Author's Note: Constructive criticism is always welcome!
Disclaimer: Hetalia is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya. Anything you recognize in this one-shot does not belong to me.
The Boy in the Red Sweatshirt
"I'm sorry," Matthew whispered, his voice scarcely audible over the harsh howling of the wind.
He looked down at the busy city below, watching as civilians commuted, stopping every few seconds at the constant red traffic lights. The noise level was the borderline to out of control—the drivers gave one another obscene gestures and screamed profanities for all to hear.
Matthew sighed. It wasn't like anyone would hear him, never mind try to stop him. He was practically invisible, and for him, that was normal.
No one recognized him, and even when they did, he was mistaken for Alfred. He almost smiled at the thought of his twin brother. Even though he was self-centered, boisterous, and a complete idiot, he remembered him; and that was what mattered.
Hesitantly, he rolled up his sleeves, causing recently healed cuts to reopen. He didn't feel pain anymore. He gently brushed his fingers against the marred skin on his forearms, tracing each scar delicately. He felt almost proud of them. He was proud of the initial pain that he had went through to create the thin, jagged lines that blemished his pale flesh.
"Is it worth it?" Matthew wondered aloud. "Should I keep living or…or cease to exist?" He sat down on his perch, his legs dangling off the edge of the roof. He gazed into the distance, his eyes traveling from sign to sign, trying to stir up good memories.
He could remember none.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away in effort to stop them from flowing.
"It's not worth it," he muttered. "Besides," his voice suddenly becoming less than a whisper, "it's not like they'll notice. And Alfred," he paused, "he'll forget me in time."
He stood up rapidly, his baggy, red sweatshirt flowing in the fierce wind like a flag. Solemnly, he stepped forward, dangerously close to the roof's end.
"Mattie?" a voice called, confused. "Where did you go?" It was Alfred.
Matthew paused, glancing backwards for the source. His twin was walking toward him.
"Mattie, what are you-" Alfred began. It was too late. Matthew had leaped.
"NO! MATTHEW!" Alfred screamed, racing forward to where his brother had disappeared. "I-I'm sorry."
Matthew was at peace, his arms spread out wide like bird wings and his eyes closed, oblivious to his brother's cries. He genuinely smiled for the first time in years.
He didn't feel anything when he hit the ground.