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The dust hovering in the air made Matthew sneeze. Hell. He should've done this years ago. Maybe centuries. He was surprised how this place hadn't turned into ruins by now.
He looked around. A photo of him with Francis. Another photo with Alfred. On both of them, his expression was awkward. He never liked taking photos of himself, but back then he was forced to. Now his camera was filled with photos of landscapes, lakes, mountains — everything around, except for him. Maybe the world would be better without...
Matthew coughed as he took a big box from a dark corner. It was so old he couldn't remember ever touching anything in this room. The way it was still here after centuries was magical. Maybe it had something to do with Arthur's magic — Matthew didn't really care. He was just glad to be able to touch his own past through the things he found here. There was even a photo with Cuba that he didn't remember taking.
Kumakichi got into the box, sniffing and nudging old paper that seemed like it would turn into ash any second.
He looked up at Matthew and asked, “Map?”
Matthew leaned down, poking around in the box. His eye was caught by a piece of paper that resembled parchment — a big continent, surrounded by two oceans.
“It may be,” he shrugged, scratching Kuma behind the ear as he stared at the paper. “It seems to be the Arctic Ocean on top. But I don't quite...”
What kind of place was that? It looked nothing like any existing land on the world map. Maybe it was— something that doesn't exist anymore?
Matthew frowned, digging around in the box for some clue. Some of his handmade toys, old books, and... a letter. A very old letter that didn't have an addressee. Nor a destination.
He opened it, frowning at how the paper was about to crumble in his hands if he wasn't careful. So he was.
“Dear Ivan,
I've never written letters before, but...”
Oh. It was going to be something embarrassing. Matthew blushed, mentally ready to cringe at himself.
“...but the night we met, I was so pleased to become your friend. And even though my name is now officially Matthew Williams, I could not forget the way you named me Matvey. My heart will never forget the first time I mattered to someone. I'm so happy to consider you my dear friend. I hope to see you soon. Since the bridge between us disappeared, I've lost touch with you. A lot of things happened during the time we were not together. My brother — whom you detest — gained independence, and therefore, I'm here alone. Well, not fully. I didn't have a chance to tell you, but I've met a cute polar bear and he's the best companion I could ever dream of. But I wish I had someone equal to talk to. The sky at night will never be as bright and shiny as it was when you were by my side.
Yours sincerely,
Matthe Matvey”
He put it away. Okay. Whatever. There were a lot more interesting things, for sure.
Kumajirou took the map and put it down next to his feet. He looked up at Matthew with big black eyes. Matthew looked back at the letter in his hands.
“Since the bridge between us disappeared...”
What bridge was he talking about?
He glanced at the map at his feet, freezing for a moment. Yeah, sure. Bering land bridge it was. Between him and Ivan. The first time they met.
Matthew sighed and headed to the kitchen, putting the box on the table nearby. He'll think about it after lunch. Kuma was hungry and it was more important than... his clumsy attempts at romance centuries ago.
He put some fish in his bowl and plopped down on the floor, looking at the letter in his hands once again.
“I'm so happy to consider you my dear friend.” He chuckled. No, not a friend. He was too young and naive. Now he could read between the lines.
The doubt of saying “I love you”.
“The sky at night will never be as bright and shiny as it was when you were by my side.” Matthew rolled his eyes and let out a laugh. Yeah, sure. How poetic, little Matvey.
The fear of saying “I miss you”.
It was almost funny to see the hints he never knew he made. Only now it could be seen clearly. It was not a friendship. At least, not to little Matvey.
To Matthew, sitting on the kitchen floor, it was embarrassing and amusing. For a brief moment his hand almost dialed Ivan's number, but he stopped himself. What if—
He couldn't even continue the thought, but he was still not confident enough to do it. Tired of being careful, but still not confident enough.
The smile on his face faded and he ruffled his hair, sweaty from nervousness— no, it was just hot in July, as usual. He never liked summer.
As he stared at the letter, and letter stared back at him — is he sane — Matthew began to recall writing it. How cold it was, and for the first time in his life the cold was comforting and reassuring from the inside. The way his hand was shaky as he wrote, trying and failing to sound normal. He was nervous. But he was sincere. And now, it felt like a confession. A confession that he never dared to say aloud. And never dared to send. So silly, but so true.
Matthew moved the box closer and found even more old paper. One of them had verses on the back; some words were erased by time, but he still flipped it to take a look.
“...
And maybe what I feel is a mistake,
But it's too late and deep,
And now I cannot sleep
Without seeing you in dreams
...”
Oh, gosh. How stupid. What a soap opera.
Somewhere between laughing and wailing, he got up, staring at his phone that suddenly rang.
Ivan.
His grip loosened and he almost dropped the phone. Oh, fuck. His finger slipped, taking a call. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did he just—
But Ivan already heard his clumsy fall. And he said something. Matthew's breath hitched. He tried to calm down, but his eyes went blurry and he couldn't hear a word. Shit. Ivan was talking to him. Ivan was trying to make a normal conversation, and Matthew was having a damn panic attack.
The moment he finally pulled himself together, he was so mad at himself. Good thing Ivan's voice interrupted him from killing himself.
“You still here? Matvey! I need to know what—”
“Yeah-yeah! I'm sorry, I'm here!!” he breathed out sharply, yelling in a rush from anxiety.
“Something wrong?” His voice was calm and worried — it was almost cute if Matthew wasn't having...yeah.
“I just— uhm, came back from a-a run!”
“Didn't know you like to run. How sporty of you! You won't run away from me tomorrow, da?” Ivan let out a chuckle — Matthew could feel the smile in his tone.
“... tomorrow? Why— what tomorrow?”
“Meeting. You forgot?”
He breathed out, trying to calm down. Ivan didn't know. Of course Ivan didn't know about his dirty secrets. None of them.
“N-no, I'm fine! I totally remember!”
Ivan hummed, not believing it, but didn't say anything about the lie.
“Хорошо. It'll be at five, evening. I hope to see you there, okay? We have something to talk about. It's not for a phonecall.”
“Yes, I... hope to see you,” he murmured, getting lost in his thoughts for a second. Ivan hoped to see him. He wanted to see Matthew.
“You do? Oh, how sweet of you!” The smile could radiate from his phone miles away, embracing the globe.
“I guess so, yeah. Bye?”
“Oh, alright. Пока! I'll see you tomorrow, da?” Ivan almost hung up, then added, “Don't bring your brother, okay? I'm not in mood to pretend we're friends after he changed politics and became my trade partner. It means nothing to me.” The last sentence sounded so cold and intimidating — Matthew could feel the temperature dropping in his room. How the fuck did that work even when Ivan was not here?