Ffff- Looks like I actually decided to continue this.
More craptastic writing from the AMAZING Twigh!
Eh, I wrote this at like...1 in the morning...yesterday. No no, day before yesterday. Finished it today...at 12:30 in the morning...waiting on the stupid lunar eclipse. x3 HAPPY WINTER EVERYONE!
I don't own Hetalia. Boo hoo. ];
I wish I could have stayed home more often. I wish I didn't always have to be gone. Education is education though, isn't it? No. That's not the point. There's no excuse for it. I could have stayed home and been with those two little rascals all the time, if I hadn't been such a self centered bastard. I could have found some kind of loophole in the situation. I wonder if this would have changed anything? \
No, Matthew will be Matthew and Alfred will be Alfred. There's no changing that. Those two are as stubborn as rocks…and bloody hell, if anyone's to know that, it's me.
But still…I wonder… would it have changed the outcome of this losing battle? If I had stayed just a little longer than just that one weekend?
I doubt it. I highly, highly doubt it.
...But I came back, didn't I? We both did, didn't we? Wasn't that enough? Or had the damage already been done?
Now I'm just trying to reason my injustice...
Everyone has their breaking point.
Apparently Alfred's and Matthew's were tipping the scale when we decided to call.
Too bad for us.
Breaking Point
"Come on come on…pick up the phone already!" A pair of bushy, caterpillar like eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Is it really that hard for them to pick the damn bloody phone up!" A loud sigh filtered through the room as Arthur Kirkland stared mindlessly at his shiny black cellphone. "…It can't hurt to try and call one more time though." He muttered, dialing the same number he'd been dialing for the past half hour or so. The blonde tapped his foot impatiently against the wooden floor, waiting for a response...
"Let me get the phone!"
"Come on, I wanna answer it! You never let me do anything!"
"Cuz you're sick!"
"I'm better today!"
"So? You were sick yesterday and you might not be all better yet! And besides, I'm the hero, so I should answer it!"
Matthew stuck his tongue out at his twin, before Alfred got the upper hand and snatched the phone up, sticking it next to his ear promptly. The younger of the two brothers stared at the phone with malice and envy while the other held his victory smile. "Hello?"
Arthur's expression went from extremely pissed off to extremely happy. "Alfred?" He squealed, his voice rising like a little schoolgirl. Another blonde in the room, quite literally, rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a thud, muttering something in French.
Alfred started jumping up and down on the couch back at home. "Arty!" He squealed back, practically about to explode with happiness. He didn't get to see much of his older brother, or hear much either. No wonder Matthew was plotting his rebellion on the other end of the couch. "I can't believe you actually called! You never call! Ever! I mean, yeah, you're caught up in all your school stuff, but it still doesn't change the fact that you're a jerk for not calling or anything!" Matthew rolled his eyes at his brother, who sounded like a clingy ex-girlfriend at the moment.
"Eh? Who is on eh other end of zee phone?" A groggy Francis questioned, poking the British boy in the side.
Arthur responded by swatting the Frenchman away with one hand while holding the other over the phone. "It's the pizza guy, who do you think I'm calling?"
"…Mon frère, why are you calling zee pizza man zis late at night?"
A fisted hand came down on Francis' head. "You stupid git, I'm talking to Alfred and Matthew!"
"Mes petits frères! Tell zem I said 'allo! Tell zem I said 'allo!" Francis squealed, jumping up and down impatiently. Even though he came off as the creepy, 'Grope Everything in Sight' kind of person, it still didn't change the fact that the French blonde loved his younger siblings.
Arthur rolled his eyes, ignoring the annoying Frenchman. "Eh…well, collage isn't exactly a walk in the park so I don't really have that much spare time on my hands…" He replied lamely, scratching the back of his head. Honestly he had been busy, but he mostly just been too lazy to call.
The young Jones boy pouted on the other end of the phone, looking through his elder brother's pitiful lie. "Well, since you apparently don't have that much spare time on your hands, I'd better let you have the chance to talk to Mattie before you have to go back to your stupid selfish collage life you butt-faced jerk." Alfred mocked childishly, shoving the phone onto his brother. "Here, YOU talk to him."
Mattie jumped a bit, before pulling the phone up to his ear. "H-hello?"
"Mattie…? Oh! Mattie! Little Mattie!" Matthew winced, before inwardly sighing. Of course. Arthur forgot him.
Again. This came to no surprise though. Matthew was learning to just deal with it and move on. Things usually worked out better that way.
"Uh…hi Arthur…" He replied slowly and timidly. His twin was watching him like a hawk for some reason, probably out of jealousy. "S..so how've you're studies been going at colla-?" Matthew asked awkwardly, attempting to start up a conversation but ended up being interrupted.
Arthur, either shoved aside or didn't seem notice the shy boy's question, rudely cut in yelling, "Hey, guess what! Me and Francis are coming home this weekend!" He announced loudly, feeling proud of himself. He couldn't wait to hear the shocked response!
"Francis and I, mon frère stupide."
"Don't correct my grammar, wanker."
Matthew's little face beamed at the thought of his brother's home for a weekend. Home! They were really coming home? "T…this isn't some kind of joke, is it Arty?" He asked timidly, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.
"…Joke?" Part of Arthur wanted to laugh and part of Arthur to cry. Matthew thought he was joking? Did he really not trust him that much, or was he just insecure about the situation? "No way! We're coming home for real, me and Francis!"
"Francis and me."
"Shut up you stupid French git!" Arthur commanded harshly, without thinking of removing the phone from his (loud) mouth. Matthew flinched, though it was only natural, seeing as he first thought the comment was directed towards him before the word 'French' came up in the sentence.
"Arthur? Can I talk to Francis?" The young boy asked solemnly, noting 'French git' probably referred to the other brother. It's not that Matthew hated Arthur, he just generally got along better with Francis for some reason and hadn't gotten the chance to speak with him yet.
seeing as
The Englishman looked taken a back a bit and slightly insulted by the boy's question, but thought nothing of it and nodded. "Sure, I don't see why not." He shoved the phone into Francis' hands before beginning throwing random clothes into a green duffle bag that had been sitting on his bed patiently. Impatient and not wanting to waste a moment of time, he'd already began packing. Typical Arthur.
Francis could barely keep from dropping the phone as he frantically jerked it towards his ear. "'Allo?" He asked excitedly, wondering which of the twins was waiting on the other line.
"Francis!" Matthew almost exploded with the identical joy Alfred had had earlier. It wasn't about to last long though.
"Mon petit Mattieu! How 'ave you been!" Arthur winced at the man's ridiculously loud voice and sighed loudly, as if to make a point. "Oh zis collage is zee worst!" Francis sobbed dramatically about to go into a list of all the 'horrible mistreatments of this foul 'ell' but instead ended up receiving a shoe to the back of the head, courtesy of Arthur.
Matthew heard the loud, echoed clunk from the phone, figuring Arthur had probably thrown something at his French sibling. "What makes you say tha…" The small boy sighed, hearing his voice being drowned out with the chaos and the commotion in the collage students' room, clearly audible over the phone.
"You don't have to be that bloody loud!" Something made a sharp crack noise, probably made of wood.
"Well you don't 'ave to be such a stuck up punk." A finger jabbed the green-eyed British student in the forehead.
"Just because I don't spend my days drowning in my own drool over every woman AND man I see in class does not classify me as a punk!" Another crack. More wooden pieces being broken into even more pieces.
"Oh? Zen what does? Your silly imaginary friends, oh hon hon?" A fist sounded like it collided into the beige drywall.
"Don't mock Flying Mint Bunny, you'll hurt his feelings!"
Silence.
And then more insults.
"Are you still going on about zat stupid bunny?" Something heavy and hard hit the ground with a thud.
"It's not just a stupid bunny and he has a name!" The childish snivels of an 'adult' Britishman.
"Oh hon hon, only you would know! You have zee mind and zee brains of a enfant!"
"Why I oughta-"
Matthew blinked in repetition, being snapped out of his little world and seeing the phone being snatched from his hand and placed firmly back on its dock, cutting off the source of the commotion. "Stupid butt-faced jerks!" Alfred commented, kicking a pillow off the edge of the couch. The younger twin merely tilted his head at his brother's actions and watched with curiosity, perplexed by the older's actions as his hair followed the rules of gravity, dangling off the scalp of the boy's head.
"…Alfred? How come you're so mad all of a sudden?" Matthew asked, pulling a pillow in front of him for safety measures. Just in case. Alfred was prone to being…'violent'.
"Because, Matthew!" Alfred turned around to face his brother, rage glazing over his eyes. "Because of those stupid jerks! All they did was fight and complain and forget about us! They just sat here on this stupid couch and did whatever they pleased, and Mom didn't give a damn about it! And now they decide to call up and remind us of how we used to have to sit through all that shit!"
The purple-eyed flinched boy covered his ears. Had that simple act really set his brother off so much? No…more like it was the final act that had set him off. "We're not supposed to cuss…Mom said it's-"
"Who cares what Mom says! No one! Does anyone care about what we say? Hell, they don't even notice us until Mom mentions her, 'adorwable wittle angles'!" Alfred was trying his hardest to tear an abused green pillow in two, to no avail. "We're just like doormats, Matthew! We get stepped on and crushed on without anyone even bothering to notice us!" He rambled, then threw the pillow down and stomped on it to make a visual point. Something inside Alfred had either snapped or exploded. He'd always been the feisty one who never held much back emotional or psychical, but apparently he'd been suppressing more than Matthew realized.
And something about his temper tantrum, something about that phone call, something about all those words Alfred had said. They started to fill Matthew with the poison of vengeance. The timid boy's fists curled up, the knuckles whitening at the strain of the pull at the skin. "…You're right, Alfred." He said suddenly, in a dark tone Alfred wasn't familiar with. This voice sounded more confident, rational, realistic than the normal Matthew's. It was noticeable.
A sense of numbness grew over Alfred and Matthew for a moment, clouding their thoughts and distorting their sense of judgement, tainting their innocence.
This day would not go unmarked in the minds of these two boys.
This would be a day that marked a turning point in history.
Wasn't that delightfully horrid on your eyes and brain?
I was braindead when I wrote this. I was to the point where I almost did my usual screaming and overusage of the word BAKA while smacking my head onto my keyboard, hoping it would magically write my story for me.
x3 I can't do accents. Oh France. Your speech is next to impossible to read. Or maybe just impossible for the stupid to read? Oh...that means I'm stupid. Poor me.
Speaking of things I can't do, British insults are on the top of the list too. Or maybe insults in general to broaden my horizons.
This chapter is one for the failbooks.
And the evil human parents totally messing up the whole concept of Hetalia thing comes in next chatper.
Hey, if Italy has a grandpa then why can't all the other countries have grandparents and parents too, HMMM?
This shall come along with the dreaded SCHOOL.
And the other, neglected countries I have yet to write about. x3 They shall come. Soon.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Translations, Por Favor? (From the amazing Google Translator. It is my friend.)
Mon frère: My brother
Mes petits frères: My little brothers
Mon frère stupide: My stupid brother
Mon petit Mattieu: My little Matthew (x3 Decided to use the fancy French-looking style of his name, just to add some RAZZLE DAZZLE.)