Hello, Hetalia fandom! It's been a while since I last wrote anything for you guys, and I just made this one up in my phone -again- when I was out waiting for my aunt to finish shopping -) so yeah, it's short. Sorry, hehe. Anyhoo, this isn't exactly the kind of writing style I tend to work with, but I guess it was okay enough for posting. If you bother to read anything here, then let me warn you that death is involved.
Disclaimer: As always, I do not take credit or ownership for Hetalia and its awesome characters. All rights go to Himaruya Hidekaz-sensei. :D
Splashes of orange paint the sky as dashes of pale violet are reflected in the listless gaze of deep amethyst. Blonde hair swaying like reeds with the breeze, a single shadow sits alone in the silence.
Find me.
The wind blows strongly as a boy rests his head top the railings of an old apartment building. A shiver runs through his hunched frame, as the young Canadian pulls the coat tighter around the small of his back.
Memories tighten his chest as a lump forms in his throat and tears well up in his eyes.
He thinks of ruby red gems, blazing brightly like the fire, shining like the sun in those hot summer afternoons spent together on the couch. He thinks of bright yellow feathers, loyally accompanying its master in the same way furry white would stay alongside him. He thinks of pearl white teeth, curved up in the shape of his perpetual, smug grin and goofy, crooked smile.
He thinks of warm hands touching and gripping and hugging and holding him oh so tightly, and of pale white skin gently cradling his petite frame.
He remembers the sound of his voice, husky and gruff, cooing lovingly in his ears.
"Hey, Matt, you look nice today."
(More and more, you're drawing me in.)
He remembers the sound of his voice, concern laden thickly over the façade of his carefree nature.
"Hey, Matt, don't stay up there too long. You'll catch a cold."
(So come down and stay here, where it's warm, with me.)
He remembers the sound of his voice, soft and hushed and in so much pain – and yet, still thinking of putting Matthew's wellbeing as his first priority.
"Hey, Matt, it's alright. I'm gonna be alright, so don't cry now."
(Your pained face hurts me more than this disease ever could.)
He remembers the sound of his voice, coarse and strained – barely above a whisper as his thumb wipes Matthew's wet cheeks as he breathes his last breath.
"Hey, Matt –"
(I love you, you know.)
He'll never hear him say those words again.
He's gone now.
He left him.
And so Matthew remains, this fragile little boy, lost and alone in the cold, cruel world.
Find me.
His nose clogs up as the rivulets begin to flow, cascading down his cheeks, which were flushed from the cold. Wet lashes flutter with the breeze as the blonde sets his violet eyes to a close.
Find me.
A chuckle escapes him; chapped lips curling up to form a small, sad smile. Words fall on his lips – raw, cracked, and broken, like the hoarseness of his voice.
"Hey, Gil."
(I loved you too, you know.)
Shadows dance alongside the setting sun, as his own falls into the plunges of the dusk.
Figure tipping over from the railings, a final tear escapes his amethyst eyes. One last breath is released. A jump.
He lets go.
"Find me."
...Kindly leave a review, s'il vous plait? :)
As of now, this shall be considered a oneshot. I may or may not continue this fic, but if I get enough requests, I might just try to wrack my brains to make another chapter for this, like maybe Germany's reaction to Prussia being gone, or something. I don't know... hahaha