Forgotten (Hetalia)

Chapter 2: Frozen

At first, Alfred hadn't noticed Mathew's absence. He was upset, because his parents were arguing, then he was hungry. It wasn't until during supper that he realized Mathew was missing. Alfred knew that it was easy to forget Mathew, but he thought that other people seem to forget him more. Like Mathew was invisible. But Alfred also knew his father's would remember Mathew when they were done fighting, and go get him, so even when he notice his brother's absence, he didn't mention it right away.

After supper, Alfred got sleepy. He drifted off, dreaming of heroically fighting unknown enemies and protecting his brother.  Mathew was weak, Alfred thought. He was too quiet, too kind. Mathew needed his brother Alfred to protect him. And when Alfred woke up, the first words he heard from his fathers was concerning his brother.

It was darker outside now, and at this point, Alfred began to get concerned. Why hadn't his dads gone to get Mathew yet? Alfred was sure that even Mathew was cold by now. And it was dark and scary outside, and he didn't have his brother to protect him. Alfred watched his fathers, but neither looked like they were going to go out. And so, as the hero, Alfred knew he had to do something. Yawning widely, Alfred tugged on his Papa's shirt..

"Mattie is waiting for Papa to push him on the swings." Alfred barely managed to say through his yawn. "Aren't we going to get him? Mattie will get cold."

His father's froze for a moment, then with a flurry of movement, ran for their coats, then the door.

"Alfred, wait here! We'll be right back!"

Alfred sleepily watched them go, with an air of satisfaction, before settling down onto the couch. With his job down, Alfred let his heavy eyes close, and fell asleep.

                                  .............

Alfred stood nervously in the bedroom, watching his father's desperately try to defrost his brother. Papa Francis gently rubbed Mathew's frozen hand, then gently rubbed the other. Daddy Arthur had removed the snow jacket and boots and layered many more layers of clothing over Mathew's shirt and pants and was now in the adjoining bathroom running lukewarm water into the tub.

Arthur called to Francis and he pulled off the extra layers of Mathew's clothes and carried him to the bath tub, gently settling his half-conscious form into the tub, hold him up so he didn't sink below the water level and drown. Alfred followed uncertainly to the bathroom door, but Papa Francis shoed him out. "I'm sorry, Alfred, but you cannot see Mathew just now. I have to make a phone call, just wait there." And he hurried on.

Alfred peeped in at his Daddy Arthur, slowly adding warmer water to the tub, still rubbing Mathews hands and feet trying to get the circulation going. Downstairs, he could hear Papa Francis talking on the phone to someone with a Russian accent. "Dammit, Ivan, you know I wouldn't call unless it was important! Please, Mathew needs help!"

Alfred drew away from the bathroom, heart aching. "This is my fault." He thought to himself, remembering how he had happily eaten dinner without Mathew, and had fallen asleep while his parents searched desperately. "If only I remembered Mattie sooner. If only I mentioned it sooner." He teared up, and began to cry again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

Arthur looked up and saw him standing there. "Alfred," He called  gently, "come here." Alfred wiped his eyes with his other sleeve and tentatively entered the bathroom, sniffling.

"Is Mattie going to die?" 

Arthur's eyes widened and he reached out the arm that was not supporting Mathew to him. "No, no, no, Al, Mattie is going to be just fine. He's just a little sick right now."

Alfred sniffled a little more.
"Its my fault."

Arthur looked even more pained. "It's not your fault Alfred. It's not your fault." And he pulled Alfred close until his head rested on Arthur's shoulder.

"Daddy?" A weak voice called from the tub. Arthur started, and Alfred peered into the tub from over Arthur's shoulder. Matthew's eyes were half open, his lips were cracked, and his face was extremely pale. Alfred jerked back, afraid. "I'm cold, Daddy."  Mathew murmured.

Arthur pulled his arm from Alfred and pulled Mathew up, into his embrace, soaking himself in the process. "Mathew, Mattie, sweetie." He gasped out , holding him tightly. "I know, Mattie, I know. You're going to get warmer. "

Mathew was silent for a moment and then said softly, "Papa?"

Author turned to Alfred. "Go get papa, quick!"

Alfred took a step back, then turned and ran to the top of the stairs, yelling "Papa! Papa!"

Francis came running, sliding around the corner. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

Alfred was crying again, tears pouring down his face. "Mattie." He sobbed, unable to say more.

Thankfully, Francis understood and came running up the stairs, past Alfred, straight to the bathroom, dropping the  phone in the process. He could hear his father's frantic voice in the bathroom.

"I'm here, Mathew".

And then his brother's muffled voice "I knew you would come get me".

"Im sorry" Francis said, voice breaking, "I'm so sorry, Mattie."

Arthur's voice was also shaking as he interjected "are you feeling better Mathew? Are you warmer? You're going to be okay."

Alfred collapsed at the top of the stairs, shaking.

The cellphone beside Alfred spoke. "Hello? Francis?" But Alfred didn't answer.  He curled into a ball on the top step, holding his knees to his chest.

He kept seeing Mathew's pale face. Mathew who's face was so like his own, who's life was so like his own. His other half, and his brother, was so, so pale, and so, so still. As though he were dead.

"How am I supposed to be the hero if I can't save my own little brother?"