The young boy sat between two pieces of masonry that were once the corner of a room. Now it had been reduced to rubble. Everything had. The streets were full of bodies. Houses had been torn down. Nothing and no one had survived. No one apart from the boy. It had been days and he hadn't moved. He was terrified, clutching the dust-covered bear in his arms tightly to his chest. He trembled, shrinking back and curling up tighter as he heard movement. It could have been the wind but he didn't know or care what it was. It was a noise and it frightened him. He could hear laughter. The high-pitched laughter of children playing. With a soft whimper he looked up, peeking out from between his arms. Figures were moving. Figures that were there and yet not there at the same time. The boy watched them with wide eyes. They didn't seem to notice him sitting there. They didn't seem aware of the devastation around them. They didn't even notice their own bodies lying in the rubble. The ghosts played on, oblivious.
A new noise made them scatter and the boy watching them shrank back. Another figure appeared, covered in dust and grime and picking its way carefully around the rubble and the corpses. The figure was male and nothing like the boy had ever seen before. His hair was white and not just from the dust that was in the air. He was wearing clothes that were tattered and torn and had once been a deep shade of Prussian blue. As the figure moved closer he saw the boy and moved towards him, his posture that of someone approaching a wounded animal, crouched low and trying to not scare them away by making themselves look as little like a threat as they could. The boy didn't move. He could now see that the man's eyes were deep red. Whereas the boy would have once described them as the colour of the hoodie he wore or the buses that used to regularly drive past his house, they now only reminded him of one thing. Blood.
"What happened here?" The man asked as he reached the boy, hunkering down beside him and tentatively leaning against what remained of one of the walls. When the boy didn't reply he pressed, "Please. Tell me what you saw."
"Lights..." The boy said eventually, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He was staring out into the street where the ghosts from before were now starting to emerge again. There was a shout of laughter and then it was like they had never been gone at all, chasing each other around and hiding behind the burnt out shells of cars.
"Did you see anything else? Hear anything? Please?" The man whispered desperately.
"They moved... and... died..." The boy replied faintly, his gaze following the ghosts of the children he used to know.
The man followed his gaze, "Who were they?" He asked softly, looking at the bodies on the ground.
"My friends..." the boy murmured, "kids that I once knew..."
The man swallowed, "What's your name, kid?" he asked softly.
The boy looked at him, his violet eyes wide, "Matthew..." he murmured.
"Hey, Mattie." The man smiled at him reassuringly, "I'm Gilbert."
Matthew nodded, "Gilbert... okay." he looked back at the children, "They can't see me..."
"Tell me what you see, Matthew," Gilbert pressed again, concerned for the small child beside him. He seemed familiar but he couldn't put a finger on why.
"They're playing. And they can't see me. My friends... they can never see me properly." A small tear ran down his cheek.
Gilbert didn't reply, watching the street. He thought he could almost see the ghostly figures moving, jumping and hiding. He could hear the faint sound of children's laughter, high-pitched and joyous. "Did you play with them before?" He asked softly.
"When they remembered me..." Matthew was becoming a little more comfortable in Gilbert's company. "But when they don't, they make me feel really small..."
"I get that." Gilbert murmured, still watching the ghosts. They was one that he could see more clearly than the others. A boy around the same age as Matthew with short blond hair, there was a few strands that seemed to defy gravity, flicking up from the top of his head. He appeared to be the leader, giving instructions and laughing the hardest. Gilbert noticed that occasionally this boy was looking in their direction. And he could swear that he saw him gesturing for them to join in. Gilbert looked back at Matthew only to find that the boy had hidden his face again. "Is there one... you can see better than the others?" He asked softly, wondering who the other boy was.
Matthew nodded slightly but didn't seem inclined to give any more answers.
"Who is he? Doesn't he seem a little too real to you? Not like the others?" Gilbert pressed urgently, he was running out of time and he knew it, though he didn't know how he knew it.
"They're kids that I once knew..." Matthew replied softly, "My friends... and my brother... my Al..."
Gilbert nodded slightly, "He seems to want you to go play with them." He said quietly, "He keeps looking over here."
Matthew looked up and sniffed, watching the ghost children as they played, seeming engrossed in their game. Then as Gilbert had said, the blond boy stopped and looked over to them, reaching out towards them. Matthew smiled slightly, his eyes brightening slightly as he kept watching them. Gilbert swallowed and moved to put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, only to find that he couldn't. His hand went through the boy. And then all at once he realised he could see through him. Not much, but the boy was just ever so slightly transparent. And then Gilbert knew. He knew why he was there and he knew where he had seen this boy before. It had been when he landed. When he came down he had seen the body of this boy at his feet. The body had been small and broken, covered in blood and dirt, one tiny hand reaching out towards his dust covered bear as if the toy would have been able to save him. Gilbert swallowed, "Go and play with them, Matthew. They're waiting for you." He said softly.
Matthew looked up at him and his eyes widened, his mouth making a little 'o' shape in surprise. "Are you an angel?" He asked, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side as he reached out, touching one of the deep reddish pink wings that were now visible on Gilbert's back.
"Yes," Gilbert murmured, "Yes, I had almost forgotten. But I was sent here to make sure that no one got left behind." He smiled at him, "Go and play with your friends. They miss you and they're waiting for you." He looked up as the blond ghost boy came over to them, his hand outstretched. Matthew shyly reached up and took his brother's hand. And then they were gone. Together again as they should be, all the children vanished, fading away and leaving nothing but silence in their wake.
Gilbert smiled slightly and got to his feet, starting to walk again, searching in case there were any more lost souls.
Author's Notes: Random inspiration after my friend sent me a link to the song Dead Hearts by Stars. I don't know what happened to cause this. Hetalia doesn't belong to me.