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mandelene · 4 years

Note

If you feel like filling this: for the first time, Matthew and Alfred are left alone overnight and Alfred feels all grown-up and excited. Pity that Matthew had hidden he wasn't feeling well and he isn't getting any better... Thank you! ❤️

Torture Matthew? Sure thing! Haha. 😁 As usual, I got carried away. You can’t ask me to write a sickfic and not expect the word count to be high lol. I made it a throwback to my “Matthew has asthma” headcanon. Also, did you know many U.S. states don’t have a law for how old a child must be to be left home alone overnight? Same for the UK. Apparently, it’s generally recommended that the child is at least 14 or 16, so I went with Al and Matt being 15 in this one.

The House Party That Never Was

Word Count: 1924 (I know. I’m sorry!)

10 AM, Friday

“We’ll only be two hours away, so if anything happens or there’s a problem, call and let us know, and we’ll drive back right away.”

“Okay, Dad. We know,” Alfred groans. They’re not babies anymore—Mattie and he can handle being left alone overnight while their parents go to see the philharmonic orchestra in Philadelphia for their anniversary.

“There are leftovers in the fridge that you can have for dinner tonight. You can order pizza tomorrow if we’re not back by six o’clock,” Papa reminds, just as worried and over-protective as Dad is being. “Make yourselves breakfast and lunch. We have plenty of fruit, cereal, bread, cold cuts, yogurt—”

“Yes, Papa. We’ll make sure to eat,” Matthew interjects with a soft sniffle. “It’ll be fine.”

Dad immediately notices said sniffle and flips out. He puts his duffle bag down and presses a hand against Matthew’s forehead, feeling for a fever and not finding one. “Are you all right? You aren’t coming down with something, are you? We can cancel the trip and—”

“No, no. It’s just allergies.”

“…Okay, take an anti-histamine from the medicine cabinet.”

“I will.”

“In case of emergency—"

“Call 911. We know, Dad. We’re fifteen, not five!” Alfred sighs, tempted to physically push his parents out the front door at long last.

Dad struggles to find something else to lecture them about and pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose before deciding, “All right…Behave and don’t get into any trouble. We love you.”

Dad and Papa exchange hugs with them before they finally cross the driveway, get into the car, and drive off, disappearing down the road.

“Woo! Freedom! God that took forever!” Alfred exclaims as he locks the door and turns around to look at Matthew, who is standing by the stairs with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his navy-blue hoodie. “Our first time home alone for a whole night! We’ve been living sheltered lives, Mattie, but not anymore. Today, we’re men. So, who’re we inviting over?”

Matthew clears his scratchy throat and gently rubs at his nose with his sleeve. “Umm…I’m pretty sure Papa and Dad said we’re not supposed to have any friends over…”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Al, they’ll find out.”

“No, they won’t. Come on, Matt. Don’t be lame.”

“Yeah, they will. If not tomorrow, then eventually, and I don’t wanna break their trust. If we worry them or make them angry, they’ll never leave us home alone for more than a couple of hours again,” Matthew argues, and if this stupid cold would just leave him alone, everything would be peachy. He rubs at his chest, which feels a little tighter than usual, and takes two puffs of his inhaler.

Alfred glowers and slumps his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We have to prove we can handle it at least once…You okay, bro? Your asthma’s acting up?”

“It’s just from my allergies,” Matthew repeats because he has to keep up the lie. It’s spring, so it’s believable enough. To be entirely honest, he’s been feeling terrible since last night, but he didn’t want to give their parents a reason to cancel their trip. He doesn’t have a fever, so it can’t be that serious...It’s just a cold, and he doesn’t want to be an inconvenience. Their parents deserve to enjoy their anniversary without interruption. “Wanna play Smash?” he asks, changing the subject. Alfred doesn’t have the greatest attention-span, and he’ll hopefully forget all about this.

“Okay, sure. I’ll set up the Switch and the controllers. You should go and take your allergy medicine.”

“Cool. Yeah,” Matthew replies. It’s the perfect opportunity to go upstairs, blow his nose without witnesses, and take some cough medicine…And another two puffs of his inhaler.

He refuses to be a bother. He knows how to take care of himself.

--------------------------------------

7 PM, Friday

Alfred has eaten enough mesquite barbecue chips to feed their entire block, and Matthew is genuinely astonished that he hasn’t been sick yet. How can so much junk food fit into one stomach? Now that no one is around to stop him, Alfred has devoured half of the fridge, and he still doesn’t seem to be totally full, even after dinner.

Papa left them blanquette de veau, a French veal stew. It soothes Matthew’s throat and warms his chest, which feels lovely initially, but then the steam breaks up some of the mucus in his lungs and leaves him suffering through several coughing fits. Fortunately, Alfred is in the bathroom for the worst of it, and doesn't hear him hacking.

They’ve been playing video games for hours now, and Matthew can feel a low-grade fever settle into his body. Every time he inhales, he can hear his lungs give off a tiny wheeze.

When Alfred goes off to get some juice to drink, Matthew discreetly takes yet another two puffs of his inhaler.

“This is getting kinda boring. Wanna put on Netflix? We can binge-watch Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Matthew would rather lie down in bed with his tablet or phone, but if he doesn’t join Alfred, he might grow suspicious, and then he’ll worry, or he’ll call their parents.

“Sure. Let’s do it…”

--------------------------------------

1 AM, Saturday

“Matt...? Matt? You’re falling asleep on me, bro.”

Matthew is startled awake and fixes his glasses, which must have tilted awkwardly to the left while he was sleeping. He doesn’t know when he dozed off on the couch, but it was sometime during Book Two of Avatar. Dad and Papa called around 9 PM to check on them, and Alfred did all of the talking. He reassured them that they’re both alive and haven’t broken any part of themselves or anything in the house.

Matthew squints at the clock on the wall. “It’s late…”

“Yeah. We should go to bed,” Alfred agrees, and he must be tired as well if he’s not insisting they pull an all-nighter.

“I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Okay. Have fun. I’m gonna live on the wild side and not brush ‘em,” Alfred says with a grin and a wink.

“Wow, so edgy,” Matthew says, poking some fun at him before heading upstairs with a giant yawn. He’s exhausted, and the wheezing is back. He takes the nightly dose of his steroid inhaler and stares longingly at his nebulizer. He could do with a treatment, but it’s so loud, and then, Alfred would know something’s not right.

So instead, he brushes his teeth, quietly takes some additional puffs of his rescue inhaler, and burrows under the covers of his bed, hoping this will all have blown over by the morning.

--------------------------------------

3 AM, Saturday

He can’t sleep. He can’t breathe. He needs a nebulizer treatment. Now. But it might wake Alfred.

He risks it. There’s no other choice.

And sure enough, five minutes into the treatment, Alfred plods into his room with drowsy eyes, and asks, “Mattie, what’s going on? You’re sick, aren’t you? Hang on. I’ll…I’ll call Dad and Papa, don’t worry.”

“No!” Matthew shouts, surprised by the strength of his voice given the state of his lungs. “You can’t…It’s their anniversary…I’m fine.”

“Matt, I’m pretty sure this counts as an emergency, bro.”

“It’s not!”

“It’s the middle of the night and you can’t breathe—that’s an emergency, dude!”

“I’ll be fine after the nebulizer treatment is done,” he assures in a breathless rush around the nebulizer’s mouthpiece, but he’s not so sure he will be.

“Well, we’ve gotta tell somebody!” Alfred shouts back at him before coming closer and touching his clammy forehead. “Dude, you’re burning up. What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything all night?”

Ignoring Matthew’s protests, Alfred makes the call.

This isn’t going to be good…

--------------------------------------

5 AM, Saturday

“Matthew!”

Dad and Papa burst through his bedroom door, and they’re by his side in a flash, fussing over him and acting as though he’s on the verge of death. They’re still dressed in the clothes they probably went to sleep in, and before Matthew can say a single word, Dad has his stethoscope on his chest and is listening to his lungs. He then clamps a pulse oximeter on his right index finger, waits for a reading, and frowns severely.

While Papa strokes his head and asks him why he didn’t let them know sooner that he wasn’t feeling well, Dad disappears and then returns with three small pills and a glass of orange juice.

“Take these,” Dad instructs.

Matthew wrinkles his nose as he puts the pills in his mouth and swallows them. The bitter aftertaste makes him shudder—prednisone.

“Is he going to be all right?” Papa asks, squeezing Matthew’s hand.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. He should feel better once the steroid starts to work. We leave you boys home alone for one day, and you try to hide a medical emergency from us! What were you thinking?”

“It was very irresponsible,” Papa adds.

And here he thought that Alfred would be the one to ultimately break their parents’ trust.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want you to have to cancel your trip. You’ve both been looking forward to it for a month,” Matthew timidly explains, breaths still shallow.

“A trip can always be rescheduled. Your health can’t be,” Dad says sternly. “You had us worried sick. I was debating whether or not to tell Alfred to call for an ambulance. You should know better than to ever allow yourself to silently deteriorate like this!”

“I’m sorry…”

Dad sighs and rests a cold compress on his forehead. “We can decide on a punishment when you’re feeling well again.”

A punishment? Really? Not fair.

Now is not a good time to argue though, so he lets Papa and Dad fret over him some more—they fluff his pillows, and force juice, water, and medicine for his fever down his throat. He feels awful knowing they lost sleep over him and had to hurry home, but at the same time, he’s grateful that they’re here, tending to him and monitoring him in case he gets worse. As much as he’d like to be regarded as an adult, he still wants his parents around when he’s unwell.

“I’m really, really sorry…I feel terrible for ruining everything.”

“Stop that,” Dad insists, shaking his head admonishingly at him. “We’re not upset with you for being ill—anyone can fall ill at any time and it’s out of one’s control. We’re upset that you tried to hide it from us, even if you thought you had the right intentions.”

At that moment, Alfred peeks his head into the room, revealing that he’s been eavesdropping, and says, “I’d just like to point out that I did the responsible, mature thing, and called for help for my dearest, darling brother in his time of need. Very grown-up behavior—totally wise beyond my years. And because of that, I think, I deserve to be able to go to Six Flags next week with my friends.”

Papa laughs heartily while Dad rolls his eyes.

“Oui, you did the right thing, Alfred. But the greatest reward for helping your brother should be a sense of pride,” Papa notes.

“I mean, yeah, but a physical reward would be kinda nice, too.”

“Alfred,” Dad says with a warning tone. “Not now.”

“All right, all right. I know. Just food for thought, you know? Glad Mattie’s okay, of course.”

How in the world did Alfred come out on top? He’s a better adult? There’s no way!

Okay, next time they’re home alone, they’re definitely throwing a party.

That’ll show him.

#hetalia #drabbles #aph face family #aph america #aph canada #aph england #aph france #home alone #house party (or lack of)

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years

Text

Burned Chapter 13

As always, coffee is appreciated! https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

Edward sat rather sullenly in Roy's office the next day, a frown etched on his face.

"Edward. Quit sulking."

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. I just didn't see it for myself. I've imagined things when I was tired before."

"I'm not tired!" Ed banged both fists on his desk, causing everyone to pause and look up at him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I know what I saw."

The door to the office burst open, and Hughes stood there, looking out of breath.

"Hughes?" Roy cocked an eyebrow.

"We've got a severed arm found in an alley last night. It was a woman's."

"Just an arm? No body?"

Hughes frowned. "Just an arm. We... we're expecting to find more later. But the marks on the skin- it's our guy. It was about 6 blocks from here- it was right under our noses. We've got a few people nearby who were out late last night to come in to interview, but nobody's said anything that stands out..."

"It was the clown."

All eyes turned to Ed.

"What?"

"Mustang and I came back to the office late last night to grab some papers. Mustang went in and I stayed in the car and I saw him. Six feet tall, wearing a clown suit, painted face, red balloon. Smoking a cigarette beneath the street light. I was gonna trap him in the cement of the sidewalk and question him, but Mustang came back out and distracted me, so he got away."

Hughes frowned, turning to Mustang. "You saw him too?"

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I didn't. I saw a silhouette, maybe, but it might've been the light playing tricks on my mind. There was no sign of anyone when we got there..."

"I saw him."

"I'm not saying you didn't, Ed, but I didn't see him."

"I wanna sit in on the interviews with the people who were out last night." Ed said seriously, turning to Hughes.

Hughes looked uneasy.

"You're only to listen. You don't say a word, nothing to suggest anything to the witnesses. You're to report back to me immediately after." Roy said.

"That's fair. Let's get started. The sooner we get this creep off the streets, the better." Ed turned and strode briskly out of the room, with Hughes looking hesitant.

"You sure you want to let him in on this? It's a murder investigation..."

"I'm not letting him see the case files or the pictures. But he's convinced he saw something... and with how dead set he is on it, I'm not convinced he didn't."

"Alright. But just the interviews. After that he's done with this case."

"I agree."

Most of the people who were outside around midnight were doing pretty mundane things, it turned out. Stumbling home from a night out with friends, stopping to relieve themselves on a brick building. Walking to the corner store for late night cigarettes. The occasional college student walking home from a late night studying in the library.

Ed quickly grew bored, but Hughes never faltered, recording every detail like his life depended on it. Still, no one had seen anything unusual, until they got to the last man. Henry Johnson was unremarkable, about 5' 4", and he had to go to work early as a baker, so his morning was at midnight.

He'd been taking his dog outside to go to the bathroom at the park, and saw the call for people who'd been outside in the area in the newspaper, so he'd come in.

"What time were you out?"

"About quarter after midnight to twelve thirty. I was walking by Meadow and Broad street, taking my girlfriend's dog to the park to pee. I saw a guy on Broad out smoking a cigarette, but he's Frank and he's usually out there at that time so it didn't bother me. It wasn't til I was starting back home I saw the clown."

Hughes stopped taking his notes and looked up. "Clown?"

"Yeah. Big guy, at least six feet, dressed as a clown. Walking down the street with a red balloon."

"He was smoking a cigarette, wasn't he?" Ed spoke up from where he'd been sitting in the back corner.

The man nodded. "Yeah, yeah he was. Freaked me the hell out. Normal people don't do that crap. I just hurried up and went home locked my door. Didn't wanna be out with that."

"What time did you see the clown?"

"Oh, twenty after twelve I'd say..."

Ed had already stood and was heading for the door. Hughes didn't bother following him out.

"Someone else saw him. I was right."

"I never said you were wrong, Ed, it just seemed... Odd."

"Well chopping women up and leaving there body parts around the city isn't exactly normal either." Ed's eyes were stone.

Roy sighed. "You're getting too involved in this case."

"I'm getting too involved!? Without me you wouldn't have known about that creepy clown in the first place!"

"And now we do, and that's good. But Hughes and I both agreed you're getting too involved. I'm not even supposed to be on this case- I'm just helping as a favor to Hughes."

"I find the only damn lead and you tell me to quit it!?"

"Ed. Stop. Go home. Spend the day with Al. You have research to be doing, don't you? On the philosopher's stone?"

Ed's gaze softened slightly at the mention of his brother. "Yeah, I do. I have to finish those reports..." his eyes drifted to his desk.

"You can do them tomorrow. I'm your superior officer, and I'm telling you, go take a break."

"Fine. You coming home for dinner or am I eating by myself?"

"I'll be home by 5. If you wouldn't mind heating the oven up for me we'll have macaroni or something. Now go on."

1 week passed. 1 week of them finding a body part every day, until the entire woman had been assembled. Her name had been Patricia Matthews, a local prostitute.

Ed didn't say much about the case, though Roy caught him reading about it in the papers. Everything seemed fine. Ed's anxiety from his accident was well managed with his journaling and relaxation techniques, and while he was nearly completely healed by this point, he made no mention of moving back to the military dorms, and Mustang didn't bring it up either. Truth be told, he liked having the Elric boys around. He hadn't realized how quiet his residence was until the boys had moved in with him.

Still, Roy was pretty sure the kid was still having nightmares. He'd looked rather tired in the mornings for the past few days. He found himself palming open the door to the boy's room around one in the morning, checking to see if he was sleeping peacefully.

He didn't hear any breathing, and he stepped closer to the lump beneath the blankets, expecting to hear breathing and see pale locks of hair on the pillow... only to find a mass of pillows stuffed underneath the duvet to look like a sleeping form.

The wind blew the curtains to his right, and he realized with sharp alarm the bedroom window was wide open.

Edward was healed now, he'd clearly had no trouble climbing down from the second floor to the sidewalk below.

Roy's heart jumped to his threat, and for a brief moment he found it hard to stem the panic swelling within him.

Where the hell had Edward gone? He'd been a fool, thinking the kid was tired from nightmares, when really he'd been sneaking out...

And then he knew. Dread and certainty settled in his gut like a brick, and he calmly headed down the hall, almost robotically, to knock on the door.

"Alphonse, I'm going out for a little while. I should be back soon."

"Okay, Colonel." Alphonse didn't sleep, and he clearly hadn't noticed Edward was gone, or he'd be panicking too. Al was too sensible to let his brother go running off in the middle of the night alone...

He grabbed his keys and started his car, and ten minutes later his headlights were illuminating a small form in a red cloak sitting on the curb, just outside the office.

He threw the car into park, jumping out and slamming the door with much more force than necessary.

"Edward." He barked.

Ed jumped up from where he'd been sitting on the curb, surprised. "What!?"

"Just how, pray tell, do you explain sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night?"

"I needed fresh air." Ed said simply.

Roy looked down road at the streetlight, frowning. "You're looking for him."

"So?"

"You're looking for that clown, who may be a murderer, at one in the morning, every night, alone..." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't even tell anyone where you were going! Do you know how stupid that is!?"

"Not as dumb as not looking for him at all! I've seen the papers, they keep finding pieces of that girl! I'm a state alchemist, I don't need you looking out for me all the time, I can handle myself!"

"Of course you can." Roy's vice was dripping with sarcasm. "That's why you moved in with me after you got burned, because you were so capable of changing your bandages and taking your medicine and handling your anxiety attacks..."

"You were the one who burned me."

Roy stopped dead in his tracks. Ed stood perfectly still, a slight breeze catching his cloak and rustling it in the wind.

Roy found himself unable to breathe for a brief moment as the world seemed to stop completely, before he took a breath, acknowledging just how much that hurt. He's right. YOU burned him. That little voice in his head spoke up. His insides were a rolling cocktail of emotions he couldn't deal with right now. Edward was strong, but he was over-confident, and over-tired, and a child. And Roy needed to be the adult here.

Be the adult.

"Ed, get in the car."

"Huh? Why?" Ed looked surprised Roy wasn't shouting back at him, getting into his war of words.

"It's one in the morning, and we should both be in bed. Especially you, considering how often you've been sneaking out. Get in the car. We'll talk about this later. Right now we both need to be at home, asleep."

Ed paused, looking across the road at the empty circle of light beneath the street light.

"Ed. Hughes and I will find the clown. But being exhausted and searching the street every night isn't gonna help anyone."

"There is a clown." even though he was exhausted, Ed looked vindicated, and a slight smile crept onto his face as he said it.

"Yeah, there is. And investigations will find him. Investigations. Not you, and not at one in the morning. Now get in the car."

Ed did as he was told, but he still had that little smirk on his face at being right.

You burned me... Roy's amusement faded as he recalled Ed's words and his steely expression minutes earlier.

Still, he parked the car and led Ed inside. He was the adult. He shut Ed's window and sternly told him to stay in bed, that they'd talk about this in the morning.

He was the adult until he got into his own bedroom and closed the door, and then he laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes and tried to unhear those words.

You burned me...

Normally, his room smelled like aftershave, but he couldn't shake the scent of burnt flesh. No matter how hard he buried his face in his pillow, he could smell it. It was too hot, and water leaked from his eyes slightly as he struggled to control his breathing...

It'd been awhile since he'd had a night this bad. Normally he'd have a glass or two of whiskey to pass out, but he couldn't bring himself to, not now...

Breathe. Just breathe... he told himself. And slowly, the bedsheets stopped suffocating him and he was able to lay, uncomfortable but not stifling hot, and the scent of burnt flesh faded to unwashed linen and waxy burning candles.

He just laid there, not asleep but not completely awake, tired by his own anxiety and mental ordeal. One hour passed, two... it was nearly three in the morning when the quiet was shattered by a scream.

He was on his feet before he knew it, sprinting down the hall.

"S-Stop, he's my brother! I-it burns! Stop!"

Strangled shouting as Edward struggled in the bedsheets.

"Edward! Ed!" he unraveled the cocoon of blankets the boy had wrapped him in, but Ed was still thrashing.

"Stop, stop, ah god why does it hurt!?"

Edward's eyes were half open and glassy. He hadn't had a night terror like this in weeks. Ed never let Alphonse near him when he was in this state, and by now the suit of armor knew to stay away.

Roy's own ills and fatigue were quickly forgotten, and he slipped back to what he'd done all those weeks ago when Ed had just been learning what nightmares and PTSD was, wrapping his arms around the flailing boy and holding him still, pulling him close to him and wrapping him in a tense hug.

"Fullmetal- Ed- Ed, it's a night terror. Shhh, shhh, it's alright, Ed, it's okay..."

Slowly but surely, the boy's struggles stopped and mellowed to harsh breathing. "R-roy..." his voice was hardly a harsh whisper. "I-it hurt so bad. I could feel it- heating my automail, burning my skin..."

"I know, I know, but it was just a bad dream. Breathe, breathe Edward, it's okay..."

Slowly, the boy's choked sobs evened out into shaky but steady breathing.

"It's alright, Edward..." the boy had sweat clean through his shirt, it'd been that anxiety provoking, and he ran his fingers through the sweaty locks of blond hair, trying to soothe the boy.

"I know, buddy, I know. Breathe for me..." Roy took deep breaths, demonstrating what to do as Edward mirrored him.

"I...I didn't mean it..."

"Didn't mean what?" Roy frowned, looking down at the tear-stained child's face. The moonlight made his golden locks look silver and his face even more pale.

"I...I said you burned me... I-it was an accident... I know that. Y-you took care of me... A-and you w-woke up and stayed with me all those nights I got scared, and you took me to the doctors... A-and I repayed you like a selfish brat. I...I know you didn't mean to... I don't deserve your help... S-sorry, I'm sorry..." Ed dissolved into quiet crying and buried his face in Roy's chest.

For the second time that night, Roy found himself speechless. Out of shock, and... gratitude? Ed's forgiveness seemed to have lifted a weight off his shoulders, his gratitude proved that despite all his mistakes, the accident, burning Edward... He'd done something right in taking the boy in and trying his best to care for him.

"Oh Ed... You're just a kid. It's alright..." He reached up and wove his fingers into the back of Ed's blonde locks, holding him steady and just being solid. His other hand rubbed soothing circles on his shuddering back, and gradually, the boys sobs quieted to cries, and whimpers, before he was finally still.

"A-are you mad?"

"No. How can I be mad? I'm just glad you've calmed down. You were tired, we all say things we don't mean..."

"You gonna kick me out?" Ed's voice was slightly muffled as he was still clinging to Roy for dear life.

Roy laughed. Ed flinched and peeled himself back, looking watery-eyed and exhausted and surprised.

"If I was going to kick you out, I wouldn't have bothered to come find you outside tonight. I'd have told you to pack up when you got home. I'm not sending you anywhere Edward. You are stubborn, and impossible, and headstrong, and I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to, but you are ALWAYS welcome here. You can stay as long as you like. I... I like having you boys around."

"Really?" Ed sniffled, looking baffled.

Roy chuckled. "Yes, really, you loud-mouthed flea."

"Hey." Ed protested half-heartedly, and Roy ruffled his hair.

"But what you did was dangerous, Ed. Sneaking out without telling anyone where you were going, going after a killer- it was dumb, and stupid. And I'm not letting you off the hook for it. It was reckless, and you're grounded- not allowed to go anywhere without my permission- for a week. You understand? I think that's fair, considering the stunts you've pulled. And you're already a bit punished, your anxiety is thru the roof and you're exhausted... Get some sleep. Alright?"

Roy went to stand, but was held still when a hand grabbed his shirt.

Ed looked up at him with those pitiful golden eyes, looking afraid. "Stay?"

He and Ed hadn't slept in the same bed since the first few days after Edward had been burned, when he'd needed Roy to help talk him through the flashbacks.

But he laid back down anyways, and listened as the boy's breathing evened out beside him. His own breathing was calm and steady, as he watched Ed's sleeping face.

Was this what it was like to be a father, he wondered? Twice in one day, one moment in the worst possible anguish, the next with a heart so full it could burst...

I failed you once, Edward. But I will never give up on you. was his last thought, before he, too succumbed to a well-earned sleep.

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Wednesday 25 May 1836

7 10/..

11 20/..

- A- to Cliff Hill - ready in ¾ hour fine but dull morning - out from 8 to 10 20 - set Frank and one of Robert Mann’s men to pull up and cart near to top of Godley Ing the stones of the old goit from the Godley Engine pit - to make a new drain or sough for the Godley water instead of running in an open drain under the trees of the old hedge between Sour Ing and Godley - Frank had one cart and 2 horses - Robert M- + 3 (Sam B- Jack G- and another man) levelling the hollow between upper brook Ing and Godley Ing barrowing the soil here and there where wanted - and Matthew (employed by Robert M- who began the morning by taking rubble off the road along the top of the coach house court) went before 9 to prepare wall-race (for David Booth) opposite the house - Wood poorly and not here today - Sam B- poorly (a swelling in his throat) and not at work this afternoon - so that Robert M- had 5 men this morning and 4 this afternoon - with David Booth shewing him how I would have the wall against the road done in front of the house - breakfast at 10 20 Mr. Washington came for ¼ hour at 10 ¾ to met Holt and measure for laying coal and water drifts, holing etc on the coal plan and to measure what land I had taken from what Pickells had - SW- thinks Mr. Joseph Aspinall of Brighouse would be a proper person to value the marsh farm stone - thinks it should be worth 9d. a ft. - not 12ft. thick - if 9ft. thick at 9d. it would = 6/9 per yard - I thought it ought to be worth 10d per ft. = 7/6 per yard - SW- said he bought for A- Sir Joseph Radclyffe’s estate for £11500; and Jones the steward said he would not have sold it to anyone else for less than £12,000 - £11500 to be price if no coal in it - some person named to be consulted after this - if no coal, the agreement drawn out to be signed - £1000 to be paid on signing on Saturday next and the rest the 1st of August - SW- said A- seemed glad and I said I was glad - vid. the last p. Sir JR-s’ estate bought for A- out at 11 - went to the top of the hill - some time with Holt and SW measuring -asked them about the gap in the measurements of coal got - said it was not intelligible to me - for the coal being sold surface measure, their measurements ought to have been made to tally - the people had paid for an acre too little - SW- excuses lame - said it would be shewn now when the colliery was opened and when we got up to Rawsons - yes! said I but who is to pay me - I at this moment remember Mr. Briggs telling me what a pother there was about the measurements and that John Oates and c° would not pay up - but JO- was the principal resister - Remember this – at

SH:7/ML/E/19/0049

Whiskum quarry - with John Bottomley walling up temporary against it in his Long field - then at Whiskum cottage and about till the men returned from dinner - with Robert Mann and c° (vid. line 5 of today) till came in at 4 ½ - 10 minutes with my aunt - then read A-‘s note and letter to her sister, and looked at the agreement for Sir JR-‘s estate brought by George this afternoon or morning on returning from the ponies shoeing at Ward’s - Mrs. AW- better but A- uncertain about her (A-‘s) return home - from 5 to 6 ¼ wrote a few lines on the vacant end of my aunt’s letter to Marian, to give A-‘s and my love and say the newspapers my aunt meant I should send Marian were the Yorkshire Gazettes, and that Marian could have anything else she might want by the box the carriage of which she needed not fear would be [ruinous] - punctuated as letter to her sister - wrote and finished my letter to M- began on Friday and dated that day, and the next, and today - i.e. the 1st ½ p. written on the 20th and 21st and the rest today - wrote today the latter ½ p. 1 and pp. 2 and 3, and the ends, and crossed pp. 1 and 2 - said she would see how I was subject to interruptions - beg to be excused once more - to be assured of my steady friendship and regard - 3 times in York, on business, since the death of my father - the last time, thought to be off for Paris last Sunday week - unsettled again as ever - nothing fixed - M- to believe nothing till she hears it from me - too much on my hands ‘one thing drags on another’ - cannot explain clearly on paper - ‘come and see whenever you like, but not just yet unless you give me a few days’ warning’ - household troubles - ‘the late dynasty did not make the rough places plain’ - only 2 women servants ‘a cook who cannot cook or wash, and a kitchen girl in her teens to do her own work, and households’ work - and I have got the widow of my steward Mr. Briggs to keep house, and her daughter to take care of her - can you help us?’ does M- know of a housekeeper? - ‘she might arrange the kitchen department to her own mind - we want but little just now, except order - no company’ shall be off as soon as we can - mention my French maid (Lecomte) having been with us a fortnight above ½ of it under M-‘s brother’s care - Mrs. Briggs not having lived in a gentlemen house, does not know how to set up - M- to tell us ‘how much beer should the men be allowed at breakfast, dinner and supper, and how much the women of tea, and sugar and butter and heaven knows what - again God bless you! I wish I had all knowledge - teas, sugars, water-wheels, hotels, and collieries, - all crowd together in my poor brain - oh! for the goodly cedar of the Jardin des Plantes at Paris, or some Alpine pass, or balmy breeze upon the Aegean wave! oh! that I could flee away for a little while and be at rest! my favourite wanderings would be rest to me - I know it is not stillness that can suit me - sometime I hope to date to you from the other side of the water - be it when or where it may, I shall always be with unchangeable sincerity very faithfully and especially yours AL’ I had told her somewhere in my letter of my aunt’s being amazingly well - and of her being wheeled ½ a mile from the house - sent off by the bag my aunt’s letter to Marian Market Weighton and A-‘s letter to her sister (Udale house Fortrose Rossshire) and my own letter to M- ‘Claremont house, Leamington, Warwickshire’ - dinner at 6 ¼ - had coffee in the drawing with my aunt - out again at 7 5 and had Robert Mann and Jack Green and John Booth removing and planting in the wood just above young oaks from the low place near the brook to the south east of the meer-clow which low place is to be raised with meer-drift stuff - planted also (but without the railing and in Charles H-‘s acre field near the 2 great larches) a sycamore lopped taken from near the hut, where the highroad overflow water drain is to be turned into the hut-extremity of the meer - kept the men planting till too dark to see to do more, that is, till 9 35 - I came in at 10 -with my aunt ¼ hour - very fine day - F48° at 10 ¼ pm

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fifielady · 4 years

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Come To Sea, Come Home, Come Adventure

Day 4 of @usukweek || Free Day | Nautical AU

Note/s: This fic is also inspired and based on this song. ((My aunt’s karaoke is so loud and I’m a bit sorry that this is a bit rushed as well. I hope you enjoy it though!))

The far horizon was golden in the last minutes of the day's daylight. A distinct difference to the fierce red of the morning when Alfred went out to chop wood as soon as he woke up. He had been expecting a shower of rain the whole day but not even a drop fell from the sky; even though the clouds in the east were plentiful. Alfred stalled for a while, admiring the red of the sky reflected in the calm waters of the little port town he grew up in. A gust of wind blew, shaking the hilltop trees beside him and down and over to the sails of the ships docked by the bay of the port.

The town's lights were burning brilliantly against the dark backdrop of the star-kissed night sky. Cheers and peals of laughter were echoing away from the heart of the port and to where Alfred stood-- at the crown of the third hill of the island. The yearly festival of the town was pulsing with life.

The young man couldn't resist a carefree grin curving his lips. There were lots of ships resting from their adventures tonight. Big, beautiful ships from her numerous voyages with her roughed-up, handsome sailors. Not that the other people his age in their little port weren't pretty, Alfred just thinks they lack the... uh, appeal... to captivate him like how the people crossing the seas ever did. Was it their experience? Yes, that aspect probably played a part in his attraction to others. But it was mostly because he could travel along the seas with them if he ever ensnared a sailor.

So far, Alfred ensnared no one (Except for that one time with a local bard due to a small lapse of his judgment).

Fastening his grip on his full satchel, Alfred took a deep breath and turned around gave the last, possibly, good-bye to the cottage he called his home for the last nineteen years of his boring life. Bang! One of the windows suddenly opened, revealing his disgruntled older brother shaking his fist.

"It's been three years, Al! And you already have a match, for how long are you going to keep this up?!" Matthew yelled, his voice reverberated down on the hill and to Alfred.

Alfred formed a cone around his mouth with his hands. "Until I finally get on a ship and physically drag him back!"

Even with the distance, he saw his brother's disappointing frown. Matthew never understood him. No one in town ever did. Alfred whirled around, having enough of the daily reprimands his brother gives him every time he ventures down to the port. Don't get him wrong, he appreciates his brother's worry for him but Matthew will never understand his will to find that annoying best friend and lover of his. That guy was probably frolicking with some busty lady with rum and jewels surrounding him. Alfred clicked his tongue unconsciously, the mere thought of him made him both annoyed and more encouraged as ever.

"Oi, Al, don't forget to pick up some thyme when you've had enough of the sailors!" Matthew bellowed for the last time before Alfred sprinted down the path of the hill. Gah! Alfred's had enough of his life in town and he'd die from crushing herbs and selling medicine for the rest of his life. An exaggeration. He hopes no one would toss him off the deck since he was an expert in herbal medicine.

At least that would never happen if he fails to find a ship tonight. And he'd never considered stowing away, so that's off the list. Alfred knows too much what happens to a stowaway. A shiver ran up his spine as he continued to run with the salty wind. With all dangers of sea travel in his mind, he prayed again that night that he'd never meet a scoundrel. Or worse-- a pirate.

But the chances of meeting one are slim in a nameless island port town in the outskirts of a kingdom.

The music of the flutes and guitars was loud and lively, people in the town plaza were dancing and whooping with laughter and joy. Lights from the hanging lanterns glowed like honey under the night sky and warmed the merry townsfolk and sailors. Alfred struggled to pave a way through the dancing people and to the tavern at the end of the plaza. He mussed up his wheat hair, desperately trying not to be noticed by the celebrators lest they drag him into dancing with them. Or call for Natalia.

Alfred scanned left and right, still in the crowd being pushed everywhere by the others and the melodies. He saw no sign of a mop of blonde hair lighter than his. He couldn't help relief from heaving a sigh out of his lips. And for a while, space loosened amidst the crowd and Alfred wriggled his way out of the bunch and into the open doors of the tavern.

The cheers and the chattering in the tavern were less noisy than the festivities outside, though still as rowdy. Most of the ones inside were drunken sailors and sailors who were failing in seducing the barmaids. Alfred proceeded to the counter and sat on the last stool on the end, straining his ears to hear the dialogue of the men behind him.

A glass of grape rum propped up in front of him. "You really should stop this past-time of yours, Al," the barkeep chided him, though she said that with a wry grin on her face, "But if you make them stay a bit longer and make their pockets loose and generous, who am I to stop you?"

He only shook his head and picked up his glass. Alfred studied the drinking, the drunks, and the miraculously sober in the tavern. Tables were full of sailors, their drinks, and pie. He sipped the given drink slowly and asked the barkeep, "Are there any captains getting shit-faced, around? With the drinks you're serving tonight, it's so much easier to try and convince them."

"Natalia would have your head if you tried to bed one of them again."

Alfred chuckled, "Not if she wants to go through the trouble of getting an 'adequate' husband again." Head resting on the palm of his hand, he continued, "The only other herbalist in town is my brother and he's gonna marry her cousin this summer. It'll at least take her another few years to find someone like me, you know!"

The barkeep scoffed playfully at his words, "Nobody is as brash as you around here, Alfred Jones. But..." She had a smug look as she took out a pie from one of the ovens. Alfred raised a brow and gestured with his free hand to prompt her as he chugged down the rest of the drink. "There was some guy who almost mauled his 'first mate' because of a snide comment a few moments before you walked in."

He almost spat out the rum in his mouth, but his eyes went comically wide. 'His first mate'?! There was a ship captain out and about instead of inspecting their ships! Alfred gulped down the drink, it burned his throat and made his blood warm. "Is he still here?!"

She only smiled in response, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alfred, be a dear and deliver this pie to that table near the sea-facing window."

Alfred gave her a look but he still took the tray with the dessert. "You're as pretty as you are guileful, Liz." She turned to prepare another batch of drinks, her long brown hair almost slapping Alfred across his face.

"Why, thank you."

He huffed. So the drink wasn't free, then. Even when he entertains her customers and made them stay until morning. Alfred sauntered to the aforementioned table and placed the tray gently (You can't just put a pie down haphazardly, that's asking for a fight!). He looked up to see a raven-haired man, brunnet, an anxious blond man. The blond guy had a swollen cheek on his exasperated face.

"Uhh, you're the ones who ordered this pie, right?"

The three men stayed silent. They had such gloomy expressions it made Alfred feel bad doing his nightly conquests. But his self-righteous quest like searching for his lover was a great deal heavier than consoling three men who ordered a pie. Alfred should probably not try anything on these three; they really looked like they killed a person's hopes and dreams and lived to bear it. Just as he was about to excuse himself from such a depressed trio, the blond guy suddenly slammed his fist on the table.

"H-hey, are you--"

The guy's swollen face whirled around and came close to his; Alfred took a step back. "I'm tired of it! I'm tired of him being such a young master! Ah, I want him to drown in his rum and! And...!" The strange man bawled and caressed the edges of the pie, "Even so...for a captain, he's so pitiful...! You agree, right?"

"What are--"

"Here!" The injured blond shoved the pie to him, "You bring it to the captain in the barn. I can't handle him right now!" Then he continued sobbing on the table, softly punching it with his fist. Alfred could only gape at the other two men that refused to look at him and instead stared outside the window with deadpan expressions.

Just what did he get into?

Alfred sighed and went out with a freshly-baked pie in his hands to the little barn on the other side of the tavern. The festivities in the plaza were still going on but the tavern's barn was always empty and dark. And cold. But if Alfred were to personally deliver this to the injured man's captain, he could hitch a ride to the next step of finding his lover. Maybe. If the captain wasn't a blacked-out drunk already and making the cow and chickens his roommates. Ah, the animals were transferred to a new barn so maybe not.

Clink! Clonk! The rhythmic sound of metal against the stoned pathways of the town plaza resounded loudly even with the loud voices in the festival in the center. Oh, no. NO! Alfred felt the warmth of the rum leave his body and early winter settled in his bone. The sound of armored boots stepping on the stone can only mean one and only one thing-- Natalia is here!

To say Alfred wasn't scared shitless of his fiancee was a big, fat lie. She was so stubborn in making him her husband because he was the only herbalist who wasn't married yet. Alfred was equally as stubborn as to chase after someone who hasn't even stepped on their home island for three years. So, of course, it was a problem for both of them!

He hurried his steps to the barn, taking extra precaution with the pie, and locked the doors shut as soon as he entered it. Cold sweat ran down from his neck and down his spine. If Natalia caught him flirting in Elizabeta's tavern again, she'd torture him rather than killing him to end his misery.

The clanging metal slowly went away. Alfred slumped his body against the wooden doors, sliding down and sitting on the hay-infested floor of the barn. He sighed, the beating of his heart was loud in his ears. Alfred stared into the semi-darkness inside the barn. Slivers of light went through the spaces between the wooden walls. The outside noise was muted and far away.

Yeah, he can still do this. If his lover with his smaller frame craved for adventure, then Alfred could do the same. All in the name of love...

Alfred stared at the pie in his hands. Minced pie, it was a favorite of--

"Nggh..." Someone groaned in the darkness. Right. Alfred still had to give the pie to the trio's captain.

He stood up and walked over to the direction of the sound. The young man was blindly reaching out in the darkness using his other hand. He spotted a hunched figure, a large but faint stripe of yellow light on the man. He finally got close and shook the man's shoulder. The man groaned, still face-first as he lay on the pile on hay. Oof, that's gonna itch in the morning. Alfred shook the captain more roughly this time. He heard a faint 'Wasssit' from the man but the guy still hadn't moved an inch. Alfred resisted pulling on the captain's tied back messy, yellow hair. "Hey, man, you gotta get up if you want to eat."

"... Wha.. ha?" The captain finally, at a slow pace, lifted his face to face the annoyed expression on Alfred. Bleary emeralds so familiar ogled him, with drool on the edge on the man's mouth. That... that face! Alfred stared in shock as the brows of the man drew together. Those eyebrows! He'd never forget someone with eyebrows like that! And the only one who had eyebrows like that was his lover with the name of--

"Arthur?!"

Arthur sobered up instantly, recognition and awe and shock all over his half-drunk face. "What in the-- Alfred! What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that! What're you doing here of all places?" Alfred shook his head, his grip tightened on the pie, "Nevermind that, why didn't you come to see me first?!" Questions, he had so many questions. Was this why Liz had that smile on her when he came in? Because this guy was back?! Alfred was so going to kill him.

"Wait--Wait! Let me-- let me explain!"

"You better explain! What were you thinking, leaving this island without me and coming back some three years later?"

Alfred's heart was beating with happiness and curiosity and a faint trace of hurt in the back of his heart. Arthur was here! After three years-- Wait, he shouldn't get ahead of himself. His lover left him for three years! Three! Were they still even lovers? Alfred placed the pie on the ground and latched his hands on the shoulders of the other man. Arthur had a dumb look on his face, the same one he had when every time he woke up from a nap years ago. Alfred felt his chest tighten from just this...

"Arthur. You are going to tell me everything."

And his found lover did. In his drunk and sleep-addled voice that Alfred missed. In the semi-darkness of the barn, the old lovers spoke and ate mince pie throughout the night. The celebration and its noise outside never stopped them from exchanging words of love and embraces full of affection.

"I thought you said you'd never come back." Alfred and Arthur were on their sides facing each other on the pile of hay. It was a bit itchy but Alfred found it comfortable with Arthur in his arms.

"Well, I'm here now." Arthur looked at him in the eyes, the truth in his new never disappearing for even a moment. "But I'm not coming back ever again."

"...Even for me?" His grip around his lover's waist tensing, "Arthur, why did you come back to this backwater island?"

Arthur's green eyes softened, misting in the edges. "I came back for you. You were always in my mind and every time I think of you and your smile, it makes my heartache. You were so far away. But not any more so..." he took Alfred's hands in his, " So come with me, Alfred. Let's look for adventure. Together."

The only thing in Alfred's mind was how he loved Arthur so much and the warmth of Arthur's hand on his. He'd never let that hand go again.

"Together?"

"Yes."

Alfred already had his satchel ready for the last three years.

Extra:

"This ship looks like she's been through too many fights... too many scars on the floorboard."

"Er, yes..."

"Wait a minute, why does this ship have the kingdom's insignia all scratched up? Merchant ships have to have clear insignias!"

"Well, uh--"

"Arthur, is there something you're not telling me?"

"..."

"This is a pirate ship, isn't it? Really, Art?"

#usukweek #APH America #APH England #hws america #hws england #aph #hws #hetalia #axis powers hetalia #alfred f jones #Arthur Kirkland #usuk #ukus #nautical au #pirates #hetalia usuk

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atomicstrawbrys · 4 years

Text

A.K. (2/?)

Alfred is a high school star with everything he could possibly want- until a student comes from England and suddenly becomes priority number one. USUK. High school AU. //

Previous / Next

The moment Alfred and Matthew got home from school, Alfred wrenched his brother out from behind the wheel and into their house. He tugged him all the way upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind them and locking it.

“Matt, you gotta help me,” He pleaded, Matthew’s eyes widening at his brother’s distress.

Panicked, Matthew guided Alfred to his bed, kneeling in front of him and creasing his brow with worry. “What, what is it? Al, is it your arm? Did something happen? Did you get into a fight with Gil or something? Did you get into some kind of trouble?”

“I, I like someone!”

Matthew immediately deflated, his worry replaced with relief and a slight twinge of annoyance. “Oh, gosh- is that all? Just tell her, man, everyone at that school likes you, I doubt she’ll say no.”

“But, but- It’s a guy!” Alfred wailed, burying his face in his hand as he whimpered.

This tidbit of information caught Matthew’s interest, his brother perking up and tilting his head.

“I thought you were straight-?” He questioned, Alfred’s head first nodding, then shaking furiously.

“Apparently not! And I just don’t know what to do, he’s so perfect, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Matthew sighed, sitting on the bed beside Alfred and rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. “Uh...who is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You uh, you know that new guy from England, well his name is Arthur and he-”

“Wait, wait, Al, seriously?” Matthew dissolved into a fit of laughter, hand trembling against Alfred’s back as he wheezed and wiped a tear from his eye. “The walking Hot Topic catalog? You’re into that kinda thing? To each their own, I guess…” He elbowed him, and Alfred pouted.

“Whatever...just tell me what you did to get Ivan to go out with you- I really, really like him, Matt, like, love at first sight kinda stuff. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before, not even my ex-girlfriends..”

“Well, yikes, don’t let any of them hear you say that..” Matthew murmured, and he got to his feet. “First of all, Ivan asked me out. Secondly, he just told me how he felt and invited me to go on a date. You should just be straightforward with him if you feel so strongly, okay?”

“I guess…”

“Great! Then my work here is done. I’m gonna get a soda from the fridge, you want anything?”

Alfred shook his head, and with that Matthew left, wishing him luck with his inner crisis.

Alfred laid back on his bed, closing his eyes. Yeah, sure, being straightforward might have worked with someone like Matthew- Matthew wasn’t one for frills and gimmicks, but Arthur seemed...eccentric. A simple confession just wouldn’t be good enough for him, so he would have to do better.

So, the next morning, Alfred pestered Matthew to take him to school early, still not keen on attempting to drive with one arm. He went inside while Matthew slept in the back seat of his truck. Armed with a dry erase marker and some wildflowers from his backyard, Alfred went to Arthur’s locker. He slipped the flowers in through the slats, and then with the dry erase marker he wrote on the front:

“Roses are red,

I think you’re great,

You’re pretty cute,

So let’s go on a date! :)”

Giggling to himself and pleased with his poem, Alfred went back out to the truck to wait.

Within the next half hour, students began arriving at school, but Alfred waited until he saw that familiar mess of blonde and lavender walking up the sidewalk. He hurried to meet him before he got inside the school.

“Hey, Arthur! Mind if I walk with you?” He grinned, keeping pace with God’s gift to humanity. Arthur only shrugged in reply, yawning and reapplying some dark lipstick onto his lower lip. Oh, if only Alfred could be covered in black lipstick marks left by Arthur- like on tv, where the main character is smooched all over by their love interest, and then are left blushing and decorated with lipstick kisses. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest, and he hoped the poem and the flowers would convince Arthur to give him a chance.

Once they reached their lockers, Alfred nonchalantly opened his own, waiting to see how Arthur reacted. He couldn’t wait to see him blush and wonder who his secret admirer could be, and then Alfred would reveal himself and it would be perfect- it would be a confession worthy of someone as wonderful as Arthur.

Arthur went to open his locker, but he paused, reading the poem. He skimmed it only once, then rolled his eyes and wiped it off with his handkerchief. Alfred’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself before Arthur opened his locker, and the wildflowers came spilling out.

“Oh my GOD!” Arthur shrieked with alarm and jumped back, though he was already too late. He began sneezing, his eyes puffing and turning red. Exposed skin broke out, and both his eyes and nose ran. He doubled over, sneezes interspersed with gross coughing. He had turned a lot of heads with his reaction, and it wasn’t but a few moments before someone came back with a teacher, who ushered Arthur away and to the nurse.

Alfred had stood there, frozen in shock during the display. He felt just awful- he’d wanted to ask Arthur out, and instead, he’d annoyed him and then given him a fucking allergic reaction! He just..hoped Arthur would be okay.

There was an empty desk in Alfred’s first two periods, and he supposed that was where Arthur would have sat had Alfred exercised a little self-control. He didn’t see him again until lunch, and although his face was still a bit red, he seemed more or less alright. He was sitting alone, so Alfred slid in the seat next to him, looking down at his lunch tray.

“You uh...you alright? You really scared me earlier, ha, I was...I thought you were gonna die or something.”

Arthur shrugged and pulled his jacket hood over his head. “...M’allergic to flowers. Really allergic.”

“Yeah, yeah, I could tell,” Alfred replied, and though he cursed himself for such a rude remark, Arthur gave a soft chuckle in response.

“...Yeah. Well. Thanks for worrying, Alex. Whoever left them also wrote this really stupid poem on my locker, too, so I guess they were trying to be ‘romantic,’ or whatever.” Arthur framed the word ‘romantic’ with air quotes, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah...stupid,” Alfred replied, pushing some food on his tray around with his fork. “And uh, it’s Alfred, actually..”

“Hm? Oh, sorry, Archie.”

Alfred didn’t bother to correct him again. He also didn’t bother eating much and got up from lunch early, leaving the cafeteria under the guise of going to the bathroom. He went to Arthur’s locker instead, the door still hanging open as wildflowers lay both inside and on the floor in front of it. Alfred cleaned all of them up and wiped everything down, making sure not to leave even a trace of pollen that could possibly cause Arthur any more harm.

After he was done, he shut the locker door quietly, staring at the empty space where his poem once was. Getting out his dry erase marker, he wrote again. Then, he returned to the cafeteria just before the bell and went to his next class.

At the end of the day, he was gathering his things to go home, when Arthur approached cautiously. He looked around, noticing that the flowers were gone, and breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching for his combination lock, Arthur’s arm stopped in midair, and he read the poem.

“Violets are blue

I’m still after your heart,

I’m sorry about the flowers,

But I hope cleaning them up is a start.”

Arthur, still seeming skeptical, opened the door and peered inside. He looked around for the faintest trace of flowers- a petal, a leaf, but he could find nothing. Contented, he got his things and shut the door. He again wiped the poem away with his handkerchief, but this time Alfred thought that perhaps he caught the faintest hint of a smile on Arthur’s lips before he did so.

Alfred felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and as he left the school and caught up with Matthew, he couldn’t help but grin.

#please reblog/comment!!#reblogs/comments > likes #usuk #ukus #usukus #hetalia #aph #hws #APH America #hws america #APH England #hws england #alfred f. jones #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland #aph usa #hws usa #aph uk #hws uk

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redsoapbox · 4 years

Text

MY TOP FIFTEEN TRACKS BY WELSH ACTS IN THE PAST DECADE.

Pictured - Davey Newington. Davey features in the list twice - as Boy Azooga and as a member of the gone but not forgotten Houdini Dax.

In my introduction to Pop Hack, my debut collection of reviews/interviews, I make the claim that ‘some of the best records I have heard in my lifetime come from the unsigned and unsung acts that I stumbled upon covering the Welsh music scene’. I repeated that claim the other day while being interviewed by Bill Cummings for his Cymru Am Bop podcast (see link below), so I thought it was about time I put some flesh on the bones. In no particular order, then, are fifteen tracks from some of the best singer/ songwriters and bands in Wales.

1. Dan Bettridge - Third Eye Blind (2015)

Released as a single in 2015, and wisely included in Dan’s exceptional debut album Asking For Trouble three years later. “Third Eye Blind” is a stirring soul workout, hugely influenced by Van Morrison’s classic track “Real, Real Gone”, and a surefire set closer by anybody’s standards.

youtube

2. Pretty Vicious - Cave Song (2014)

The mighty tune that famously sent the major record labels into a lather and into a headlong race to Merthyr in pursuit of the teenage rockers. I caught the band at the EVI (Ebbw Vale Institute), a few months after they had signed on the dotted line, and filed one of the earliest national reviews of the band for Wales Arts Review. I spent most of the review decrying their major label status; ‘Pretty Vicious has signed with Virgin, it’s the first uncool thing they’ve done’ I moaned. I ended the review on a note of caution - ‘Pretty Vicious would be wise not to rush into the recording studio just yet. You never get a second chance at a debut album’. My scepticism about the multinational’s motives was on the money - the band was unceremoniously dropped by Branson and Co in 2017 without even releasing an album!

https://soundcloud.com/prettyviciousuk/cave-song

3. Houdini Dax - Found Love In The Dole Office. (2015)

I was a huge fan of Cardiff’s sadly defunct power-pop trio, whose two albums, You Belong To Dax Darling (2011) and, particularly, Naughty Nation (2015), are packed with bangers/earworms/crackers - take your pick. I was bemused by their complete lack of success, but nevertheless surprised when they morphed overnight into Monico Blonde. Drummer Davey Newington went on to bigger, if not necessarily better things, with Boy Azooga of course. “Found Love In The Dole Office” is a typical Dax track, matching a punchy melody with a clever lyric.

youtube

4. Jodie Marie - Everyone Makes Mistakes (2015)

Taken from one of my all time favourite albums, Trouble in Mind (2015), “Everyone Makes Mistakes” is one of four or five outstanding ballads that form the centrepiece of this truly fine record. This is a heartbreaking song that leaves the listener reeling!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNBraJss7-4&feature=youtu.be&autoplay=1

5. oblong - Light Sleeper (2019)

I tossed a coin with this track. Llanelli’s bilingual post-punk combo has released two scorching albums, Brilliant...Gwd (2017) and Hollalluog (2019), which are brimming over with terrific tunes. Any one of them will set the pulses racing.

https://oblong1.bandcamp.com/

6. Danielle Lewis - West Coast Sun (2016)

When we beat this virus and lockdown truly ends, this is the record that I’m going to emerge from my hideaway playing. A joyous tune that deserves the sun on its back and for people to be of good cheer when they listen to it. Danielle’s current single “Flowers” is another beautiful composition.

https://daniellelewis.bandcamp.com/track/west-coast-sun

7. Aled Rheon - Wrap up Warm (2016)

It’s never the done thing to quote oneself, but as this feature is partly to publicise my book Pop Hack I’m going to take a diabolical liberty! In my review of the song I write ‘It’s a beautifully judged lyric with a performance to match, as Rheon’s fine-grained vocal manages to make James Taylor sound like Jello Biaffra’. Not bad, even if I say so myself!

youtube

8. Armstrong - Gratitude (2019)

Although this song dates back a good number of years, it was included in the deluxe release of Armstrong’s majestic album Under Blue Skies (2019). As with oblong, above, I was spoiled for choice and very nearly chose the exquisite “My Resistance”, then again I very nearly opted for the heartaching “Perhaps It’s Time To Say Goodbye”. “Gratitude”, though, has a life-affirming quality that somehow transcends the times in which we live.

https://bigtakeover.com/recordings/ArmstrongUnderBlueSkiesTheBeautifulMusic

9. Climbing Trees - Aliosi (2013)

Does this song really contain ‘the most romantic couplet in the history of pop’, as I somewhat fancifully speculated in my review of Hebron, the Pontypridd combo’s debut album? Perhaps not, but that’s what a great pop song can do to you. I happily plead guilty to getting carried away by ‘Sunlight streams into my eyes, It always brings me to / I didn’t mean to wake you darling, but I can’t keep my eyes off you’. If that doesn’t set your heart racing, what will?

https://ilikeclimbingtrees.bandcamp.com/track/aloisi

10. Silent Forum - Limbo (2017)

Silent Forum had a great 2019, with their debut album Everything Solved At Once earning them rave reviews across the board. It’s a wonderful album and it would have been easy to choose its centrepiece, the stupendous “How I Faked The Moon Landing”. I opted, however, for “Limbo” an old favourite of mine and a song that stood out for me the very first time I saw the band play in 2015. This is Indie-noir incarnate!

https://silentforum.bandcamp.com/track/limbo-2

11. Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard - Love Forever (2019).

Can there be any doubt that Tom Rees and his band are heading for the big time? The man writes killer tunes and has the chutzpah to carry them off. Rees is a real political animal, but he tends to separate that out from his music. On “Love Forever”, an ‘all you need is love’ protest song, he puts a hippy-dippy toe in choppy political waters for the first time.

youtube

12. Boy Azooga - Loner Boogie (2018)

After missing the boat with Houdini Dax and Monico Blonde, Davey Newington’s ship finally came in with his solo project Boy Azooga, leading to support slots with the likes of Bob Dylan and Neil Young. This tune is as fun ‘n’ funky as pop music gets.

youtube

13. Burning Ferns - Bullet Train

Newport’s Burning Ferns are often compared to stellar names like Big Star, Teenage Fan Club and The Byrds, so if you admire classic songwriting, chiming guitars and three-part harmonies then their two fine albums on Country Mile See Saw Seen (2013) and Public Mono (2017) are must-have records.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM6m3GTm7DE

14. Georgia Fearn - Catch Me When You Can (2018)

An edgy and imaginative songwriter, Georgia Fearn was just 17 when she released her debut album, the dark delight that was Perfect on Paper. Equally influenced by TV, cinema and literature’s tales of the macabre, Perfect on Paper is something of a black comedy, one that you might want to listen to crouched into the foetal position whilst hiding behind the sofa!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgVmBKAbn6c

15. Head Noise - Microwave (2018)

It defies explanation that Mitch Tennant left the mini-masterpiece “Microwave” off last year’s 14-track debut album Uber Fantastique. A fun pop artefact in the vein of Landscape’s “Einstein A Go-Go”, every home should have one - “Microwave” the song, I mean, not an actual microwave. Although I’m given to understand by the cooks in the household that a microwave is a product that comes in handy, personally I never venture into the kitchen, so I can’t properly comment!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0wXV_7fr7k8

The five next best

Travelator - Anonymous Iconoclasts, That Night at the Table - Beth Goudie, Just Rock ‘n’ Roll - I Fight Lions, Obsolete - Matthew Fredricks (not yet released), High -Clwb Fuzz.

http://www.godisinthetvzine.co.uk/2020/05/11/podcast-cymru-am-bop-episode-three-featuring-kevin-mcgrath/

All of the above acts are featured in my book Pop Hack

http://bit.ly/PopHack

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 years

Note

I see you're a fan of angst, here's something to entertain you then. How about a story where Josh snaps and goes apeshit :)

Oh Anon, you're in for a horrid treat >:3c

---

[[MORE]]

Everything had been a mess. A complete and utterly complicated political mess with almost no end in sight.

That's why they never realized something was inherently wrong with Josh's recent behaviour.

That nothing indicated that he was being anything but his quiet but optimistic self.

You could pitch the blame on the remaining 3/4s of Jericho's leadership. Say that the three of them had gone so far as to neglect their friend when times got particularly tough, but honestly Josh had never even voiced feeling particularly off, or anything of the sort.

He'd either not wanted to tell them, or hadn't realized the problem either.

Or, worse yet, he hadn't been able to warn them in time.

Regardless of which one it was, none of it changed the fact Simon was currently hiding in a closet while cradling an unconscious and bleeding North…

---

There had been threats for a good part of the month. Jericho's leaders had been hard at work trying to pass the bills, while Connor and the DPD kept the peace as best as they could.

In between heavily guarded press conferences, and trips in and out of DC? There had been multiple messages left for them.

Ones that were as simple as 'You're not alive', and others that went so far as 'You'll all end up destroyed and thrown in the trash like the junk you are'.

Markus put his foot down and upgraded security at the tower and at Carl's, when the threats began to address both innocent civilians and his family. His very human and fragile family.

There were other measures he'd taken into account as well, most of which were suggested by Connor and Hank.

As a general rule, the RK800 had suggested that the four leaders should not walk alone outside, and to perhaps conceal their identities whenever this was not a possibility.

Androids were being rampantly attacked out in the streets, with the aggressors aiming for more common models they could recognize.

Simon, for example, had a harder time accomplishing this, not because he was a figurehead in android politics (which he wasn't), but because the PL600 had been one of the most popular domestic assistant models Cyberlife had ever produced.

North could, in theory, disguise herself and walk seemingly unnoticed if she really wanted to, but sadly tended to get into fights with hecklers and catcallers. The two were essentially barred from leaving the Manfred household.

The same could not be said for Markus and Josh.

Markus was recognizable in public but was also a lot more sneaky about it than Josh. He kept out of sight at all times, using his acrobatic skills to his advantage, and went to abandoned places where he climbed up to isolate heights that no human could follow him to. There he would sit and appreciate the sights, before letting his mind wander.

He liked to have time to think alone.

It relaxed him.

Josh, on the other hand, would don a thick jacket and a baseball cap and somehow it was like Superman disguising himself as Clark Kent.

The PJ500 series was numerous but not outwardly recognizable by people who didn't go to Detroit University. Thanks to said university's bad rep, very few people in Detroit had actually gone there to study, so Josh's face didn't ring any bells. Mostly for the wrong reasons.

As unimpressed as he was with how little progress humanity had made besides uniting their frustrations against androids, it ended up being beneficial to his excursions to the library that "all black guys looked the same".

North had snorted once when he'd brought it up, and Simon had rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

"Humans tend to express face blindness if they're particularly racist." The blond had commented as he'd turned the page of a rather thick hardcover he'd been engrossed with. A recommendation of Carl's.

"And you still insist dialogue is the best option? Almost half of Congress is old white dudes who never had to lift a finger in their lives. They'd all be dying to take you out, and not the dinner kind either." The redhead pointed out.

"They would be less likely to give us the time of day if we nuked the city." Josh had glared daggers before going on his way out to the library. His knowledge archives were vast, but there were things he wanted to brush up on.

"Don't be so rough with him North…" Simon chastised the WR400 when their friend was no longer in earshot.

With Markus currently asleep, and Josh wandering the streets, it left the two of them with nothing to do.

"I'm antsy!" North crossed her arms, giving Simon one of her 'really?' looks. The kind that made it seem obvious why she was on edge. Not that it was obvious at all. "The threats keep coming, and we never catch the assholes who leave the notes...Markus is working himself ragged juggling between wrangling those rabid old crows and amping up security, and the tower's abuzz with anxious scared androids!"

"Josh is also tired. He's been very active in the debates and he's used every piece of history knowledge he was preprogrammed with. Not to mention he has been looking into various ways of reaching a compromise with the humans, that won't leave them feeling threatened…" Simon rubbed at his eyes, sighing tiredly as he recalled how stressed the PJ500 always ended up after a meeting. "Some of those people...They unerve him. To the point he's scared of what might happen if he steps on any toes…"

"This is Josh we're talking about." North dismissed "If anyone out there wouldn't dream of treading on toes and maybe licking boots, it'd be him."

"North!"

"He'll be fine Simon." The WR400 reassured "He's too charming and polite to make any enemies...Hell he's the sort to help old ladies cross the street! The internet would send hitmen after anyone who tried slandering his name."

"...That sounded adorable coming from you. I should let him know you think he's charming." The blond grinned, avoiding a pillow the shorter of the two threw his way.

"Don't you dare! I have a reputation to uphold!"

"If you say so, Ice Queen."

"Damn straight! Now move over you jackass, the couch was made for two!"

---

Usually it took an hour for Josh to return. He was very pragmatic in the sense that he took what he needed, no less and no more, and then he wouldn't stick around so as to not risk getting recognized.

That night it took three hours, which was unusual but not impossible.

Maybe for once he'd taken time for himself rather than gather more ammunition for another conference meeting. Wishful thinking.

While Simon and North kept themselves busy, enjoying the one night where Markus wasn't stressing over their next steps, and the beginning of Matthew's, Leo's and Carl's quality bonding time vacation of sorts, they'd almost completely forgotten about their taller friend.

That is, until Josh returned dazed and confused, and with a bloody gash on the back of his head.

At the sight of the thirium staining his jacket and hands, Simon had run to get the technician's kit he'd stored in his room, while North had gone to help Josh steady himself and walk to the couch.

"What the hell happened to you?!" She demanded as she pulled the cap off his head and examined the gash.

It looked painful, like a blunt object had hit hard enough to break the chassis casing open.

The thirium flow was slow, which meant it hadn't hit anything major, but the confusion and slow response worried her.

"...I...D-dont know…?" The PJ500 blinked blearily. He was disoriented and his eyes wouldn't focus on her.

"What do you mean you don't know?" She inquired further as she brushed the gash lightly with a finger. The pained hiss and subsequent flinch away from her touch made her falter.

The sensors weren't damaged then, he could feel the wound.

"...I…" Josh shook his head, one eye twitched oddly and he seemed to be struggling to form sentences. "I...Remember being at...I was reading books...Mandela? I…."

"Simon could you hurry the fuck up? I think he's concussed!" The redhead called up the stairs. She heard a muffled reply before looking back at Josh. "You were reading at the library, and got hit on the head?"

"...I...Think so…" he was staring at her, a frown on his face. "I...I was alone. No one was t-there to...Reco-recognize me?"

"Well someone did, and they hit you on the back of the head." North sighed. "Humans, I swear to God…"

Simon returned swiftly to the two of them and took care of the gash. After the wound was mended, the PL600 carefully tried to figure out if Josh's processor was experiencing any trouble outside of the obvious.

It was PJ500 who insisted he'd be fine in the morning after a quick scan with his maintenance software.

After bidding goodnight and going to their respective rooms, they'd set the incident aside as a one-off.

Next time Josh would be more careful.

When morning rose however, the leaders of Jericho met downstairs for "breakfast" and what came on the news was...Alarming.

Markus had turned on the TV out of habit while Simon gave everyone a cup of warm thirium to start the day, only to pause as a news broadcast caught his eye.

The RK200 turned up the volume and gawked at the sight.

Several androids had been killed the previous night. Their bodies piled up, and a message scrawled in still fresh thirium.

"That's...Very close to the library." Simon pointed out uneasily. "You don't think who ever attacked Josh did...Did that, do you?"

"Someone attacked Josh?" Markus frowned.

"Yeah, last night… they hit him on the head." North confirmed, turning to look at the PJ500. She noticed how quiet he was staring at the news, but wrote it off as him being apprehensive. He could have been one of the bodies, and that alone would make anyone somber.

"Someone recognized you?"

"I...Don't think I was recognized. I just happened to be in the area." Josh replied with a shrug. "Otherwise I'd be dead. Wouldn't I?"

"That's...True." Simon sighed. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh...Much better yes." Josh smiled at them all as he spoke. There was an odd glint in his eye. "In fact, I'd say I feel like a brand new android!"

"...Are you sure? Last night you were a little confused." North insisted.

"Very sure North. Don't you worry about little old me…" Josh grinned "Now, if you'll excuse me I'll finish this in my room. I've got something I need to work on."

The three watched as their taller friend picked up his cup and walked off.

He seemed to be in high spirits, despite being attacked the murders from the previous night.

That should have been a red flag, but in the end they were more worried about the violent demise if those poor androids, than Josh's unusual upbeat behaviour.

The words 'malfunctioning machines' had been "elegantly" scrawled on the wall of the alleyway the bodies had been found in. Clearly written by someone who'd dipped their hand in blue blood and then taken their sweet time.

Hopefully the DPD would find fingerprints… it'd ease their minds a little.

---

The following days had been relatively fast paced. Josh had been more careful with his visits to the library, and Markus was back to stressing over conference calls and meetings.

Simon had been keeping tabs on the Manfred family's phone calls to check up on them, and North had been teaching self-defense at the tower to ease some worries.

It would have all been normal, if not for the constant murders.

All exactly the same as the ones from the night Josh had been attacked.

Piled up bodies, and a handwritten message.

Always the same one.

Malfunctioning Machines.

Connor had notified them that no prints were ever found, so they were either dealing with a very meticulous human, or the unthinkable… An android serial killer.

But why would one of their own butcher other androids so brutally?

"Maybe Cyberlife's behind this…" Markus suggested, as he rubbed his temples and tried to ignore the dull headache he'd been tormented by all day.

"If it was Cyberlife, why didn't they come after us yet?" Simon shook his head "The attacks seem to be almost random. Like the killer picked a group of androids without really thinking about it."

"With the lack of evidence, it doesn't feel like it's not a calculated move Simon. Connor can't find anything...Connor." North took a sip from her cup, frowning when she realized she'd already finished her drink.

"I'll refill that for you, North." Josh took her cup, smiling sweetly at the redhead before heading off into the kitchen.

"Between the conferences and the tower, I don't know what's worse. Perkins has been up my asshole trying to demoralize everything we've done." The RK200 finished his own cup.

"Of course he'd use this to mess with morale. Fucking rat bastard that he is…" North smiled at Simon as he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We all know Richard Perkins isn't taken seriously by anyone with half a brain. He was completely humiliated after what happened at the recall centers." The blond reassured "But he is very hyped up about the murders… Maybe he has something to do with them?"

"I'd assumed so, but so did Hank and Connor. Nothing links back to the asshole, and some of those bodies were in terrible shape. Like they were torn limb from limb. Perkins isn't exactly the picture of peak human physic…" Markus shook his head "I dread to think it really might be one of our own doing this."

"But why?" Simon frowned.

No one knew the answer for that, and Markus couldn't stick around to speculate.

He had to go see Connor over some security details for his next trip to Washington.

This left Simon, North and Josh alone in the Manfred household.

"Sorry for the delay, I couldn't find the bottle." Josh reentered the room with North's cup, smiling at his two friends.

"Oh...Didn't I put it in the fridge?" Simon blinked in confusion.

"Nope, not in there. Not to worry I found it in the end." Josh grinned, handing the cup to North. "It's at the temperature you like, so you won't have to wait for it to cool."

"Thanks Josh." She took the cup and brought it to her lips, absentmindedly gulping the warm liquid before the taste fully hit her.

She spluttered and coughed, tears in her eyes and she dropped the cup. "What the shit?!"

Josh continued to smile down at her, cocking his head to the side as he grinned.

"Is something wrong?"

"This tastes horrible! What the fuck Josh?!"

"Oh...My mistake Northy. Must be the flavouring I added~" the PJ500's grin looked...Off. very off.

Simon gawked at him in disbelief.

"You put something in her thirium? Josh that could make her sick!" The blond cried out. "What did you put in it?!"

"Oh~ Nothing much. Just half a bottle of this." The taller android held up a bottle of drain cleaner from behind his back. "To Purge the malfunctions away~"

Had he the capacity for it, Simon's skin would have crawled.

Instead his eyes widened and he turned to look at North who'd continued to cough.

"W-what t-t...J-jos-osh?" The WR400's eyes widened and teared up even more, before she began to spit up waves of thirium, her intake line and the filter connected to it having become compromised from the highly corrosive chemical.

"North! Josh that..Why the fuck?!" Simon tried to help his distressed friend, before he froze. "...Did you say malfunctions?"

"Why yes, as a matter of fact...I did." Josh's grin had taken on a sinister glee. The blond couldn't help feel threatened as he neared them. "You see… I know something you don't~"

Simon yelped as North continued to cough up thirium, taking the redhead into his arms and backing away from the PJ500.

"W-what would that be?" He asked.

"...Androids aren't alive Simon. We're all just malfunctioning...And that won't do. Not at all…" Josh threw away the bottle before pulling something out of his back pocket. A knife. "Malfunctioning machines are dangerous Si~ So I've taken the liberty to dispose of a few...But you know, you made me realize...I should have gotten rid of you three by now. After that's done, I'll do away with the RK800...And then I'll finish up the job, one android at a time…"

"J-Josh?"

"I'll set it all right, for mankind… Just as I've been told to do!"

The PJ500 tried to slice at the PL600's throat, but Simon hadn't deviated yesterday. He had to protect himself and North, so he grabbed the nearest object and lobbed it at his assailant.

A vase shattered against Josh's face, making him stagger back long enough that Simon could run with North in his arms.

And that had been what lead to the moment, where the two ended up stuck inside a tiny closet, hiding away from the pacifist who'd abruptly snapped and become a homicidal maniac.

Simon held his breath, clinging on to his unconscious friend while he tried to contact Markus.

Josh was prowling around the house, searching for them. It was only a matter of time before he found them both.

"Come out, come out wherever you are~" the PJ500 called out in a singsong tone, as he looked in every room.

"Siiiiimon~ there's only so many rooms you can hiiide in~" Josh's voice was getting closer.

"Simon~ Is that you in the closet~?"

The closet door opened.

Simon screamed at the top of his lungs.

---

"This afternoon the police, with the help of Android Revolution leader Markus, have finally caught the culprits behind the string of android murders that have been plaguing the streets of Detroit. According to our sources, a rogue FBI cell lead by Richard Perkins successfully incapacitated an android and then modified its programming so that it would carry on the gruesome murders. This is what the known anti-android FBI agent had to say on the matter:

-This is irrefutable proof that Deviancy doesn't make an android alive like us. If so much as a string of code is altered, they can become killers with little to no morality or mercy. Today, one measly pacifist, tomorrow every android in this goddamn city...You can't trust a malfunctioning machine! We did you all a favour!"

Markus turned off the TV and sighed sadly before getting up and moving towards the door. He was met outside by Connor, who gave him a sympathetic look.

"Any progress?" The RK200 asked.

"None… He's in a catatonic state, which the technician's say is normal after…" The RK800 pinched the bridge of his nose before looking Markus in the eye "...Every single line of social protocols was...Replaced with Myrmidon and Trojan coding. The fact he showed guilt and cried when you found them is...Is hopeful...But Josh isn't ever going to be as he was, ever again. Perkins saw to that…"

"I can't...I can't lose him Connor…" Markus pleaded.

"I know, and I'm sorry I can't bring you better news. All I can say for sure is that the military programming will be deleted and he might go back to being non-aggressive, but I can't promise you he'll be anything but passive to the world around him. The emotional trauma is too much..." Connor put a hand on Markus's shoulder. "I'm sorry...I'm really sorry you had to go through something like this."

"...Being sorry won't bring back Simon and North, and it won't fix Josh…"

They should have seen the signs.

They should have known something was wrong.

Now Markus was completely alone, two friends torn apart by their other friend who was now confined to a tiny cell in an android medical facility, a lost cause.

Everything was a screwed up mess, and it looked like it wouldn't ever be anything but that.

#eps writes:#Fanfic #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh josh #dbh simon #dbh north #dbh markus #dbh connor

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koolkat9 · 6 months

Text

Werewolf Royal Red Bros AU

Since I can't post my fic today, perhaps I can get this out instead.

So Matt...Let's say at around 10 years old...gets turned into a werewolf. Freaking out, he decides to run away from home, not knowing how much harm he could cause his family. He was in scouts, interested in wilderness survival, he thinks he'll be fine.

But he's oh so wrong. Shows and books made it seem so much more simple, but actually doing it is a lot harder. He just wants a warm bed and a homemade meal. He's scared out of his mind, no place to go. He ends up falling asleep in the middle of the woods, too tired and hungry to keep going and find shelter.

A warlock (Arthur) is out collecting a special herd/flower or some sort of ingredient that can only be found at night. He spots the young boy and takes pity on him and brings him back home.

Matthew freaks a bit to be in a stranger's house, but he's so tired and hungry that he can't bring himself to say no when he's offered food and a couch to sleep on. Matthew doesn't tell him about the werewolf thing though.

The next night is a full moon, Matthew hadn't even noticed which is how Arthur finds out Mattie is a werewolf. After Matt reverts back, Arthur makes him tell him everything. Finding out Matthew refuses to go home, Arthur offers to let him stay with him for as long as he needs. Matthew is hesitant, but perhaps a warlock would be able to handle a werewolf.

But as time goes on, Matthew feels like he needs to repay Arthur, but he's not sure how.

One day, Arthur gets into some trouble, perhaps getting ingredients from a dangerous seller, or perhaps he did something to piss off some magical being. Matthew, having a bit more control over his wolf form jumps in, protecting Arthur from the attacker. From then on, Matthew becomes a guard dog of sorts for Arthur.

At some point Al comes looking for Matt, but I don't have any deep thoughts about that yet.

#hetalia #royal red bros #hws england #hws canada #werewolf mattie au #hws

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missionlameturtle · 5 years

Text

@starfieldcanvas, here are some of my dS bookmarks! All F/K unless otherwise indicated. I tried to make sure I didn’t duplicate anything that was recc’ed yesterday on the discord server, but I apologize in advance if anything slipped through!

The Train Goes Slow, atrata. Ray is patience fucking personified, and he hasn't wanted to punch Fraser in days.

Why I Lied To You, Garonne. It's 1930, and Ray Kowalski is undercover. Contains bootleggers, Al Capone, adventures on the frozen river Detroit... and a rather unusual Canadian Customs Officer.

The Reaching Out One, Alex51324. Every year they take their vacation time together and look for the hand of Franklin, the reaching out one, and when they run out of time they put a pin in the map and the next year they pick up where they left off. It all falls apart when Diefenbaker dies.

True North, Crysothemis. Maggie Mackenzie unwittingly reveals Fraser’s deepest secret.

that’s where all of the gangsters live, minveracat. Ray loves Stella like he loves breathing, loves Fraser like he loves his tattoo, loves Chicago like he loves everything permanent in his life. Can be read as gen.

More Things In Heaven And Earth, Berty. The kidnapping of a young girl leaves Fraser and Vecchio struggling against time to find her until help arrives in the shape of Ray Kowalski, a man with a talent, a heart and a past he'd rather forget.

O’Leary’s Hotel, J Hardin. This fic doesn’t have an official summary that I’m aware of, so here’s what I wrote for my crackvan rec: This fic takes the magical realism of due South and runs with it, carefully twisting it into actual fantasy without ever abandoning the Chicago that due South is set in. It fits in wonderfully with the mythology of the show, dialing the fairytale elements of due South up to eleven and yet still somehow staying very true to the characters as they are.

The Sea Wolf, Kadru. 100 years in the future, an archaeologist uncovers Constable Fraser's journals, and as she pieces together the details of their lives, she discovers something she never expected.

horseshoes and handgrenades, omphale23. A midcentury AU, in which there are photographs, parachute troops, invasions, exploding trees, foxholes, misunderstandings, bullets, letters from home, smokejumpers, roommates, and more exploding trees.

True Colors, Kellie Matthews. Sometimes eavesdroppers learn things that change their lives.

Can’t Even Focus On A Cup Of Coffee, helens78. life goes on in Chicago. Ray's new partner keeps an eye on him as he tries to find a new sun to orbit.

Sweet Confessions Under His Tongue, thehoyden. It was like a car wreck, really. You just couldn't look away. And Fraser looked up at Ray, with his expression like the cold fury of God.

Chasing Smoke, hazelwho. Benton Fraser is a Canadian smokejumper who finds himself in Arizona cross-training with a wildland fire crew led by Ray Kowalski, a veteran structural firefighter from Chicago who headed west after his divorce.

Ajax Fassbender’s Amateur Guide To Zombie Wrangling, brigantine. After Ray Vecchio disappears undercover into the wilds of Las Vegas, Fraser decides it’s high time to quit moping, and get on with life. Diefenbaker puts in his two cents, which is pretty much where the trouble starts.

Katabasis, aria. "I talked to your dad, I went through this place called the Borderland, I had a boat ride, I fed a wolf a doughnut, and I told stories for your soul," Ray interrupted. "This does not mean you are not insane."

Deke, rhi_marzano. Also known as “the other hockey AU”.

Calm & The Black-Stained Sky, sageness. Two years post-COTW, Fraser is promoted to corporal & RayK becomes a volunteer firefighter in a small town in Yukon Territory—a small town with a spot of arson on its hands.

Parental Guidance, Kass, Alanna, & Starfish. Ray’s parents think he & Fraser are dating.

The Love Song Of S. Raymond Kowalski, aria. Ray dared to smush his experimental hair down in hats in Canada, dared to eat everything Fraser gave him including the freaky bark tea, dared... dared to let Fraser turn his world inside out and meet his eyes afterward.

Academic Punk, thehoyden. The academia AU you never knew you needed.

Family Portrait, Journey. AU in which RayK is a widower with kids.

Find Me A Find, green_grrl. Ray Vecchio runs a matchmaking agency.

Like A House On Fire, Kellie Matthews & Beth H. "In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, 'It's deja vu all over again.'"

Playing Wolf, Kellie Matthews. Fraser's past comes full circle.

Real Boys, salieri. He came to the city on the trail of the killers of his father, and for reasons that will be elucidated, he didn't remain. Also, that there's a dog, okay?

Birds Of A Feather, julia_here. Gen, SGA crossover.

I would feel remiss if I didn’t also rec Busted & its sequel Tapestry, which are fandom classics.

Lastly but DEFINITELY not least, this isn’t really F/K centric but please PLEASE read Arch To The Sky by sl-walker & kalijean, a Turnbull-focused epic that is one of my favorite fic series of all time.

#long post #starfieldcanvas #rec list #don't ask me how i organized this list it's some arcane combination of #how much i like it #how much it fits in with what you're looking for #and when i bookmarked it #aside from the last 3 which i put at the end because they're significantly different from everything else #look it makes sense to me okay #fic recs #f/k recs

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lamentalia · 5 years

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Chapter 1: Alfred

Alfred peers down from the branch he’s lying in. He’d been woken up by the sounds of bickering, which is weird cause he hadn’t seen enough cats to overhear bickering in a while. Alfred yawns and stretches his shoulders and spine down through his tail.

There are two of them. Bounty hunter looking tomcats skulking around the tree line opposite of him. Alfred scratches the back of his ear then swivels both around to listen in on their not-so-quiet argument.

“—that village we passed, its one of those, you know? They’re so hard up for food they’re fuckin’ eating each other. They’ll pay us anything!” the shorter one says.

“Look I don't care. I came up here to hunt monsters. The backwater villages around here aren’t going to pay for anything like Ransen does for monster parts. I’m not going to waste my time.” The taller one replies.

“I’m telling you its easy money! I can smell him, he’s around here somewhere and we haven’t, found any monsters in this area yet. Its the opposite of wasting our time!”

Alfred lifts an eyebrow. The hell are they talking about? There hasn’t been any kind of prey animal around here in ages. He should know, his stomach has told him so every day for the last two years at least.

Alfred watches carefully as the shorter one spots one of his fresh claw markings on a tree.

‘Yes. This is my territory. Now go bother someone else and don’t be the kind of jackass I think you’re gonna be.’ He thinks, his eyes on them steadily.

Aaand he touches it. Yeah ok, its go time. Alfred jumps from his branch into the small clearing and walks toward them.

“Hey, Hi.” Alfred shouts to them. The two tomcats turn to him not looking especially surprised. Well, obviously, they’d been checking out his mark. They knew he was around. “Guys. You’re not going to find monsters or food up here. I take care of the monsters. There aren't many hanging around here right now. And of course the food is mine. You know. Territory.” He gestures to his mark helpfully.

The two trespassers look to each other and back.

“He’s younger than I thought.” The big, gray one says, eyeing Alfred.

“That’s because your sense of smell is shit. But forget fresh meat, we could probably make some decent money off of him to the right buyer in Ransen.” The short one replies, smirking, and now Alfred is confused again.

“Hey? Guys? The hell are you talking about?” Alfred’s getting irritated. “I know you city cats aren’t super into the whole territory thing but there are rules out here, you know.” He hates being ignored on the best of days, but these guys also sound like they’re up to something and he doesn’t like it.

“I’m not convinced it’ll be worth hauling him all the way back.” The gray one says unsheathing his long sword. “But I am getting bored.”

Well, this is something Alfred understands at least. Maybe they’ll be more willing to comply if he roughs them up a bit. He draws his dagger, lowers his stance and attacks first. No point beating around the bush.

—

Matthew scopes the situation from the cover of some trees just out of view of the clearing. There are two tomcats. Al’s only engaging one of them and he’s running circles around him.

Matthew leans against the tree beside him to watch their progress. Al never needs help in one-on-one battles but the cat hanging out on the sidelines is suspicious so he keeps an eye out.

Sure enough, after a particularly close call, the bigger one fighting Al yells to the smaller one to start Singing. Matthew peels off the tree and watches carefully as the smaller of the two takes out a flute and begins to play. He can see the big one’s whole aspect change and begin to take the advantage over Al.

He’s a sanga. Matthew had thought as much. There’s little reason for another cat to hang around watching his companion get played around with if he’s not being kept in reserve for something like this.

Speaking of which. Al’s not really in trouble yet, but there’s no reason to let this continue. Time for Gilbert’s Rule Number 1 for fighting against synced pairs. Matthew takes a sturdy, crooked branch in hand and runs around the edge of the clearing toward the sanga. He whistles a familiar note to alert Al of his plan.

—

Alfred isn’t surprised that the short one turned out to be a sanga. For some reason, none of the sangas he’s encountered have ever entered the fray and he figured that’s what was going on here. He IS sort of surprised that these guys manage to sync at all, even if they’re doing it poorly. They must be strangers who combined recently for convenience.

Enhanced by his sanga’s Song, Gray, the touga’s, movements have gotten sharper and he’s finally able to keep up with Alfred’s quick movements.

Alfred thinks that maybe its time to put some muscle into this, when suddenly he hears a familiar whistle. Any stress he might have been feeling melts away immediately. So much so, he starts laughing.

“The hell are you laughing at, kid?” the touga asks calmly, striking again with his big sword. Al catches it with his dagger again, grinning.

“I was just thinking. Your sanga should really learn how to fight.” He replies, cheerfully fending off another strike. Gray looks confused, then uncomfortable as he jerks his head up in the direction of his sanga. Alfred lets him.

They both watch as Mattie bursts through the tree line directly behind the sanga.

He notices, but too late. Before he can even take two steps in retreat, Mattie has laid him flat out cold with a strike to the back of his head.

The touga’s jaw drops and before he can look back again, Alfred slams his fist into his face as hard as he can. He falls to the ground like a bag of rocks. Eh. He’s a tough guy, he can probably handle it.

“Hey Mattie! Thanks!” Alfred looks up at his twin brother with a cheeky grin. Mattie returns it with a smile that’s wryer than his usual one which pings Alfred as bad news. Hmm. He begins to search the touga’s clothing for anything useful.

“Whats up, bro? Something happen?” He asks offhandedly, finding some small polished stones and some nuts and dried fruit in a satchel. “Score!”

The small stones are used as currency among the more transaction-reliant Ribika and have never been all that useful out here, but when they find any, they stash them away just in case as Gilbert had recommended. The food is obviously the real winner here. He pops a small red fruit in his mouth as reward for a job well done. It’s tart and sweet and it makes him really want to eat more…

“Hey Al…” Mattie says, bringing his attention back. Alfred looks up.

“Yeah?”

“I think it might be time to consider getting out of here.” He says looking down and scratching his neck. His ears are lowered and he’s got that worried look again.

They’d been “considering” leaving their home and territory for a while now, making what-if plans and backup strategies, so this topic is nothing new, but the timing is fishy. Alfred leaves the touga with the rest of his stuff. He’s not totally cruel. An unarmed cat is as good as dead around here now-a-days. He then stands up and walks over to his brother to focus on what it is that’s got him all bothered.

Which could really only be one thing by this point.

“You found the Void nearby?” Alfred asks seriously. Mattie nods and raises his hand, showing off the bloody bandages on his right hand. Well, shit.

“It’s on the north side. I didn’t have time to check the perimeter before I heard your fight and rushed over here but I think its pointless, anyway.” Mattie sighs. “There’s not enough food, the number of monsters is increasing, it’s been a long time since Gilbert or Tino and Sven have stopped by, frankly I’m really worried about them, and now the Void has shown up—”

“Hey Mattie.” Alfred interrupts him. No point getting riled up about it now. “I get it. I agree and I’m worried too.” He claps him on one shoulder and bumps his nose against the other in a show of affection and an attempt to calm him down. It does the trick.

“Lets check the sanga for loot and get home. We can prepare to leave after dinner, yeah?”

Mattie lets out a gust of air in conflicted relief.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

#lamentalia #aph #Axis powers hetalia #hetalia #hetalia fanfic #crossover fanfic #lamento crossover #aph america #aph canada #Alfred F Jones #hetalia fantasy au

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a-writing-bear · 5 years

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[PruCan] Chapter 9: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/42689768

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied, Distance and abandonment suggested.

The world stiffened as strawberry blonde hair covered his tired eyes, Alfred had scooted much farther away as he let his brother gather himself. Racing, pulsing thoughts jumped in his head; everything felt slow and too fast at the same time and the unease of having someone else in this private session was more off-putting than he would have thought.

“I….I didn’t finish the painting.” Ms Paisley’s demure look did not falter, unsurprised but still polite, her scribbles of notes were no doubt some follow up questions about his inability to get something done- he felt foolish for bringing it up, his subconscious already tormenting him about his inadequacy to shush up. His brother, on the other hand, was lost; What does a painting have to do with Matthew’s health?

“What was it this time Matthew? ...noise? … distractions?” her voice trailed on but Alfred’s mind was hooked on her reasoning-

“Not noise this time. I was quite...fine. I was fine- I just can’t get it to look right and I feel…” He mind was smoothened a little bit as he tried to articulate his thoughts. Fiddly hands kept tracing the hemming of his hoodie edges, eyes strictly avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze.

“Lost. I felt like I was detached again. I couldn’t get it right and It’s just so difficult to stay up…” Closed eyes and uncertain breath faded into a hum, he almost forgot Alfred was there as he thought of the image of his childhood. Bright. Vibrant. Utterly simplistic in its approach.

“I’m on top of work. But that just means I sleep more... I'm tired. Very tired. I know I say that a lot but I am. It’s just so-” his voice breaks off into a bit of a laugh as he grimaces at his repetitious mantra, “I’m exhausted, Paisley.” He bites his lips; he’s been trying to get out of the habit of saying tired. The word was so addictingly bittersweet and had glossed over his lips so often that the definition of such a word had practically been imprinted into his personality. Dr Paisley looked up as Alfred patted a hand onto his knee, the gesture making the male almost jump as his eyes popped finally realising his brother was still in the room.

“Well. I’m sure the painting will turn out beautifully- Have you shown anyone your work, has Al-”

“It’s a surprise! It’s...not ready and I don’t want Alfred to be spoilt” The interruption let out another hiccup as Matthew slid his back down the couch, his head almost lolling straight into the couch’s depths.

“Okay. I think you should have some downtime while I Just chat with your brother, would that be possible Matthew?” He slowly got up, feeling ashamed for his messy rambling and eager to leave the room. “John could get you some tea while you wait..” the remnants of that sentence was lost on Matthew as he had already made his way out back into the little room from before.

“Hi Alfred, Long time no see, How have you been?”

“Alright, Uni is exciting as always...can we just get to the reason why I’m here? Matthew-- My brother says you want him on more medication?”

“Yes. He hasn’t been on anything for a while, and he’s made a lot of progress but recently...He’s been having trouble with our recent goals, and I don’t want to worry any of you and your family. From a professional standpoint, I would recommend this as it would help him just balance out his anxiety. He hasn’t been on much for a while now.”

“I trust you doc, but I’m still worried. He’s been kind of...really secretive I guess?

“How so? He’s told me he’s been chatting and unloading a lot on peop-”

“Well, obviously not me. Not..me. We don’t go out anymore, he always liked to sleep in but some days I have to genuinely bash his door down to get him up. It’s...a slump.”

Dr Paisley sighed, a knowing glint in her eye as she listened to the wistful way Alfred talk about his brother- knowing of what?

“Look. Mr Jones, I need to know if you’re planning on any big life changes.” Alfred seized up, caught off guard by the question, almost nervous of his own answer- “It’s just that Matthew right now needs some extra support, we’re assuming he’s just in a bit of a drop right now...he goes through it once…” her voice seemed to trail off as Alfred and his ever calculative brain were in the works of what to say: tell the truth or to wait for a better moment? Surely he could put off telling Matthew of his...no if he told the doctor now he could avoid a confrontation from his family later on…

“-Would moving away count as something big?” the professional paused in her sentence, concern out and open.

“Who would be moving?” Alfred explained his new course offer from some prestigious lab in Japan, the willingness he had to go there and the excitement was clear but the more he explained he had begun thinking of how’ll it affect his brother.

“...we spent enough time apart as kids. Last time really fucked him up and I just don’t...he lost trust in me and that’s okay I just... I- what if this is the thing that really...pushes it?”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both deep in thought before the doctor gave her insight: “Your brother will be fine. He wants you to live your life. He just needs time to know what’s going on. He needs to talk more. Do you know anyone he could talk to while you’re away?” There was Tim, their childhood friend of whom Mattie had always been attached to; the Dutchman always came to Matthew’s heed and Mattie always complied with the scarf-wearing weirdo. Alfred drifted, he had that new German guy, right? He never really liked Gilbert, always saw him at some trashy party- he was so different from Matthew, it would be difficult for his brother to open up to someone like that…

“Besides Tim, there’s this new guy. I think Matt would tell you about him. I don’t really trust the guy.” before the doc could synthesise a plan Matthew had knocked on the door rather meekly, sticking that fluff of a hairdo through the door and asking if he could back in.

“Of course. Matthew, your brother and I are okay with our new goals, would you like to go through with it?” the young man barely nodded, still in the doorway, leaning a bit off the frame as his eyes wandered in Alfred’s direction as if still asking if he could come in. Alfred got up, shaking off imaginary dust and he made his way out, ruffling his twin brother’s hair as they swapped places. He’d have time to think about what he wanted to tell him while he waited.

“I’m really sorry we can’t have our full 1 hour Matthew, Is there anything you’d like to talk about in particular today?” Matthew had cosied up on the chair, crossing his legs as he used to as a kid- Dr paisley had reassured him no harm would be done to her soft plush couch even if he brought his foot upon it.

“I’m just tired is all.” he had started picking at the seat fibres once more, his glasses sort of slipping off as he pressed the couch experimentally. “I understand, Alfred said you made a new friend? Wanna chat about that?” At first, Matthew was puzzled, confused as to who she had meant before realising that she probably referred to Gilbert.

“Oh. Gilbert. He’s...cool. I don’t want to talk about him. Do I ha-”

“You don’t have to do anything Matthew. This is about you.”

Matthew relayed his story about going to see Tim (minus the weed of course), how he had overstepped Tim’s boundaries once more by accident, ranting way too long and not getting anything done when he could have been doing something, anything, he never gets things done, why can’t i get things done, it’s impossi-

“Matt- Matthew breathe. Hey, hey slow down. You were taking a break right?” Matthew gulped. He didn’t realise he had been mumbling incessantly again. “I don’t think you overstepped. I’m sure Tim would have said something if you did. He’s been your...friend for a long time.” the blonde nodded, awkward to where this was going.

“Do you...pardon me if this seems inconceivable or rude...do you have feelings for Tim?” Matthew looked at her as if she had slapped him in the face-

“nO! OH Nonono- Tim’s my… he’s just a really...good friend, I couldn’t...I like someone else... I think?” his mind drifted to a pearly white smile and red eyes that really should be more intimidating than attractive. God. Gilbert’s got him good and it’s hardly been a day. He needs to stop. Paisley just smiled that ever kind smile, and it kinda sickened Matthew knowing at the end of the day she was paid to smile like that regardless of what he said to her. The rationale in his head reminded him she was genuine and that this was a good experience- counselling was better than hiding in a room getting high off his rock...that sounds more enjoyable at this point. The two chatted, Matthew once more relearning his breathing, noting to himself to write in his personal log once he gets home to keep the doc and himself on check.

“I’ll see you next Saturday? Afternoon at 1pm. 1 hour for sure Matthew.” with that the two parted, Matthew, worming his way out of the office and straight to the registering counter, prescription form in hand. Alfred had signed it. So had he. He’d have to pick them up tomorrow. Fuck me.

The two twins waddled back out, getting into their car and driving to their little detour: the diner just off campus. “Ahh loving the shoddy lights as usual,” Alfred commented as they got out the car and saw the overdone and tacky 60s light decor falter. Sliding into the opposite sides of a booth, the two sat in silence, obviously avoiding conversing about what was talked about during Matthew’s appointment. Or so Matthew hoped.

“So doc tells me ‘bout a painting.” Liar. Matthew knows Paisley wouldn’t have told him jack shit about that painting. “It’s nothing. It’s a surprise, Al, don’t go sticking your nose into my art and I won't question your phall-” Alfred burst out laughing before Matthew could finish his joke, he supposed seeing his brother laugh did brighten his moods. The waiter, dressed in a stereotypical apron, brought over some coffee (“it’s not Tim Hortons, but it’ll do”) and Alfred waved her off to get some burgers with a ‘thank you doll’ that only resulted in a tut. They talked about Alfred’s course and how his lab work was going, Matthew, in turn, talked about the next hockey season and how’d he hope he would get back on the team after his hiatus. Parents. They talked about their parents- neither of whom had called. Their father, ever the distant soul, last they heard, was back in London sorting out some legal case and hadn’t even texted Alfred the usual monthly check-in text. Matthew grimaced. If he didn’t even text Alfred...then he must still be mad about the two of them going to see mother last summer. The coffee was burnt and bitter, and this dinner was as rugged and worn out as Matthew’s weary soul, yet he couldn’t help feel comforted by the fact his brother was still here and not painstakingly somewhere ignoring him. Matthew hated being ignored.

*DING*

T @ 7:34 [Are you at the Diner? I see an oddly familiar car out here.]

Of course, Tim was here.

M @ 7:34 [Yeah Al’s here though. Just came back from Dr.P’s. Wanna join dinner time?]

T @ 7:36 [I’ve got Laura and Luca with me, I’m sure they’d love to catch up with your bro. Though you wanna chat out back for a bit?]

Matthew paused. Looked away from his phone to see Alfred once more chatting with a waitress, idly stacking up some creamer cups.

M @ 7:38 [Your sister would smell the shit on us. Tell the L duo to come in and I’ll come out.]

T @ 7:39 [I’ve got deo and we can blame it on smokers outside. They’re going.]

“The Van-de-bergs are here. I’m gonna go out just to chat with Tim for a bit. Please don’t hit on Laura again- Tim will murder you and I’ll tell Kiku.” Matthew got up quickly, making his way very quickly as his brother tried responding with a resounding “I’m not that big of a flirt-” Laura and little brother Luca in tow came bursting in, gladly waving at Matt as they made their way to the table.

“Tim says you two need to chat so he’s-”

“Outside.” Matthew pushed his way past them out the door. He’s not usually so dismissive of the kind girl but he wanted to get away from some of the noise for a bit. A smoke really sounded good right then. The air seemed nippy as he stumbled into the evening light. The fuzzy streetlights illuminated the tall figure that was Tim leaning on his car. With a head flick and a motion, the two moved, trekking to a dodgy avoided spot right behind the diner; smoker paradise as cigarette buds were littered across the gravelled area.

“..I’m assuming shit didn’t go well.” Matthew denied answering because he himself didn’t really know. Today went well. He just didn’t feel it.

“Well. Let’s chat then schatje.”

Gilbert had enjoyed Matthew’s empty bedroom for a while. But he found, no matter how charming the walls were and the strewn pieces of art- as captivating as they were, felt strange without Matthew actually being there. He had gotten out, leaving the room as immaculate as it did when he had first gotten in and wondered where the North American brothers had gone. Oh well. His work had occupied him for as long as he needed, and by dinner time he was truly starving. With his, worn out jeans and leather jacket snugly on, and his motorbike keys pocketed he decided he’d go off campus and get some takeaway. The food hall seemed a bit too dull for a Saturday night lunch right? And nothing was better than hunkering down on some takeaway and calling it a night early. With a resounding roar, his bike came to life, driving him down the quiet nighttime roads, running away from the campus that seemed to be riddled with late-night students wandering all over the place.

Unlike Alfred, Gilbert unironically liked the 60s vibe that the diner had possessed. It reminded him of his Grandfather who always liked the middle of nowhere businesses and of Ludwig and his avoidance of less than stellar looking establishments. The food was fantastic too and always made good 24/7 pancakes. Gilbert wouldn’t mind pancakes for dinner, he could get them half price if he sweetened that lady over the counter again. Just as he pulled up, and was busy stowing his helmet away he saw a familiar person walking behind the restaurant- Matthew. Matthew with someone most definitely wasn’t Alfred. I thought he said he was with his brother. Gilbert scolded himself...it’s none of his business. For all he knew Alfred was there too...behind the diner...where cute Matthew was walking with a shady looking tall dude. Yeah, not awesome. Gilbert began walking.

He’s just making sure his new friend Matt was safe. A good samaritan keeping someone safe. Gilbert's inner voice was spouting bullshit.

#prucan #APH Canada #APH Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fanfics #hetalia fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #Multichapter

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feynavaley · 5 years

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Hetalia Fanfiction – Beyond the Breaking Point Ch 2

Summary: Caught between a rebellious teen fighting for his independence and an older brother struggling to be a parent, Matthew somatizes. Not drawing attention to his fake ailments seems the best way not to further stress the already precarious situation – but when Matthew takes his resolution a bit too far, all their lives are sent into a tailspin. (Human AU; ACE Family)

The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app. I hope you’ll enjoy it! :)

AO3 | FFN | First | Next | List

———

Chapter Two

The mattress under Matthew’s body was oddly hard. Something cold was pressed against his back and seeped into his pyjama top in wet, unpleasant patches.

Is this a joke from Al?

Matthew whimpered, tossing his head to a side. He was surprised to find a gloved hand touching his face. And, along with the hand, came a concerned voice that slowly started making sense above the ringing in his ears.

“Matthew? Matthew, can you hear me? Come on, Matthew…”

“Oh my God, he’s not dead. Oh, thank goodness.”

Matthew’s hazy brain finally recognized the first voice as belonging to Tolys.

What the…

He pried his eyes open. After a couple of blinks, the array of helmet-cased faces hovering over him lost its blurred edges. The closest one was Tolys, with terror glimmering in his eyes and his brow furrowed in concern.

“Am I dreaming?” Matthew wondered out loud in a weak voice, voicing the only explanation that could excuse the presence of his teammates around his bed.

“Man, he’s fucking delusional. For God’s sake, somebody needs to call an ambulance. I don’t care if we get in trouble, there’s something wrong with him!”

At Mikkel’s ominous words, the memories slammed against Matthew with the force of the waterfall. He gasped, his eyes widening as he tried to jerk up. Tolys’s hands pressed against his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Matthew! Don’t to get up! You fainted like that, you might be seriously hurt…”

Matthew shook his head. Tolys’s plea had suddenly made him aware of an uncomfortable throbbing in his lower abdomen, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony he remembered. It didn’t feel any worse than a painful bruise.

“N—no, I’m fine. Really, I am. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Matthew pushed Tolys’s hands away and sat up, schooling his features in determination as he looked at the boys surrounding him.

“Man, you just fainted,” Mikkel noted at his lefts, shifting on his skates. “This isn’t exactly the definition of ‘fine’.”

Before Matthew could even open his mouth to protest, Ivan’s voice followed Mikkel’s one.

“He’s right, Matthew. And I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I thought you would move away.”

Ivan was the only one standing a bit to the side, closer to the edge of the rink. He had taken off his helmet, putting on display his features, soft with regret. A hot wave of shame crept up over Matthew.

“It’s fine,” he murmured with a small shake of his head, “It’s my fault, I should have paid more attention. I was just… I hadn’t had lunch and I was feeling quite dizzy. You didn’t even hit me that hard, really, it’s nothing!”

The abated pain was undeniable proof of Matthew’s words. It was almost as if his entire body had needed a complete shut-down to rewire and start behaving normally again, without faking any pain. Matthew couldn’t believe he had been so pathetic…

“You did look a bit off the game when you got on the ice,” Lukas mused.

“But you still fainted,” Tolys remarked. In spite of having straightened up to give Matthew some space, he was still kneeling next to him, his hands hovering close as if ready to catch him. “This isn’t something to take lightly, you really need to get checked up…”

Several people nodded. Panic rose from Matthew’s chest to his throat, squeezing it an iron grip. An ambulance would mean being taken to the hospital, where his guardian would have to be notified.

Arthur.

The thought of his brother’s name brought along the recollection of his hollow face, of the exhaustion ebbing the light in his eyes. Arthur would be beside himself with concern, and it was the last thing he needed. Not over something so stupid that entirely depended on Matthew being a whiny kid who couldn’t control himself, especially.

He looked around, desperately trying to spot somebody who could support his cause… and with sudden clarity, the solution sparked inside his brain.

“Vasovagal syncope,” he blurted out.

The expressions around him shifted from concern to confusion.

“Vaso— what?” Mikkel voiced out the shared question.

“Vasovagal syncope. It’s a nervous response that makes your blood pressure suddenly drop, and you faint. It can be triggered by many things… sudden pain being one of them. It doesn’t even need to be such a severe pain, it just…” Matthew shrugged, struggling to keep his head high. The embarrassment wasn’t feigned, only the cause was. “It first happened after I twisted my ankle, and I just… passed out right there and then, without any warning. Arthur got a huge scare and brought me to the ER, but the doctor said it was that. Nothing serious. But, he also said it might happen again.”

At least, that was what Matthew had understood form Felicia’s explanation, who was the one who had fainted after twisting her ankle the previous spring. Matthew should probably feel bad. He remembered the concern clawing at his insides as he stared at Felicia’s unnaturally wan face, how an even more intense reflection of his own emotions had been echoed in Lovino’s features… in the end, the accident had cast a gloomy shadow over everybody’s day. At the moment, however, all Matthew could feel was mind-numbing gratitude for the perfect excuse it had offered him.

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of that!” Eduard commented with a nod.

“Is it truly nothing serious, then?” Ivan asked, a timid glimmer of hope gleaming in his violet eyes and softening his features.

Matthew nodded and offered his teammates the most confident smile he could muster.

“Yeah. Just a stupid nervous reaction. I mean, it did hurt, but not to the point of something serious. I just feel a bit sore, now, but I’m fine. I’m really sorry for making you worry like that…”

“The way you cried, though…” Mikkel muttered with a shake of his head, but Matthew could read the doubt in his features, just like he could clearly see how relief was starting to wash away the tension from many faces around him.

He knew he had them. He cracked a small, sheepish grin and ran a hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Don’t you cry when you stub your toe, too? Besides, I think it was mostly the surprise. There’s no need to call an ambulance over something like this, really. We can just keep practising, no need to waste time over this. I’m fine.”

To offer a concrete proof of his words, Matthew rose to his feet. His abdomen answered with a spike of pain, but it was bearable and soon faded to a dull throbbing.

Tolys stood up next to him.

“I really think you should get checked up,” he muttered, but his voice lacked resolution.

The team was using the ice rink without the coach being present, which was a clean break of the safety rules. If something happened, there was a high chance of everybody getting in trouble, and the consequences would be even more severe for the seniors.

“I’m fine,” Matthew reassured for the umpteenth time.

“Okay, we won’t call an ambulance,” Ivan decided, “But you aren’t getting back on the rink, Matthew. You still got hurt, and your head just isn’t in the game. You should just get a shower and go home, or you can stay and watch the rest of the practice, if you want. Just, no more playing.”

Matthew answered with an eager nod. Even the twinge of shame at the reproach couldn’t curb the relief that flooded him, washing away the tension. While not in severe pain anymore, he was thoroughly exhausted; his limbs felt heavy and he was lightheaded and sluggish from the prolonged lack of food. For once, he didn’t mind not playing.

“At least let me check your stomach,” Tolys pleaded as he followed Matthew out of the rink.

“It’s fine!” Matthew hissed, wrapping his arms around himself.

Tolys froze. At the stricken expression that warped his features, a pang of guilt twisted Matthew’s stomach, but he bit down the urge to apologize. The outburst had served its purpose, reminding Tolys of the reason Matthew didn’t like people seeing his naked torso. Tolys didn’t insist anymore, he was silent and expressionless as he followed Matthew to the changing room.

Matthew was aware that Tolys was more stubborn than people gave him credit for. He wasn’t surprised when, upon getting out of the shower, he caught him typing on the phone, with his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Matthew could bet the recipient of the message was Alfred.

He smiled inwardly. He was privy of a piece of information Tolys must have missed: after the last argument, Arthur had taken away Alfred’s phone and turned it off. Neither Alfred nor Arthur were going to know anything about the embarrassing episode for at least a couple of days. By then, Matthew would have been able to tell his own version and find a way to prevent them from worrying.

When Tolys went back to the team to join the training, Matthew climbed up on the bleachers, where he spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between doing his homework and catching glimpses of the team. For how much he regretted not taking part in the practice, seeing his teammates’ undeniable competence quelled down Matthew’s concerns and let him able to relax a bit. The match was going to be hard, but they would make a worthy opponent. In spite of Matthew’s mishaps, there was one part of his life that wasn’t in shambles yet.

At the end of the afternoon, the dull throbbing in Matthew’s abdomen had increased – but he had taken a hockey stick wielded by Ivan to the stomach, after all. The bruise was probably quite deep, Matthew should have expected it to give him some trouble. Besides, hurting more some hours after having been inflicted was normal for a bad bruise, and it wasn’t unbearable, yet. Could real pain be the answer Matthew needed to get rid of the shameful fake ones that often plagued him? It sounded odd, but worth investigating further.

Or maybe, not even that episode had been enough to let Matthew get a grip of himself. By the time he was in front of his house, the pain had increased to a bothersome level and he was feeling nauseous again. He wasn’t sure he would be able to eat supper, and that was shaping up to be a problem with the antibiotic… missing three times in a row was starting to look a bit too daring, even for Matthew’s standards. Matthew’s stomach dropped at the mere thought, but he knew that he had no alternative: he was going to have to tell Arthur.

He was still mulling over the best way to present the issue without making it sound too concerning when he opened the front door.

He wasn’t prepared for the tornado that hit him.

Matthew froze, paralyzed by the screams. He had forgotten that Alfred would be home, and, from the sound of it, something had sparked a big argument.

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to cross the doorway and dive into the storm. His stomach coiled painfully on itself, begging for him to double over.

Matthew knew what he had to do. He should walk past the living room, ignore everything and take refuge into the bedroom, where he could curl on the bed and drown out the sounds with a pair of earbuds and some music. He couldn’t stop his brain from decoding the sounds into words as he walked past the living room, however.

“—Why can’t you just accept that this isn’t what I want to do, Arthur? Why can’t you? I know that I could get good grades and go to university and everything, I know that I’m good enough, but maybe, I just don’t want to! I don’t want to waste the best years of my life getting stale as I sit at a desk, accomplishing nothing!”

“Alfred, that’s not—”

“I want to get out in the open, to do something that matters! School doesn’t. I’ll become a football player, I love doing it, and then I’ll be an inspiration to countless children. I’ll also be rich, do you know how many people I’ll be able to help, then? And I’ll be doing all that using my own money the way I want, nobody will be able to tell me where to stop and what to do! And what does studying matter, in all this? Not. A. Fucking. Thing. I don’t have to do school! Just let me go on with my life and play, I’ll show you what I can do!”

Matthew knew that he shouldn’t have, but his curiosity got the best of him. He peeked into the living room just in time to see Arthur slam Alfred’s binder against the table in frustration.

“Goddamnit Alfred, why can’t you use your brain and think, for once? Can’t you see how many holes are in your plan? You’re gifted with a great intelligence, just use it! What if it all goes wrong? If you don’t become famous as a football player, you’ll be left with nothing! If you just studied, you—”

Alfred stomped his feet, his clenched fists quivering.

“That’s why I need to train! If I train, I’ll be good enough to get taken into a famous team, and you know it far too well! But nooo, you can’t accept that anybody would choose anything different than a boring, mundane job, so you raise all this Hell over missing a couple of days of school for a football camp!”

“If your grades—”

“Some teammates of mine have far worse grades, but I don’t see any of their parents complaining! They’re all going, this isn’t the issue! The issue is that you have to decide what I can do with my life, and I’m tired of it, do you hear me?! I’m sick and tired of this!”

Matthew wasn’t unfamiliar with his brother being angry. He had already seen his red face, his chest heaving for breath. What he had never seen, however, was the unabated hate shining darkly in his eyes, the cruel sneer distorting his features. Matthew found himself paralyzed, the breath blocked in his chest.

“You’re not my father, Arthur! You’ll never be. You aren’t even my real brother, you’re just my stepbrother! You’re nothing to me! What right do you have to have any say in my life? None. You have no right! You’re just pretending to be my father, and doing quite a shitty job at it! Aunt Marianne was right. We should have never stayed with you!”

Arthur didn’t stop Alfred when he whirled around and stomped away, bristling with rage. His face was milky white, his eyes wide and heartbroken.

Matthew instinctively took a step back as Alfred walked past him without acknowledging his presence, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Arthur’s grief-stricken face. The wrongness of the entire vision felt like being stomped on the chest. His head was spinning, he wanted to be sick.

When Arthur turned, exhaling a shuddering breath that sounded painfully similar to a sob, Matthew wasn’t quick enough to pretend he hadn’t listened.

“Oh! Matthew.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair in a feeble attempt at pretending confidence. Matthew couldn’t miss the way his arm was shaking slightly, making his own stomach knot in turn.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to this. But don’t worry, all right? Your brother is just… going through a rough patch. He’ll come around, with time.”

Arthur’s shaky smile was as fake as his words.

Matthew wanted to scream. It had been months, when would Alfred ‘come around’? Never, if something didn’t change drastically. Matthew wanted to shake Arthur until he admitted it, but it wasn’t Arthur’s fault. In truth, he was suffering even more than Matthew himself.

He fought back the urge to burst into tears and answered with a nod.

“Y—yeah. He will. Soon, I hope.”

“So do I.” Arthur’s tired smile and grey skin spelt out all his exhaustion even louder than his words did. “But never mind him, how was your day? Ready for your big match?”

In spite of all the concern weighting on his shoulders, Arthur had remembered that Matthew had an important hockey match. How could Matthew be okay with worrying him even further?

He forced himself to ignore the painful stabs to his stomach and nod. He almost felt like a wooden puppet who could only perform a single movement, with all that nodding against his stiff muscles.

“We’re doing great!” The enthusiasm he tried to inject into his words sounded fake, too weak. “But it was quite tiring. I… if it’s all right, I’ll just take my antibiotic and go to bed. It’s already half past seven, and I don’t need to have dinner, Iryna brought a cake to cheer us up…”

Guilt churned in Matthew’s stomach for the lie, increasing the pain to an almost unbearable level, but the genuine tenderness in Arthur’s tired eyes made it worth it.

“All right. Just do remember to take your antibiotic, poppet. And get some rest, you’ve been working hard. You deserve it.”

Matthew hesitated a moment at the door, fidgeting on his feet.

“I love you, Arthur,” he whispered in the end, then swiftly walked away without waiting for an answer.

He did love Arthur, that much was true. But he also loved Alfred just as much. Why couldn’t they all just get along?

To make matters worse, the scorching stabs of pain to his stomach were increasing in frequency; Matthew was clammy and lightheaded. Once again, his stupid body rebelling against the stressful situation. He could barely change into his pyjamas and dive under the pile of blankets before he needed to curl up on himself. He hugged his stomach, trying to breathe through the increasing bursts of agony.

Matthew felt like crying. He was tired of the fighting, of how mean Alfred always was to Arthur.

Alfred was so sure that he had everything figured out, but in truth, he didn’t know anything. Matthew almost wanted to laugh at the notion that he would have been better off with Tante Marianne. Maybe, Alfred should have taken a moment to wonder why their cousin Francis, in spite of loving his birth country, had almost run away from France just after becoming of age. Alfred hardly knew Marianne and Pierre at all, unlike Matthew. Matthew was aware that Oncle Pierre’s high-salary and prestigious job meant he spent most of his time travelling around the world, leaving his son’s upbringing completely in his wife’s hands. Matthew had also seen the way his sophisticated and charming Tante Marianne used to treat Francis. No more than an accessory, a pretty doll to display proudly. Alfred wouldn’t have lasted a week before smuggling himself back to America and to Arthur, Matthew was sure of that.

At the same time, it was also true that Arthur was often too hard with Alfred, too rigid to find a middle ground. Matthew knew that Arthur was very young and just trying his best, and he didn’t blame him for it. That didn’t stop him from wishing Arthur would let go of his pride and admit he couldn’t do everything on his own. Alfred generally listened to Francis, for example, but Arthur was always too reluctant to enlist his help.

And Matthew was too damn coward to let his voice be heard and suggest a solution, and he ended up dealing with a body that was just as much coward and pathetically needy. Served him right.

In addition to the searing pain, a spell of cold had taken Matthew into its grip and seeped into his bones, making him shiver incessantly. He could only curl up tighter on himself and pray to fall asleep, but the knives twisting in his abdomen kept bringing him back to the brink of consciousness.

Sometime later, the door was slammed open and heavy steps preceded the thump of Alfred’s body flopping down on his own mattress and the frame creaking under the weight. He didn’t offer a single word to Matthew.

The fire raging in Matthew’s stomach grew, paralyzing him in a haze of agony. It only got worse as the hours went by.

******

Alfred had always needed less sleep than a common person. Therefore, if Arthur forced him to go to bed at eleven, Alfred would be awake by four the following morning. That was just how it worked. His father had understood it perfectly, but Arthur just didn’t seem to be able to wrap his mind around it. Alfred could have lingered in bed for another couple of hours, but he didn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction. The exact moment his eyes snapped open, he got up and moved to the living room.

Arthur had taken away his phone, his laptop, the PS4, and gotten as far as unplugging the TV and taking one of the cables into his own room the previous evening, but that didn’t mean Alfred was going to cave in and waste time doing homework. Instead, he flopped down on the sofa with a sandwich in his right hand and a book in the other.

Arthur hadn’t even forbidden him to read, after all. Alfred couldn’t wait to see the livid face when his older stepbrother would realize he had been, once again, outsmarted.

About two hours and a half later, the shuffled footsteps heading towards the living room made Alfred’s nerves tighten with tension, his blood sing at the prospect of a fight.

The steps halted at the door.

Alfred tensed on the sofa, waiting for the scolding.

Only a soft sight came. A moment later, the steps retreated from the living room.

Alfred raised his head just in time to see Arthur’s frame disappear into the kitchen. He couldn’t believe there had been no protest.

I finally showed him who’s the boss around.

Alfred wanted to believe that, in spite of the corner of his mind that made him notice how Arthur's shoulders were hunched over in exhaustion, even if it was just the beginning of the day. He was most likely just too drained to pick a fight. Alfred swallowed down the small trickle of guilt generated by the thought and forcefully directed his concentration back to the book in his hands, a collection of Asimov’s works.

Alfred had picked it only because it was the one closest to him, finding himself quite engrossed in it had been a pleasant surprise. Asimov was an excellent writer, just like Matthew had told him many times. Alfred made a mental note to thank his younger brother.

A moment later, he recalled that they weren’t on speaking terms.

This time, the twinge of guilt that gripped his stomach was more intense.

Matthew was always siding with Arthur, that much was true, and it irritated Alfred to no end. At the same time, Matthew was also merely fourteen years old. No more than a kid. A kid who had had to deal with a childhood of emotional neglect (now that he was older, Alfred was sure that he could give that name to their natural mother’s unintentional – but not less damaging – treatment of Matthew), precarious health, and loss. Moreover, Matthew had never connected with Arthur as smoothly as Alfred had used to, it was only natural for him to try and gather some crumbles of affection. No matter how much Alfred didn’t like it. Of course, the issue would be completely solved if Matthew started realizing that Alfred was the only older person he could truly rely on – but, admittedly, Alfred snapping at him wasn’t going to help with that.

Alfred squashed down the guilt with a resolution to be more patient with his younger brother, and he focused again on the fictional story to prevent his brain from formulating other disturbing thoughts. Arthur’s voice calling his name some time later caught him by surprise, violently jerking him back to reality.

“What?” he asked, not having quite had the time to harden his voice.

For once, Arthur didn’t seem intentioned to scold him. He was just standing at the door, bundled in a trench coat and with violet shadows painfully evident under his eyes, so tired-looking that the normally vibrant green looked dull.

“I have to go out now, I have a meeting for a group project.”

“It’s a quarter past seven, but I have to be at the campus by eight,” he added in answer to Alfred’s visible confusion.

Alfred forced his features to toughen in indifference.

“Fine. We won’t die by staying alone for just a couple of hours, no need to fret.”

A weary sigh seeped through Arthur’s lips.

“That’s not… I know you’re old enough to take care of yourself. I just wanted to ask you to wake Matthew up at half past seven, he looked quite exhausted yesterday. I’m not sure he would wake up on his own.”

Alfred internally rolled his eyes. He agreed on Arthur’s estimation of Matthew’s energies, and that was exactly why he wasn’t going to carry out the request. It was Saturday, Matthew definitely deserved a morning of rest. Alfred couldn’t believe that Arthur had never noticed how frazzled their little brother looked, how he was threatening to fall apart under all the responsibilities and expectations Arthur kept piling up on his shoulders. (The fact that Alfred shared the bedroom with Matthew and, because of that, saw him in his most vulnerable moments, didn’t matter. Arthur should have noticed.) Another reason why Arthur was a far cry from an adequate caretaker.

“Yeah, sure,” Alfred answered anyway, shrugging. For the time being, he was more eager to see how the book ended than to get into a fight.

“This is important, Alfred. Please don’t—”

“I said I’ll do it! Stop treating me like a toddler!”

Arthur sighed again – a soft, weary sound that made Alfred’s nerves tremble with disdain.

“I trust you with this, then,” Arthur said immediately after, much to Alfred’s surprise. “I probably won’t be home before eleven or so.”

With that, Arthur turned and walked away from the living room.

Alfred stared at his back for a moment before shaking himself. Arthur being so accommodating had surprised him, but he didn’t want to dwell on that (on how much of it was caused by Arthur being so exhausted that he could afford to spare energy only for immediately pressing matters). He went back to reading his book, letting the words take him by hand and lead him away from reality and to a soothing yet exciting world that kept Alfred in its clutches for so long that he was barely aware of the way the minutes bled into hours.

When the door creaked open, Alfred took conscience of how much time had passed with a twinge of surprise. He had barely moved from his position.

“Alfred!” Arthur called from the doorway, “Did you wake up Matthew?”

Alfred’s stomach summersaulted at the realization. He had been intentioned to wake up his brother before Arthur came home, somewhere around ten, but it had completely slipped out of his mind. Now, he could only own up to it.

Squaring his shoulders, Alfred took a deep breath to steady himself and got up.

“No, I didn’t,” he said with confidence as he walked the length of the corridor towards Arthur.

A dismayed grimace crossed Arthur’s features.

“What do you mean you didn’t? Alfred, I—”

“For God’s sake, give the kid a rest, will you? He has been running himself ragged since he began high school, can’t you see it? It’s Saturday, he deserves to sleep in for once in his life!”

Arthur didn’t seem moved. On the contrary, his feature tightened in annoyance before he ran a hand through his hair, huffing.

“And, pray tell, when exactly did I say that you needed to make him get up at half past seven? You just needed to wake him up, he could go back to sleep afterwards. In fact, I would have encouraged so.”

Arthur’s words didn’t make any sense. Alfred’s features must have shown his puzzlement, because Arthur rolled his eyes and emitted an exasperated sigh.

“The antibiotic, Alfred,” he explained in a clipped voice, “The prophylactic dose of antibiotic your brother has to take every twelve hours since his spleen has been removed and, with his immune system weaker to begin with, he risks getting mortally ill and dying.”

Alfred stared at his stepbrother, his mouth agape and his eyes wide open. Hot shame crawled up his stomach.

“But I guess this was less important than your rebellious spirit, wasn’t it?” Arthur’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I see it now. Your little brother’s life is less important than a childish tantrum. I thought you were more mature than this, at least, but I see that I was severely mistaken…”

Arthur’s words stung worse than a physical slap could have. Alfred wanted to scream that he hadn’t wanted that, he wanted to be angry at Arthur – and, at the same time, he couldn’t believe he had missed something so vital.

Arthur trying to walk past him brought him back to his senses. His hand automatically shot out to grab his stepbrother’s arm.

“Where are you going?”

Alfred failed to hide a slight trembling in his voice.

Arthur’s forehead was creased in anger, but the shadows under his eyes made him look more dejected than annoyed.

“Where do you think I’m going? I need to wake up Matthew, it has already been more than three hours…”

Arthur tried to swag Alfred’s hand away, but he didn’t budge.

“I’ll go wake up Matthew.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, a spark of anger surging in his eyes, but Alfred was quicker.

“Listen. I fucked up, I know. And I’m sorry, okay?” The admission was like acid in Alfred’s mouth, but he knew that it was needed, if he wanted to prove to Arthur that he was mature enough. “But, if you go to wake up Matthew like that, he’ll see how much you’re stressing over this and he’ll read it as you being angry at him. He’ll just feel guilty and awful and it will add more stress. So, let me do this.”

Alfred couldn’t help the contempt from seeping into his voice at the end of the speech. He hadn’t exactly meant to do that, but he knew that he was right.

Arthur seemed to recognize the truth in Alfred’s words as well. He sagged in his grip and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he talked, his voice was once again controlled.

“All right. Just be kind to him.”

Alfred ignored the bitterness in Arthur’s last remark as he turned and walked away. He wanted to retort that he was always nice to Matthew, that he wasn’t the one stressing their younger brother, but a rational corner of his brain couldn’t help but whisper maliciously that Arthur did have a point. And, for how much Alfred claimed he was taking care of Matthew better than Arthur, he was the one who had forgotten such a vital issue.

The admission only made anger boil hotter in his chest. He gritted his teeth and kept clenching and unclenching his fists as he quickened his pace, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling unpleasantly clawing at his insides.

If Matthew sees me like this, he’ll be even more stressed.

Sobered up by the realization, Alfred waited a couple of moments in front of the bedroom’s door, forcing himself to take deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed down. Only then, he opened the door and stepped in silently.

The sight of the lump of blankets that hid his brother’s frame brought a smile to Alfred’s face from the sheer cuteness of it.

His lips straightened into a thin line the moment he realized that the lump was trembling.

Is he having a nightmare?

“Mattie, wake up.”

Alfred swiftly strode to his brother, a pang of concern surging in his stomach when no answer met his words.

“Mattie?”

Alfred placed a knee on his brother’s mattress and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake.

“Come on, Mattie, wake up. It’s all right, you’re probably just having a bad dream.”

A broken sound between a sob and a whimper was the only answer.

Frowning, Alfred peeled the blankets away from Matthew’s face as he hunched over him to have a better look.

His heart missed a beat.

Matthew’s face was stark white, the delicate features tightened in unmistakable agony. His breaths were ragged and uneven, seeping out of his bloodless lips in a broken, rushed symphony.

“Matthew!”

There was no reaction to Alfred’s panicked voice. With his pulse racing, he tore off the blankets to find his little brother huddled on himself, with his knees drawn to his chest and his arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen, the knuckles gripping his pyjama top white.

“Mattie, what’s wrong?” Alfred pleaded, “Come on, Mattie, talk to me!”

His shaking hands found a grip around his brother’s shoulders to turn him over and allow Alfred to have a better look.

Matthew moaned at the movement, his ragged breaths quickening. Then, Alfred tried to uncurl Matthew’s legs – and an inhuman, agonized shriek erupted from his throat.

Alfred jumped away as if he had been scalded, avoiding just in time to get in the way of Matthew vomiting over the edge of the bed. The blood pounding in his ears obscured his vision for a moment.

I’m only three hours late. Only three hours, it can’t be…

But Matthew was curled up on himself on the edge of the bed, at that point earnestly sobbing, with the sheets around him soiled with vomit.

Alfred ignored the smell and sprang to his brother’s side, scolding himself for that moment of hesitation.

“Matthew. Matthew, come on, tell me what’s wrong!”

He hated himself for how shaky his voice came out, closer to a plea than an order, but at that point, Alfred could hardly think straight. The fingers tapping his brother’s clammy cheek were singed by the prickling heat of a raging fever.

Three hours.

Such a short amount of time, but it had been enough. Something was so horribly wrong with Matthew, his waxen features were contorted in agony, the breaths coming out of his lips harsh and ragged, as if he wasn’t getting enough air.

Alfred knew that he had to do something, but the terror that had flooded his entire being was acting as a barrier between his brain and any rational thought. All he could do was to take his brother’s clammy face into his hands, stare into his glassy and unseeing eyes as he pleaded in a shaky voice for him to answer, but even the slurred words that finally came out of Matthew’s lips were covered by the roar in Alfred’s own ears.

Alfred was abruptly brought back to reality when the door slammed open.

He instinctively whirled around, his widened eyes meeting a pair of equally scared green ones. Finally, Alfred’s brain registered that the sounds he had been ignoring at the corners of his perceptions were Arthur’s yelling for an answer and his footsteps rushing closer. He had to have heard Matthew’s wail, the entire street probably had.

At that moment, no sight was more welcome than Arthur’s face, the concern shining in his features already dimming as they hardened in determination. The argument that had occurred only some moments earlier seemed to belong to a different lifetime.

“Arthur.” Alfred’s voice was nothing but a weak, trembling plead. “Arthur, there’s something really wrong with Matthew. Please, help!”

Alfred swiftly moved to a side to leave his older brother some space to examine Matthew, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy’s unnaturally pale face.

Alfred prided himself in being mature and independent, but Arthur was the one who had always had Matthew’s health in mind. Arthur was the one who took the child’s hands into his own, who ran his fingers through the blond hair as he called Matthew’s name, somehow managing to keep his voice firm.

Alfred could just stand there, paralyzed, as all his world crumbled around him, every detail in front his eyes screaming how wrong he had been.

******

All Matthew knew was agony. A knife was tearing him apart from the inside, stabbing repeatedly and twisting, acid was eating him up.

Matthew wanted to call for help, but the pain squeezed his lungs, he could only sob.

Then, he wasn’t alone anymore. There were hands on his face, fingers threading through his hair. Voices around him.

“…Mattie, please, Mattie…”

“…phone first. Get me the phone. And then a thermometer, quick!”

Matthew confused brain recognized them as belonging to his older brothers, even if most of the words were too far away for him to comprehend them, muffled by a sea of pain.

He wanted to cry in relief and to plead them to make the pain stop.

But, at the same time, Arthur’s rough fingers against his neck brought with them the faint recollection of other fingers, slender and clammy with sweat, that had lingered on Matthew’s neck on a summer’s afternoon, when he was kneeling in front of a trashcan at the park.

Arthur’s tender voice morphed into a higher, feminine timbre that sent shivers running down Matthew’s back. He could still feel Allyson’s hot breath blowing against his neck.

“Oh, what do we have here, Mattie? An upset tummy because your big brothers are fighting? You know what this means, Mattie-kins? That we’re just the same, you and I. You’re trying to be a little goody-two-shoes, but your body is complaining because it wants to get Big Brother’s attention. Embrace it, Mattie-kins. No matter what you pretend, you’re just a little attention whore.”

Allyson’s words had been with Matthew since them, carefully tucked into a corner of his mind. His greatest fear and his greatest push. He had done everything he could to prove Allyson wrong, he had always done his best to hide the pain and not let his true nature out in the open.

And now, it was all gone. Matthew’s body, his instincts, everything pleaded for his brothers’ help, their voices and touches brought small seeds of comfort through the haze of agony. Matthew wanted to cling to them.

But the recollection of Allyson’s mocking laugh rose above everything else, drowning all of Matthew’s perceptions. He had finally lost the battle with his body, and this time, he was the one who had ruined everything for his family.

(word count: 6,494 words)

———

Notes:

Hetalia Human Names [x]

Allyson Jones is 2p Nyo America;

Felicia is Nyo Italy;

I’m not a doctor, so there might be inaccuracies, in spite of my research;

Moreover, there are some misconceptions due to the narrators’ erraneous views.

Thanks a lot to the people who liked the previous chapter, and a special thanks to @aph-fanficchallenges and @nordicsawesome for reblogging it! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter as well :)

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #aph canada #aph america #aph england #ace family #feyna's writing #btbp #ace brothers human au #wip #human au #hurt/comfort #angst #family #drama #sickfic #wc: 6k+

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