Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: This was originally my very first fanfic, but I wrote a large amount (so far) on paper, so it takes a while to type up. Anyway, Enjoy!
What you can't see
Prologue-A rather unholy hour
He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep this night. Matthew knew that. Yet as he gazed up at the off white cracked plaster on the wall, waiting to fall and be released from its misery, he wished himself to go to sleep.
Violet eyes glanced over to his right to find a simple yet comfortable enough oak bed, blankets sprawled in every way possible, and a goose feather pillow being hugged to death by a sleeping Alfred. His cow lick in all its exuberance bobbed up and down as he rhythmically breathed in and out. Sky blue eyes were replaced by heavy eye-lids, like shop doors slammed and quickly locked shut on a bank holiday Monday. Mumbles were elicited as the colony would occasionally toss and turn, such as:
"Stk 'm up."
or
"Don li, scns."
The metal sheriff badge which he so dearly cherished lay discarded by the side of his bed, gleaming slightly in the moonlight, just waiting for an unsuspecting Brit to tread on it and curse like a sailor in the following morning.
Lazily, Canada shifted his gaze to around. Splintered moonlight gently eased through the thin, dull lilac curtains into the room, illuminating the dust as it twirled like fairies across the area.
Various toys were littered across the floor, ranging from building blocks, to toy soldiers, and even a toy horse. Striped yellow and orange wallpaper adorned the room, giving it a very simplistic yet playful feel. Teddies and dolls alike leant against each other protectively on a white wooden shelf, their dull gazes piercing his thoughts.
Looking away in mild discomfort, Matthew slowly petted his polar bear, kuma...kuma...kuma something, allowing the fluffy white fur to glide through his fingers. Letting out a hushed sigh, he cautiously pulled off his duvet, so as not to wake up kumagoro, and swung himself around on the mattress, letting his legs dangle loosely over the bed.
Placing his feet on the aged wooden floor boards, which gave out a moan as he did so, he stood, steadying himself on the bedpost as for a child it seemed like a bit of a drop. It almost seemed as if the cold swam around him, catching the back of his heels as he tip-toed silently, disturbing the once unmoving air as he made his way to the door. Matthew turned the door know ever so slightly, hands grasping on cold brass, allowing the door to open marginally, letting a crack of light slide into the bedroom. He took one last look at his rowdy and energetic brother, and upon noticing he was far too occupied in dreamland to notice, slipped out into the semi-heated hallway, closing the door swiftly behind him.
The hallway was furnished as if he was in some kind of palace, not England's home, greatly different to the one he and papa France had once shared. A large red carpet was splayed atop dark wood, the patterns on them hinting of exotic places and silenced secrets. Burgundy wallpaper and ebony panelling strode across the walls, giving off waves of wealth, with gentle candle light to accompany them as candles were mounted on the walls in the finest silver holders.
Deep thick red curtains blocked any and all light daring to enter through the windows and into the house. The windows were made of seemingly thin glass with wood in-between each long rectangle, making it seems less grand, but not undermining the overall image. A grandfather clock lay situated at the far end of the hallway to his left, old and worn with time.
Squinting, Matthew managed to read off the yellow and aged face and whispered to nobody but himself,
"11:25."
Matthew had never suffered from insomnia, and yet as of late he found himself unable to be grasped by the tug of restful sleep-at least during the night. Unconsciously placing a hand on his chin, he worked through the possible reasons of what may be causing this, but drew up nothing but blanks. He had been living with England for around five months now, so feeling homesick was probably out of the question, and he never ate any of his scones before going to bed, so what could it be?
As if on cue, Canada's attention slowly drifted to a very thick wooden door on the far right hand side of the hallway, of which was slightly ajar. He had never been into that room himself, but saw England, enter it on multiple occasions. On closer inspection, he remembered that England always locked the door behind him, and even without that, a door that heavy doesn't just lean ajar.
Without realising he was doing so, Canada slowly started making his way towards the door, all thoughts of confronting England about not being able to sleep were vacated out of his mind. With each step he took, Canada became more and more out of balance, his once shy yet curious sparkling violet eyes glazed over. Chills danced across his spine, yet he made no effort to quell them, or in this case, he found he couldn't.
The door was only a few steps away now, and it seemed that any and all light that came from the hallway went to waste, as none could penetrate the sheer oblivion behind that door. Bile rose in his throat as his hand reached out for the dulled door knob, yet he found himself unable to stop. Curiosity was no longer his motive, and he found that it had been replaced by a dormant feeling, of which was powered by an endless supply of compliance to whatever it was that drove him there in the first place.
His hand hovered mere centimetres above it, cool breezes harassing his neck as he reached to clench it. Swallowing hard, Matthew finally reached for the door knob in a swift and sudden movement, but his expression quickly changed to that of slight shock as a wave of dizziness overcame him, colours blurred as the ground rushed towards him, and he was accompanied by an all encompassing wave of black.
"...atthew..."
"...Matthew..."
Sounds swung in and out of his grasp as he futilely reached for them, but found he couldn't as he was weighed down by an invisible force, accompanied by black. Despite this, he still pushed forward.
"...Come on lad..."
Feeling a strong yet reassuring pressure on his arm, Matthew forced eyelids he didn't know he was keeping closed to open, focusing blearily on a confused Englishman.
"There you are," England breathed with relief, but was soon replaced with concern and a slight undertone of irritation, "Just what in blazes were you doing out here at this time of night?"
Matthew looked around, focusing on nothing in particular, making mental notes as he did so. He was still on the ground, but his back was supported firmly by the Englishman, eyebrows knitted in worry. Glancing over to the clock, he noticed that the hands had hardly moved, only revealing to 11:30.
"Well?" Arthur asked again, all previous irritation had been wiped out and was now engulfed in worry due to his sons silence.
"Ah." Matthew spoke in slight surprise, his hand going to his mouth as he flushed a bright shade of pink, embarrassed from making him worry by remaining silent. Clumsily fumbling with words, Matthew faced England and mumbled, "Couldn't sleep..."
Arthur's intense stare slipped away but a note of curiosity remained as he questioned,
"But this isn't the way to my chambers...what were you doing out here?"
Matthews gaze diverted to that of his fists balled up, clenching his thin satin nightgown. What was he going to tell him? There was no way he would believe a door of all things put him into a trance like state.
The door.
He quickly snapped his head around to the door in question, earning a tilt of a head and quizzical look from the Englishman-his arm now propped up on one knee, letting Canada sit up of his own free will. However, upon turning, it was clearly visible that the door was firmly shut, and any signs of it once being open were gone.
For a few moments, Canada stared at the door confused. He was sure it was open beforehand, so why...
Stopping his thoughts (before they amounted to something more), he returned to Arthur and quickly answered,
"I was going to the bathroom."
Lying proved easy enough as long as it was done quickly, and despite not being the rebellious type, he knew well enough that England would lose his marbles if they entered one of his private rooms.
Matthews answer was met by a relieved sigh from the Brit as he replied,
"Well go do your business and then it's off to bed with you."
Arthur ruffled Matthews hair and stood, helping him up in the process.
"Don't want you feeling tired in the morning now do we?" He offered a parental smile of comfort and support, and Matthew shyly took it.
"Alright Dad." He answered quietly.
"Good night son." Arthur murmured as he gave Matthew a goodnight kiss on the forehead, and, after leading him to the wash room,returned to whatever tiring work was keeping him up that late.
He looked into the bathroom mirror illuminated by candles, and noticed translucent yet ever growing visible dark circles under his eyes and sighed.
Seems he wasn't getting any sleep tonight either.