And it is here that I transfer to third person, sorry for that agonizing first chapter, I suck at intros _ Now I get to the good stuff. I know I never said Canada's name (Mathew, for those who don't know) I did that on purpose. Oh and if you have already guessed it's one of those Hetalia fanfics where it has the Hetalia characters but they aren't….countries. Ha, I know doesn't make sense but, yeah if you are familiar with those types of Hetalia fanfiction, here ya go. If not, I'm honored to have been your first. Also, if you continued here to Chapter 2, thanks. I like when people read my fanfiction. Oh and please comment, lemme know what ya'll think. *blasts All American Rejects
Mathew awoke abruptly, he would've thrust his body into an upward position if he had the energy to do so. He felt something pushing his head up, tilting it. It was then that the nineteen year old realized that he wasn't cold. He opened his eyes, a simple task he was finding hard to do. He revealed his cerulean orbs halfway and saw snow. So he was still outside, right? And then he looked closer, under the snow was a pale face and striking crimson circles. To him, most of it was a blur so it took him a while to realize that what he was looking at was a person. And what was tilting his head was this person's hand.
"Oh hey, you're awake! How are you feeling?" He heard the voice distinctly, it was strong. And as his vision slowly became clear and he saw the person's lips move he realized this human was addressing him. This perplexed him immensely, how could this person see him? Or even then, care about his well-being? As his vision came back, so did a little more strength, he opened his mouth to say something and then remembered, he could no longer speak.
"Here…maybe this'll help?" he heard the man's hopeful voice again. He cast his glance down when he felt a slight cold against his lips. A glass, filled with water. He eagerly opened his twin pink muscles and let the clear liquid slide down his throat. He finished the glass and felt the hand down slide to his back. He was slightly alarmed until he felt it giving him support.
"Here, try to sit up." He gave a slight nod and accepted the hand's support. He managed to sit up and press his palm to his forehead. He glanced around the room he was in and his eyes widened to their full extent. The room was luxurious! A fireplace, slowly losing light, glimmered a few feet in front of him. On either side of the bricked structure were lanterns, whose flames were also fading from being neglected. Just behind the man who seemed to be caring for him was a glass table that if he were standing, would reach his knees. Because of the red eyed man, he was unable to see the two plates of food placed on the table.
Then he took his time to examine this person, he was dressed mostly in red and black. His pants seemed to be a fine denim dyed black with faintly red pockets. His shirt, a maroon colored long sleeved button up that seemed to slightly cling to his body (which appeared to be toned). And then his gaze went to that of the latter's. He could hear his pulse ring in his ears; those piercing blood filled irises were gazing right into his water filled ones. They seemed to be examining him, for what Mathew didn't know, but he figured it was his health. He couldn't help but smile, it had been so long since anyone recognized him and here was someone who not only did that but cared for him as well! He wanted to express something, most likely gratitude, he willed words to exit his mouth but nothing came out. A frown replaced the smile.
One of the man's eyebrows raised (which shocked him that they were white, like his hair), "Hey, are you okay man?" Mathew tried to think of some way to communicate with the man, when he clapped his hands to grab the attention of the other. The crimson eyes cast down to his hands, filled with confusion. Mathew moved his hand as if he was holding a writing utensil and scribbling something with it. The other nodded and disappeared to another room for a couple of minutes and returned with a small notebook and pen.
"Here." He handed him the tools. Mathew nodded graciously and grabbed them from him.
'Can't speak.' Mathew held the paper to him, in which he nodded a bit sympathetically. He moved the paper back to his lap and wrote, 'I have a lot of questions. I know you do too. My first being, your name?'
"Gilbert…Bielshmidt." The snow haired man addressed himself slowly, as if his mouth was dry. Mathew knew one of the questions running through the man's head….actually he knew a few. Gilbert cleared his throat, "Yours?"
Mathew gave a slight nod, 'Mathew Williams.' He was about to wright another of his questions when a pale hand made its way atop of the notepad. Mathew looked up confused only to see another confused stare from Gilbert. "Questions can wait, Mathew. You need to eat." He stated simply.
It was then that Mathew took notice in his hunger, it wasn't the first thing on his mind when he awoke but it was now. His stomach growled in agreement making Mathew's cheeks turn a few shades of pink. Gilbert gave a cocked smile and reached behind him retrieving a plate of some small sandwiches. The blonde could feel his mouth water and was reaching forward before he hesitated, the other chuckled. "It's fine, there is plenty more where this came from." Gilbert kept the smile as he retrieved the second plate and began eating himself. Mathew shoved the pieces of wheat and protein into his mouth, devouring whatever had claimed its place on the plate. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a light laugh, "You'll make yourself sick eating like that." Mathew chewed his mouthful of food and swallowed it, much more slowly than before. He moved the pen again to write, "Thank we do a little Q and A now?" He smiled a bit when he received a nod.
Many questions and answers were given and received during the hour that ensued. Mathew had asked how exactly Gilbert had found him, in which the answer was that he had simply spotted a large mound of snow in an alleyway. When he had gone to inspect it and found a human, he carried Mathew to his home post-haste. "You were a light little thing, very frail, so you weren't too hard to carry. It also helps that I am a bit more awesome than your average person." The snow haired man had said. His features had also brought about a few questions. In which he received many shrugs, "Dunno. I was just born with it, I've asked my doctor about it before. I'm a uh, I think he said 'albino'. Which is science babble for I'm pale, have white hair, and red eyes. Also that I get called a freak and such my whole life." The man smiled softly when Mathew had sympathetically placed a hand on that of the others. Which was beside him, since in the midst of their session Gilbert had taken his place next to Mathew on the couch. "It's fine, it just means that they've never seen someone as awesome as me before and simply don't know how to deal with it…though apparently I'm not going to be around much longer. Doctor says it comes with the bag, being an albino, short lifespan. Says it's a wonder I'm still alive." Silence hung in the air for a few minutes when the albino cleared his throat, "So, I guess you were born unable to speak? Or did you lose it in some sorta accident?" He asked carefully, not knowing if this was a touchy subject or not.
Mathew hesitated before he wrote and Gilbert apologized quickly in which Mathew waved his hand dismissively, 'Born with it.' He wrote simply and quickly. He decided he was never going to speak again anyway, he might as well make it the case. Before the atmosphere became one of sympathy or grief, he quickly wrote another question, 'Age? I'm 19.'
"Well, well, I'm two years your elder. I'm twenty one, just old enough to drink am I right?" he chuckled again, a sound that Mathew was beginning to be fond of. "Oh hey, oh my gosh you must have family to get back to right? Man I've been keeping you here, they're probably worried sick about you!" Gilbert quickly got up to retrieve a coat when he felt the other man grab his arm and point to the couch with his other hand. He raised an eyebrow and slowly filled the dent he had made in the furniture. Mathew would've sighed if he could; he held the pen in his hand for a while. He didn't know what to write, his parents? Dead. And his brother didn't even know he existed. So he wrote, 'No family to speak of. I don't get along with my parents and I'm an only child.' Gilbert had nodded and went on to explain his family.
He had one brother, Ludwig. But they hadn't spoken in years. His parents were dead as well, but they passed away when he was much younger. Only three when his mom had died from an illness, and his father died when he was six, also from illness. 'Why don't you speak to your brother?' Gilbert paused when he read the question, and then shrugged. "Just don't get along…" he said, but Mathew could tell there was much more to that story. But he nearly jumped when he thought of a question that had entered his thought, but he had forgotten to ask it. He quickly scribbled, 'Why didn't you take me to a hospital?' Gilbert nodded, "I know right? I should've, but the closest one is six miles away from here and I barely carried you the one mile to my house. So I decided to just get you better myself…I practice a little medicine so I knew what I had to do." He gave a brilliant smile, "You were in good hands, I promise you." Mathew's cheeks turned pink from that. It didn't help that the man next to him was incredibly good looking, and he was in his house, and on a couch with him. He stood up quickly, about to write where a restroom would be to excuse himself when his vision spotted and he saw the world around him shifting. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there." Gilbert got up as well and grabbed his shoulders gently, "You're still not a hundred percent yet…you can't manage yourself properly…" He said slowly as he lowered him back down to the couch. Mathew nodded and closed his eyes, his lids feeling heavy again. It was so nice to be in a warm home with food, and person who SAW him. Who recognized him as a human being. He decided then, as Gilbert was slipping a blanket he had retrieved over his body, that he would never ask that question. It could never be asked, for he decided that if he brought up that no one else could see him that the other would no longer be able to. He didn't know how he came to this conclusion, but he could feel that would be the consequence of asking. The question that was never to be asked or in his case, written, "Why am I not invisible to you?"
. So. Hard. Ugh, I'm not happy with this chapter…please comment. Please? Also if you finished this horrid chapter, wow you survived! And I apologize…