Soft violets opened slowly.

A lone tear slid down a pale face.

He was Matthew Williams.

And he pitied himself.

The thick grey clouds over head were the first thing within his vision, fluffy and full of snow and such a depressingly dull shade. It was a small comfort to know such a sight was not the very last thing his former self had seen. No, Matthew had seen pain and sorrow and guilt, but most of all, he had seen love. Matthew now wondered why he had such trouble seeing it before, but the question was quickly answered. For all of their love, they could not remember him long enough to make him feel it. How could one love you, if they could barely even remember who you were? So, there love was just a lie. Something they told themselves they felt, so when things such as this happened, they could act appropriately.

'That isn't right' A voice echoed in the back of his head.

"Oh, but it is." He said, almost bitterly, back to it.

The protest of his former self was insistent, but he quickly banished it from his conscious thoughts. He was not the same Matthew, and he would not listen to such weakness again. Matthew had made mistakes. Mistakes that had caused him to be overlooked and forgotten, stepped on and brushed aside. He was spineless and soft and that was what had brought him to his death.

"Who?"

"Canada." The response was almost instinctive, Matthew scowled slightly and looked at the bear "You had better start remembering that, Kumajiro."

Kuma's ears turned back in an almost hurt way. It was easy to see the small mammal felt a bit betrayed, but that wasn't going to weigh on this Matthew's conscious. Instead, he sat up and looked himself over. Naked as a new born – which he supposed he was – sitting in the snow. Wonderful. It's a good thing he wasn't just a human.

"Matthew." came a familiar voice.

With a look up, clear violets met bright greens. Arthur stood a mere ten feet away, his expression a mixture of sadness and joy. Matthew thought he really looked about ready to cry, honestly.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

"… Can I have your coat? Possibly?" Matthew held out his hand.

Arthur seemed to start at this, quickly coming to his senses and moving towards his former ward. "R-Right, yes, of course you can, my boy. How rude of me not to offer it, you must be freezing!"

As Arthur handed over his coat, he took in everything he could about this new young man, now standing in front of him. The first thing to catch his attention was his height. No longer did Matthew tower over himself, like his brother did. They were almost the same height. Matthew was also thinner, a bit more scraggly, and all around more boyish looking than the man Arthur had grown accustomed to seeing – he's sure his coat wouldn't have fit his old Matthew. It seems that the north nation had been reborn a few years younger that what he had been. Which was not a surprise, really. Russia had been much the same, after his rebirth. The second thing Arthur noticed was the way Matthew held himself, strangely more confident, but he supposed dying and coming back might just do that to a man. Lastly, he noticed Matthew's eyes.

No longer were they the soft and gentle, peaceful eyes that they used to be.

They were clear and sharp and calculating now.

Out of everything, it was his eyes that gave it away.

The world was in for a change.

"Alright, so Alfred's house is much closer than mine. Lets go there, eh?" Matthew's stare was expectant now, were it used to be questioning.

Arthur stared a moment longer, before slowly nodding. "Yes, of course. I imagine Alfred hasn't left that spot , so I need to gather him along the way."

"Then let's go get him."

Alfred hadn't moved.

His legs had long since gone numb with cold and his face was bitten with frozen tears, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave this place, not without his brother leaving with him. Not without his Mattie by his side. Every moment of their lives together played over and over again in his mind. Every stolen smile, every moment of laughter, every tight embrace. The only one in the world that ever accepted Alfred for who he was, despite all his faults. The only one who ever knew every bit of who he is – and now they're gone. His Matthew was gone, and it was all his fault. How could he have been so ignorant of all the pain he was putting his brother through. How could he have been arrogant enough to think that Matthew would never go away. He had taken his brother for granted all of their lives, and now it was too late to ever say those things he should have said, every single day.

"I'm sorry, Matt…" His voice cracked, hoarse from his crying "Please, come back. I love you so mu– Plea–"

And here he thought, he couldn't possibly shed another tear.

When the tears had once again stopped, the sobbing once again quieted, Alfred looked on, once again at the crushed snow that used to hold his brothers body. A glint of something caught the southern nations eye, almost completely buried in the snow. He stared at it in a daze for a few moments, still lost in his grief, when a moment of familiarity caught him. He didn't know why his heart leapt, or why his hand shook with hesitance when he reached for it, but as soon as he had the item firmly grasped in his hands, he couldn't stop the weak laughter that escaped him. Carefully, he brushed the snow off of the clear surface of the lenses, gentle with them, like they might suddenly break.

Matthew's glasses.

Why were they still here? Everyone knew that Alfred's glasses were Texas, but Matthew had never said were his belonged to. For a small moment, he wondered if Texas would stay behind, if he ever faded. That thought wasn't important now, however, because Alfred had his Matthew's glasses. This last little piece of his brother, for him to hold onto. It brought a sad sort of smile to his face, because at least he had this. Tucking the spectacles into his breast pocket, just over his heart, made him feel a little less broken. Something so small would never make a real difference to this tragedy, for Matthew was still gone, but it was like a bad aid, he supposed.

"Alfred." Came Arthur's call.

He hadn't even heard him coming, not that he was all that surprised, considering his thoughts. When he looked up however, the last thing Alfred expected to see was Matthew walking beside the British Isle in nothing but Arthur's coat. For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but Arthur turned to Matthew as well, as if to show that, no, he was not suddenly going mad. Alfred realized what was going on, this was the new Matthew Williams. The new personification of Canada, and as they looked into one another's eyes, and Matthew's gaze was not warm, Alfred knew this was not the brother he grew up with.

But he couldn't help it.

"Mattie…" He could feel the tears, once again falling down his face. They were neither for sorrow or joy this time, the feelings of loss all muddled together with the image of his brother before him. He could barely manage a weak smile. It wasn't his Matthew, it was so obvious as they stared at each other. There was no connection, no thread attached to one another's soul. It had been cut. Severed as violently as Matthew's life.

And still, Alfred stood up on shaky legs. He walked over to this new life as every fiber of him screamed to stay by that dent in the snow. He pulled this Matthew into a tight embrace that was not returned and cried into his shoulder with all the sorrow that was filling up his heart.

Because Matthew was gone.

His brother. His Matthew.

Was dead.

AN: Welp, everyone wanted a chapter two - so here's your chapter two.

I hope you've enjoyed~