This is my first Axis Powers Hetalia fanfic, I hope you like it! Oh, and I'm a HUGE Matthew/Canada fan, but that doesn't mean I can't write about him dieing, now does it~?
DISCLIAMER: I do not in any way own the characters of APH nor do I claim them as mine; I'm just another fangirl.
Snow Stained Red
The cold white flakes of frozen water drifted down from the sky, softly landing and increasing the size of the blanket of snow. Matthew had always loved snow. It's untainted beauty, the way it made every thing it touched seem so pure and harmless, how the snowflakes would melt on his tounge, and how it brought family and friends together. But no matter how much snow fell onto plains of the artic where he currently stood, the Canadian knew it would never bring his family together. Arthur couldn't stand Alfred; the rude teen doing any thing he could to be the center of attention, no matter what he had to do. And Francis was always trying to sleep with any one that he'd have a chance to seduce. Yes, Matthew's family was unable to get along for sure, but there was something else that stung worse than the freezing air on his bare face. They never noticed him. Not Francis, not Aurthur, not even his twin, Alfred, ever noticed his pressence. And that was why the 'invisible' teen was standing in godknowswhere on the Canadian tundra; he was going to escape. Kumajiro had wandered off somewhere, so the pet polarbear cub had been spared seeing the advent to happen. As were the others...
Matthew reached into a pocket of his parka, his gloved hands steady despite the intence cold that whipped at his face in the wind. The light of the setting sun cast rays of soft golden and pink light over the white landscape, glinting off the object grasped tightly in the teen's hand. "This is it..." Matthew murmered to himself quietly, wind and tears stinging his face as his voice nearly cracked. Biting onto the handle of the knife, Matthew pulled off the protective coat and threw it to the side, the bitter-sweet freezing air now sent a painfull shock of cold all over his body. In the fear, sadness, and cold, he dropped to his knees. Holding the weapon with the point to his heart, Matthew whispered a prayer then dug the knife into his soft flesh. Death. Sweet, instant, freeing death. His body fell to the ground, already lifeless before it had seddled into the quickly reddening snow. They would regret forgetting him, for now there was only his bloody body to forget.