Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I work hard on my stories!
I don't own Hetalia!end/AN/
Arthur awoke to chills, the coldest he had ever felt, he was sure; also, there was a wetness on his head that seemed to just seep into his brain and slow down the processes like goo in a factory. He reached out, trying to find something, someone, and mostly he found his blankets in his weak grip.
"Mhmmom…" he moaned, trying to turn over and get attention from his mom, who may or may not have been in hearing distance. However, he felt hands pushing on the wetness on his head, and he recognized it to be a towel or something.
"You have to sleep," came the murmur, and it came in a voice that Arthur knew was not his mother, but somehow he was comforted. Warm fingers touched his eyelids, and it registered to him that they were trying to close his eyes for him. He didn't put up much of a fight, groaning softly and trying to somehow absorb the warmth into his cold-wracked body.
"Poor baby…" the voice cooed, and he promptly got a kiss in the general area of his ear. For whatever reason, it didn't bother him, and he just lay there, waiting for the voice to further take care of him. When he heard nothing more, he chalked it up to the voice leaving to get something to help him.
His eyelids were heavy, he noticed, even as the chills wracked his body. Maybe he wasn't even awake; this could be a dream, he reasoned, as the darkness began to take over his senses once more…
When he'd next woken up, he heard his mom's voice, and he clearly saw her face. "Arthur, honey, there you are… I was so worried about you. Open up your mouth and let me put in this thermometer, alright?"
"Oka- ack!" The thermometer was zealously shoved under his tongue, and he tried to roll his face away on instinct. However, his mother caught his chin, and commanded his to close his mouth. He didn't want to upset her, so he obeyed.
"Ohm? Y am I-"
"Arthur, no. Do not talk. Just lay back and wait for it to beep."
At his mother's words, Arthur just gave up, relaxing as best he could with that thing jammed under his tongue. He swore it was starting to make his eyes water. But of course, there was no way that was on purpose, as much as he felt the resentment towards it right now.
It was an agony, waiting for what seemed like ages for it to go off, all the while his mother breathing above him, and staring the thermometer like she awaited some sort of magic results. He also thought her mouth was downturned, which just added to the awkwardness.
Finally, there was a beep, and the thermometer was withdrawn. He let out a sigh of relief as his mother read it.
"100.2 degrees. Arthur, were you playing with sick kids? I told you, if Belle or Michelle or Francis look like they have the flu, you don't play with them!"
"I don't think they're sick…" Arthur mumbled, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. How long had he been out, he wondered? The light streamed into his room in very bright manner, as though it were fighting with all it had to get past the blinds.
"In any case, you'd better stay up here and rest. I'll bring you up a snack around 2:30, alright?" His mother just gave him an almost grim smile, corners of her mouth barely turned up, and eyes serious, as though to say, I can't believe you've missed a whole day of school.
Which, he supposed he had to have, considering how late in the day it was.
"You know, you scared your father and me; you were out for two days before today, Arthur. You have to wash your hands and never share personal items with people." Her face was very serious, like a preacher explaining the greatest flaws of his flock to them.
Arthur's eyes widened. That made three days! Three days with no school… how would he ever catch up? "M-Mom! Did anybody bring my homework here?"
Yes, he was panicking; but it was with good reason. He might have been a good student, but who knew what he could have missed in three whole days?
"Your friend Kiku brought it by. Don't worry, I'll help you catch up, alright? We'll sit together and go over it once you're better." And she took her leave, smiling and telling him to get better soon before she shut the door.
Well… Arthur had to say he felt alright. And so he threw off the comforter and thrust himself upright off the bed.
He nearly fell down.
Who knew a person could feel so dizzy without spinning around? Arthur certainly hadn't suspected he would be. As he clutched the bed for balance, he waited until his world stopped jiggling around him, feeling slightly nauseous throughout it.
As soon as things calmed, he began to try and decide his plan of action. If his mom saw him teetering around, she would send him back to bed and give him a bland sandwich for lunch as retribution. So, he had to be sneaky.
He tiptoed out the door, figuring he could visit the bathroom first, and listen through the vent to figure out what was going on in the living room directly below.
The shiny floor was cold under his toes, and he was quick to tuck them under himself when he sat on the closed toilet and stuck his ear to the vent. The warm air was delightful, breezing gently across the shell of his ear.
More importantly however, the sounds coming from downstairs, though tinny, were not quite familiar.
Some sort of grunting/whining, and his mother's voice correcting, demanding that whoever it was 'hold still and behave' because 'you need your bottle, honey.'
Arthur drew back, incredibly confused. Bottle? What, like a water bottle? She could be telling Hong to behave, but why on earth would he need a bottle?
This called for some investigation; if he crept down to the last few steps near the landing, he could stay hidden behind the wall and check out what was going on. His spy side practically demanded this course of action, and so, without further thought of getting in trouble, he headed down.
The stairs were creaky, but only if you didn't know which ones to avoid. Fortunately, Arthur was a master at this, and was like a ghost slipping down the stairs silently.
As he reached the bottom, he heard particularly loud whine, which he knew undoubtedly to be Hong. Ah, so he must be getting punished again or something… Why on earth did he insist on speaking so little, though?
"Open, open, there's a good boy-" As Arthur peeked around the corner, what he saw shocked him. There, in the rocking chair his mother used for him when he was a baby, and for small children now, was his mother, Hong cradled in her arms like a little baby.
And worse yet, she had a baby bottle in her hand, and she was trying to get him to drink from it. Hong's face was red, as he tried to break free; it occurred to Arthur that must have been what he was doing all along.
If he was confused before, now he was especially confused. He ducked back, so that he wasn't seen.
What the heck? Why was his mother trying to bottle feed Hong? The kid was eight years old, didn't she realize that? He was so far from being a baby it wasn't even funny!
"'m not a baby." The voice was wobbly, and Arthur didn't want to admit, but he sounded tearful. However, he was also quiet, like he was afraid to be any louder.
Arthur looked around the corner once again, almost hoping it would be different on this second sight. It wasn't.
"Sweetheart, you've got to eat; listen to Mommy, she loves you."
Hong's eyes spotted Arthur, and their eyes locked. For one moment, for the first time, it seemed his eyes communicated something; Help me.
Arthur quickly broke contact, hiding again. He couldn't help Hong! It was a ridiculous notion; this was just part of the treatment, and Hong was just a brat who deserved it, and he wasn't scared, he was just playing with Arthur…
Arthur had to get out of there, that instant. He hurried back up the steps, barely taking care not to make a sound. His mother didn't notice, or else she would have called up after him.
He threw himself onto his bed, feeling the room spin at the sudden action. What was going on? Why would his mother treat Hong like a baby? Why would Hong look at him that way?
Hong was just an idiot, he had RAD, he was using him; why didn't Arthur feel like that was true, though? He ran his hands through his hair, muttering a dark, "Dangit."
Should he talk to someone about it? He was worried, for the first time, about what was going on with Hong. He didn't like him though, did he? Hong was just annoying, but… he'd looked scared. Arthur couldn't deny it: Hong, the ever emotionless and weird, had flashed him a frightened look.
And now the happenings of days ago came back; he'd had a voice, a person helping him when he first got sick. The thought made him even more troubled: it had been Hong, undoubtedly, so long as it wasn't a hallucination. The weirdo had kissed him in the ear and tried to bring his fever down! Could someone who didn't know how to love do that?
He had to talk to someone; Michelle. Michelle would know what to do, or Francis. They were smart, or at least older, in Francis's case. They would know what to do.
They had to.
/AN/ Shorter chapter than usual, yes, but since I am back in college, I figure better a shorter update than none at all. I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to writing more!