Forgotten (Hetalia)

Chapter 1: Cold

Mathew sat quietly on the swing and swung his short legs back and forth in an attempt to move. He already knew this wouldn't work, which is why he was waiting for Papa Francis to push him. Francis had promised to push him about ten minutes ago, but had gotten upset at something Daddy Arthur said and had been fighting with him since then. Mathew adjusted his red and white earmuffs with his mitted hands, and tightened his matching scarf, and tried to be patient. He studied the thin layer of soft snow on the ground, fresh from the morning, glittering white.

Alfred was not far away, happily playing on the snowy slide, oblivious to the argument happening a few feet away. This was a usual occurence after all.

"Well, I don't have to listen to this from you, wanker!" Arthur shouted angrily.

"Well, maybe if you did listen to me you wouldn't be such an idiot!" Francis suggested, snottily.

Alfred had gotten tired of playing by himself, and threw himself into the conversation. "Let's Play! I wanna be the hero!"

"Go play by yourself!" Arthur shooed him away.

"This is an adult conversation" Francis also blew him off. 

Alfred's eyes filled with tears, and as his fathers continued to argue, he burst into tears, wailing loudly.

"Now look what you've done! You've upset Alfred!" Arthur shouted, scooping Alfred up in his arms. "I've had enough! We're going home!" He stormed out of the snowy park.

"I upset him?" Francis got offended, and rushed after Arthur. "It's you who upset him! Don't ignore me!" 

Too late, Matthew realized everyone was leaving without him. He looked up and called out "Papa?" But Francis did not hear him and rushed after Arthur and Alfred.

Mathew waited for a moment listening to the fading voices, then hopped off the swing quickly and ran to the gate when he realized that his family wasn't coming back.

When he reached the gates, he could no longer see his fathers. He ventured a few steps onto the snowy road, but many people had walked by that way and he could not tell his family's footprints from the rest.

He called out again, down the empty street. "Papa? Daddy?"

Silence.

"Alfred?"

Nothing.

Mathew did not know how to get home on his own. He knew Alfred would have tried to find his own way home, but Mathew knew better. After a moment of pondering, Mathew trudged back to the swing set, and with a bit of a struggle, managed to get back on the swing. "Papa said he would push me. He promised, so if I wait here, he'll definitely come back for me." He thought to himself.

Mathew knew that his parents often forgot about him while fighting because he was so quiet, but he also knew that they always come to get him and comfort him after the fight. So he waited on the still swing in the cold winter afternoon, with his breath forming clouds in the air, occasionally pumping his short legs fruitlessly in the cold afternoon air.

"Papa will come back soon. I know it."

                                  ….......

"That's your fault, you crétin!"

Arthur and Francis were still fighting as they cleaned up the supper dishes. They had fought all the way home, they had fought while making supper, and they had fought all through dinner.

"Well, Alfred thinks I'm the best!" Arthur stated proudly, pointing boldly at the sleepy Alfred, who was dozing off after a warm meal and a hard day of play.

"Well, Matthew likes me best!" Francis shot back, pointing his finger towards Mathew's empty seat. "Wait- where's Mathew?"  For a moment both him and Arthur pulled up short, suddenly remembering Mathew's absence through supper. "Ah, my,my, he must be very upset and has gone off to hide-" France said with a heavy sigh, a look of chagrin on his face.

"Well it's not my fault!" England argued back, half-heartedly, looking as though he felt quite guilty.

"We'd better go find him" they agreed.

                                   ..........

At the park, Mathew was the coldest he'd ever been. Mathew didn't get cold very easily, though the rest of his family got cold quite easily.  Even so, his fingers and toes felt like block of ice inside his mittens and snow boots, and his nose was so frozen it couldn't even drip anymore. He sniffled a little, as though to test this, as it began to snow again lightly. He considered getting down from the swing and sitting on the bottom of the covered slide instead, but decided against it for two reasons. The first was because his arms and legs were too stiff with cold to move. The second reason was because Mathew knew he was easily forgettable, and he was afraid that if he moved from the swing in plain sight, his parents may never see him. 

A cold wind blew, cutting through Mathews snowjacket and chilling him to the bones, and he tightened his grip on the swing. 

"Papa, Daddy, please come soon." 

                                     .......

At this point, Arthur and Francis were panicking.

They had looked everywhere in the house and could not find Mathew. The regrouped at the kitchen table to dicuss.

"M-maybe he got so upset he ran away?"  Francis offered, tearfully. 

"He can't have!" Arthur stated, but he didn't sound sure. "Where was the last place we saw Mathew?"

At this point, a small, chubby hand grabbed the bottom of Francis' shirt and tugged hard. He turned quickly to see the sleepy Alfred, haven just woken up.

"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."

And for a terrible minute, Arthur and Francis both froze, each remembering Mathew patiently waiting on the swing. Francis was the first to unfreeze. "He can't still be there." He said, staring Authur dead in the eyes.

"Mathew doesn't know the way home." Was Authur's stiff reply. Then with a flurry they ran for their coats.

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

                                  .........

Mathew was feeling rather sleepy. The snow had piled up so his feet rested in a pile of fresh soft snow instead of in the air. He wasn't cold anymore. He couldn't really feel anything, and he was so sleepy. Surely his fathers wouldn't mind if he took a nap? His head nodded, and dropped so his chin touched his chest, and stayed there. He kept his eyes closed. His hands seemed frozen to the chains on the swing, his body so stiff with cold it held itself up. Matthew thought he could hear, somewhere in the distance, or perhaps nearby, the sound of Papa Francis and Daddy Arthur calling his name, as he drifted off. 

                                      ........