This story is dedicated to my lovely bro Couch! Merry Christmas, Couch! Sorry your present here is a bit late. Hope ya like this story though! *casually burns a couch in celebration* u/w/u *is shot*
Synopsis: When Matthew wakes up from a concussion, he finds himself in the room with two people: James and Alfred. Both are people he feels very, very strongly about, with one as his lover, and the other as his brother. There's only one problem: Who is who?
I'm pretty sure this isn't a real form of amnesia. Through learning about psychology we've learned about people forgetting certain functions or having damage to certain parts leads to certain uncertainties, but from my knowledge, I have not heard of an 'amnesia' type where someone mixes up who two, specific, separate people are. This story is based on the form of amnesia, though it is purely unrealistic.
Interested in the Russian translation of this fanfiction? Maybe interested in a fanmade 'chapter 5'? Check out my profile, where I can actually provide links to things rather than attempting to paste the links on here, where they will just be censored out for no reason. o-o Anyway, they're there if you're interested!
Casually warns that I do not own Hetalia or amnesia.
The pounding of his skull was the first thing that registered. Not even the immense darkness that enfolded his dazed state, but the overwhelming sense of pain that beat inside his scalp. His skin felt like it was strained, as if it had just been tugged on roughly and was left in the aftermath of bruises that were littered on his figure. His eyes were heavy and dry, but when they dared cracked open, the sudden flash of the white consciousness made them clamp up again. An irritable groan escaped his throat, though it hardly registered through his ringing ears, which were buzzing with a high-pitched, dizzying drone of a sound. He couldn't move though, not an inch. Every fidget made his body moan in agony; a lazy dismissal of the awakened world.
This place wasn't normal, he could tell that right away. Not the bed he was in, anyway, nor the lights or the smell of the air around them. These blankets were too stiff, or maybe they were too thin or too constrained to the bed. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. It wasn't 'regular'. This wasn't his room, nor his usual placement in any bed. There was no telling where this exactly was, however, until the dazed eyelids of his decided to flutter open another time, only to shut out the light a moment later. It wasn't a blinding light, but it wasn't something the male wanted to experience after his involvement in the darkness that surrounded his vision for who knows how long.
Voices rang out in a loud snap, unlike his other senses. They didn't gradually unfold into his ears, but shot through his sleeping state like a shock. However, meaning was lost through these verbal announces as they flung back and forth. Different speakers was all the male could tell, some at a lower tone, some at a squeak and others a demanding boom. Then there was that repetition of his name: Matthew. Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.
He refused to wake up immediately, probably to the disappointment to the voices who requested him to do such, and made another groan as his head rolled off to the side. Even this, however, made the male feel stiff with whatever inflicted the pain he was experiencing. Another attempt to see what was surrounding him was made, though instead of blindly opening and closing, the male adjusted his control by squinting. This made the room slightly more tolerable, enough to view a shadow or two in the room, but only until he forced his eyes closed again due to the beaming lights creating tears in his eyes. It was no use.
"It's too bright," he finally groaned out, his voice croaking in a sickly octave. There seemed to be a silence over the room for a moment, but the whoosh of curtains was a sound that echoed through, along with the clatter of whatever was holding them still. The boy felt himself relaxing with the change to darkness on his eyelids, especially when the lights in the actual room dimmed in their brightness as well.
"This good, Matt bro?" It was a voice Matthew recognized. Which one? He couldn't tell. Names and places and days and times escaped him. Knowledge seemed to escape his general thinking, right up until the male finally, carefully, let his eyes ease open to the darker environment.
Two people. Shadowy figures became somewhat clearer, revealing one person on the left side of the bed, and another dashing back to a seat on the right. They were both people the male could feel familiar with instantly, just with one look of their faces. Shaggy blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail was the distinguishing feature of the male on the left, whereas the male on the right had shorter hair with an odd lick of it flipping upwards. The left had a red, plaid shirt messily strung on his burly build, barely matching with the hazy violet eyes which were littered underneath with bags from sleepless nights. On the other hand, the right seemed to have bright and joyful azure orbs-barely tired in the least-with a bomber jacket fit neatly onto his figure and a nameless superhero t-shirt fitted underneath.
Matthew knew who these two people were. He recognized them loud and clear. Their faces were not easy to forget, as he had spent so much time with both of them. James and Alfred. His beloved lover and his dear brother.
His lover, and his brother. His brother, and his lover.
Matthew blinked for a second. Something felt...off.
"You're finally awake," the husky lumberjack, who was James, finally muttered. His arms remained in the position they were in, one slinging carelessly across the side of the bed, and the other keeping his cheek up. He was inclined forward on the bed, appearing in a lazy stance that was as if he could fall asleep any minute. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"We were worried sick while you were out, bro!" the excitable puppy, who was Alfred, proclaimed. He was standing upright, his palms holding him from falling as he leaned over to the male in the bed. "I bought a whole four gallons of coffee just so we could stick by ya through and through! I even brought my games over so that I could stay up here and not let ya be alone!"
A heavy sigh went in reply to this, and the sturdier one rolled his eyes. "I can always knock him out for a few days if you want some silence, Matthew."
"Dude! That's too harsh! Lighten up!" Alfred let out a whine of complaint, finally plopping himself down on the chair parallel to James's side, pouting and glancing over to Matthew. "You don't mind if I'm here, right Mattie? You love it when I talk to you, right? Right?"
"Of course, Al," came Matthew's reply. It was so easy to reply to this sentence in such a simple, straightforward way. It was like he was hardwired to talk like this to this situation, like he had done it a million times over.
It felt weird though, trying to connect the pieces of why he was talking like this to this particular person. He knew who Alfred was-which of the two he was-and could easily distinguish him in a crowd, but...
Who was 'Alfred' again?
The fog of past memories didn't lighten up. He knew he knew Alfred. He wouldn't not be able to distinguish Alfred and James and feel familiar with them under any particular circumstances. As Matthew's amethyst gaze flicked back and forth between these two, the same form of warmth grew in his chest. He loved these people.
But in what ways?
"D'you remember what happened, Matt?" Alfred began speaking again, after a silence. "You were out for a while, and the docs said it was a pretty serious crash, so we were both real worried about you! Parents had to go back to work and stuff though, but we booked off because we wanted to be with you right until you woke up!"
That's where the male was: a hospital. As he gazed around the room, eyes still somewhat blurry, he could notice the white expanse of everything surrounding him. White curtains, white sheets, all of it that bland colour that displayed all too well what it was. There was some colour, yes, some posters, some fun little knickknacks, but the general area was that cliché ivory milk that covered the room. No wonder those lights felt so bright.
He couldn't remember though, not about any sort of 'crash'. Knowledge still escaped him, at the moment. If he looked around, or even spent a few minutes relaxing, he assumed he would recognize everything in due time. For now though, nothing came to his memory. Not even the picture of his home.
"No, what happened?" He didn't even try to think about what might have occurred. Really, it just seemed like he was waking up from some painful dream. However, a mere 'painful dream' probably wouldn't have lead Matthew to the hospital, nor would it have scrambled his memory enough that he couldn't even fathom a guess at what he could have been doing to create such harm.
"You were driving home from hockey practice," James spoke up, cutting off Alfred from trying to speak at the same time as him. "We didn't hear from you after that for hours, and then we get a call there's been a crash and you were at the hospital."
"Surprisingly it wasn't the hockey practice that knocked you out this time! We got here as fast as we could when we heard though!" the American now interrupted, making the other blonde roll his eyes. "But you were in a coma and whatnot for a few days. We got really worried after a bit, but we knew you'd wake up!"
The word 'hockey' seemed to bring warm memories, though the little hint that apparently the male had been injured in such a way before due to this 'hobby' was a bit unsettling. These memories were blurry, and Matthew knew that they were not perfect, but they were there.
Alfred, James. James, Alfred. Lover, Brother. Brother, Lover. Was that the mix-up? The decision whether he is involved with James or Alfred?
"Yeah... I'm awake," Matthew breathed in agreement, glancing down to his hands. He didn't appear too damaged from the crash, at least. The doctors must have cleaned him up well, with only a few scars on his arms; probably from shattered glass. He didn't want to know what he crashed his head into and what his skull looked like at the moment. Even moving it still felt like carrying a bowling ball on his neck.
"We-" A quick rap of the door interrupted James from continuing, and the three glanced over to the entrance. The male entering was obviously a nurse, as apparent by the outfit he had on matching the bland wallpaper surrounding them, and the clipboard in his fingers. He appeared to look friendly enough though, flashing a bright smile to those inside.
"I have explained to Doctor Beilschmidt that Matthew is awake and we shall run through a few tests as soon as possible, so you all may go back home as fast as you can!" he sung, giving Matthew the most attention out of the lot of them as he glanced around. "Might you be quite alright with that, love?"
Matthew gave a nod, though it was still somewhat shaky. "Oui. Yeah. That sounds good."
The nurse glanced over to him and quirked an eyebrow, before a laugh left his throat. "But first, I suppose you should rest, yes? James and Alfred, was it? Might you care to follow me?"
The two of the visitors frowned, but Alfred was the first to get up and flashed one of his award-winning smiles to the one in the bed. "Don't worry, bro! The hero'll make sure you'll get out of this A-OK!" He practically flopped on top of the injured male to wrap him into a tight, painful bear hug. Alfred was usually rather strong on a normal level, but to the already-bruising Canadian, it seemed that surviving the car crash was the easy part of this whole ordeal...
"Alfred..." If there was ever a sound to explain more pain than when the male woke up, it would have been this choked moan.
"Alfred, I will get my hockey stick if you break him," James threatened, raising from his seat a bit slower than the American. Alfred obviously complained, but as soon as he was pushed out the door, James had his time to show his affection: by patting the other's head.
"Feel better, eh?" was how he started, with his patting somewhat better than Alfred's deathly hugging, but it still hurt with the Canadian's heavy head. He paced out of the room though, not even apologizing when the male let out a whine of complaint to his actions. "I'll make sure to beat you in hockey as soon as you get out of that bed if you don't take care of yourself."
"Noted," Matthew replied, a small smile creeping onto his cheeks. Brother, lover. Lover, brother.
With the two of them gone, the nurse assured the boy that he had no need to hurry with feeling better. His doctor would come in and out a few times to check up, but he had no reason to push himself until he was sure he was ready for the tests.
Eventually, Matthew was left laying in the bed, allowing his eyes to shut in the dimmed light and relaxing. He needed a bit of recovery from the rough handling in itself. The Canadian didn't exactly believe he was 'fragile', though he would agree that the other two were both rather strong. His memories failed in providing evidence that Matthew was or was not proven stronger than the either though, when he was in normal condition.
With these sort of thoughts, it was inevitable that the blonde's thoughts would trail off to the troubles dealing with the two precious people who had been in the room with him.
James Williams. They shared their last name, so that meant they were brothers, right? Or, maybe they were married. Matthew didn't notice a ring on either of their fingers, but he wasn't really looking. James was Canadian, which added to the fact that they could be brothers. It also added to the fact that they could have met here and started a life here.
Alfred F. Jones. They didn't share a last name, which could make him a good assumption for being the lover. Alfred also identified himself as American, which also supported the theory of Matthew and him not being related. However, there was an alternative to this: Alfred could have moved away from Matthew and changed his last name if they were brothers. Who said Alfred wasn't married to someone else and changed their name? From Matthew's foggy memory, Alfred was always like the embodiment of the loud American, and he wanted to explore all over the world; or at least the Americas. Whether these dreams came true for him so that he could travel while letting his brother stay home was a nice assumption, but it also meant something else: If Matthew and Alfred were dating, they wouldn't be living together, probably. Alfred was the type to go out and party whereas Matthew was the type to settle down.
Logic-wise, with the last names and nationalities, it made more sense for Alfred to be the lover. Structure-wise, with the last names and nationalities, it made more sense for James to be the lover.
It really all bubbled down to whether Matthew was married or not.
Looking down to his own thin fingers, the Canadian didn't notice a ring, but that hardly meant much. He could have lost it in the crash.
These thoughts weren't exactly helping.
While the male was deep in thought, the nurse must have returned into the room to clean, since when Matthew finally opened his eyes, that nurse that pulled away his brother-lover had returned, and was re-arranging things to neat, straightforward positions. A chair was pushed back against the wall, then some flowers were watered with a nearby faucet...
As Matthew was watching, the option of speaking up came to his thoughts. Everything would probably guide into place if he got confirmation on who these people were, and he could work on retrieving the correct memories instead of spending all this time in muddled grey area. He couldn't just ask James or Alfred though. Well, he could, but that could be a last-resort topic. It wasn't entirely the least embarrassing thing to not be able to tell your lover from your brother. That in itself might tell more than it would need to.
The nurse might know, and if not, maybe the doctor had some information on him that could be useful. Then asking his own parents could be another safe option, as they would know for sure who Matthew's brother was without option, and they would also be caring enough to the Canadian to understand his plight.
But first, maybe just asking the nurse...
"Nurse," the male finally piped up, leaning forward in the bed to straighten up. However, straightening up ended up becoming a bit more painful than he planned, and he let out a slight groan after doing such. Both the spoken words nor the groan appeared to catch the happy attendant's attention though, who appeared to be lost in his own little world, humming an upbeat tune as he waved a cloth around the few surfaces that was there. "Nurse? Nurse..."
It wasn't like Matthew wanted to bother him or anything; what if he was really busy? Maybe he should just speak up at a later time...
However, after this, it seemed, the nurse spun around in his spot, and ended up meeting his azure eyes with the Canadian. As their gazes locked for a while longer, the other tilted his head in confusion.
"Might you need something?" Matthew was used to this sort of ignorance enough that the moment of defeat wasn't quite so much a blow; especially at the moment.
"Do you know who...those people were?" It was painful to ask, and even more so to wait in anticipation for the other to provide some kind of answer. It was almost as if he didn't really want to know. This was like a sign of defeat, in a way; admitting that he couldn't tell his lover and brother apart...
The nurse, with good reason, appeared bewildered by this question. "They said they were your family, were they not?"
"No, they are!" he assured hurriedly, now doubting his choice in words. Damn it, Matthew, it wasn't like these people were strangers! Think about it in clear terms: what was happening? He didn't want to appear incompetent, nor did he want to place trouble on either James of Alfred. "I just...can't place a name to a face. I know their names, and their faces, but..."
Still, the male didn't appear to understand. However, instead of waiting for Matthew's stutters of trying to find the right words and failing, he merely hopped over and ruffled the boy's hair. "You are terribly cute, you know that?" Probably anyone could understand the look on the Canadian's face displayed that this was not the reaction he was looking for. "Come now, relax! You have gone through a lot, and it is normal to be confused. Give it a day or two, and I am sure everything shall fall into place."
That was an optimistic way of taking things, but he was right. As time went on, Matthew could recall more and more things from his life. Maybe it was just the jarring confusion of what was going on and what was happening that made his mind spin. His childhood memories were coming back, somewhat, in short feelings and flashes of pictures, but other than that...
"If that does not work, you may have amnesia," the brunette explained, to which Matthew nodded at. "Do not worry, though! A tiny bit of retrograde amnesia is not the end of the world! Sooner or later, you shall be able to re-live those moments you lost, no worries!"
While the nurse was in the room, these words gave the boy a small hope. Yeah, he could handle this. It wasn't like he forgot everything, he just mixed up a few things. He wasn't mentally challenged now, nor was he injured to the point of being crippled... Memory-loss. Amnesia.
Matthew nodded. However, despite the initial confidence, when the nurse finally left the Canadian alone in the room, guilt settled through.
He didn't forget anybody. He forgot the person he loved. He forgot his own brother.
Shuffling back into his covers, the Canadian curled in on himself. Tomorrow he would remember, he attempted to convince himself. Tomorrow he would be relaxed and…everything would be fine again. He would wake up and suddenly hit the one memory he needed that would push all the pieces together. For now, though, he allowed his eyes to slide back shut, and his mind to relax into the dark unconsciousness it came from.