alright. I wrote this one in one sitting, too. wow im on a roll lately… well, you can hardly blame me. i had this chapter planned out in my head since before i'd even drafted the preliminary plotlines. honest, it was one of my favorites to write. i really like sickfics way too much though… haaha suffering
THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER FOR MATTHEW AND ALFRED! I'm not writing any more for them ok bye
It was storming outside. Early January, the first snowstorm they'd had that winter. Alfred could hear the snow and wind heavily whipping against the side of the hospital.
Alfred had been in the hospital all day—he'd gotten there in the early morning and come to visit his frail brother. Matthew could no longer get up from his bed, could no longer laugh or smile. He had no energy for anything. He seemed too weak to even drink a glass of water. The blonde, now bald, was hooked up to several machines like a heart monitor, an IV to keep him hydrated, a blood pressure monitor. He didn't look sixteen anymore.
Matthew had later asked him to stay late—a strange request. It was usually around 7:00 PM when Alfred left, which was the end of visitor's hours. However, visitor's hours didn't really apply to Alfred anymore, after he'd been to the hospital so many times. He knew each of the nurses and clerks by name, and didn't even have to sign in anymore. He just took the elevator up to the fourth floor, stocked with more action novels, and entered 4-271 unannounced. He sometimes brought candy—on Christmas, he'd gotten Mattie some presents. On new year's, he'd stolen a bottle of champagne from their parents' cellar. No one had known a single thing as the brothers drank freely that night. Every other night, however, he'd left early. Matthew required a lot of sleep, and he didn't want to interfere with that. Alfred wondered if something was wrong.
As they sat in the dark hospital room, the only light from a flashlight Alfred held to a superhero novel, the wind howled outside. The yellow light glinted off of the blinking machines and Alfred's glasses. Alfred read aloud in a cool voice, telling of fantastic heroes conquering evil. It was a rather stereotypical tale, but it was the kind Matthew liked most, so Alfred didn't have any problem with it. He'd always wanted to be a hero, anyways. If he could maybe be a hero to his brother, perhaps things would change. It was now 8:00.
"The hero sprang up from the chair, now freed from his bounds. 'I shall punish thee who persecute innocent bystanders!' he proclaimed, snatching the villain from where he stood. The hero struck him across the face, blood flying from the mouth of the scoundrel!" Alfred read in a cool yet enthusiastic voice. "The hero didn't stop until the villain lay beaten, sure that he would—"
"Alfred." Matthew interrupted in a voice so very faint.
"Matthew?" Alfred sounded concerned.
"I'm… so tired."
"Do you want to stop? I can keep reading until you're asleep if you want. I don't think the nurses will bother me if I spend the night here, I can just sleep in the chair—"
"Alfred." The voice was still barely audible.
"Matthew, what is it? Are you alright?"
"I feel like… tonight's the night. This is… this is it."
A cold feeling rushed through Alfred's stomach. Regret, guilt, fear, dread all tore through him at once, a debilitating panic settling like a film on his mind. "There's no way. You're still strong, Mattie, you're gonna be fine!"
"N-no." Two deep breaths. "I'm… going to die, Alfred. It's alright."
The heart monitor skipped a beat, and Alfred's panic settled in further. Matthew's shoulders relaxed into the bed. Alfred's hand hovered over the call button for the nurses, but bony fingers wrapped gently around his wrist and his eyes met Matthew's. The thin hand felt strangely cold.
"It's okay… just please listen to m-me."
"Mattie, no! You can't die. You can't—"
"Please don't let them forget about me. Everyone always forgot about me… even in death, I'm still going to be forgotten. P-please… don't let them forget…" Matthew's voice was so quiet Alfred had to lean closer to hear the last sentence.
Mattie's chest rose one last time, and fell, and dark eyes slid closed.
Alfred's hand slammed on the button to call the nurses. He pushed it once, twice, three and five times. "Mattie! Mattie, wake up!" He could feel hot tears rolling down his face, but he didn't remember shedding them.
It felt like a forever of shaking his brother's shoulders before three nurses rushed in with a crash cart. They pushed him away from the bed, all leaning over Matthew and checking the machines and in such a frenzy, and seemed so panicked, Alfred panicked too. Two more nurses came in, one holding a box of something and the other with a bag of IV fluid. They pushed him out of the room. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave. The patient has entered a state of emergency—we're doing what we can. Please wait in the hallway, sir!" They seemed frantic as he was. Matthew's body was obscured from him and he was forcibly shoved into the hallway.
"Patient 271 is flat lining! Get me a defibrillator! Hurry up!"
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and this time they spilled freely.
He listened for the sound of the heart monitor—it beat slower than normal; and slower, and slower. Finally, a single tone sounded through the door. It echoed around the entire floor.
That dreaded sound echoed through Alfred's mind for the rest of his life, mixed with the sound of the storm raging outside.
It was two days later. A Tuesday, and a rather dreary one at that. A foot of snow had fallen that Sunday night, and nobody seemed happy about it.
It wasn't a happy Tuesday for Alfred, either. He stood in his best dress slacks over his brother's casket.
The service had been alright. They talked about how good Matthew had been in his lifetime, and how bright he was, how smart and how brave. Alfred felt angry at that, almost. None of them knew how brave Matthew really was. They'd never spent more than an hour with the kid… how fucking dare they call him bright. He was the only light in Alfred's life… the brightest. How dare they call him brave, when Alfred had been the only one to witness firsthand the bravery of his brother. How dare they say his death was 'tragic' when Alfred was the only one to stay with him, and visit so often, and the only one to be there when Matthew had exhaled his last breath.
He thought about that night all the time, after that. Al thought about Matthew's last words, his last request. 'Don't let them forget about me.' Alfred would make sure that would come true for the rest of his life.
In his hand, Alfred held an envelope. It was thin, containing only a single sheet of paper. There was no name or address on the outside. It had been sealed tightly, without a single wrinkle.
Matthew had written it the previous week. Alfred had asked him what he was writing, and he'd lied and said a letter to Katyusha. But that Saturday, just the day before he died, he'd handed Alfred the envelope with a firm hand. 'Only open this once I'm gone, alright? I love you a lot, Alfred, and I want you to take this. Read it when you need to.' Alfred had reassured him he wasn't going to die.
Look where he stood now.
He couldn't bring himself to open the letter yet. The elder brother had become convinced Matthew knew when he was going to die. Why else would he have given him the letter the day before… flat line.
His memories of that night were suppressed—he tried not to think about it too much. There was no real gain in opening that painful night's record, so he did not. All he knew now was that a body sat in front of him, and it looked too thin to be his brother.
He'd always remembered Matthew as a prankster. As someone to play games with. Hide and seek, tag, football, anything. Roughhousing until the fourth grade, when the hospital had come into play. After that, medical expenses and Matthew's Leukemia always affected the family. If Matt wasn't happy, neither was Alfred. They'd stuck together more in high school, though, and Alfred couldn't help thinking what it would have been like for Matthew to graduate high school. He was only a sophomore…
And now he sat in a casket in front of his brother. Beside Alfred, Francis kneeled on a stool. He prayed for a while, and he cried for a while. Behind him stood Arthur, who took his turn paying respects to Matthew before shedding a few tears. He seemed uncomfortable at the sight of the body, and soon retreated to speak to some other attendees. However, Francis remained by the casket. He eventually began to sob brokenly, and no one blamed him.
Other attendees included Katyusha and her siblings Ivan and Natalia, Miguel, another boy, Gilbert, among others. Each one seemed on varying levels of emotional, ranging from completely stoic to utterly sobbing.
Katyusha was beyond consolation, more upset than anyone had ever seen the overly-emotional girl. Natalia comforted her by rubbing her back, not having been close to Matthew herself. She seemed to be the only person at the funeral not broken up, but she was respectful about it and kept mostly quiet anyways. Ivan came to pay respects once too, and he simply closed his eyes and laid a hand on one of Matthew's stiff ones. Some tears snuck out, but he hid them well, wiping them away with his jacket sleeve. Alfred let Ivan's presence slide, for once, as it was… a formal event… and he shall retain dignity and not disgrace his brother's name.
Miguel was perhaps one of the most emotional goodbyes, second only to Francis. He approached the casket calmly, so calmly, and pulled out an ace of diamonds from his suit jacket. "I did cheat," he said. "Here's the card back. I don't need it anymore." He put the card into one of the pockets in Matthew's suit. He thought no one noticed—but Alfred didn't mind it. If anything, it reminded him of just how human this was.
After most of the people had said their final goodbyes, some started to leave. After a long time, it was just Alfred and his parents left. Francis and Arthur were the last guests to leave, and the two promised to help Alfred keep his head up.
The blonde looked at his brother's face one last time, and watched as the casket was swung shut for the last time.
He held the envelope up, reluctantly.
His fingers fumbled to tear it open.
Dear Alfred.
This is probably the last thing I'll ever write. I'll most likely not get the chance to write another one. I feel like the time is close. It's really time for me to leave this earth and explore a new place. This letter is for you and for you only. You mean so much to me, honest, Al. You came every day, even when I was so depressed and you helped me so much. I only have good things to say—and no, it's not your fault. No one was at fault for what happened to me.
Please don't miss me. I don't want you to be sad anymore. When I'm gone, you'll have no reason to be sad, so please always be happy. Spend some time with Francis and Arthur—get some friends and please don't miss me. All I can ask of you is that you please remember me. I don't want to be "Alfred's dead brother". My name is Matthew. I do not want to be forgotten.
I love you so much, Al. That will never change, no matter if I'm dead or alive. Tell everyone I said the same to them; Francis and Katyusha and Miguel. I'm sure they'll miss me, won't they? I'll be watching over you all from wherever people go when they die.
This was inevitable, Alfred. Thank you for making what little life I had so very… happy.
Your Loving Brother, Matthew.
There was a date at the bottom, but Alfred's vision was obscured by tears.
Perhaps, by some miracle, this letter could help Alfred recover. Some… miracle.
thank you and god bless you all for putting up with my sappiness and repetitiveness vnv
please review!