybe he couldn’t deny the last part, but he also couldn’t help it. It was practically wired into his brain, to the cellular level even. He pushed all of his usual doubts away, not wanting him to see that side of him.
Oh Matthew.. My sweet, beloved Matthew..
Sometimes the man wished he was someone else, someone that Canada really deserved to be with. No matter how he thought about it, he knew deep down Matthew should be with someone who could provide more than he’s capable of, someone without that awful stain of a disorder. José’s hand hesitantly reached for his phone which was on his nightstand, scrolling through his contacts until he found Matthew’s. For a moment, he stopped, considering every consequence he might ignite from his text.
There’s no going back after this…
He let out a frustrated sigh, needing a drink of anything available, it didn’t matter he just wanted the feeling to stop. Mexico’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, swallowing harshly, he closed the contacts page and opened his notes app. He decided it’d be safer to type out everything he wanted to say and revise it before he’d send it. José felt like his stomach could expel all its contents at the press of a button.
This is so pathetic, it couldn’t have been that difficult for someone to send their partner such news right?
He bit the inside of his cheeks out of exasperation, unable to hold back the turmoil of unwanted emotion flooding through his system. José couldn’t talk to him like this, he needed a distraction, anything really. The Mexican got up from his bed, teeth still sinking into the soft flesh of his mouth. He desperately searched around the house for anything he could vent out the unpleasant, overwhelming sensation. Finally, he found the bottle of tequila, readily available at his disposal. By this point, he lacked enough self control to stop himself from pouring more than he usually drinks in his glass. He downed it in a second, unaffected by the burning in his throat from the drink. Mexico let out a soft grunt when he finished it, muttering a quiet “mierda” (shit).
What the fuck do I do..
Despite the alcohol in his system, it did little to soothe him, so he went back into his room and began to jack off. When that didn’t do anything, he gave up, pulling his pants up half heartedly. The alcohol got the best of him, as he sobbed into the pillow about his situation.
He hates me, I haven’t talked to him all day! Fuck! He probably thinks I’m a stupid alcoholic.. I am a stupid alcoholic! Probablemente está cansado de todas mis pendejadas.. (he’s probably tired of all my bullshit)
He bit his inner cheek harder, his anger persisting in spite of all his efforts, still crying into the pillow. José was too busy drunkenly weeping to realize how irrational his thoughts all were, and unlikely to be true. He turned away, sitting up, and punched himself in the leg. The self-inflicted pain worsened his mood, as he let out another whine. After a couple minutes of nonstop crying, he went to the bathroom, deciding it’d be time to make it all stop. He ran in there with intention, rushing to the toilet, and arriving in record time. He knelt down, his head hovering above the seat, before he stuck two digits down his throat. When he finished, he shakily stood up, looking at himself in the mirror. Mexico wanted to spew again at the sight alone, it was hard to believe that was him, staring back at him in the mirror.
José almost burst out laughing at how pitiful he appeared, puffy eyes that were ridden with tears, and his lips coated in bile and snot. It began to dawn on him how dramatic he’d really been acting this entire time. It wasn’t exactly out of character for him to resort to extreme measures to relieve himself. He quietly chuckled at himself in the mirror, cleaning his face of all fluids in the sink, and flushing the toilet. He rinsed out his mouth, washing his hands and mouth, ensuring not a trace of his episode was left.
Once he was all cleaned up, he went back to his room, turning his phone on and looking for a certain contact. His finger clicked on Canada’s number, opening his messages with the blond, with a shaky exhale, he pasted the previously typed message. Mexico waited for a couple seconds to pass, in the end deciding to delete the paragraph he typed out before this. He typed out a shorter, more straightforward message for him, closing his eyes and sending it.
“Hey, we need to talk, it’s important.”
Maybe that was too ominous, he thought, this really sucked since he didn’t know how Canada would take this news. The easy part was over, now the actual part that he was fearing would shortly follow after Matthew’s response.
“What happened?”
“Do you think you could come over? I think it’s better if I tell you in person.”
“Sure, I’ll be there soon”
With that final message, José’s impending doom only intensified, afraid of the impact the diagnosis would bring. He continued to dwell on future events that, key word, haven’t occurred yet, if at all. He suddenly remembered he left out the tequila bottle, ¡mierda! deje la maldita botella afuera (shit, I left the damn bottle out). He ran to the kitchen, quickly hiding it in the shelf where he kept all his liquor. That was a close one, not that Matthew really minded that he drank, he drank a bit himself. He just thought it wasn’t appropriate to have alcohol out, considering the topic soon to be discussed.
He’s gonna be here any minute! God damn it!
Mexico ran back to his room, quickly changing into something more comfortable. Since his previous set of clothes were stained with all sorts of bodily fluids, he didn’t want Canada to notice that. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, making sure that his breath didn’t reek of bile nor alcohol, not being able to afford that happening. He couldn’t lie, he still felt the effects of the alcohol in his system, though he felt a bit better. Maybe this was a mistake, he should just cancel and tell him another day—an abrupt knock on the door interrupts his train of thought.
Matthew had arrived, José looked at him through the peephole. He was wearing a red, canada hoodie, with a maple leaf in the left side of the chest. Although he was wearing something casual, he looked absolutely gorgeous, it was almost difficult to believe he was dating such an angel. The man opened the door, allowing his boyfriend to step inside.
“Hey José, I’m here like you asked me to be—um, you haven’t responded all day. And I’m kinda worried about you, what did you wanna talk about?” The quiet blond’s voice broke the silence, Mexico sat down on the couch, patting the side signaling him to join him. He complies, sitting next to the man. Even if his head hurt a bit, his vision was slightly blurry, and his stomach felt odd, he put on a sober facade.
“Yes, there’s really no easy way to put this, but I don’t think it’ll benefit either of us if I don’t tell you at all.” He began, taking notice of Canada’s already nervous figure becoming more tense. “Matthew… I want you to promise me something..” Mexico’s words began to slur a bit as his composure slipped, digging his nails into his skin.
“Are you alright..?”
“Yes, I’m fine”
Canada didn’t buy it, but wasn’t sure if to continue bothering him about it. It was clear as day he was intoxicated, he could tell the moment he laid eyes on the man. He remained quiet, thinking it’d be better if he didn’t say anything for now.
“Matthew.. Can you promise that you won’t tell anyone about this? What I’m about to tell you..”
“Sure.. José, what’s the matter?”
“I have borderline, Matthew. That’s the matter,” He swallowed harshly, this was it, the news was out. The words were bitter like soap, not helping his case that only a couple minutes ago he ejected all his stomach contents. Canada’s eyes widened slightly, he looked more worried than angry or any other negative emotion Mexico had expected him to feel.
“You do? When did you.. you know, find out?” He locked eyes with the nation, waiting cautiously for his answer, “To be honest, I’ve known for a while now, but I recently got diagnosed yesterday” Matthew was running out of things to say, he wasn’t sure how to respond to this. He thought deeply inside his mind how to avoid upsetting him, while finding a way to make things work. Matthew looked into his dark brown eyes, with a gentle smile, avoiding giving the wrong signal.
“Well.. thank you for telling me, please don’t worry too much about it.. I know how hard it is dealing with that, and as your partner I want to make sure you feel alright.” The Canadian reached for his hand, taking it into his own, and giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Mexico was a little perplexed, why wasn’t he packing his stuff up, getting ready to leave. “You’re not mad?” He raised an eyebrow, pushing further clarification from the blond.
“No, I’m not, why would I be?” Matthew came a bit closer, “I like to be around you José, and I don’t want to see you hurting, especially not because of me. If something bothers you or if you need something then please tell me, so we can figure something out.”
The Mexican was taken aback. No one before Matthew had gone out of their way to reassure him in the way he did. Then again, it was Matthew they were talking about, the one that goes unnoticed, and forgotten more than half the time. He wasn’t sure if he could truly trust the Canadian, but he knew deep down he had to change, and not just try to change. The thought of him caring about him made his heart shatter into a million shards, he leaned forward and embraced Matthew as hard as possible. Canada held his body closer, wrapping his arms around the male in a loving manner, both needing physical comfort.
“Mi querido Mateo, no me dejes nunca.. (my darling Matthew, don’t ever leave me)”
He murmured into his shirt, a couple tears ran down his face. They’ve been together for nearly a year, and been friends for longer than that, but this is the first time he ever saw Mexico so vulnerable. Although Matthew had limited Spanish vocabulary, he understood a handful of words. He knew “Querido mateo” and “dejes nunca” though that was about it.
“I wont leave you..”
“Cariño.. Besame.. (dear, kiss me)”
He also knew what that phrase meant, it’d been a while since they shared a kiss, mostly because both nations were too shy to initiate it. This time it was different, Mexico was allowing Canada to take down the walls he set up around himself for years. Such a simple gesture setting fireworks off inside of Matthew, but it held more weight to him. He shifted so he was facing José, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.
This was a mistake though, because of José’s drunken state, he completely forgot Canada was “completely unaware of his intoxicated state.” Matthew didn’t mind the slight taste of alcohol he failed to hide, he was used to the taste of tequila as they would drink together occasionally. The two shortly separated after the tender kiss. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice?” Matthew gave him a teasing look, implying he knew the entire time “Ah—fuck.. You weren’t supposed to know..” Now he just felt like an idiot, all his worries melted as the blond leaned in once more, giving him another slow kiss.
“I still love you, you know, mon chérie.”