The World is Snowblind Chapter 5, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

February 21, 1767~

Ever since Alfred went through his changes, as Miss Jamie calls them, he's never really been around the house that much. Because of his stronger body, Alfred―instead of watching the workmen down at the docks―would help them and any other person who needed a heavy load lifted. He had such strength now. And normally when I woke, Alfred would already be gone leaving me to work through my morning alone. No one else seemed bothered by this but I on the other hand, without Alfred about to accompany me, I had no friend to speak with. There was of course Davidson and Mr. Brixton and the two women and Arthur but they wouldn't have the time or the desire to just sit in the library all day talking aimlessly or run around playing pretend like Alfred used to do.

Once I tried to work with Davidson to make the lunch but my lack of knowledge in the kitchen just slowed him down. I tried with Miss Mary and Miss Jamie, but I could only stand so much talk of how handsome all the men in town were. I tried with Mr. Brixton but it just felt as if I were in class and I didn't even approach Arthur in fear of one of his dark glares or harsh rejections. I did, though, tried with Alfred, sorry to say, many times and all with failure. He was just too busy and energetic for me to keep up with him, so I stopped bothering with it.

After a few days of playing alone, I got use to it. It was still lonely at times, but I just ignored it and kept to myself.

Today the house was absolutely silent and I had just sat down in the library to read a book that I had never had time to read when Miss Mary came into the room, duster and towel in hand. She stopped when she saw me staring at her.

"Oh, well Mister Matthew. What are you doing in here all by yourself?"

I closed my book and stood up from my seat. "Nothing," I paused to wipe down my pants. "I'll leave so you can clean."

Miss Mary put her hands on her hips and gave me a scowl. "Oh, nothing you say? Well you have been doing "nothing" all this week. Just sitting in this house all quiet. Oh, I know, how about you go outside and get some fresh air in you, hmm?"

I frowned. The only reason I have been inside all week is because I've lost my best friend to adulthood while I'm still only a child. "Yes, I think I'll do that."

Miss Mary smiled broadly. "Oh, good. I think your brother would like some company out back anyway if I say so myself."

I blinked dumbly. "Alfred's here?" Miss Mary nodded. "I thought he was down at the docks."

"Oh, no. He and his young friend Mister Samuel are working on Mister Davidson's wagon," she said. "The man broke it when he loaded too many sacks on there even after I told him not too! I, personally, don't think Mister Alfred should fix it. Mister Davidson needs to fix it. He broke the stupid thing."

I could feel myself getting anxious to see Alfred again. Since I got used to going about by myself I didn't really check up on what was happening outside the house or what was happening with Alfred. I excused myself from the room and slipped out the door, saving myself from a sure to be never ending complaint. I walked down the hallway out into the living room. I grabbed my jacket from the coatrack and pulled it on. As I approached the front door I couldn't help but to feel that I should announce my leave to Arthur―just in case he looked for me while I was gone. I rolled my head over my shoulder and called softly up the stairs where Arthur's work room was.

"Arthur, I'm going outside now…"

No answer came, but I didn't expect one. Arthur never hears me. With a sigh I opened the door and walked out into the front porch. Cold air brushed my face and my hand shivered as I pulled the outside doorknob shut. A rhythmic thumping was coming from the bottom of the pathway that lead from the house. Thump, thonk, thump, thonk. Again and again the sound hit my ears, leaving me to walk in unison with it as I made my way down the path.

Almost to the bottom, I could clearly see Alfred. As expected, an old looking wagon with only three wheels sat on its side, Alfred was knelt on one knee next to it hammering at the discarded wheel. His hair was slicked back with sweat and his rolled up coat sleeves tightened around his large arms as they bent. He looked so strong, so big at that moment. And as told but forgotten, an older boy I'd never seen before stood nearby.

I felt my face heat up. Shyness has always been a problem with me. Even when I was back in France, I was quiet around people. It's like my voice stops working and I just pull into myself, waiting desperately for that moment to pass and for the large lump in my throat to die back down. But, to my dismay and constant bad luck, the older boy who I had hoped not to talk with was the first to see me.

"Hey there kid," he said with a wave and I immediately started to wonder if it was too late to run back to the house before Alfred saw me. But of course, it was.

Alfred turned and smiled brightly. "Hey Mattie!"

I smiled warily and watched Alfred jump up and walk over to me. He provided me with a big hug and then ruffled my hair, sliding his hand in mine. "Well this is a surprise. I haven't seen you all week. What, did Miss Mary kick you out?"

That's exactly what happened, but all I did was mumble a response. Alfred turn around and started to explain what he was doing with Davidson's wagon although I already knew. As he spoke, I could feel the older boy staring at me. My head fell and I tried to hide behind Alfred's legs. I suppose Al saw my failing attempt at avoiding the other boy for all he did was laugh, pull me out in front of him and started to introduce us.

"Mattie, this is my friend Samuel Maverick. Sam, this is my brother Matthew," he said.

I looked at the older boy, Samuel, and blinked. He was maybe fourteen and a head shorted then Al with a freckled face and a shiny wave of brown hair. He stepped closer to us and held out his hand. "So you're Matthew? Al's told me a lot about you, he has."

His hand hovered in the air for a bit before Alfred let go of mine and waited for me to grab it. I did and shook Samuel's hand lightly before returning to Alfred's palm.

Alfred laughed and wiped at his forehead. "Well, Mattie, what have you been up to?"

I swallowed my dry throat and rubbed my arm. "I-I've been reading Candide."

Alfred's eyes grew. "Woo, boy! I can't even say that damn title and you're reading the book!" Alfred said.

I laughed but stopped when Samuel joined in. "Ah Al, I've told you to study up. Soon you'll be as smart as this here wagon if you don't."

"Shut the hell up, Sam," Alfred joked.

The two of them shared a laugh, oblivious to my discomfort, and continued with a very profane conversation. Samuel wiped the tip of his nose after they finished and finally looked at me. "So, Al, do you think Matthew would like to help us with this?" he said, gesturing to the wagon.

Alfred blinked, remembering that my hand was still in his. "Oh! Well…" he paused and looked down at me, "nah. I think we've worked enough on this. We can finish it tomorrow. Instead, how about we all go down to the docks, hmm? Goof around?"

The idea sounded great, but I wouldn't enjoy myself while Alfred's friend was there so I coughed and spoke. "Umm, I actually think I should get back to the house…"

Alfred's eyes softened and his hand squeezed mine in understanding. "Well, alright. I guess we can go some other time then," he said. "I had to go to the town for some other work, anyway."

His hand slipped out of mine, leaving it empty and sweaty from the shared heat of our palms. He squatted down to my height and smiled. "How about I take you and these tools up to the house before I go?"

I looked down at the hammer and box of nails near Al's feet then back up to his face. "Okay."

Before Alfred could say any more Samuel cut in. "Well Al, how 'bout I take him," he said, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at me. "Get him off your hands," he winked and reached out to pat my head. I stiffened but didn't pull away.

Alfred looked at me then down at the faraway view of the town. "Hmm, what do you say, Mattie? You want Sam to walk you?"

I didn't, but my mouth always seems to say the wrong words in situations like this. "Okay."

Alfred nodded and stood back up. He eyed Thomas with a fake glare and shook his finger at him. "You take good care of this boy, you hear?"

Thomas pretend to take off a hat and place it over his chest, bowing. "Of course, sir. Whatever you say."

Alfred laughed and kissed the top of my head before walking down the rest of the pathway to town. "Bye Mattie. I'll see you later." He waved then vanished.

I stood silently next to Samuel as he called a good-bye. I watched him turn back to me and pick up the hammer and box of nails, heaving at their weight. "Lord above, going to have some bruises after carrying these," he laughed.

I gave him a blank stare and looked away.

Samuel's chest fell along with his smile and moved all the tools he held to one hand. "Want me to hold your hand?"

I looked at his outstretched hand and shook my head. I knew I was giving Samuel a hard time, but the resentment and shyness of people followed me heavily ever since that day four years ago. I was still trying to get over it.

"Well…let's get moving then," Samuel coughed, moving the tool back into the positions they were in.

We made our way up the pathway in silence. The cool air fluttered out my hair as I walked quickly up hill. I didn't wait for Samuel until I was at the front porch, where I turned around and watch him struggle up the last strides. It reminded me of how I was when I first came to the house with Davidson. I stuck out my hand. Samuel looked up and grabbed it. "Thank you, Matthew."

We slipped inside and I removed my coat, happy for the warmth of the house. Samuel breathed out and sat down the tools on a nearby table. "Hah―well that's over, hmm?" he said. He looked over at me and smiled. "Now, could you show me to the storage room, Matthew. Like to get rid of these things." He gestured to the tools.

After our little trudge uphill I felt a small bit better around Samuel, enough to speak without choking on embarrassment. "Oh yes. It's right over here."

Right then, Miss Jamie's loud voice echoed from the kitchen. "Mister Matthew is that you?"

Samuel and I turn to watch Miss Jamie storm into the room, blonde hair bouncing furiously. "Oh, Mister Matthew where have you been? Mister Kirkland asked me to get you ten minutes ago and I couldn't find you!"

She stare at me intensely waiting for me to answer. "I've been outside, Miss Jamie."

Miss Jamie let out a huff and shook her head. "Oh, I have been looking all over this good forsaken house for you and you have been outside? In the cold? With your friends―" Miss Jamie looked over at Samuel angrily but froze, mouth agape. "Oh…"

I watched in confusion as Samuel's cheeks went bright and he nodded his head. "H-Hello ma'am."

Miss Jamie's cheeks went just as shiny and she smoothed out her dress and quickly fluffed out her hair. "Oh, hello. And you are?" she said almost breathlessly.

Samuel cleared his throat. "S-Samuel Maverick, ma'am. I'm just here to…ah…I'm just here to…um…" Samuel started to fidget and his face became immensely red. "I was just…"

"I was just showing him to the storage room so he could take back those tools, Miss Jamie," I said finally.

"Oh! Is that so?" Miss Jamie said. She twirled at the ribbon around the end of her sleeve before saying, "W-Well I could take him, if…he'd like, that is."

I looked to Samuel for his response. "Ah, yes. I mean, I would like that…that is," he stammered. He reached for the tools but instead managed to knock them onto the floor, the hammer slamming to the ground while the box of nails sprayed out along the floor. "Ah!"

"Oh!" Miss Jamie squeaked and fell to her knees, proceeding on to pick up the nails.

"Oh no, ma'am! Don't do that! I knocked them over!" Samuel said, also going to the floor and started collecting the fallen nails.

"Oh, don't worry. I clean up worse things than this."

"Yes, but I knocked them over!"

"Oh, it's fine, really."

"But what if you ruin your pretty dress?"

Miss Jamie stopped picking up the nails and looked up at Samuel. She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh… You think my dress is pretty?"

Samuel's cheeks flared. "Y-Yes ma'am."

Everything then fell silent and Miss Jamie and Samuel just smiled at each other. I felt a cringe start to form on my lip, one that Arthur would be proud of. And that reminded me: "So, Miss Jamie. You said Arthur was looking for me?"

Miss Jamie looked up at me then gasped. "Oh, yes! Mister Kirkland is looking for you, that's right! Um...he wants you to come to his studies! Yes, yes! Go up there and tell him," she straightened up, "tell him the reason you are late is because you were out fooling around, not because of me!"

I sighed. "I will."

I turned and started up the stairs, only to look back once to see Samuel and Miss Jamie still sitting on the floor giggling. "Good heavens," I muttered as I rounded the corner at the top of the stairs.

Arthur's studies have always been an "off bounds" type of room. Alfred was allowed in there but even then, Arthur had to be with him or have had to instruct him to go get something from there. When it came down to it though, the room was only for Arthur and everyone knew to stay out of it. I stopped at the entrance of the hallway and peered into the shadowy walls. I walked past the first two doors―the first being Arthur's bedroom, the next an empty guest room―then stopped in front of the small staircase that sat under a large door. I took a breath and then stepped up onto the first step. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. I counted the steps until I was face to with the door. I raised my hand slowly and knocked.

The sound of a chair pushing back came from inside the room. Footsteps came louder and louder as their owner neared the door and soon I found myself looking up into Arthur's shadowed face. "H-Hello Arthur."

"Matthew," Arthur said in a deep grumble. He moved aside and gestured me in. I cautiously entered, flinching when the door was shut behind me, and watched Arthur return back to his chair.

He sat with a sigh and rubbed under his eyes. "Well, take a seat, boy."

I nodded quickly and looked around before spotting a smaller chair in the corner. "Thank you, Arthur," I said while sitting. He just glanced at me before turning in his chair.

I frowned at the stuffiness of the room and looked around. It was nothing like I would have imagined it. It was so, normal. Wood flooring, like all the other rooms in the house. Tan walls with maps and writings hanging from them. A window that offered little outside light. A desk and chair, both occupied by Arthur, with papers and inks on its top. A large trunk that sat dusty in the corner and the chair and side table I sat in now. Yes, very normal.

A clink of glass made my head turn. I watched Arthur straighten up in his chair and close the bottom draw of the desk with his foot. I sat forward just enough to see the dark green bottle in his hand and the small clear cup in the other. He sat them on the desk and turned around. "May I?"

I blinked until I understood what I was seeing. "Ah…yes. Of course. Go ahead."

Arthur laughed tiredly then tipped the bottle over his glass. A line of light brown liquid poured out. He chugged it back and had it refilled before I could blink. I had never really seen anyone drink before, but watching Arthur lean back and sip at his alcohol was slightly unnerving. I wondered if everyone looked so wretched when they drank.

"Do you like living here, Matthew?" Arthur said after swallowing a ruff shot.

"Um, I'm sorry?" I said, confused.

Arthur glanced at me with a smile. He sat down his glass. "Do you like living here, in this house?"

"Of course I do, Arthur," I answered.

"You don't miss your old home or life back in France?" Arthur said, turning all the way around to face me.

I shook my head and furrowed my eyebrows. "I…well yes, but I live here with you all and that's enough for me…," I stopped. Something tight was started to edge up the middle of my chest in fear of what the conversation was heading to. "W-Why are you asking?"

Arthur sighed and sat his hands in his lap. "How long has it been?"

I didn't have to ask to know what he was referring to. "Four years."

"And all that time have you not once thought of Francis?" Arthur said.

The name made me choke up. "N-No." That was a lie. The first year of living away from my old home I cried every night. I would wish so hard for everything to go back to the way things were. And of course I thought about Papa.

Arthur groaned and repositioned himself in his chair. "Well, I bet he's thinks about you," he said. He waited for a moment. "I know I've kept you two separated for so long and kept you distant from it all, and I'm sorry for that―"

I cut in hurriedly. "Oh no, Arthur! It really is fine―"

"Hush," Arthur flicked his hand out and I fell silent. He continued. "I've been meaning to change that, so," he stood up from his chair and pointed to a pile of paper and a set of quills and inks, "you may write him."

I stared at the desk blankly. "Like a…letter?"

"Yes," Arthur said while edging his chair closer to me. "Come and sit here."

I stood and walked slowly over to the desk. I turned and sat down on the still heated seat and let Arthur swirl me around. I studied the blank piece of paper in front of my before looking back at Arthur. He smiled tightly and patted the top of my head. "I'll leave you to it then," he turned and moved to the door. "Show him how good your English has gotten, hmm?"

Arthur left the room and I waited till his footsteps faded. I looked back down at the paper and grabbed one of the quills from its container. I dabbed it in one of the ink bottles and let the tip hover over the sheet. That's all I got to before I froze. I felt like what I wrote on the paper wasn't going to be much. I didn't have anything to say. Well, that wasn't true. I had a lot to say though I didn't know how to say it.

I sniffed into my shoulder before finally putting the quill to the parchment.

Dear Papa―

I stopped and the ink from the tip spread in a blotchy line. I frowned. Picking up the paper, I wadded it and pushed it to the side of the desk. Again, a blank page looked up at me. I sighed and tightened my grip on the quill.

Dear Papa,

How are you? I hope I do not need to say who this is but if so, it's Matthew―

I stopped again, thinking.

I hope you are in good health. I am fine―

This time I sunk back into the chair and muttered. My brain started to throb as I thought of what to say. He wouldn't mind if the letter was plain, right? He wouldn't mind if it wasn't full of detail, right? Questions filled my head. My hand started to shake from holding it in the air to long. I sat it down and looked skywards to the ceiling. It was as blank as my paper. I mentally kicked myself for being so dramatic and picked my hand up again.

I swallowed then quickly scribbled down a few lines of how my time was in England and how the house America was. I wrote about Alfred and how great the others in house were. I wrote a few more lines about my schooling then stopped to study my work. My words barely filled a quarter of the page.

I moaned and dropped my head to the desk, covering my face with my arms. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. I started to think back to when I was smaller and living in the large brick building back in France as the sudden joggle of memories had made me recall how much I loved it there. That house is where I was raised, really raised in anyway. I first spoke in that house, first walked, played. I did everything there and with the help of Papa, my father. And that's when I realized, I couldn't remember what he looked like.

I blinked a few times and shook my head. I could see the memories of myself playing out in the old homes garden with a man, with Papa, but his face was blurred. Every memory he was in, his face seemed to be erased. I panicked and started to feel that cold hand start to crawl back up my chest. My eyes stung and my throat tightened.

I was my fault for not being able to remember Papa's face, wasn't it? I thought. No, it was Arthur's. Yes. Because he took me away when I was so young. Yes that was it.

I could feel the tears gathering at the ends of my eyes. The anger I felt for Arthur when I first met him suddenly bubbled back up. I remembered I hated him. I started to cry freely and the air in the room felt like it was going to run out. That's right, I thought. I hate Arthur and all the people who stand with him. But I don't hate Alfred or, at least not anymore…

The thoughts in my head started to fog my eyes and I bent over in my chair. I wept silently and stared unmoving at the paper. I wiped at my eyes as the thoughts came back, as all the hate I had kept hidden came back to get me. And then it hit me so hard in the chest it made my breathe hitch. It was his fault. It was Papa's fault. The reason I was so tired and miserable and sad and confused was because of him. If he would have been stronger, if he would have stood up for me and said something I wouldn't be here. If he had fought harder to keep me then I wouldn't have had to deal with this…mess.

I felt a terrible scowl etch its way onto my face. I picked up the quill and gabbed it harshly in the ink bottle. I jerked the tip over to the paper and started to write in fast, sloppy letters. I found myself fading into French and before I could stop myself I already had half a page written in it. I scratched down letters, not caring for the presentation of the paper. Huge drops hit my words as I wrote, smearing the ink. I wiped at my face and sniffed. I bit down on my bottom lip as I kept writing. Only when the tip of the quill ripped through the paper did I stop and look at what I had wrote. The page looked like they belong in the trash. They were smeared and dirty, but I didn't care. Finishing, I sighed my name at the bottom, not in French, but in English. I waited until the letter were dry then before sliding it into a small envelope, not caring that it didn't quite fit.

I sat there then, in the dark room, and calmed myself down. After a bit, I stood up and walked to the window. I pulled back the drab curtains and looked outside. It was dark and I figured it had to be dinner time. I went back to the desk and grabbed the envelope, blew out the lamp and headed for the door. I exited the room and walked down the first three steps. I stopped and wiped at my eyes one last time then continued out into the hallway.

I could hear talking and laughter coming from the dining room. I felt empty in my stomach but I doubted food would fill it. I walked down the main staircase and turned into the living room. Bright lights from the hanging candles burned my eyes and the smell of cooked meat made my nose arch. I stopped when I reached the dining room's doorway. The sound of voices and the click of dishes rattled my ears.

I frowned and walked back into the living room. Is stood in the middle of the flooring and listened to the loud conversation in the other room, waiting to hear if anyone was going to get up and look for me. No one did. I sighed and walked back upstairs to my bedroom. I shut my door and fell onto my bed. My eyes felt puffy and drooped and I didn't even have to think about before I was asleep.

A time later, I could vaguely hear Alfred walk into the room. I felt myself being lifted and placed under my bed sheets. He lightly kissed my forehead and pulled the envelope I had fallen asleep with out of my hand. I watched with fuzzy eyes as he looked at the envelope and then put it in his shirt pocket before I went back to sleep.

The next morning, when I came down for breakfast, the only person there was Arthur. When he saw me, he said that Alfred went down to town to give away my letter. I then began to wait for the long months to pass and for a responding note to come.

One never did.