Fading away (France x sick!Child!Canada)

Fading away

Matthew is only five years old. He draws in his notebook, a sweet smile curving his small, rosebud lips.

His father, Francis, sits right beside him. His azure eyes waters with tears that are ready to be set free. He can feel discrepant levels of pain filling up his aching heart, but his petit garçon always seems to wash that everlasting pain away.

All of the sudden, the young boy begins to cough and wheeze, having a hard time breathing. Francis' brows wrinkles in worry, an expression of distress upon his features. He quickly rushes to his side to pat his back. "Are you okay, mon cher?"

Matthew looks at him with a faint smile, receiving some kind of relief. "Oui papa... I'm okay."

Francis sighs sadly while he still rubs his small back. Matthew sighs heavily and continues to draw. The Frenchman sees that he's fine, so he stands up and walks to the window. When his son isn't looking, he secretly wipes the many silent tears that escape his eyes.

His mind drifts into thought. He thinks of his only love, little precious Matthew. Francis lost most of his family about a year ago.

His partner, Arthur, was hit by a careless driver while crossing the road. But what was even worse, was that his other son, Matthew's twin brother named Alfred, was in Arthur's arms the whole time. They both didn't survive.

Of course it was very difficult to explain the horrible news to Matthew. He was so young and could barely understand anything that was happening.

And now, Matthew is the only person he has left. The one baby that is there to love. But the illness that he has doesn't make it any better. He is sick, and his body is weakening more and more with each day that passes.

Francis is stressed and depressed. Nothing could possibly make him happy anymore. Only the smile of his petit garçon.

*****

"Papa! Papa! Look what I drew!"

"Wow! That's amazing, Matthieu! I wish I was a good artist like you!"

Francis ruffled Matthew's silky locks, absolutely delighted.

"Really? You really like it?"

The older blond laughed as he picked up the younger one, and threw him up in the air.

"Of course I do!" Francis exclaimed when he landed back in his arms. Matthew giggled and looked up at him with bright eyes.

"Je t'aime papa!"

"Moi aussi, je t'aime, mon cher!"

*****

"Is there anything else you could do for my boy, doctor?" Francis asked with an anxious tone in his voice.

"I apologize, Mr. Bonnefoy, but there is little time left. I'm afraid that Matthew only has a few months to live. I hope you understand that we've tried our hardest. Now, if you'll please excuse me." The doctor left and closed the door behind him.

Matthew coughed violently, his chest heaving with a heavy, weighed down feeling that made him uncomfortable. He finally stopped and at last gained control of himself.

"P-papa... W-what's happening?" Matthew choked out. His eyes were brimming with tears.

"It's going to be alright, Matthieu! All you have to do is stay strong, okay? For papa...?" Francis whispered, his voice slightly cracking. He didn't want Matthew to see him cry, so he tried his best not to let those tears go.

"Okay, I will..." Matthew promised before passing out. Francis held his tiny hand in his. "That's it, bébé. Stay strong."

*****