Like Birds in the Sky

"Tick, tick, tick..."

The ticking of the clock on the wall above the bed seemed far off and quiet. The windows let in a white-gold light from outside, reflecting off of every surface, and off of Mattie's golden hair, making every strand shine and gleam softly. Everything felt so crisp and clear. Yet so wrong. The pulse in his wrist beat against my palm, his hand in mine, his other hand laying on top of the tighly tucked in sheets. He was barely breathing, his thin chest shuddering as he struggled for breath. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He smiled weakly at me, his cerulean eyes sharp. I felt my own eyes start to tear up as I looked at him. The man I love. Dying.

"Francis."

I wiped away the tears and looked at him with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"Am I going to die?"

His eyes peirced me, begging, demanding the truth.

"Mattie... I don't know."

He sighed and looked out the window at the snow-covered skyline. I felt new tears in my eyes start to fall. He looked back at me and smiled again. "Don't cry." He squeezed my hand feebly. "Please don't cry..."

 I bit back sobs and tried to smile. Pain ripped through me. I knew that my own pain could not compare to what he was feeling. The clock ticked on.

"Francis."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, mon amour?"

He looked out of the window vacantly again. "I feel weird. The pain is gone..."

I gave him a startled look. "What? I-I'll go get the doctors! I'll be right back-!" I was cut off as he grabbed my wrist with his thin hands.

"No, Francis. I don't want the doctors."

I pried his fingers off my wrists as gently as I could. "No, Mattie, I need to get the doctors! As I said, I'll be right back." I turned to run to get the people who had been treating Canada, keeping him alive.

"Francis!" He coughed violently, blood splattering the snowy sheets. "N-no. I don't want the doctors... and I don't want you to leave me. Stay here beside me--" He coughed again.

"--p-please.."

I ran over to his side and bent down near to him. "Matthieu! You--blood--doctors--!" My voice was breathy with fear.

He reached up and touched my face. His hand felt cold against my cheek.

"Haha.. No doctors, Francis. I've already told you--" He coughed, his face contorted in pain. "--no doctors! You're--" He coughed up more blood this time. "--you're staying here-- with me--" cough, cough. "--you're not going to leave me alone..." He sunk back on the pillows, his face sweaty and pale as the snow falling outside. He wheezed. It was clear it was taking all of his energy to breathe. I sat in the chair beside the hospital bed and took ahold of his hand again, wiping his face with my other hand and gently pushing back strands of loose hair with my fingertips. He smiled up at me, blood trailing from his mouth and a soft smile on his face.

"Francis, I love you... Know that. You're beautiful. And... if the end comes to me soon... don't blame yourself."

 He closed his eyes, his breathing getting more quiet by the second. I squeezed his hand

three times, with feeling. I. Love. You. He sqeezed my hand feebly back, his fingers going

slack after the third squeeze, his breathing so scarce that I could not hear it.

 I sat there like that for a moment, hand in hand with him, snow falling outside, sunlight reflecting coldly off of the metal surfaces. I didn't look up as I heard the running footsteps in the hallway, the doctors alerted by one of the machines hooked up to Mattheiu by a wire, monitering his heartbeat and breathing. I didn't flinch as the door banged open behind me, people in scrubs rushing in like ants. I barely blinked when I was rushed out of the room and placed in a hard, uncomfortable chair and told to wait until someone came and got me. Hours passed. I don't know, maybe it was minutes, maybe it was days. I faintly remember Gilbert and Antonio coming by to talk to me, but they eventually left. The clock in the hallway ticked loudly, the only noise in the room. I gazed at my feet disconnectedly, not really seeing them. I remembered Mattheiu, and his sweet, quiet smile, his warm, loving hands, his tender embrace. I remebered how he was so ticklish and had such a cute laugh, and how he would run his fingers through my hair when we sat next to each other. I recalled how he would get so mad, so furious, when someone didn't see him.  He was always striving to be noticed.

 Tears filled my vision and dripped to the floor, my head hanging heavily in my hands. I shuddered with silent sobs, memories and pain filling my being. Someone came up and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Arthur. I didn't look up, and he whispered something softly and walked away to Alfred, who was visiting the ward, as well. I heard him comforting the American, who was leaning into his chest, crying gently. Arthur was rocking him back and forth, stroking his hair, kind of like I used to do when Mattie was sad. My shoulders shook with sobs, tears dripping quickly to the ground. My little Mattheiu. Why did it have to be him? What did he do? He's not ready to die! Why, God, why?!?

 Through my tears, I heard the door behind me creak open. My head snapped up quickly, and I turned rapidly to face the female doctor that walked out of the room. She had an exausted look on her face, and there was a mask around her neck. Arthur and Alfred, still hugging, both looked up at her with fear and anticipation. The doctor cleared her throat, pulled on a smile, and said "He's going to be all right. He'll be out for a while, and he'll have to be on lots of medication for a long time. But he's all right. I'll tell you when you can visit him." She smiled again, a soft, knowing smile, and turned back into the room, with Mattheiu, shutting the door behind her.

 A heavy silence filled the hallway. Alfred broke it by murmuring "Alive..?", saying it in a questioning way, like he couldn't believe that his brother was going to live. He repeated himself. "Alive." A grin spread across his face, uneasy at first, then brightening up his tear- stained face. "He's gonna live! Mattie's gonna be ok!" He laughed, hugging Arthur and kissing him gently, then sprung over to me, taking my limp form by the shoulders and looking me in the eye. "Y' hear that? Matt is gonna be fine!" I smiled, for the first time in what seemed like years. "He's gonna be all right..." Alfred enveloped me in a tight hug, and I hugged him back, crying tears of relief and joy, grinning. I looked up at Arthur,who was standing, and he nodded, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. I released Alfred from the tight hug and sat back in my chair, blowing out a long breath. I ran my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes.

 Mattheiu is going to live.

 I think I could fly.