Epilogue

...

Matthew woke up flat on his back in a field, a bright blue cloudless sky stretching wide above him.

For a brief moment, everything was silent, then his senses came barrelling back to him tenfold. Dry grass tickled his skin, and he could feel bugs crawling through the damp dirt underneath. The air was crisp and cool and he felt the energy flow through him as he took in deep breaths. He was sore down to his bones, and his head had a dull throb near where the bullet had exited.

Matthew lifted a hand to rub at his skull, and was surprised to find it wholly intact. His legs felt like jelly, as if he had been running for a long time.

he had been running, been running for so long

He forced himself to think about his father, about his brother. He thought about the way he had hit his father, had beat him till he stopped breathing, and felt no emotion. The memory of warm blood trickling down his father's chin brought out no emotion from Matthew. He thought of the look on his father's face, terror before he shot his brother point blank.

and now it was over

It would be a memory that Matthew would mull over for many years, would idly wonder if that burned out his soul before his own suicide did. Matthew's heart tinged a little at the thought of his late brother, but he guessed that some bonds permeated the concept of souls. The love he had for his brother lived in his blood, and while Matthew would never miss him or feel sad, there would still be a gaping hole in his heart where his brother once resided.

Matthew sat up, bones creaking as he rolled back his shoulders and stretched his neck. He looked up to see the dilapidated house standing in defeat, sunken in like it too had its soul blown straight out of its body. There was no pull from the house, no ominous yet seductive aura surrounding it.

He remembered vaguely, Gilbert saying that they would be burning out the part of their souls which held empathy most likely. Matthew felt like his entire soul had been burned out. Like a part of him was missing.

But he didn't care. It felt good.

It was good that he had no soul, no emotional connection. He wouldn't stew over it. He was done. He was over it. He didn't feel like a limb had been amputated, just felt like he hadn't eaten for a while.

Matthew took more deep breaths, savouring the taste of the fresh air. His glasses were nowhere to be found but it was okay because he could somehow see clearer than ever. He felt so alive, more alive than he had in such a long time. He felt almost new, and wasn't it funny that he was only a shell of a human being now.

It worked.

Matthew stretched his fingers, and slowly lifted himself to his feet. He shook some of the stiffness out of his body, and dusted down his clothes. He was still wearing the same clothes, and they still had blood caked and spattered across them. He would have to find a way to get new clothes, and he knew that he would never, ever be going back to his old home, and he doubted he wanted to go back to his old town.

Maybe he could find Gilbert and hitch a ride. He felt like he needed more time to mull over what had happened with Gilbert and the past that he had finally revealed, but he had killed his own father, and his brother was dead, so he was in no place to judge.

He walked towards the house, trying to get the blood flowing back to his limbs and warm them up. He heard the rumble of an engine in the distance and he squinted as he continued walking. He made it to the driveway just as a familiar posh black vehicle rolled up, gleaming in the sunlight. The sight of it caused him to give a short laugh, because of course.

"Matt!" Gilbert called, stepping out of the car with a crooked smile just this side of a smirk. Matthew raised a hand in greeting, walking over to the car. "You chose a different route, I see."

"I'm scared of fire," Matthew deadpanned back and Gilbert chuckled, no betrayal evident in his voice. And if he was feeling the same as Matthew, Matthew was pretty sure Gilbert didn't care either.

"What now?" He said, leaning against the hood of the car. Gilbert rounded the vehicle and joined him, and they both stared at the broken down house in silence.

The pull that had been there, that squeeze on their brains had let up. Matthew felt nothing from the house, and whatever had been haunting them had released its grip. Or so Matthew thought, but a look at Gilbert showed that the other man felt the same. Matthew felt like he could breathe for the first time in a long while, but it didn't fill him with exhilaration. He didn't really feel anything, and that should have been a point of concern, but Matthew couldn't care.

"Whatever you want," Gilbert shrugged. "I would suggest we leave town though."

"Leave town?" Matthew asked, not bothering to question the "we" in the sentence because it would be sensible to have someone who shared and understood his level of fucked up as his travel buddy.

"Would you like to stay in this shit hole?" Gilbert asked lightly. "Because if you do, feel free. But I feel that there are better things calling us elsewhere."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Hell if I know," Gilbert said. "We can rob banks, commit murder, other things that require the distinct lack of soul that we have. Sleep somewhere that's not a motel or your shitty house."

"Are you talking about shitty houses?" Matthew protested half hearted and Gilbert snorted.

"At least somewhere where the bed is sturdy," He said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Matthew punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed. Matthew didn't feel any of the intensity of their previous relationship anymore, but they felt easy, almost light. It would be okay to leave town with the man. There was nothing left for him there anyways, because his family was gone and his house was gone and everything that made him human was probably gone too.

"Are you going to tell me about your family?" Matthew asked, and Gilbert gave him a confused look.

"I killed them," he said simply. "Just like you killed yours, and for the same reason too. That thing made me do it, except I was alone. And I thought I was crazy for a while, and I didn't know if they were actually dead or not."

Matthew was tempted to ask Gilbert if he too walked by houses while his dead family stared back. But that almost seemed absurd, and made Matthew suppress a giggle. A giggle.

"A while?" Matthew asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gilbert grinned and ruffled Matthew's hair, before pushing him into the car. Matthew complied in unspoken agreement, and ducked into the passenger seat. Matthew did a once over of Gilbert, and knew Gilbert was bluffing. He didn't look much older than Matthew, and Matthew had a hunch that living in whatever fucked up world the evil had pulled them into didn't mean that they didn't age or deteriorate.

Gilbert started the engine, and Matthew hummed. Gilbert gave him a questioning look, and Matthew shrugged.

"I'm thinking that it's weird that we've been through so much, and we actually survived. We came out okay."

"Burning out our entire souls is probably not okay," Gilbert pointed out and Matthew nodded.

"No I mean, I feel okay. I was made to kill my family, and I'm still thinking about it. I don't think I'll ever stop, but I don't feel any remorse, any sadness."

"I don't think we can feel in general," Gilbert said. And he had a point.

Matthew considered asking how exactly Gilbert had found a loophole, found a way out for the two of them, but he was sure that the answer wasn't important. If one spent enough time trapped somewhere, they'd eventually start seeing cracks in the wall too. What was important was that he had survived, even if it was just a shell of him.

They pulled out of the long dirt drive way settling on an oldies pop station, that blared tinny music from the 50s and 60s. Matthew normally hated that type of music, but he found himself not minding. He found himself not minding about a lot of things, actually, because he was here and he was alive.

Maybe his mind had finally broken, but it didn't matter because his soul was completely burnt out and it was hard to care.

He had nothing with him, and he doubted Gilbert had anything beyond the car and a few bucks, but they would be fine.

They would be great.

FIN

And we're done! Thanks to everyone who's been reading, and special thanks to those who've been here through the two and a half years it took to finish this. I can't believe it's actually done, and right before the new year too! It made it through countless plot changes and long hiatuses (I apologize if there are any weird plot holes). The only thing that's been certain from day one has been this chapter, surprisingly enough (with a few modifications). This fic frustrated me endlessly, but it was also a good stress reliever. Hurrah hurrah. But no seriously, I really appreciate everyone who took time to read, and everyone who took time to review as well. I know it's frustrating keeping up with authors who have sporadic updates. eeping notes:

1) This is my last long Hetalia fic. I'm not in the fandom anymore but PruCan's always going to have a big place in my heart though, as the OTP I put the most work into, and I learned so many things about writing in fanfiction that allowed me to do last minute 15 page essays and get 90s on them. I love and appreciate all the support I've gotten through the years, and my inbox is always open to any of you guys.

that being said

2) I don't know if you get emails when a chapter is edited. If you do, then I apologize in advance. I'll be trawling through all my fics on here for the last couple of weeks of December (school took a toll on me this semester and I just wanna unwind~) and I'll fix any glaring typos and remove unnecessary author notes. If you look at Wait, What? it's 90% author's notes. Oneshots will probably not be edited, but my longer fics definitely will be, including this one.

Actually you know what if any of y'all are still reading, and could let me know if you get email updates when I edit a chapter it'd be great.

that's all, folks!