Yay, I finally wrote it! Sorry it took so long guys!
Desclaimer: I do not own anything!
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Mattie scoffed, "Grateful? For what!? Always being forgotten and left out? For always being invisible to you, eh!? Yeah, I'm so fucking thankful for that!" He declared, voice soft but obviously furious, and stomped off, furious. He kicked at the snow beneath his feet, grumbling a few cuss words along the way.
Finally he came to the fork in the road, and he stared down the path to the left, the one that would take him to that horrible shop where he will Mattie the poor forgotten orphan forever. However Right would lead him to St. Petersburg, where he could catch a train to Paris and find whoever gave him his precious locket, and to the one person who would remember him. He was sure of it.
"M-Maple… Which way do I go…?" He sighed, and looked up at the sky. "I need a sign!" it was supposed to be a yell but it came out more like a whisper.
Just then a little polar bear cub, well it looked like one but it was actually just a very fluffy dog, came out and tugged on his pant leg. The look in his eyes seemed confused and questioning, as if to ask 'Who are you?' Matthew smiled at the animal and picked him up.
"I'm Mattie… I will call you Kumajiro." The bea- dog simply cocked his head to the side and jumped out of his arms. He bit the leg of Mattie's pants again and tried to pull him toward the St. Petersburg path. Mattie stared oddly at the dog for a minute before looking up at the sky.
He whispered, "Thank you…" He took a deep breath and a step forward, mentally preparing himself for the worst. "I can do this… Think of who is waiting for you Mattie."
He walked down the path gaining more confidence with each step as he followed the dog. They passed by a home just as snow started falling really hard, and the family there was nice enough to invite him inside.
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Meanwhile, all the way in Paris, Francis was worrying once again about what has become of his son. His face was no longer as youth full as it had once been, years upon years of worrying has seen to it that his face gained fine wrinkles that later turned into deeper ones. His hair, once golden as the sun, has begun to grow grey hairs from stress.
His eyes had dark bags under them, for he had tossed and turned in his sleep with nightmares that told him that Matthew was alone and cold. That it was all his fault he was missing, if he had just held onto Matthew's small hand a little longer, maybe he would have made it. These nightmares tortured him almost daily, he would wake up with tears staining his pillows and his eyes puffy and red from crying.
He stared sadly at a small picture he kept of his little Matthew, remembering all the laughs they had shared before everything went to hell.
"Mon Patite Matthew… Where have you gone…" A single tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away quickly. He hadn't given up hope, not yet, for in his heart he knew his son was alive
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I know, I know, it's short but I ran out of time.