Hello peoples! Just wanted to let you know that this chapter takes place after a time jump of several weeks. Matthew is now staying with Francis (France) and Arthur (Britain) as he had been planning in the start of the story. Also, since I had so much drama in the last few chapters, I am giving people (and myself) a little bit of relaxing time with a bit of "normal" day-to-day activity… also thank you to Wolfspeaker01 for very kindly pointing out that in Russia's flashback Lithuania's hair should be brown not blonde. Thank you, I stand humbly corrected. *Bow*
Enjoy!
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Arthur and Francis peeked around the edge of Matthew's bedroom door. The room was dark, and the only sign that someone was inside was the slight movement of breathing from the lump under the covers of the bed.
"Blimey! Has he spoken? Has he eaten? Has he bloody moved?"
"Aucune idée" Francis replied, shrugging one shoulder and looking sadly at the lump in the center of the bed. Arthur slapped his forehead, muttering under his breath.
"Bleeding Frog, brainless bonce…" he slammed the door fully open and stormed up to the bed, yanking the blankets off the bed.
"Get up you git! Enough of this bleeding moping!" Matthew groaned, and slowly sat up. "M' not moping…"
Arthur propped his hands on his hips, and replied with scorn "oh ho ho, you're not moping? Then what do you call sitting in your room for weeks on end without eating, speaking or moving? Bleeding hell, if that's not moping I don't know what is!" he stomped over to the windows and jerked the curtains open, allowing streams of blinding afternoon light. Matthew pulled back, wincing. "The light, it burns us!" he hissed theatrically, Arthur snorted
"Oh bloody-! Stop being so overly dramatic, get your arse out of bed, take a shower, eat something and get ready to go out! We've had enough of this infernally moronic behavior!" when Matthew didn't make a move to get out of bed Arthur took action, shooing him off and towards the door. "You heard me! Out, out, out!"
Francis smiled as a tired and harassed looking Matthew passed him on the way to the bathroom. "G' morning Papa…" he muttered, blinking at the taller blonde man owlishly.
Matthew stepped onto the tile floor of Francis's ridiculously luxurious bathroom. And froze forced to remember and face the issue he had been avoiding all this time, remembering the last time he had been in a shower… he sighed. It seemed as if Iv- Russia, had forgotten him, like most people did after a few seconds away from him.
Tears began to trail down his cheeks at the very thought and he wiped them away in frustration and turned the faucets on. Stripping slowly in the steam.
He hadn't told them all of what happened, though he had told them that Russia had been very kind during his stay, they didn't believe it at all, he knew they secretly blamed him for the bruises he had had. Which was true, but they filled in the blanks on how they had occurred as they pleased, and didn't bother to ask for the truth.
No, Ivan couldn't possibly have forgotten about him, if he had it meant he didn't truly care.
At the very least he would wait until he saw that he had been forgotten for his own eyes to give up. Until that time, as far as he was concerned, Ivan was still in love with him, and he with Ivan. This decision lifted a great weight off his shoulders.
Matthew gingerly stepped into the perfectly heated torrent. Letting his tears of relief meld with the streams of water running down his face.
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By the time three days had passed Matthew had recovered from his dark stage completely, no one besides Matthew himself knew why. He was now the first one up in the morning, and most days Arthur—ever the second one up—would come down to the smell of frying batter and a new flavor of pancake to try with his coffee, shortly followed by Francis, who—lured from his silk sheets by the smell of breakfast—would come down to laughter. And though no one really noticed that much, Matthew was rarely forgotten anymore.
On Friday morning, just as Matthew finished cooking breakfast, and the sound of footsteps could be heard on the stairs, the doorbell rang. He ran to get it, announcing loudly to whoever was coming downstairs that he was doing so.
"Bonjour?"
"Err… France?" the bashful looking person standing before Matthew looked confused. His crystalline spring green eyes filled with relief when Matthew next spoke.
"Hello, are you looking for France?"
"No, well yes but I came to meet Canada." Matthew blinked twice and burst out laughing. The brunette mans look of confusion grew at why he was being laughed at.
"Well, it's your lucky day then, you've already met him!"
"Eh?"
"I'm Canada, Matthew, nice to meet you…?" the man jumped, breaking from the surprised and somewhat disbelieving stare he had had fixed on Matthew.
"Oh! I'm Lithuania, please call me-." At that moment Francis decided to show himself, casually wrapping his arms around Matthew's neck, his chin propped on the top of his head.
"Oh, Bonjour Liet! I see you've met Mattie, oui? Veuillez entrer, ou soyez entré je supposent." The Frenchman winked roguishly and the visitor blushed, not understanding the French, the end of his sentence turned to a mumble. "- Toris…" Matthew did understand the French and wiggled out of Frances grasp. Muttering under his breath.
"Frog..." then raised his voice, leaving Francis looking amused. "… Please come in, Toris." Toris brightened considerably at the English and slid inside, following the other two to the kitchen, where Arthur sat, sipping at a cup of coffee and reading the paper, or trying to, but it was all in French.
"Mon cher Arthur, you really must stop using that vulgar language, Matthew is beginning to pick it up." The green eyed man looked up, his thick black eyebrows twitching downwards.
"Bout' bloody time! You deserve it you damn Dandy!" that was all it took, and words started flying. Matthew shook his head and rolled his eyes, not noticing the oddly confused stare Toris was giving him.
"Would you like something, Toris?" he shook his head lightly, eyes following Matthew as he munched happily on a rolled up pancake, as if it were a crepe. Matthew's eyebrows cinched as he looked over to see a worried, depressed look on Toris's face.
"Lets move to the living room shall we?" Toris relaxed, fleeing from the yelling gratefully.
Once they were settled down, and the door was closed, reducing the bickering to a slight muffled undertone. Matthew remembered that Toris had said he had come to meet him. But before he could ask about it Toris beat him to it.
"H-how can you be so cheerful?" he asked, looking at the floor.
"What do you mean?"
"After what Russia m-must have d-done to you!" he began to tremble slightly as he spoke, his tone turning panicked. Matthew took a long breath before answering.
"You know, the funny thing is that no one has actually asked me what he did."
Toris took the hint, though his expression was full of dread for what he may hear.
"W-what did he do to you?" the silence dragged on, and finally Matthew looked up, a small sad smile on his face. Toris froze, stiffening sensing that the answer was coming.
"You sure you really want to know? You don't want to just imagine?" Toris gulped, and nodded once slowly, he knew how much telling people helped.
"Nothing. He did nothing." Matthew let out gratefully; it was nice to know someone knew the truth besides rumors and assumptions. It took a moment for the words to register on Toris, when they did he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
"Nothing?" Matthew nodded once, smiling at the reaction.
"B-but… the bruises!" Toris exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at the bandages around his neck and wrists. Matthew lifted his hands, looking rueful.
"True, these are from him."
"Then how can you say he did nothing?"
Matthew sighed quietly, stroking the white bandage on his left wrist idly.
"Because he didn't." Toris shook his head in confusion "I don't get it. How did he give you those if he didn't do anything?"
"He didn't do what people think, Toris. He never hurt me."
"But…"
"I didn't want to leave." Toris's green eyes widened hugely, and he looked surprised, the only words he had to the ability to say came out tiny.
"Oh my…"
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Well, I like this chapter, very relaxing…
Also: Oh yes! Dear little Liet is here finally! YAY! YAY! YAY! (Jumps for joy)
Translation notes: (most is probably known)
"Aucune idée"—no idea
"Veuillez entrer, ou soyez entré je supposent"—please enter, or be entered I suppose.
France is such a perv… tee hee
Anyways, thanks for reading!
-Sai