Hello all! A Hetalia fic today!
This is actually a very personal fic for me. I'm going through a lot of what I put Matthew through in this and it's tough. When you see a person that looks exactly like your parent who has died (and it happens more often then you would think), your whole world kind of stops. It's surreal. This was therapeutic for me to write, I needed to get this out of my system.
Thank you for reading!
Enjoy, comment, fave. Thank you for everything!
Not ten minutes after Alfred had FINALLY been able to sit down, having been fighting a four alarm fire all morning through his shift at the station, his cell phone rang. He begrudged the happy ring tone, wanting so to ignore it but couldn't when he spotted the caller ID on the screen. There was no way he could ignore this call, and he had meant to give him a call today anyway. Alfred hit answer and put on a smile.
"Mattie! Dude, timing was never better! I only just got back from this massive fire in the east side of town. Jeez, so much for it being cooler in the morning. It sucks fighting fires in the middle of summer, let me tell ya! So, what's up?" He asked cheerfully, kicking his feet up on the table in front of the lounge room couch.
"Oh... well, I didn't mean to bother you. If you want to go rest, that's fine. Just call me back later, ok?" His brother said and Alfred's smile faded. There was something in his brother's voice he didn't like.
"No, don't hang up, bro. You obviously called to talk. I can tell, ya sound really sad. I mean I get it, today is gonna be rough. But I want you to stay on the line and talk to me, I'm in this with ya." He said soothingly, coaxing his brother through the phone. He could hear Matthew hum and haw about it before finally relenting and giving in.
"I got up really early this morning, way earlier then I'm use to, just so I could go to the coffee shop. You know the one. Anyway I-I went there, and decided to stay a while, drink my coffee and just... be there, eh?" He said. Alfred knew him well enough to chuckle a little bit and nod.
"Yea, I know what you mean. What happened next?" He asked, stretching and standing up. The mere mention of coffee had him yearning for the stuff. He began walking to the kitchen as his brother continued his story.
"I-I sat at his favorite table, the one right by the window where the morning sun comes in just right. Actually surprised Dad didn't come in this morning." He mused for a moment while Alfred shook his head, thinking the opposite. He would have been very surprised if Arthur HAD come. He grabbed a mug, "I was there about an hour before I... before he... " There was a very long pause by his brother, Alfred stopped and looked at his phone to make sure the call hadn't been dropped.
"Mattie?"
"S-sorry. But, Al, I was just sitting there, reading and I look up and it's... him. He walked right into the coffee shop! I swear to you this time, he did! I-I'm sure of it this time! It was him."
Alfred tried very hard to hide his groan and concern. This had happened so many times before, Arthur and he were beginning to get worried about Matthew's sanity. It wasn't good to keep seeing ghost's. Even Arthur had to admit it wasn't a very good sign. The American examined the hours old coffee in the pot before pouring it into his mug.
"Matthew, you didn't see him. It was one of those residual thingys Arthur's always telling you about. Or you saw someone who really looked like him. What were ya eating and drinking?" He asked as gently as he could. It was a sensitive topic, he knew, Matthew hated when they accused him of being crazy. As expected, there was a huff from his brother.
"It wasn't! It was him!" He stated obstinately before answering the question in a small voice. "His favorite coffee and breakfast."
"There ya go, Matt. Arthur's told you that's a trigger to these things. And, he's told you to stop doing those-"
"Today is different." He cut in.
"I know, dude. I know. Listen, I get off around one-ish. I've got to finish some paperwork and then I'm done. Why don't you get the stuff from the apartment and meet me out there? Around two? Sound good, Mattster?" He asked, sipping the brew before turning to pour it in the sink. His brother sighed.
"It sounds goo- fine. Uh, ok? Right, I'll see you." He said, hanging up the phone at once.
Alfred cleaned up his mug before heading to his desk. He was dead tired on his feet but his brother needed him to be there for him. Of course, he would be lying if he said he wasn't sad today too. But he bore it far better then Arthur and Matthew. Someone had to keep it together.
A few hours later, Alfred pulled up the cemetery. It was a beautiful July day, the sun was shining bright, and it was hot but nice. A day that should be spent doing more pleasant things then this. Alfred threw on his favorite pair of sunglasses and looked up at the cloudless sky, smiling.
"Ya dialed in the weather for today, didn't ya? We haven't had a rainy July 14th since you've died. Don't think I haven't noticed." He chuckled, before walking through the gates to go find his brother.
And find him he did, right where he expected him. Sitting on the bench by a grave, with his head in his hands, his shoulders unmistakably shuddering with sobs of grief. Flowers lay beside, along with a bottle of wine and three wine glasses. Alfred sighed and walked over, sitting down quietly, pulling his brother into a one armed side hug. He didn't say a word, he didn't need to. Matthew held onto him, crying a softer as Alfred let a few tears of his own fall.
After a while, still without speaking, he let go of Matthew and popped open the wine, a vintage red. Alfred poured three glasses, handed one to Matthew and then set one on the tombstone, keeping one for himself. He looked to Matthew and smiled.
"Happy Birthday, Papa. Cheers."
Matthew gave him a very watery smile, "Joyeux anniversaire, Papa." he said.
The twins clinked their plastic wine glasses together and each took a sip, in remembrance of their father, Francis Bonnefoy. Died five years ago, far too soon at only forty five years old. He would have been fifty, a day he was jokingly dreading but Arthur liked to think he was only anxious to see how good he could make fifty look. They would never know, of course, but Alfred took a bet that he would have had a few gray hairs to speak of and Arthur would have had to spend the day dying his beautiful blond hair back to it's glory.
What Alfred wouldn't give for the smell of hair dye and the angry yet affectionate voice of Arthur yelling at Francis.
They spent a few moments in quiet reflection before Matthew broke the silence. He downed the rest of his wine and went to pour himself another. "I'm not crazy." He said simply. Alfred was surprised at his bluntness but shook his head.
"Never said ya were-"
"You implied it. You and dad. I'm not crazy." He reiterated, fidgeting with the stem of his glass. Alfred opened his mouth to reply but Matthew sighed. "Sometimes, I see people, real people, who look a lot like Papa. My imagination runs away from me. Can you really blame me? It's an old habit from when he left us all those years ago. I saw 'him' everywhere as a kid during that time, don't you remember?" He asked seriously.
"Yea, I do. It was a rough time back then, Matt." Alfred said earnestly and Matthew gave a short, strained laugh in return.
"Now is rough time, Alfie. He left us again, this time, permanently. So can you really blame me for seeing 'him' around town now? Only now it's marred with the knowledge that's it not him, it can't be Papa. It's like... it's like learning he's dead for the first time every time that happens."
Alfred gaped at his brother, tears coming to his eyes. He had no idea, NO idea his brother was suffering so much, even five years later. He knew he and Francis had been very close but to have that much pain, every other day it seemed like, Alfred couldn't imagine. And that Matthew should suffer it alone, without telling a soul. Alfred wanted to tell his brother off for not opening up sooner but instead, he pulled him into the tightest hug he could give and held him.
"Bro, I promise, from now on, I'm gonna be there more for ya. I didn't know. I didn't know... If that happens again, you call me right then and there, I'll talk to you ok? You promise?" Alfred asked, still holding on tight. Matthew sniffled and gripped onto him.
"You're a firefighter, Al. What if you are on a call when it happens, how-"
"Dude. You don't worry about practical stuff when someone's trying to be there for you! Do you promise to call me if you see his ghost again?"
A short pause, then he felt Matthew relax. "Yes, I promise." He said and Alfred was relieved. Now he wouldn't have to suffer alone and that made Alfred very happy. He smiled and refilled his glass, looking kindly at his brother.
"Good! I'll hold ya to it! Now, drink up. I get the feeling Papa will smite us if we leave any drop of wine in this bottle on his birthday." He said, raising his glass to the sky once more.