Beginnings, Chapter ElevenIt was nearly nightfall by the time Matthew entered the cabin. Francis and Alfred hurried to meet him.
“Hey, Francis! I found him!”
“Dieu merci. We were so worried.”
“Sorry I was gone so long.” Absent-mindedly, he put his hand over where he had worn his maple leaf. Somehow, noticing it wasn’t there made him feel more grown-up; more mindful. For the first time, he thought of himself as a real nation. All of a sudden, he had a real history with real challenges, real victories, and real regrets. The following day would be his birthday, marking yet another passing year in his life. This year however, it wouldn’t be just another celebration. It represented an actual change. A turning point. For the first time ever, Matthew felt like he was gaining the beginnings of a national identity.
“It’s not as much fun as I thought it would be,” he s
Beginnings, Chapter TenThey arrived in front of a narrow wooden building that was about 80 feet long. At the front end was a doorway, draped with a deer hide, which Matthew’s mother pushed aside as she carried him in. Matthew revelled in the feeling of being close to her. It was something he was experiencing for the first time, as far back as his memories could reach, yet it was something he knew as his origin point. He tried not to mind it too much when she put him down. Matthew’s mother left to get some First Aid supplies. He hoped she’d return soon. The cuts on his arms and the scrape on his knee were beginning to sting.
He sat back, looking up at the arching roof overhead. It was so dark inside the longhouse, it was hard for him to see much else. That’s when he heard a rustling noise. A beam of sunlight flashed as something moved the deer hide door flap for just a moment. Matthew gulped. Someone - or something
Beginnings, Chapter NineWithout thinking, Matthew ran and ran. He let the trees surround him, wishing with all his might that they would block out his feelings. As the forest grew denser, Matthew was forced to slow down. His instincts told him he should turn back, but in that moment, his sadness was stronger than his instincts. There was no way he was returning to the cabin. There were no more hard decisions he’d force himself to face.
The birds kept singing overhead, and to Matthew, it seemed almost rude of them to carry on like that. He recalled how he used to think of the birds and squirrels as his friends; that was before he met Alfred. It wasn’t fair that he would have to give up Alfred.
Matthew sobbed. He wanted someone to comfort him, but everyone he loved was so far away in so many ways. Soon, the forest floor was so thick with plant life that Matthew had to change directions. He spied a clearing a short distance away and m
Hetalia: Rainy NightTonight was the fourth rainy night in a row. Between the cloudy days and stormy nights, Arthur hadn’t see the sun in forever. Not that he missed it.
“Not that I miss anything at all,” he said aloud, turning the picture frame around. He debated throwing the photo away. It wasn’t like he wanted to see that loudmouth’s goofy, bespectacled face every time he walked into his study.
Outside, the wind howled. Arthur shut the study door behind him, hoping to make the large room seem cozier. It was on nights like these that Arthur’s mind tended to wander.
So many memories haunted him. Every drop of rain that fell made him think of all the wasted seconds. The little boy who admired his every action somehow grew into the young man who would rather face death than stay by his side. Whatever had gone wrong, it was always itchingly beyond Arthur’s grasp.
“No,” Arthur said to himself. He
Beginnings, Chapter EightWhen Arthur and Matthew pushed the cabin door open, they were met with the delicious smell of Francis’ cooking. Whatever it was had been made with lots of butter and fresh herbs - and there was little left of the dish.
“I’ll bet you’re regretting not staying for lunch,” Francis said as he scrubbed the pan. Arthur scoffed, refusing to admit how much he missed Francis’ cooking.
“Suit yourself,” said Francis. He handed a cleaned dish toward Alfred so the child could dry it, but Alfred had already run off. Matthew looked around and found Alfred bouncing on Arthur’s bed. In mid-air, Alfred stuck his legs out in front of him, bounced to a sitting position, and let momentum take him off the bed. He stopped inches away from Matthew, who flinched.
“You missed lunch,” Alfred said. Matthew shrugged. Even when enveloped in the scent of delicious food, Matthew still couldn’t think