Author's note: Hi, everyone! Welcome to my first published, solo fanfiction! First day of summer break, no better day to start typing my hand written fics than this one and I'm hopping to be active over the summer. This is a one-shot prompted by the image in the cover slot. All respects to the original artist. I don't own hetalia or the image.
Matthew William Bonnefoy stood, preparing. How long had it been since this had been someone else and it was himself left to wait? Twenty-six years already?
The little Canadian sat in a chair against the wall, trembling. By his side sat Alfred, sweet Alfred, holding his hand and rubbing his back. The American whispered soothing words to try relaxing his brother. He worried, Matter was usually nervous, but in their sixteen years he'd never seen his brother squirm and whimper like this.
Matthew was generally quiet, barely made a sound for anyone other than Alfred to hear. He was anxious nearly constantly and he's almost always had medication to bring him down if it got too high - not that he needed it if Al was around to keep him safe enough. Lately though...
Lately, Matthew had been retreating. He said less and less by the week, hands always shaking, eyes - once soft and innocent - always haunted. His hair had grown long and Matthew had taken habit of constantly hiding in it. Some days, he would come down for breakfast with his hair back or shifted, and Alfred would see the dark circles under his eyes, tear tracks dried onto his pale cheeks. Once, Alfred had been woken by Matthew's bone-ratt;ing screams, babbling about hurting people when Papa had gone to try calming him down.
That had been the last straw, and here they were.
"Mattie," Alfred whispered softly, "what's going on in your head?"
Matthew peeked up at his brother and it broke Alfred's heart to see how scared he looked. "There's nothing wrong with me," he whispered back, voice small and cracking at the end.
"I know, Mattie, Do you wanna talk about it?"
Matthew paused and, in that moment, something flashed behind those familiar eyes that made Al worry that Matthew was slipping again.
The answer was yes.
Very far.
"Alfred, I can barely hear you over everyone. Speak up?"
He blinked in surprise at the comment, looking around again to confirm that they were the only people in the room. "Mattie,: he started cauciously, like any amount of words too fast would cause Matthew to crumble, "we're the only people here."
A look of confusion passed on Matthew's face and the door opened before Matthew could speak. "Matthew William Bonnefoy?" Matthew nodded slowly, a harsh grip clamping onto Al's hand. "You've been deemed mentally defective. Please come with me."
Matthew screamed.
T
wenty six year of nothing. The defect was no longer something out of order, not even something wrong. It worked with him in perfect correlation. Matthew was cold as he went into the next room, small bubbling voices encouraging the once timid Canadian.
"Madeline Alice Jones?"
A girl sat against the back wall of the room next to a wary man with tired blue eyes the widened seeing the needle in Matthew's hand, more so when those blue eyes met that cold and calculating violet gaze.
"Mattie," the American breathed, voice shaking a little.
Matthew replied with a formal, "Alfred." He turned back to the girl. "Madeline Jones?" She nodded. "You've been deemed mentally defective.
"Mattie, don't do this," Alfred pleaded, much to his brother's indifference.
"I'm afraid we'll have to continue."
Story notes: I figured out how Matthew is Canadian and Al is American, the same age, and brothers. Step brothers, ya know. Madeline Alice Jones (at the end there) is Al's hypothetical daughter.
Thanks for reading! R&R!