A/N: Here's a oneshot while I continue to neglect my other stories! *shot* But I apologize for the neglection, I just have a really short attention span... Also, I'm not aiming to be historically accurate in any way. But if you're offended nonetheless, sorry~
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, so shut thy mouth or I shall shuttith for thee.
Important
(Or, alternatively titled, "Arthur Plays Favorites.")
. . .
Arthur was walking to the end of the pristine hallway of his home when he heard a quiet sniffle from the door on his right. For a moment, he stood there, wondering vaguely whose room it was. Then he caught sight of a small chip in the wooden doorway, something that was dented in when a certain colony of his had decided it would be fun to ride his tricycle indoors, and thought, It must be Alfred's and...Matthew's. Arthur had trouble remembering the second one's name. He digressed.
But why would either of them be crying? Baffled, Arthur gently took the doorknob and twisted it, peering into the dark room. "Is everything all right, lads?" he asked in a hushed tone, in case he'd misheard and the two twelve-year-olds were actually asleep.
"E-England?" The soft stutter was probably Matthew's. "I'm sorry, d-did I wake you?" There was another sniffle. It was most definitely Matthew. Alfred would have started bawling outright loudly by now.
"Matthew?" Arthur crossed the room to the double bed, sitting on Matthew's side. "Did something happen?"
The personification of Canada sniffed again, faint purple eyes eyeing him almost distrustfully. Arthur dismayed at the fact that despite Matthew living with him for almost five months now, the young blonde still had not quite forgiven him for taking him away from Francis. "I had a nightmare," he finally relented to say. Arthur saw the outline of his shoulders slump. "It was really terrible."
Arthur was not one for comforting others. In fact, most of the time, he was the reason they had to be comforted in the first place. Nonetheless, he awkwardly placed an arm around the boy and tucked him into his side. "Would you enlighten me?" he said softly.
Matthew looked down at his fingers, a frown tugging at his lips. "It's late," he whispered, "and it was only a silly nightmare, anyway. I'll just go back to sleep." He brushed Arthur's arm off before slipping back under the covers, careful not to wake his snoring brother.
"Matthew." Arthur smoothed a hand through the boy's silky blond hair. Matthew still looked troubled, maybe even on the verge of crying; Arthur knew he'd never forgive himself if he just left the boy in this state. "If ever you feel alone," he murmured softly, "or useless, or unimportant, remember that we love you, okay?"
By 'we,' Arthur was talking about himself and his other colonies.
"I left to visit Canada two weeks ago, but no one noticed," Matthew whispered, drawing the bed sheet up to his chin.
"Did you know that when you left, Australia cried for almost an hour straight?" Arthur smiled at the way Matthew's eyes widened in slight surprise. "And remember how New Zealand was asleep when you left? When he woke up, he thought Alfred was finally going to convince you to declare independence with him. So he beat Alfred up.
"Ireland abandoned his potatoes for the whole week you were gone, and stubbornly refused to eat anything but pancakes. Scotland wrote a ballad for you with his bagpipes. Hong Kong was the one who missed you second-to-the-most." Arthur paused, putting a hand on Matthew's shoulder.
Violet eyes stared back at him intently. "Who missed me the most?" Matthew whispered.
Arthur gestured to the other North American in the bed, the one still snoring away. "After New Zealand beat him up, he was convinced that you ran away, and he spent a total of two days in those woods out there looking for you," he said softly.
As if on cue, Alfred turned over and slung an arm over Matthew's waist. The older of the two mumbled something incoherent as he snuggled closer to his brother.
Matthew looked down at the American's arm. "Did that really happen?" he queried, doubtful that that many people would miss him.
"Of course," Arthur answered. "More people love you than you think, lad." And he spoke the truth.
"Do you love me?" Matthew said suddenly. His tone was almost pleading, but he was afraid to hear the answer. "I mean, you didn't take me from France just because you wanted to spite him, right?"
Arthur was slightly surprised; he chuckled and drew the Canadian back into his arms. " 'Course I do, Matthew," he said. "And, I admit, yes, that was my intention in the first place. But I came to learn what a wonderful little colony you are." He smiled, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple. "And I don't like picking between my colonies-"
"He's your favorite?" came a third party's voice.
Matthew squealed in surprise, hugging Arthur in fear. He turned to come face-to-face with Alfred's pouting face.
"Of course not, you git," Arthur chided him(Matthew tried not to feel disappointed). "And what are you doing awake? It's past your curfew."
"What?" Alfred's pout grew bigger. "Matt's awake, too!"
Arthur just shook his head. "Get back to bed, both of you." He gave a pointed look at Alfred, though his eyes softened when they landed on Matthew. "You wouldn't want to miss the breakfast I'll be making you tomorrow."
"I do," Alfred muttered unhappily, diving back under the covers. Once his brother was settled in right next to him, he resumed his previous position, hugging Matthew from behind. "Night, Mattie," he yawned.
"Good night," Matthew told him, leaning into his big brother's hug. He spent two days in the woods looking for me, eh? he thought fondly.
Arthur smiled at the sight of his two colonies. Once Alfred was snoring away again, and Matthew was asleep as well, he leaned down to the younger's slumbering face. "I don't like to pick between my children," he said, and, smoothing Matthew's hair back, kissed his forehead, "but you're my favorite."