AN: Disclaimer! This is the first fanfiction I've ever written! I do not expect anyone to enjoy this! Most if not all of the politics and economics is mumbo jumbo I pulled out of my head and genetically spliced with random shit I hear about. The timeframe is a few years in the future, but not enough that the technology hasn't changed too much. This story is an AU and there's A LOT of non-canon Hetalia-ness so if you don't like, please don't flame! ^.^'
*Gasp, Gasp!*
He was running, running faster than anyone knew he could. Running away from IT! He had to find someone soon, before he started to slow down. Then IT would catch him. He kept going and going and going, for what felt like forever. His lungs felt like they were going to explode, he could almost feel the bones in his legs starting to splinter. But he couldn't stop. The fear of IT behind him drove him forward. Where was everyone?! Just as he was starting to truly panic, he saw a figure, off slightly to his left.
Yes, finally someone who would help! He tapped into his final reserves, pushing himself toward the figure. But, what if they- No! Don't think about that, just get help! As he got closer, the figure became more and more familiar, until he was able to call out.
"America!" God, how he hated how quiet he sounded. How WEAK he sounded!
"America, hey, America!" Damn it, he wasn't listening! Why would anyone listen to you? No! He had to keep it together. Just for a little longer…
"ALFRED!" At last, that got his attention.
The American turned and looked around. His gaze sliding over him without pausing. "Huh? Who's there?"
"It's me. Come on Alfred, I need your help. I need you to be my hero!" He pleaded.
Just like that, his signature goofy smile appeared. "Sure Martie, what do you need from the Hero?"
"Listen, there's something chasing me and-"
"On it, Mannie! For freedom~!" And just like that, took off running, with his arms stuck out like an airplane.
And just like that, he was alone.
Again.
He couldn't even bother to remember his own brother's name…
He was running, running and hoping once again that someone, ANYONE would help him.
Even if they could remember you, why would they help you? You're weak, useless, PATHETIC!
IT was gaining on him. Even his near limitless reserves of adrenalin were beginning to drain. The fog around him growing thicker and thicker. It seemed to ooze malice.
How dare he! Everything you'd done for him. Everything he'd done to you… You should have shot him in the back decades ago-
Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shutupshutupSHUT! UP! Leave me alone, just for now, we'll talk later but right now I need to get help-
You're lying Thew, you know you've been ignored. No one's gonna help you. I hope you're not trying to snuff me out again.
Y-you're wrong, I-I'm not trying to get rid of you, I-I just need to esc-
Look right.
He whipped his gaze over, settling on a pair of brilliant emerald eyes and ridiculously thick eyebrows. Skidding as he tried to turn, he tripped and stumbled over to where the Brit was standing. However, his knee gave out just as he reached him and he grabbed the older man's shoulder for stability. Relief flooded his system as opened his mouth to explain himself, however that relief soon turned to confusion, with a sliver of fear. The Brit's eyes had gone from the surprise to frustration and rage. Suddenly he was sprawled on his back, having been shoved- very forcefully- away from the older man.
"Damn it Alfred! You bloody fucking git!"
Oh no. It's happening again.
"What could you possibly want this time?! Here to ruin another one of my days? Or do you have come up with yet another hair brained scheme that's bound to fail?"
"N-No it's-"
"What? Speak up you git!"
"Dad, I'm n-not Alfred."
With that, Arthur blinked, a glazed look washing through his eyes.
"Oh. Who are you?"
Oh. He did it again.
"I'm-"
"Ah! Mon petit Mathieu!"
His face lit up with a smile that, for once, reached his eyes. "Papa, it's so good to see you! Listen, I need your help-"
"Bloody frog! Can't you see I was trying to have a conversation?!"
He could only watch in dismay as their focus drifted once again away from him. England's jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. France on the other hand got a rather smug and perverted look across his face.
Those FUCKING ASSHOLES! HOW DARE THEY!
N-no, don't get angry-
You gave so, so MUCH for them. And they couldn't even be bothered to take a break from their petty grudges to save you!
S-Stop it, y-you're wrong. They c-care, they do. I know they do!
…I'm sorry Thew, don't cry. I'm sure they'll-
"W-Wait!" He scrambled to his feet. Watching in disbelief as Arthur and Francis walked away into the thickening fog. His whisper-like voice barely disturbing the air. He lunged forward before they could vanish from view, only to feel his fingers close on cold, foggy air. A choked sob escaped his lips as he pulled himself forward and started to run.
And run.
And run.
And run.
He ran into many countries, but not a single one noticed him. No matter how loud he screamed, how much he pleaded, begged, cried, sobbed, no one noticed.
Everyone forgot.
Every. Single. One.
WORTHLESS! I can't BELIEVE I stood up for you! I can't BELIEVE I LISTEN to you! You're pathetic! A USELESS FUCKING WUSS! YOU SHOULD HAVE BLOWN YOUR BRAINS OUT CENTURIES AGO! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE A COUNTRY! BEING IGNORED IS ALL YOU DESERVE! JUST DIE ALREADY, DIE, DIE DIE DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEFUCKINGDDDIII EEE!
And finally he broke. One moment he was running, the next he felt his legs give and he was on the ground. He tried desperately to catch his breath but it was as if there was no oxygen left in the air. His attempt to stand failed and he was forced to crawl forward on his hands and knees. As hard as he tried he couldn't hold in the sobs that wracked his body. He reached out desperately. This wasn't his first encounter with IT so he has acutely aware of what was following him. An enormous wall of inky black smoke that clung to everything like tar and never let anything escape its grasp. It blocked out all sight and sound while leaving the feeling of molten lead being poured through your veins and having every bone in your body dislocated and crushed. He was able to drag himself a few meters farther before IT finally grabbed him. He collapsed as the agony began and stretched out his arm in a final, irrational plea to someone, ANYONE for help. No-one was there, but that didn't stop him from reaching out and attempting to pull himself just a bit farther, however futile those efforts might be. Despite public opinion, he would NOT roll over at the smallest sign of adversity. He would fight to the end. Of course, it was a bit difficult to keep that in mind as he felt his body slowly being torn to shreds.
I guess now is when I'm supposed to say it was fun while it lasted?
…Shut up, you're not helping.
IT ate its way up his legs, to his back, then his shoulders, then his neck, then his ears, then to one of his eyes. And just as blindness was about to join his deafness, he was able to see through his tears, and he thought he saw a shadow, a figure obscured by fog. And as IT began to crawl its way over his final eye, there was a possibility that he saw the figure pause, and then turn towards him. In the last few rays of light, he even thought he saw two long wings flutter up behind them, but at that point the amount of pain he was in was beyond anything he had ever even dreamed out. And that was saying something.
He was even starting to forget things. Well, if you gotta go out, best to go out crazy.
No! Alright, focus!
My name is Mathew Williams.
I'm Canada.
My name is… Matthew Williams.
And… I'm Canada.
…
My name is… MATTHEW.
And I'm…
And I'm MATTHEW.
I'M MATTHEW!
I…
I'm… uh… Mattie…
…
…
…It hurts!
It hurts so much!
Someone help, please.
I-I'm…
…
…
…
Who am I?
He began to scream. The pain, and the blindness, and the deafness, and every living being including himself forgetting he existed, finally broke him. And he screamed and screamed and screamed even though there was no air in his lungs and he felt his consciousness and self-awareness dissolve and dissipate and he became exactly what everyone thought he was.
Nothing…
Matthew woke up screaming bloody-murder as he jolted upright out of his nightmare. Unfortunately, he had been thrashing around during his ordeal and had placed himself precariously close to the side of his bed, and his sudden movement caused his centre of gravity to suddenly become the side of his face. It would have been comical, if it weren't for the fact that every. Single. Moment of that nightmare had been permanently burned into his memory. Matthew curled into a fetal position on the floor and curled his arms around legs, his blankets still knotted around his knees. Muffled sobs escaped past his lips, and he bit down hard on his lower lip, drawing blood. Still trying to keep quiet out of habit, even though there was no one to hear him cry. It didn't work, and soon hoarse choking and sobbing filled his dark room. It had been a long time since he had felt this lonely.
"Hey."
Matt looked up to see a polar bear cub peeking over the edge of his bed.
"H-Hey, Kuma." He hated how his voice trembled.
The little bear frown and tilted its head. "Who are you?"
His heart fell. "I-I'm Canada. The one who takes care of you."
"Oh." Kumajirou hopped down and sniffed his face in concern. "What happened?"
Matthew turned his face away in shame. "Just a nightmare."
"Again?"
He nodded mutely.
Kuma nuzzled his face and licked away his tears, making him giggle a little bit and push away the warm ball of white fluff. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks Kuma." He said quietly, a small yet genuine small etching itself on his face. The white bear had always been there for him, through the good, the bad, the embarrassing, and the exciting. And honestly, he would give his life for his little friend. Groaning, he unknotted himself and gradually got to his feet, rubbing the side of his head. He heard snickering and looked down to see Kuma trying –unsuccessfully- to hide his laughter behind a cough. Matthew glared but carefully picked up the bear anyways and placed him on the bed, where he immediately took possession of his pillow. Scowling, he glanced at his clock. 3:45 am. He would need to be up again in a few hours. Picking up his blankets and shoving Kuma over –so he could at least have half of a pillow- he lay down and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
AN: Oh my god, I'm so incredibly nervous about posting this. I haven't touched it since this summer and this is all I have. But, if my sister can whip up something out of the blue, I suppose I can too. Views are smiles, reviews are love, follows are my greatest joy, and faves give me happiness in an inhaler! (yes, that is weird)
Now, *ahem*, TO BE CONTINUED! ^.^