Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of these characters.
Prologue
When Gilbert found out, he didn't cry.
He never went into shock or denial, and he never became angry.
Gilbert seemed to have quietly accepted the truth of the matter without much wasted effort at all.
After receiving the news, he simple went about his day like he would any other. He went back home, cooked dinner, fed Gilbird, washed the dishes, watched a bit of television, read some news articles online, and did his and Matthew's laundry for the week.
It wasn't until he crawled into bed, under a blue comforter, that Gilbert started to cry. The sobs were long and wet and full of anguish, and he could not have stopped them if he tried.
But he didn't try.
Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he had cried like this. Truthfully, he could not remember the last time he cried at all.
Afterwards, he got back up, downed a bottle of scotch, and fell asleep.
In the morning, he found the last letter, under the pillow that Matthew used when he would stay the night.
Dear Gilbert,
I've written a letter to you every day for some time now. I'd like it if you finally got to read them, after all this time. Please look in the treehouse. They will be in a box, in chronological order.
I really do hope you read them.
Yours truly,
Matthew.
Author's Note: This is an experimental piece that will be told primarily in the forms of Matthew's letters and third person narration. I do not have a plan.
The idea for this fic hit me while I was listening to Yours Truly by Paradise Fears. The story will not be based on the song. I recommend you listen to if you get the chance, it really is a nice song.