The Tragic Tale of A Certain 'Hero' Type

Chapter Thirteen: A Successful Attempt (Part 1)

AN: Trigger Warning ⚠️‼️⚠️‼️⚠️‼️: Graphic Suicidal Thoughts and attempt. If you are not in a good mental state, please please please don't not read. If you do and you need help, don't hesitate to reach out to people. I promise that the world needs you. I've been there and unfortunately, still bad days but eventually there will be good days. Had to split it into two parts.
Matthew had hidden anything sharp but there were still pills and even his guns he had hidden in the room Matthew let him use. He would pretend to start getting better until Matthew left him alone. It was only right. He was a burden. He was unwanted. Arthur, his father, had never loved him. There was no chance of reconciliation. Japan still hadn't forgiven him for WW2 and used it against him all the time. China was never a friend, but the older country never even gave him a chance. Germany couldn't stand how unprofessional, useless, arrogant, unorganized, and incompetent he was and his presentations. Germany never allowed him to explain why his presentation kept being the same. Russia... Well, Russia was Russia. He could tell he wasn't welcomed by his own kind. He hated everything about himself.
A tap on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. Matthew was looking at him, concern swirling in his purple eyes. Alfred felt guilty as he had sat there, unwilling to even touch the spoon. Matthew simply picked the spoon up, got some of the broth, blew on it, then brought it to Alfred's mouth. Alfred hadn't realized that he had swallowed the spoonful of broth until the second spoonful was swallowed. Big Brother possibly still cared about him. Alfred couldn't believe it.
Matthew was telling Alfred of a few funny things that happened at work. Alfred found himself actually laughing at a few parts. He had been so distracted that Matthew was able to feed him the entire small portion. A plan and a will came to Alfred's mind. He didn't know what to write for his will. He wasn't actually listening to Matthew. He was thinking of other things. All of his money, property, and anything else he knew he owned would just be left to Matthew. It wouldn't be much but it might make up for the burden he was and the amount of time Matthew had wasted on him. A single thing that might be worth the effort Matthew had spent.
Pills weren't a guarantee due to his healing factor. He was hoarding a bunch under the bed, which Matthew hadn't checked. He'd take them with bleach, and shoot himself in the head. He had a special bullet that he had made a while back that might actually kill him. It was contaminated with radiation and was coated in a very strong and rare poison. The basement wasn't finished yet. That would be the perfect place to die. The tarps would even make it easy to clean up. He wouldn't be a burden anymore. All the pain would stop. He could be with his mother again. Even if she hated him for what he was forced to do, he would accept any punishment she would demand of him.
Matthew's arms around him, along with the rocking motion, brought him out of his daze. He was on Matthew's lap, sobbing. Why was he crying? Hadn't he cried enough? Why was Matthew so gentle with him? Arthur wasn't even this kind when he was very little. He was calming down as Matthew hummed a song before singing the words.
"I love you forever, I like you for always. Forever and ever, my baby brother you'll be."
Matthew continued until Alfred was almost completely asleep. He stood up, easily carrying his brother as he started to walk away from the kitchen. Alfred couldn't help the daze he was in. He was pretty sure this was a dream. He felt his eyelids closing but he wasn't asleep yet, a little bit curious as to what Matthew was going to do. Matthew tucked him into bed, after changing his clothes to comfortable flannel pajamas. He kissed his brother's head and sat next to Alfred.
"Al, I will do everything I can for you. I will protect you. I will make sure you are safe. I will make a place where you feel safe and cared for. I will not let anyone hurt you again." Matthew's voice was a whisper, but the emotions were still there. At that moment, America's phone started buzzing with more text messages from what felt like all the countries. Matthew had picked his phone up and had started to read the texts, his free hand was gently stroking his brother's hair carefully. The hair felt healthier than it did two weeks ago. It was getting stronger and less of it was falling out. He was happy with that.