Fate Fallen

Chapter 1:

Ever since their parents' divorce Matthew Williams has felt helpless, falling victim to his mother's sudden bursts of alcohol related anger. When he transfers to another class, he meets Gilbert Beilschmidt. Can this boy really be as lonely as he is? Rated M for violence, alcoholism, child abuse and swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, the Gerita would be off the scale!
This is my first published story, so sorry if it's not too good and the grammar is poor! The characters may be out of character slightly. This first chapter is more like a prologue. I hope you enjoy!

The stench of stale beer hung in the air like that of a corpse. Sickly, choking, making Matthew gag as he opened his bedroom door and stepped onto the crusted carpet of the hallway. He tried to hold his breath as he made his way from the small room, hall and into the living room, a rather spacious area which was set with a TV on the wall, a more or less empty bookshelf, a cheap, battered sofa with various stains covering the upholstery. The walls were a cream colour, but they too, had been stained by coffee, mud and things that Mattie did just not want to know about. A small table with two chairs had a small pile of magazines on it and a packet of Marlboro cigarettes.
The repulsive sound of heaving from the small, untidy bathroom (or at least Mattie assumed it was untidy, the crashing sounds were a big hint) told him he was alone in the living room. Glancing at the door, he took two cigarettes. Taking another one as he predicted the likelihood of his mother even remembering how many cigarettes she had. They found a new home in the pockets of his jeans as he made his way to the kitchen to get the bucket out from under the cupboard, a glass from the counter, a cloth and a mop. Filling the glass with water before he left, he made his way to the bathroom, where the sounds of retching seemed to be quieting down. Thank god.
'Every night.' he thought. 'Every night it's the same routine.'
Matthew stopped, daring himself to open the door. If you thought the stale beer was bad, this was so much worse. She'd barely made it to the toilet before throwing up, making a mess more on herself than in the toilet. Cigarette smoke already clung to her clothes and her hair, the odor of alcohol from whatever bar she just arrived from hung around her like a dark cloud from a power plant. Not pretty to look at, and even worse to breathe in.
Sadly none of this was exactly knew to the blonde. Night after night of waiting up for his mother, making sure she didn't choke and drown on her own vomit, getting her cleaned up for work the next day.
Mattie held back a scoff. 'Work? The only reason he keeps her around is because he takes pity on her!'
It was true. She worked in Walmart in customer service, though most of them complained about her attitude and antisocial behavior. Even the staff were getting sick of her. On more than one occasion, the young boy had been sat doing his homework or enjoying the few hours of his mother's absence, when there'd be a knock at the door, and a stinking, limp, delirious woman was dragged into his living room. This wasn't one of those moments but it was nearly as bad.
She groaned as the last of the bile came up, slumping against the bathtub, she gazed up at her son, a look of confusion and distaste played across her numbed features.
"Who are you?" She slurred, jabbing one, shaking finger into his thigh. "Who-" She turned around and was sick in the bath.
'Well so much for getting a bath tonight...' he thought.
"It's me, mom. Your son, Matthew."
"Alfred? Thought you were with your dad, baby." She cackled slightly, or it might have been a cough. It was hard to tell these days.
"No, mom. Matthew. Math-you!" To emphasize, he pulled on his hair slightly. It was noticeable longer than his brothers, hanging loosely by his shoulders, complete with a little curl.
"Well, Math-you! Why don't you get mommy another drink from the fridge? Don't... don't you take any! I know what you do! Thief!" Her shrill voice cut through him like a knife as she swung her right fist to land square in the blonde's face. He barely managed to dodge the blow to his temple, but wasn't fast enough to dodge the one to his ribs. A gut wrenching sickness washed over him as he gasped for breath, kneeling on the bathroom floor.
Mattie brought his gaze up to his mother, who stared at him, confused more than apologetic.
"Did I get you?" her voice sounding barely over fifteen, though she was thirty-eight.
"Yes," he choked. "You got me." She grumbled something that could have been an apology or an excuse. But she yawned, and tiredness quickly set in.
"Bedtime."
"Don't wanna sleep..." Her head rolled backwards, allowing her brown curls to hang loosely by her side. Matthew sighed, linking his arms under her armpits and carefully dragging her out of the room- a maneuver that proved difficult as she had gained weight in her drinking years. It took maybe ten minutes to get her dressed, and into bed. Though she smelt awful, it made more sense to bathe her in the morning, when the sickness would subside, and he'd cleaned the mess she'd made. Grabbing the glass of water and the bucket from earlier, he placed them by her bed, checking once more that she was on her side and her head was propped up, hoping that if she was sick she wouldn't choke or get it on the pristine bedsheets which he had washed earlier that evening.
"... Night, mom..." His own voice sounding quiet now, as tears rolled down his pale cheeks. It would be an hour before Matthew Williams finished cleaning the sick out and could go to bed.