July 10th 1971

"Really Michelle…A bow? As if I'm not considered candied enough."

This earned the complaining blonde a playful slap on his shoulder. The tanned brunette still fiddling with the red bow that she was tying tight against the boy's scalp.

"It's cute. 'Sides, everyone knows by now sweetie." She stated, stepping back to admire her work. The red ribbon gathered a small high pony on the side of the boy's head. It was more of an accent than purpose as the rest of his wavy hair still framed his face.

Mauve eyes rolled, though he didn't protest further. It wasn't like he could fight his Polynesian friend. One look from those deep brown eyes and he would be putty in her hands.

Plus she was right, everyone pretty much knew.

"Fine….but only for today –Oh golly, don't at me look like that!"

With that, the blonde ran out of the break room, followed by whine of 'but Matthew'. He chuckled at her persistence as he meandered his way over to the bar to relieve a sleepy co-worker.

"Hercules…You can take five in the back now." He was answered with nothing more than a nod before the dark haired Greek took up the offer. Sometimes Matthew wondered if that man ever slept. From what he understood, the guy had three jobs total, caring for himself as he had immigrated her by himself at sixteen. The blonde had been to his house a few times. Hercules wasn't a bad guy, but he often bit off more than he could chew. The man was barely surviving on his own, much less with all the cats he rescued.

Well, they all had their reasons.

With a sigh, he stretched out before smoothing out the black apron that was required for all employees. A small coffee stain stuck to his left breast pocket. He would never understand the logic of white shirts in a café. Luckily there wasn't really anyone here to complain.

There were three of them working, but it was overkill. There was only one couple in the entire store, leaving the employees twiddling their thumbs for something to do. Matthew had taken to wiping down the counters which already shined like a new penny. Off to the side, the jukebox was playing the light tunes of The Ronettes.

"…you know I'll adore you 'till eternity….So won't you please…" His voice was soft as he scrubbed, stopping as the sound of the welcome bell chimed.

Without so much as looking around, he jumped into the nearest booth, dropping the army green sack he carried like a body. Matthew scanned him quickly before grabbing his work utensils. The customer had to be eighteen or nineteen, not much older than Matthew from the looks of him. In fact, he would have guessed the boy even younger if it weren't for his outfit. Enlistment required a certain number.

"What can I getcha', sir?" The kid looked as green as the clothes he wore. His hands twitched nervously and his leg was probably thumping as fast as his heart. Small tugs at what was not a military issued bomber with patches strewn everywhere. Matthew wondered what this guy was doing dressed up for war. He barely looked fit for public interaction.

"Co-" The teen cleared his throat. –"Coffee's good. Black." The voice had a small waver in it, even with that million dollar smile he managed to plaster on his face. Those All-American blue's refused to meet his own, remaining hidden behind sharp rimmed glasses. Matthew nodded, not bothering to write the order down.

Stepping back behind the bar, Matthew felt a stirring in his gut as he looked over his shoulder at the poor kid who had taken to memorizing the pattern of the wood grain of the table.

"Hey Michelle. Feel like doin' me a favor?"

Matthew took his time getting the coffee, though it seemed the soldier didn't notice it took five minutes longer than it should have.

Therefore, when he approached the man with a tray full of food, the surprise was genuine.

He began laying down a few plates in front of the man, enjoying the reaction he got.

"I didn't-"

"Just take it." Matthew grinned softly with a wink.

The American stared at the plates in front of him. One contained a meal of a well loaded burger with a side of fries and coleslaw. Two side dishes contained milk and sugar respectively. The coffee was black, but Matthew had a feeling that wasn't the way it was preferred.

"Thanks man." Finally, he got a sincere smile, eyes meeting solidly.

"Matthew…and it's the least I can do for one of …our boys." There was a bit of hesitation on that word, but he meant every last bit.

At that, the other seemed a bit disheartened, biting his lip a bit too hard.

"You okay?" Matthew's brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh. Yea! I'm great. Just…Hey. You wanna sit? I've got a while till the bus gets here." The boy seemed hopeful, the feeling sparkling in those too blue eyes.

Matthew was a sucker when faces like that were pulled. Whether the other knew they were doing it or not, he just couldn't refuse.

Matthew sucked in between his teeth, looking at the clock posted on the wall. It read just after two in the afternoon. "I get off in an hour. We can hang then if you're chill with that?"

"Sweet!" The American took to the fries like it was his first meal in weeks. "I'm Alfred, by the way."

"Dude, this place is rad!" Alfred stood with his arms wide, feeling the sea wind on his face.

Matthew chuckled at the childish antics. He'd lived by the beach for so long, he had forgotten that it was supposed to be some sort of spiritual magical mumbo-jumbo.

"I guess you're not from around here?" He asked, nudging up the glasses he had reclaimed after his shift His question was answered by as rapid succession of quick headshakes. He should have expected that. This wasn't the biggest town and everyone practically knew everyone.

"Here's the closest bus stop though." Alfred answered, lowering his arm, his back drooping a bit.

Matthew plopped down at the edge of the pier, legs dangling carelessly over the edge. "Off to 'Nam?" He asked quietly.

"Yea!" Alfred continued, fake enthusiasm evident. "I'll come back a hero for sure!"

The younger blonde grimaced. He wasn't a Dove or any kind of Flower Child, but he still had his reservations about this 'war'. He often felt it wasn't America's place, but he kept that to himself. The teen had enough troubles of his own.

"We'll, I'll have to have Michelle make a better burger for a hero then." His tone was condescending, earning him a light punch from the American when he sat beside Matthew.

"You better! By then I'll be high up like my ol' man with enough money to pay for hundreds of them. Maybe I'll move out here too. This place ain't so bad."

Matthew scoffed at the statement. There was no economic movement, no chance of getting on. Once you settled here you were stuck wherever you landed. He himself dreamed of a day when he could pack his things and take the first flight to New York.

"What? This place is nice. Kinda quiet and everyones real friendly." Alfred defended himself.

"I guess." He paused. "Why did you sign up anyway?"

Alfred rubbed his head nervously. "Actually. My birthday is July fourth –Awesome right? – and well…I guess you can say I won the lottery a few days later."

Matthew knew exactly what he meant. Well, that was a sucky birthday gift America. He was about to offer words of comfort, but he never managed to form them.

I'm not too mad though." The American's tone changed to a more serious one. "I get to serve my country and my Pop's is proud too. You shoulda heard him while I was packing, saying things like honor and pride." Alfred looked down at the water, a sad smile placed on his face. "That's all I wanted."

Matthew swallowed hard, eyes also watching the waves below them. He knew all too well the want for parental acceptance.

"Well, as long as you don't regret it…"

"Nah!" The American's head shot up again, taking his normal pitch. "Never!—But what about you? You gunna enlist?"

Matthew looked at him with a sneer. "Nope. Not a chance."

Alfred looked horrified for a moment. "What? Why? Are you a hippy or somethin'?"

Putting up a hand in peace, he continued before Alfred could get on his soap box. Holding off three finger, he began a countdown. "One, I am seventeen." This seemed to shame the American a bit as the finger went down. "Two, I'm technically still a Canadian citizen." This finger brought a tilt of the head from his company. "..and three…" He paused, sighing as he decided to continue anyway, "..they don't exactly let my kind in." Instead of lowering his last finger, he twirled it in a motion to point out the red bow that was still stuck in his hair. Michelle had refused to take it out stating that 'the day wasn't over yet'.

Alfred seemed a little confused at the last statement, eyes finally bulging as he realized what the Canadian was implying. Matthew sniggered at the change of face despite himself. Why else would he be openly okay with wearing something made for a girl if he wasn't already considered one by the community?

"Oh…I thought that was a dare or somethin'." Alfred pouted.

Matthew laughed harder. "I-it kinda was.."He took a moment to catch his breath. "My co-worker made me put it on for today."

"….well, I guess you do have a chick's face." Alfred added with a confused whisper.

Once Matthew managed to calm down, the two of them sat in relative silence for a bit. He worried that Alfred was now sickened by his presence, but he couldn't find it in himself to ask. He had already gone through a lot in the community when he openly accepted his sexuality. Most of those who knew either ignored the fact or ignored him. It was a peaceful solution in their minds.

After nearly half an hour of nothing but the lull of the ocean, Matthew started to feel very awkward and attempted to clear the cotton from the back of his throat.

"So-"

"Do you mind if I write ya?"

Matthew blinked in surprise. That wasn't exactly wasn't what he was expecting.

"It's okay if you don't want me to. I just….I don't wanna write home until I'm acceptable." Alfred laughed at his word choice. "I mean if you have a ….girl-boyfriend who will get mad or …ya know….do you mind?"

Matthew smiled, wordlessly pulling out his work pen and write his address neatly on the back of the receipt for the coffee he had served earlier.

Alfred gave him the biggest smile he could muster, jumping to his feet as he shoved the paper into his rear pocket.

"I need to get back soon."

"I'll walk ya'"

"Oh…Here. This will probably get taken away anyways."

Matthew watched as the bus pulled away with a heavy heart. His arms pulled the brown leather jacket closet to his body.

x.x

Postmark: July 15th , 1971

Matthew Whatsit:

Hey Mattie…you don't mind if I call you that right? I figured I needed to make sure this address was right before I got too busy. I forgot to get your last name, whoops. I really hope this isn't going to some random person. That would be so uncool.

I don't have much to say, the ride here sucked. Man. It was so long and everyone was so quiet.

Anyway, my address is on the letter, so write back if you can.

Keep in touch:

Alfred F. Jones

x.x

Postmark: July 28th 1971

Alfred F. Jones:

I'm glad you made it and if you didn't get the hint, the address was right. You can call me that, as long as I can call you Al. Alfred is kinda lame you know. Be careful and try not to be too loud. I hear those Sergeants are really dicks to flashy people.

This town is same old same old. That's to be expected. The café has seen some new faces, mostly military heading out. My co-workers have been trying to get me to ask out one of the guys I go to school with. I won't. Just not feeling him.

Sorry to end this on an awkward note.

Matthew Williams.

x.x

Michelle looked down at Matthew who was currently having a mental breakdown that required a good amount of ice cream and hot chocolate.

"I'm telling you. Gil is a much better choice."

"But I don't like Gil like this." He huffed.

"But Gilbert isn't halfway across the country about to go get himself shot." This earned the girl a sharp glare with a burn in it. She tossed her hands up in surrender. This innocent love affair was a time-bomb waiting to happen, but he was a big boy and could take car of himself. It was just letters anyway.

"I'm just crushing. I'll be fine." He shoveled more of the cold treat into his mouth, earning a raised brow from his friend.

"What?" He asked, cuddling back down into the blankets around his shoulders.

"…Mattie…"

x.x

Post Mark: September 2nd, 1971

Matthew:

What's shakin'? Sorry I haven't written in a while. My Sarge is a royal dick. Sargent Stan. He's really strict and everyone calls him "Satan" most of the time. I tried to get on his good side, but the only thing he ever tells me is 'Shut up' or 'Jones, lunch time is over!' Geez Louise….cut me some slack.

So how have you been? Ask that guy out yet? What did he say? He your main squeeze?

Oh before I forget! Guess what!

I'm shipping off this weekend. Cool huh! Now I get to show them what I'm made of! I have my own gun now. Named her Madeline 'cause it's a thing to name them. I've gotten pretty good with it too. Maybe I'll show you when I get back. You'll be amazed.

Don't forget our promise. When I get back I'm buying a house out there and I get my jacket back. I know it's awesome, but you can't keep it forever! Take care of it till then.

Keep Cool:

Alfred

x.x

Postmark: September 17th 1971

Alfred:

Should you really be telling me this? I mean what if he reads your mail? You should really think about things before you write it. Also, I don't blame him for yelling at you. I mean, I watched you scarf down Michelle's (my co-worker) famous burger in no time flat. Man can you eat. That thing is huge. Plus, you are kinda loud you know.

No. I don't have anyone right now. I mean, there is someone I kinda….really kindal like, but it's not gunna happen. Not ever. I suppose this is some sort of divine punishment or something…at least that's what the preacher would say.

Madeline? Where did you get that name? A mouthful for a gun. Which I think is weird to name anyway.

I remember. It's fine. I only let the neighbors dogs chew on it on Tuesdays. They really like that it's real leather and not that fake crap from Mexico.

Be sure to write me as soon as you can when you land. I'll be worried, but you seem to be able to take care of yourself. Be careful out there. Keep your head down, 'kay?

Keep safe...

Matthew

x.x

Matthew sighed as he dropped the letter into the slot. There was a lump in his throat that refused to go away.

"Oi! Matthew!" His head jerked to the side as he looked for whomever called him.

Jogging across the street was a pale man in the same uniform he had last seen Alfred in. He felt his heart stop for a moment.

"Gilbert. What are you-"

"Turned eighteen two weeks ago! Got my greens and ready to go!" He let out a cackle that was harsh on the ears.

Matthew's lips turned into a thin line. "What about school?"

"What about it? I'm part Prussian. Military service is the only up I got." The other seemed a bit resentful at the fact.

The Canadian had to agree. After the last war, discrimination against Europeans had been on the rise and for those of German lineage were worse off.

"Just be careful. You come home to your brother, you hear." Matthew reached up to dust off a short blonde hair from the man's shoulder, knowing all too well where it came from. There were a few passing sneers at the gesture, but no one dared to comment.

"I'm too awesome to die. I'll show them and come back to people weeping at my feet." The blonde boy would miss the arrogant German, but he already knew there was no talking him out of it. The papers were signed and the bus was coming.

x.x

Postmark: January 12th 1972

Mattie:

Hello.

Happy New Year. Hope you had a good time with your family.

Vietnam is not the best place to spend the holidays, but what can you do.

Anyways, I'm going to cut to the chase here.

Matt. I hope this doesn't scare you. I really want to keep writing back to you…but I think I'm in love. With you. Actually. I don't think. I know. I have thought about it for weeks now, every time I had a free minute. I told some of my buddies about you. I'm so sorry, but I have make you out to be a girl, Maddie. Don't want them running off getting me discharged. I tell 'em of that day on the pier often, how you blushed slightly when you showed me your bow. Don't deny it. You so did! It was cute. I wish I had taken it, something to remember you by.

I know you said you had someone on your mind. That's okay. I just needed to tell you…just in case.

I've saved every single letter you've written. I think I'm at twenty-three now. They are the only thing I can use to keep myself sane. I won't lie. It's hell here Matt. I can't even begin to describe it and I won't. You don't need to ever see this.

You know, I used to shake when I first started shooting real bullets. Now I don't even blink. God. What's happening to me? I'm afraid of what I'll become if I don't get out of here. I've thought of getting myself shot as a free ticket home. I know. How un-heroic. I'm too chicken to do it, but I've thought of it. I figured it would make you upset. I don't ever want to see you cry. Keep smiling like you did then. For me.

I still haven't written my folks. I've managed to move up a little, but it's nowhere near good enough compared to my Dad. I don't think I could handle the rejection after everything I've seen.

I still haven't met this Gilbert you asked about, but I'll keep an eye out.

I managed to bribe one of the carriers to take out a package as well. It's a bit girly, but I hope you'll like it.

P.S I'm going to be busy and won't be able to write for a while.

Much love.

Alfred F. Jones

x.x

Matthew held both the letter and the stuffed bear, with a pretty mauve silk bow, that came a few days after. He kept his tears in check, but the elation on his face was impossible to hide. The moment Michelle came inside, she knew something juicy was afoot and demanded to know instantly.

He gave her the important parts about him, leaving out everything else. That was between them only.

She was a bit incredulous of the entire situation, but kept her thoughts to herself upon seeing her friend's face.

"What are you doing here? You need to write him back!" Matthew only smiled at this, taking off towards the stairs before stopping short.

"Hey Michelle. You wanna do me a favor?"

x.x

Postmark: January 31st 1972

Al:

You idiot. I'll be Maddie. Goddamn it .I'll be Madeline. I don't care. I'll be whoever you want, just make it home.

Don't you dare get yourself shot. Don' .Dare.

I want to see you whole when you come home to meet my parents. You better be in full uniform too. My dad's a tough one to please. You'll need to be on your best behavior for my mom. She doesn't take it from anyone.

Speaking of parents, you need to write yours. They must miss you, despite what you think. Your dad will be proud of you, I know it. I'm proud of you. At least send a postcard. You can manage that right? I mean, you sent me a stuffed bear. Just do it before they put you on lockdown.

Please be careful.

Please….

…Come home to me.

I Love you.

Maddie Williams

P.S This is where a P.S should go.

x.x

A red ribbon was taped across the bottom of the letter.

Matthew took in his appearance in the bathroom mirror. His morning shower had left his hair damp, tickling his shoulders. Maybe it was time for a haircut. His sleep shirt was a few sizes too big, but it wasn't as if he were going anywhere today. It was his Saturday off and screw anyone who tried to drag him out. Work and school had been killer lately.

Readying his toothbrush for use, he had just popped it into his mouth when the doorbell rang. A confused looks fell over his face. He didn't expect any guests and his parents were out. Michelle was at work for all he knew, but she might have gotten off early.

Sauntering to the door with his brush held between his teeth, he found himself meet with something opposite of what he expected. Two men of strict demeanor stood rod iron straight at the door. His brain shut off for a moment, worrying about every misdeed he had done in his lifetime.

"Madeline Williams?"

Oh god.

He nodded, not trusting his voice right now.

Thrusting out a letter and a box, a sympathetic smile flashed across the face of one of the men. "We are here to tell you your fiancée is coming home a hero."

"Please take a moment to bow your heads as we read the names of our local fallen hero's"

Chocolate eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a mess of blonde hair she knew she wouldn't find. Her head felt heavy, thinking of the past few days and what the town had changed into. So many of their own had died in combat, leaving a somber atmosphere around the community. The mayor had managed to pull together a summer football game in which to strengthen the community.

"Hercules Karpusi..."

Under the bleachers sat a pretty face with light blonde hair, a purple oriental ribbon tying up a small amount of hair. A piccolo lay discarded on the ground.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt…"

His leather bound arms were wrapped around himself protectively as the names fell in no particular order. The rawhide jacket sweltering in the summer heat, but he didn't seem to notice. His mind was lost in the past, to a time when he waited on a sheet of paper. He finally got it. One he wanted to send back.

x.x

Postmark: June 25th

To Mrs. Madeline Williams-Jones:

We regret to inform you….

He specified all his personal and financial assets be forwarded to you…

Please take solace in knowing…

x.x

A name was called in which no one seemed to know who he was. It was the last on the list, leaving some to glance around in confusion, but no less, they paid respect.

A harsh scream was pressed into the musky fabric of an old bomber jacket, cut off by the booming execution of the American anthem.

x.x

I don't own Hetalia, nor the song this is based off of.

Historical inaccuracies abound!

Yes. I know Gil's birthday is off...it was on purpose.

I just had some feels. My grandpa, who currently has the mind of a 12 year old, decided to call me. And when grandpa calls, you listen...no matter how many war stories he decides to tell.

On another note, I need to get back to my other works. I'm working on it, I promise. I might have a new one up tonight or tomorrow...if I don't get blown away...cause there is a chance of tornados D: