Title: In the Aftermath
Author: perfectioninmypride
Summary: When a sudden accident leaves everyone reeling, the ones left behind struggle to mend. But how can there be hope for a happy ending when a family is broken? AU, FACE family story.
AN: I don't know how I'm going to write this. I started planning this out around a year ago, and since I'm not usually much of a story planner, you know that's serious business. Well, here goes nothing.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia
Prologue
The night was dark but he didn't notice. He was too fucking angry – too fucking angry to care about things like vision and his brain was too muddled to think of stupid things like reasons or excuses.
He ran fast, faster than the footsteps that chased him into the darkness. He stumbled, once, twice, three times before he fell. In the time it took him to pick himself up the footsteps were here and god damn it, he's caught up.
"Wait!"
"Fuck you!" he screamed back and turned to face his pursuer. "Don't you fucking tell me what to do! You've done enough!"
His words were slurred, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to say anything more.
They've reached an impasse, screaming at each other in the dark night. He could only see red blossoming in his vision from rage and alcohol, and the black blankness in the dark and then… something bright from the corner of his eyes.
They kept screaming at him to move, but fuck this, he's an adult and he could make his own decisions and this wasn't his fault… and holy shit why were the footsteps starting again and the lights, the lights were-
He's jolted to the left - the impact sent him crashing to the ground and his head hit the concrete hard. The arms that had pushed him were gone as soon as they came, and now his head hurt too much to crane his neck up and look for where they'd gone - so he just lay there.
The lights were too close. They stung – yes, it was the light, not tears because his head felt like it was cracked open, not tears at all.
"Oh shit!"
He heard something slam, and someone swear, and suddenly there was screaming.
Was this it for him? Was this it for both of them? Fuck if he knew.
Perhaps all along he'd known he was going to do something stupid, but he had never have imagined that it'd be… whatever the fuck had happened.
It was too hard for him to think and then… then there was no noise at all except for some sort of inhuman screeching in the distance that screamed him to sleep as he closed his eyes.
Still around? Then here is a special preview excerpt of the first, proper chapter:
"You, yes, you, are a self-centred jerk!"
"Ah, but chéri that's why you love me!"
It seemed like the hundredth time that Matthew had been woken up like this. Not by the alarm that rang dutifully every weekday, but by raised voices floating up into his room from the kitchen downstairs.
For a moment, he lay still, listening to an unusually light-hearted argument, at least compared to the spats he had heard recently. His parents seemed to be almost... joking? The sound of their words were, for once, almost comforting in their banter, as opposed to the spite filled verbal bullets that shot between his parents altogether too often.
After a few minutes, he dragged himself out from under his bed-covers, grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and shivered as a blast of cold air hit him.
Damn it. He swore he had closed that window last night.
Oh, right.
Alfred.
Matthew sighed as he closed the window, mumbling something about broken latches and breaking curfew. He dressed as quickly as possible, scowling at the cold autumn wind that had blown through and chilled the room. After pulling on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, he head towards the stairs.
"I cannot believe you're doing this again! And you're taking her with you!"
"It is my job, Arthur, and she has been my assistant for five years. I have to go, no matter how much I don't want to!"
"All I'm asking is for you to spend a little more time with us! Is that too much?"
"Do you think I like leaving you?"
"Bloody hell, I actually think you might!"
Matthew winced as his parents' voices became more vicious. He'd heard those tones more than enough times to tell that their 'little tiff' was escalating into familiar territory, a full blown argument that would result in screaming, and insults, and someone sleeping in the guest room (or leaving the house completely).
Those fights had happened too many times to count.
"I don't have time for this right now Arthur."
"Francis!"
"I have a plane to catch."
His papa's last sentence was punctuated with the sound of the front door slamming. It seemed that their argument had moved from the kitchen out into the hallway.
"Dude. What is up with them?"
Matthew turned from staring down the staircase and saw the face of his brother.
Alfred's eyes were slightly bloodshot and narrowed, and he was rubbing a temple with one hand. His glasses were on his face, for once, and his clothes were rumpled and creased, like he'd slept in them.
Matthew was 99% sure he had.
… and that's it for now! See you soon (hopefully!) :)