A/N: I really need to learn how to stick with just one story. I recently completed my first full length Hetalia story whilst beginning a new full length one and now here I am again beginning yet another one. So now I have to deal with the pressures of two multi chaptered stories...yay -_-

This idea sort of came to me after I went out on a sort of Prussia dies fanfiction hunt but I couldn't find any along the lines of this one, so I decided to write one of my own. During my search I found a lot of angsty PruCan stories, thus inspiring this. Most of it is just taken from my dreams, however.

The idea also stems from something I found on the Hetalia wikia about how Prussia could eventually die over time...I decided the time was now but most of it is taken from personal headcanon (basically what happens before a nation dies, blablabla).

I doubt this story will be as ADD/humorous as my others, so excuse me there.

DISCLAIMER: Last time I checked I sadly do not own Hetalia because some guy named Hidekaz Himaruya (lucky bitch) does. If I did own it then everyone would be at least bisexual and the episodes would be 10 minute long orgy sessions.

If I Were to Forget You...
Chapter One – Finally Saving Me

A single teardrop ran down, dropping onto the photograph in Matthew Williams' trembling hands. As he forced them to stay steady, more tears only fell before he was convulsing and the tears were running down like a waterfall, staining the valuable item in Matthew's hands.

It had been two months since he'd left.

Two months.

Matthew's heart still ached from the pain. He'd heard how time always helped to heal things, but he didn't know he was the exception there. His mind was still tainted with the memories, the time he had to say goodbye...

The last time he ever saw Gilbert Beilschmidt alive.

Matthew clutched the photograph tighter. As his vision started to blur, even with his glasses, the memories only grew stronger.

He tried biting his lip to stifle the tears, but to no avail.

The harder he stared at the photograph, the more painful it got for him.

He continued to observe it, ignoring the ache growing in his heart and how his throat hurt from all the tears. Matthew could remember the day the photo was taken almost perfectly. He could hear Gilbert's strong – but admittedly very obnoxious - German accent ringing in his ears as if Gilbert was right behind him, or at least next to him.

Ever since Gilbert left two months prior, Matthew had felt numb, so to feel the teardrops again was somewhat refreshing for him. It was as if a huge part of him either withered away or left with Gilbert, never to return.

Matthew still studied the picture, no matter how hard it hurt him to. In the image stood Matthew wrapped in Gilbert's warm, reassuring embrace. Gilbert had his head buried deep into Matthew's blonde, wavy locks and his arms tightly holding onto Matthew, looking almost as if he was scared to let go as if something horrible would happen to him.

Matthew wiped away the tears with his sleeves as best as he could. He sighed...or at least tried to. Because he'd been crying, his voice was shaky and it hurt to speak let alone just sigh.

He could still feel Gilbert's arms around him, clutching him ever so protectively, and he could still hear their conversation like it was yesterday. No. Like it was just a few minutes ago.

"If you promise to never forget me, then I promise to never forget you." "Deal."

The memories only made Matthew want to cry more and, before he knew it, the photograph was soon down by his side to save it from drowning in his tears. Matthew pulled his knees into his chest and he buried his head onto them, desperate to cry more, only it felt like all his tears had gone. Disappeared.

Just like Gilbert...

Only, Gilbert hadn't left for just a few weeks. Nor had he left for a few months.

Not even a few years.

Gilbert had left for an eternity. For forever.

There was no chance of Gilbert ever returning.

And that's what killed Matthew the most.

"Alfred!"

There was no reply. Alfred was probably still in bed having slept past his alarm that was meant to have woken him up most likely an hour ago.

"...Alfred! For God's sake, answer me!"

With that, Matthew came down the stairs, fully dressed and fully prepared for another boring day at school. Another...depressing day at school.

"Ah, there you are!" Matthew's father, Arthur, impatiently tutted. "Your breakfast has been ready for the past-" Arthur looked down at his watch- "half an hour now, Alfred!"

Matthew blanched. "Dad, I'm not Alfred."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and flashed an incredulous look.

"What do you mean you're not Alfred, you silly boy?" Arthur laughed, seriously confused. If he wasn't Alfred, who else could he possibly be?

"Um...I'm Matthew," Matthew clarified in his normal quiet voice. No matter how many times he'd had to say that, it was still an embarrassing thing.

Arthur folded his arms. "Matthew? I don't know anyone called Matthew. Stop being stupid, Alfred, and just come get your brea-"

"I'm Matthew," Matthew repeated. "You know. Your son. Alfred's brother."

Arthur knew the name rang a bell, only he couldn't put the name to the face. His eyes darted around the room as he desperately tried to remember. He was pretty certain Alfred was just toying with him as usual.

Suddenly, Arthur remembered. "Ah. Matthew. Sorry about that. Anyway, could you tell your brother to get his lazy arse out of bed? His breakfast's been on the table for thirty minutes now and I'm running late for work."

Now it was Matthew's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Um...what about my breakfast?" Matthew tentatively asked, mentally sighing as he knew what the answer was.

Arthur groaned and slapped himself.

"Ah...Matthew, I'm ever so sorry, but..." Arthur bit his lip to avoid further embarrassment.

Matthew let out a real sigh. "I get it. You forgot. Again."

"Yeah...I promise I won't forget tomorrow," Arthur lied. Matthew knew damn well Arthur would break his promise, because he always did. He always forgot to make Matthew breakfast.

He always forgot to take Matthew to appointments.

He always forgot to pick Matthew up from his hockey games.

He always forgot Matthew.

Always. That promise was always broken.

"It's fine," Matthew lied back. He certainly didn't feel fine. Of course he didn't feel fine. "I'm capable of preparing my own breakfast, anyway."

With that, Matthew walked into the kitchen with his head down disappointedly, listening as Arthur ran up the stairs to go and attempt to wake up Alfred.

Alfred. Sometimes just the name was enough to give Matthew bad feelings in his stomach.

Alfred was the source of Matthew's woes. Each and every one of them could be directed back to Alfred somehow. Though personality-wise they were nothing alike, Matthew still managed to get mistaken for him, despite how many times he corrected the same people that he was Matthew, not Alfred.

But seeing as Matthew was just a shy Canadian teenage boy who kept to himself rather than his obnoxious American brother that everyone knew and somewhat loved people would shrug and say (and this is just an example of the polite people), 'Sorry, I don't know who you are.'

Matthew knew he only had time to make one of his special pancakes and thus got to work before he ran out of the precious time he had. A few minutes before it was done, Alfred came into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, hair in a mess and his hoodie on backwards.

It was evident Alfred had been up all night either playing video games or on Facebook talking to all his friends.

Friends. Matthew had none of them. He would never have admitted it but he always got jealous whenever Alfred would bring round a friend or even a girlfriend.

Whenever Matthew even passed by some of Alfred's friends (who obviously never recognised him despite meeting him plenty of times) in the school hallways he felt envious. Not a spiteful envious sort of feeling, but a type of sad envious feeling.

Matthew didn't comment on Alfred's poor attempt at dressing himself as he poured maple syrup all over his one pancake. Of course, he would have enjoyed a lot more, but he woke up a little later than usual. That was probably because he got barely any sleep thanks to Alfred next door who was playing music a lot louder than Matthew's ears were used to.

Alfred sat down in silence to eat his cooked breakfast and just stared at Matthew, who was sat opposite him, hungrily. Matthew was pretty sure he even saw some drool form in the corner of his idiot brother's mouth.

"Dude, you're so lucky," Alfred finished off the last of his breakfast in just a few seconds flat as he spoke, meaning Matthew had the ever so pleasant joy of watching Alfred chewing his food. Yeah, he really was lucky. "I have to eat this crap that dad cooked and you get pancakes. No fair."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

"I cooked my breakfast," Matthew stated. "If you did the same then you wouldn't be eating dad's meals."

Alfred got up and put his plate on the side without replying. It was obvious to Matthew that Alfred had gotten bored of the conversation the moment Matthew said 'I'.

Alfred walked out of the room, not caring for his appearance at all and straight out the front door. Matthew sighed and ran out of the kitchen, leaving his plate on the table by accident, grabbed his bag and opened the door as quickly as he humanly could in an effort to catch up with his brother.

Luckily, he did, and he managed to get to school on time.

He passed familiar faces as he walked through the school and to his locker to collect the books he would need for that day, and also passed familiar stares.

The stares practically screamed, 'New kid alert!'

Matthew wasn't even a new kid. He'd been attending the school for at least a year now, yet every time he walked into school he was often targeted because nobody recognised him.

Therefore he was obviously a new kid.

A new target.

Because of this misconception, Matthew was pushed around a lot in the halls. That day, he counted a grand total of five times...and that was just before lunch!

Some people listened to him as he explained how he wasn't a new kid, but others weren't convinced and only got Matthew into more troubles.

Because of Matthew's annoying resemblance to his brother, he was often mistaken for Alfred in the halls. That day, he counted a grand total of just three times. That wasn't much compared to one time where he was mistaken for Alfred at least twelve times.

Sometimes it was alright, like if Alfred's 'best friend' Kiku stopped and said 'hi'.

At first Matthew couldn't believe his luck when Kiku began speaking to him, only to hear the name Alfred and his happiness faded completely.

Kiku had politely apologised for his mistake and too promised that he would be more careful next time. He sounded just like Matthew's father, since Kiku kept forgetting as the days went by.

Other times it wasn't so good. Usually he'd get smacked by someone who had beef with Alfred because he'd pissed them off or threatened them. He still had a lot of bruises that he couldn't bear to look at because it reminded him too much of his problems.

The problems he wanted to forget so badly.

Because of Matthew's invisibility, he was often bumped into by accident, thus earning more bruises. As the school year went on, his sleeves only got longer to hide the ones inflicted by others...

And the ones inflicted by himself.

Now, he never took hoodies off. It was as if they had to be surgically removed to get it off of him. Matthew rarely went swimming and often hid in shame in the changing room, scared someone would ask about his scars. That was, until he remembered nobody cared about him enough to ask and nobody even realised he was there to care.

Matthew wasn't exactly depressed...but he was only about ninety eight percent sure he existed.

"Stupid dad..." Matthew angrily muttered under his breath as he walked, kicking a stone as he did. His head was down as per usual and he was focused on this one stone. "Stupid Alfred..."

His dad had once again forgotten him (so much for his petty little promise) and didn't wait around for him, instead leaving as soon as Alfred was in the car. He had tried leaving early so he could get in for once but it just didn't work...Alfred obviously skipped the end of last lesson, thus giving him a sort of head start.

Alfred skipped a lot of lessons. His grades were...eh. He never did his homework.

Matthew never skipped lessons. His grades were above average. He always did his homework and made sure it was in on time.

He never made the excuse, 'I forgot it.' Because he knew the meaning behind the word 'forgot'. The two syllable word was more than just a word to him. It was pretty much his definition.

As Matthew kept walking, grumbling to himself about nothing with his hands deep in his hoodie pockets, he passed three boys who he knew looked familiar.

They were at least one or two years older than him. Matthew knew they were a little rebellious but also popular. Girls flocked to be by their sides...but he'd heard a little rumour somewhere that one of them didn't swing that way.

He knew it wasn't the blonde French boy who would always wink at Matthew across the lunch hall. Well...he was questionable, but that didn't mean he didn't entirely swing that way. Matthew knew the boy well and, being Canadian, often conversed with him in French. His name was Francis and he slept with anything that moved.

Then there was the cute little Spanish boy. Matthew couldn't help but notice how out of place he looked compared to Francis and the other one. Matthew had heard from a kid in his class that his name was Antonio, and he was most likely straight. However the kid often called him a 'dirty fucking pervert who got too many kicks out of pulling my haircurl', whatever that meant.

And finally there was the other one, the one that completed the trio. Matthew knew his name all too well. He was infamous, notorious.

And most likely the gay one. The fag.

Matthew was, for some reason he couldn't fathom, shaking as he entered their area, despite knowing full well he wouldn't be noticed. Especially not by those three. Maybe Francis would spot him and try to wave to him, but even he sometimes forgot who Matthew was.

With his head still down low, Matthew got closer and closer until he could hear their conversation a little.

When he was finally walking next to them, he could have sworn he felt their eyes boring into his back. No, that was impossible...

So, he brushed it off. They most certainly weren't looking at Matthew...were they?

"Hey, new kid."

Matthew's heart got noticeably faster in his chest when he heard a husky German accent come from behind him. He kept walking; pretty sure he was just imagining things.

"Oi. I'm calling you."

Matthew then knew that he was being called and thus turned to see them staring at him pretty intently.

He stared at them back for a while in disbelief, wanting to keep walking.

The one who had called him got closer to him, enough to make Matthew feel tiny and weak compared to him. He wasn't all too tall due to malnutrition but he still looked pretty intimidating and fierce. It must have been his German heritage.

"New kid," he nodded, thinking that was some sort of greeting.

Matthew wasn't sure how to reply. He wanted to correct him, but he didn't want to offend him and end up with a broken nose.

So, Matthew just nodded back.

Then, Francis stepped in to Matthew's defence. He probably just realised that he knew Matthew. Or only just remembered that Matthew existed.

"Now, Gilbert, mon petit Mathieu here isn't a new kid," Francis pulled his 'petit Mathieu' closer to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Matthew felt very uncomfortable, but at the same time full of glee at the attention.

"M-Matthew?" Gilbert repeated, taken aback. "You know this kid?"

"Oui," Francis smiled, holding Matthew tighter to him. Matthew tried to pull away but he failed miserably. "He's a year younger than us. Cute, non?"

Matthew whimpered, "Please let me go." He knew there was no way in Hell Francis would have heard him, but it was worth a shot.

"Very..." Gilbert whispered. Then he realised his mistake. "I-I mean...pfft, Francis, why the hell are you hanging around with younger kids? Paedophile."

Matthew whimpered again, repeating what he had just said, this time being heard. Francis let go sadly and looked back at Gilbert, who was creepily staring at Matthew, trying to capture everything about the boy.

The boy everyone forgot.

Who was the paedophile now?

"A-Anyway," Matthew cleared his throat, trying to speak up in order to be heard by Gilbert. Gilbert seemed to be paying enough attention...for him, anyway. "May I ask why you called me over?"

Gilbert forgot the actual reason. Or rather...he didn't want to say it. If he was the homosexual one, then he must have still been in the closet.

Then he came up with a good enough reason that was convincing.

"Ah...Francis wanted to say hi."

Gilbert winked at Francis, urging him to play along.

Francis got the idea and looked down at Matthew, smiling warmly.

"And now that he has..." Gilbert slung his arm around Francis and started pulling him away from Matthew and back to Antonio, who had just been watching quietly. "We can go. Right?"

Francis nodded. "Right. Au revoir, Mathieu."

"Au revoir," Matthew waved sadly, his eyes immediately darting straight back down to the ground.

Gilbert stupidly caught Matthew looking upset and couldn't resist how endearing he looked.

"Um...M-Matthew?"

"Oui?"

"Do you...do you want to stay with us for a little while?"

A/N: Wow, I wasn't expecting it to be this long. This was just the introduction, so the sadder bit shall come in later!

I really enjoyed writing this and I'm actually going to be excited about updating. I love how my favourite ideas stem from dreams...my previous story, the one I recently completed, came from a dream of mine. This, too, came partly from my dreams. I have dreams of Prussia dying. :( My mind is so sad

Sorry for any grammar mistakes. It's about 1am and I don't know if what I just wrote was coherent or not.

I'd really appreciate feedback! Reviews are my favourite things ever. I love them more than I love Titanic, and I love Titanic A LOT. XD

See you all next chapter! Hasta La Pasta~!