Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. But this story does... Beta-edited by the wonderful GoldenDiscord.


Broken Love

Chapter 9


'And throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
"This the Wine, and this the Bread."'

William Blake

"Matthew?" Alfred whispered breathlessly. Under the dirt and the tangled hair was the face of his brother. Matthew was thinner; war had melted all the softness from his face and left him hard and lean. And his blond hair fell uncut to his shoulders, but it was Matthew. "Matthew!"

Squirming, Matthew tried to wrench himself free of Alfred´s iron grip. "Laissez-moi passer!"

Alfred was at loss of what to do. "It´s me, Matthew, don´t... don´t you know me, don´t you?" The tears began welling up in his eyes. "Matthew, it´s me!" And Alfred found himself weeping like a little boy he once had been.

Matthew´s eyes went from Alfred´s hands to his face. His initial panic grew to a suspicious frown.

Alfred understood and let Matthew go, watching teary-eyed with the same altered look Lovino had after Feliciano was killed.

Matthew jerked away from him and backed off a couple of paces, hitting the nearest tree with his back, screaming, „S'il vous plaît, ne tirez pas! Je ne veux pas mourir!"

"What? What is it?" Alfred wiped his tears, and slowly approached his frightened brother, and continued to talk to him, „Matthew... It's alright... Calm down... Please... You... you have to know me..."

"Why are you pointing a gun at me? I have already told your commander... I have told you everything I know... which is pretty much everything I know! Please don't kill me, please!"

Alfred just then realized he was still holding the pistol in his hand and let it fall down to the ground. "Forgive me... I… I'm sorry..."

Matthew's breathing slowed to a choked whisper, "l can't see... I can't move...,"he blinked, reeled, growing faint... Alfred, horrified, leaned in closer, ignoring Matthew's attempts to bat him away, and grabbed him, keeping him from falling, and eased him to the ground. Matthew slid to the snow, staining the snow red from his wounds.

Alfred crouched, "I'm sorry. I know I messed up. And I'm sorry," and cautiously wrapped his arms around the young man. "I was wrong about so many things." Mathew began to weep in his arms. "I'm sorry, I´m sorry. Come on, Matthew, come on. Please, calm down, please..." Every second, every breath Matthew drew caused Alfred's heart to break a little further.

Alfred cradled Matthew´s face and looked deep into his eyes. "The war is over for us." The two brothers stared at each other – eye to eye. "I won´t let go, Matthew. I won´t let go. Just come back to me... please... come back to me..." At the very least, that might have quelled some of the anxiety, Alfred thought.

Matthew´s eyes went wide. "Alfred...," he said in a choked voice, "... Alfred?"

„It's been a while since I last saw you."

Then everything snapped like a daisy chain and then Matthew began to cry outright.

Holding in his own tears, Alfred gathered him in his arms and let him cry. Gripped as desperately by remorse as he was moments before by rage, Alfred repeated his apology over and over.

Matthew couldn't control himself, he was crying harder than he ever thought possible.

"Shhh, it´s alright... it´s alright... we´re alright," Alfred was whispering into Matthew´s ear, "Now you're in my arms. I have never wanted anything so bad," kissing him. His hold on Matthew was gentle as if trying to hold something fragile together.

It felt like an eternity before the tears began to dry and Matthew could begin to get his breath back, though still interrupted by the occasional hitching sob.

Alfred held tight until his crying brother settled down. "After all this time I never thought we'd be here. We´ll go to a secret place and leave the world behind." Then he noticed the blood stains on the snow and – in the meantime – on his right sleeve too, and began applying field dressing he kept in his knapsack with the same coolness as before with Francis.

"I... I do-don't believe you anymore," Matthew answered, still shaken, but he let himself be helped by Alfred.

Seeing that the bullet had only scratched Matthew, Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "I swear to God I would, Matthew," he pleaded while tighten a strap of cloth around Matthew´s arm. "Please. I'll make everything up to you, you'll see..."

"… I don't know who you are anymore..."

"... I'll be everything you need me to be... You'll get the very best of me..."

"... I don't know if I love you any longer... And I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't!"

Alfred grabbed his brother by the shoulders, "All the things I never said for so very long, look up, they're in my eyes. The war has changed me." Alfred paused, waited for a sign, waited for Matthew´s reply, fighting the urge tilt his head and cry to the sky. "There will never be another. You're the only one forever. And you know that I'm yours alone."

Matthew kept burning him with his look... those eyes... which could see past all the lies… while Alfred climbed on top of his doubt.

Matthew just shook his head, his eyes never leaving Alfred´s face.

"You don't want to go home." Alfred realized and felt his fears wash over him. He kissed Matthew, trying to coax a word out of the silent boy, "Just one word? That's all I want." But he was stretching after Matthew too much. Matthew was just out of reach. "You don't want to go home." Alfred repeated and let go of Matthew´s shoulders.

They sat silently in the snow, just like in that one dream, unable to see anything other than each other.

In their childhood, Alfred found his confidence in Matthew, he had found his hope when he lost control. Ten minutes ago, they wanted to kill each other. Matthew was just a memory. Two months ago, as Alfred pushed forward together with Arthur, Gilbert, Antonio, Feliciano and Lovino, for the pride and the glory, Matthew was just a ghost. They were his friends. They were those who shed their blood with him then and there. And they were his brothers.

Alfred´s life turned out to be different than he wanted it to be. Would he have the strength to start all over again? Would Matthew? No fear, Alfred thought to himself. For what was worth, it was never too late to be whoever they wanted to be. There was no time limit, no rules in that. They could start whenever they wanted. They could change or stay the same. They could make the best or the worst of their lives. Even if they saw things that had struck and startled them, and they did things that made them feel ashamed.

"I left Arthur," Alfred began slowly, "without a word, though I wrote him a letter. Now he probably thinks that I could have had it all. Instead, I loved a man." Alfred lowered his hands to rub away the blood off in the snow. "I wrote him that he taught me to think clearly and to defend what's mine. I wrote him that the immediate prospect of him reading this letter would shatter my spirit but he must know. His fears over my behavior which he thought arbitrary and unreasonably restrictive would seem now full of wisdom. I wrote him that I had news I had been withholding from him. But, like poison from an adder's tongue, I had to spit it out. I told him everything about us in that letter." Alfred stood, brushing off his clothes, and started to walk, collecting his knapsack, pistol and other gear that fell down or he threw away during the fight. "I finished it with the fact that he would hear a lot of bad things about me, but only one thing would be right. So when he would hear something that would be really, really bad, he should try to think that's the one time they're wrong... that perhaps after the anger for which he had every right to feel, he would remember that we were his sons."

Matthew sat there, shaking. Alfred stared at him; Matthew´s face was strangely expressionless.

"If I offer you my hand," Alfred said and held out his hand, "will it change where you are right now?"

It was then when Matthew noticed the sparkle in Alfred´s eyes. All the sweet innocence of the world was hidden there, in the lines of his older brother´s mature face; an angel in disguise…

Matthew threw himself into his arms, and was enveloped by Alfred, hard stomach, wide manly shoulders, holding him, letting him breath him in, they were both fighting their tears...

Alfred hesitated but his relief tightened his embrace. "Your world is here... with me."

They would make the best of it, even if they met people with a different point of view that would make them feel uneasy.

"I still love you, Alfred."

"And you tolerate me because of how much l love you." Alfred held Matthew in his strong arms. His hand stroke the small of Matthew´s back and he felt him relax, his body slacken. "It´s good to have you back. The house was too empty." Taking his brother firmly by the hand, Alfred walked him out of the forest.

The battle was over. The fog had lifted. But the amount of smoke each musket, each canon and fire created was incredible. It obscured everything. The massive, opaque white cloud spread over the entire battlefield. Though as far as the eye could see, the field was covered with the debris of war, dead men and scattered weapons. All the French and British soldiers lay still where they fell. The brothers caught two horses, tied on them anything they had found useful and galloped away, leaving all the madness behind.


The hut was abandoned, brooding and neglected. The garden was covered to the thigh with snow. But it was partially rebuilt and habitable. A workshop nearby had been already completed. The slats in the shutters on the upstairs windows were mostly broken out. A slight breeze made the shutters tap against the hose and the hinges squeaked. The paint was weathered and peeling off in spots. Dust and spider webs covered the furniture. Thank god that, at least, the previous owners left enough wood and though the brothers had to collect and melt snow for water, they would make it through the winter.

Through the cloudy panes of the narrow window, Alfred could make out the setting sun behind the spruce trees surrounding the cabin, a snow-capped stony well, but he was distracted by a different sight.

Alfred put his finger under Matthew´s chin and lifted his head, so Matthew was looking up into his eyes. Taking him lightly under the arms, Alfred lifted him and seated him on a rounded table. Then he stooped facing Matthew, his hands flat on the table at Matthew´s sides, their faces finally at a height.

"I'm ready when you're ready for me...?" Matthew asked halfheartedly.

Alfred didn´t reply and pulled the Brown Bess over his right shoulder and began to remove his gear, his pistol, knife, and pouches...

After a moment, Matthew leaned forward and helped him unlace the belt...

When they were done, Alfred gestured. Matthew understood. Slowly, carefully, Matthew began to undo the buttons on Alfred´s coat and shirt. He could see the shape of Alfred´s manhood pressing through his trousers.

It took a long time, all the while they sat there silently, watching each other.

Then it was Alfred´s turn; he began to undress Matthew. His fingers were deft and strangely tender. He removed Matthew´s jacket while Matthew sat still and silent, gazing into his brother's eyes.

When Alfred bared his shoulders, Matthew couldn´t help himself but tremble. He averted his eyes and looked at his fingers instead.

Gently but firmly, Alfred lifted Matthew´s face again to make Matthew look at him. "Don't." Alfred said.

"I won´t…," Matthew echoed back at him.

Alfred stood Matthew up then and pulled him close to remove the last part of his uniform.

The night air was chilly on Matthew´s bare skin; he shivered, gooseflesh covered his arms and legs.

For a while nothing happened. Alfred stood before him, looking at him, drinking in his body with his eyes. After a while Alfred began to touch him. Lightly at first, then harder. Matthew could sense the strength in Alfred´s hands, but he never hurt him.

Alfred held Matthew´s hand in his own and brushed his fingers, one by one. He ran a hand gently down Matthew´s chest, stomach... Then he returned to Matthew´s face, stroke it, traced the curve of his ears, and ran a finger gently around Matthew´s mouth. Alfred´s finger felt as light and cool as a lover´s kiss, as it slid softly between his lips. Matthew put both hands in Alfred´s hair and combed it with his fingers.

Their bodies touched.

Alfred turned Matthew around then, slid a knuckle down the path of his spine, and slid further down his leg. He curled an arm around Matthew´s waist and buried his face in Matthew's neck, his breath steamy. "Is this alright?" he asked. "Tell me it's alright."

"Yes," Matthew panted, his breath equally steamy. "It's alright." He shivered as Alfred trailed his wet mouth down his shoulder blade, suckling a bit and them moving further, his tongue squirmed down the small of Matthew's back and Matthew heard himself whining, tipping back his head as Alfred traced a path down his ass with his tongue.

It seemed as if hours passed before Alfred´s hands finally returned to Matthew´s chest. Alfred stroked the soft skin underneath his nipples until it tingled. He circled his nipples with his thumbs, pinched them between thumb and forefinger, then began to pull at them, very lightly at first, then more insistently, until Matthew´s nipples stiffened and began to ache.

Alfred stopped then and drew Matthew down onto his lap. Matthew was flushed and breathless, his heart fluttering in his chest. He was looking on Alfred´s swollen cock, a little afraid of what would come next. Alfred cupped Matthew´s face in his calloused hands and Matthew looked into his eyes.

"We don´t have to… not tonight," Alfred said, and Matthew knew that it was a question. He took Alfred´s hand and moved it down to the wetness between his thighs. "But I want to," Matthew whispered as Alfred´s palm, big and rough and hot slipped down his hip, his fingernails grazing the jutting bone, and closed his eyes as finally Alfred put his fingers around him and stroked.

To be continued...

Bavaria