Disclaimer; I don't own Hetalia, nor any of its Characters. They belong to their rightful owner(s), which is not me. XD SO HAI GIAZ. I wanted to apologize for the couple previous chapters, 'cause I'm not quite satisfied with them myself, and I'm sure some of you aren't either, so yeah, sorry. v-v BUT I promise that from this point on it'll be awesome! PRUSSIA SAYS SO SO HA. YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID. Yeah I don't know what else to put here except to thank you all for the major support. I hadn't realize how many PruCan lovers there are out there, so I'm quite happy. QUITE. HAPPY. YES. I love you all passion long time -heart-
Note; This fic mainly revolves around the PruCan/Prunada pairing. But watch out! It has hints of other pairings too! So please, don't say I didn't warn you!
Chapter Fourteen
Blue, heavy eyes blinked open. The constant beeping of a loud, obnoxious alarm ringing in his ears.
The Canadian reached an arm out, his hand being brought down on the night stand next to the bed, momentarily searching for the clock before turning the alarm off.
The blond sat up, obviously still wanting to sleep, but knew he had to get up anyway. He had a lot to do, and he might as well get an early start on it. So, yawning, the small man rubbed his sore eyes a moment before throwing the blankets off of him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. For a minute, his feet searched for the fuzzy, polar-bear slippers he usually kept next to his bed that he always wore in the mornings, but for some reason, didn't find them.
It was then that Matthew opened his eyes, blinking away the temporary blurriness only to be blinded by the fact that he didn't have his glasses on. Reaching over, he quickly fixed that as he set his broken spectacles upon his nose, looking around the room.
Oh yeah, he had gone to sleep in Alfred's bedroom.
A large, exhausted sigh escaped the blond's lips as he pushed himself off of the bed, flinching at the sharp creaking sound the thing made as he lifted his weight off of it. Dang, everything in this room was loud. The clock, the bed, what was next? The floor?
First step he took the floor beneath him let out a low moan.
The Canadian groaned. This room was just like Alfred. Loud, obnoxious, immune to shame, messy, sloppy, disorganized, and uncaring about what anyone else thought of it.
He brought a hand up to his head and groaned. He had a headache, and whether or not it was from crying his eyes out last night or from all the annoying sounds attacking him from all sides, he didn't know.
He just wanted to go back to bed.
Matthew shook his head, blond, messy curls swinging in his face before he began to make his way towards the door, wanting to just hop in the shower because he knew his crying from last night had definitely left some noticeable effects.
The boy shivered from the cool air around him as he opened the door and walked out of the bedroom, reaching for the bathroom door handle, when suddenly, it turned.
A second later, Gilbert was standing in the bathroom doorway, the sound of the toilet flushing echoing in the small room behind him.
The two instantly froze in their movements upon seeing each other, surprised. After a second, the Canadian blinked before jolting his head down, hiding his face behind his blond locks.
"U-Uh, good morning..." He whispered, looking anywhere but up.
Gilbert's eyes narrowed slightly as he stared down at the younger male. Perhaps it was just sleep that was making him see things, but he was pretty sure the boy's eyes were red, and a bit swollen.
As if he'd been crying.
"Oi... you alright?" The words escaped the albino's mouth before he could stop them.
Matthew obviously tensed up at the question, his shoulders raising a bit in response before he replied; "U-Uh, yeah, of course, just a bit t-tired, that's all. I-I just need to take a shower and get ready before I leave, s-so if you don't mind..."
"I do mind."
The Canadian looked up in surprise at his hard response, but before he could snap his head back down, a hand was instantly on his chin, holding his face there, out in the open, for all to see.
Well, for Gilbert to see anyway.
The albino leaned in, his crimson eyes snapping back and forth between the blue ones. Examining them.
"Were you... crying?" The man asked, pulling his own face away a little.
Matthew's eyes widened as he ripped his head away from the albino's grip, his mouth instantly making up excuses as his hair covered his face once more.
"N-no! O-of course not... I told you, I-I'm just tired a-and..." His stutter became worse and worse with each word that he spoke, and he could feel the lump start to form in his throat. Oh dear Lord, he was going to cry again.
But before the tears had a chance to fill his eyes, a hand was gently placed on his head.
The blond's eyebrows raised up as he looked up at the albino, obviously surprised by his actions, but the man wasn't looking at him. He was looking elsewhere, somewhere insignificant as his gentle fingers ruffled the boy's hair.
"Yeah, alright. I get it." Was all he said before heading back into the Canadian's bedroom, closing the door without hesitation.
Matthew only watched in slight shock as the other disappeared into his bedroom. A second later, his hand came up to his head where the man had touched, his own fingers curling into his hair.
Alfred instantly came to mind.
The boy's fist clenched as he turned, walking into the bathroom and closing the door, locking it a second later.
He didn't even dare glance at the mirror. He knew how horrid he looked, how apparent the fact that the man had cried the night before was. The only question in his head at the time was why hadn't Gilbert pressed on the issue? The albino obviously knew he had been sobbing his eyes out the night before, but he just... ignored it, like the Canadian had hoped he would.
The headache made itself known once more and the blond didn't waste anymore time before hopping into the hot, nearly scalding water of the shower.
The crimson-eyed man stared up at the ceiling as he listened. He heard the blond take a moment before going into the bathroom and getting in the shower. There was a slight pause and silence after he entered the bedroom before the blond moved into the bathroom, which he supposed was the smaller male staring at the door in obvious surprise. There was no hesitation after the sound of the bathroom door closing, meaning he didn't take a minute to glance in the mirror beforehand.
The albino sighed, eyes closing as he listened to the sound of the shower a little longer than necessary or normal. Thoughts and pictures replaying back into his mind, invading it.
The guy had obviously been crying, and Gilbert had a strong hunch as to why.
A pang of guilt hit his chest, stinging his insides painfully, making his stomach turn.
Although he didn't want to admit it, he knew it was all because of him. As soon as he showed up and taken advantage of the situation, things started to fuck up in the Canadian's life. He angered some customers and scared away the whole store, he rudely made himself at home and broke his way into the other's life. He had been the original cause of the two twin-like blonde's eternal break up.
And he knew he was the reason the boy had cried last night.
Gilbert growled, bring a hand up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, his head resting against the wood of the door.
Why the hell was he so bothered by all of this?
It wasn't as if this was the first time he hurt someone. Mentally or physically. He had broken many hearts before without a tinge of guilt or regret. He had stolen things, insulted people, made people feel bad to the point of tears.
So why were Matthew's tears bothering him so much?
Before he could stop himself, he had turned and opened the bedroom door, instantly noticing that the other bedroom door was left open by the blond.
Scarlet eyes glanced towards the locked bathroom door before shifting back to the other bedroom.
He supposed he had a few minutes.
In an instant, the albino was in the other bedroom, dark eyes glancing around. First thing he saw was the messy bed, not bothered to be fixed or cleaned or made in any way. Same as the room was, messy and filthy. Exactly the opposite of the Canadian's bedroom.
He walked over to the bed, leaning down to pick up the pillow that was on the floor before realizing that it was slightly damp, dropping it from the feeling. He had already known that the boy was crying, and now he had proof.
Straighting himself, he turned his head, glancing around once more. There was an old soft-drink on the dresser, the tip of the straw chewed by it's user. The trashcan in the room was overflowing with old fast-food wrappings, but surprisingly there wasn't a hint of leftover or wasted food.
Damn, that American was a human pig!
Turning to leave, one last thing caught Gilbert's eye.
The albino walked over and picked up the picture frame. It looked like it had fallen forward, but after setting it upright, that was impossible. Someone had to have set it down so no one would be able to see what the picture actually was, and when the Prussian saw it, his eyes narrowed into a glare.
Fingers tightened angrily around the frame, nearly cracking the glass as he stared at the two blondes. His glaring eyes stayed on the American for a few moments before switching to the Canadian.
He was smiling.
Matthew actually looked happy in this picture, and he knew it was only because the American was at his side with him.
Why did that make him so angry?
It was then that the albino slammed the frame back down, the sharp cracking sound echoing in his ears as he made his way out of the room, back into the other one, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later he heard the shower stop.
The silver-haired man closed his eyes as he sat on the edge of the bed, palms pressing against them.
A headache was beginning to form in the back of his mind, his stomach was still turning, and he was still as angry as ever.
Why was this all bothering him so much?
The question kept replaying and replaying over and over in his head, like a busted record player. Over and over and over again, making the feeling worse all over.
He growled, pulling his hands away from his eyes, glaring at the wall in front of him.
He had to fix this.
In that moment, he heard the Canadian walk out of the other bedroom, probably already dressed and going to make breakfast like he promised, thinking that the albino was fast asleep again. Thinking for a moment, the man pushed himself off of the bed, exiting the room. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked down the short hallway, plopping himself on the couch, hand automatically reaching for the remote and turning on the television, making his presence known.
Matthew blinked, peeking out from the kitchen, eyebrows raised.
"O-Oh, good morning. I thought you went to bed." He said before returning his attention back to the stove.
"Nah, I was already awake. Might as well get the pancakes while their hot before going back to sleep." Gilbert called back, flipping through the channels. "Those are some damn good pancakes too." He added, mainly to himself.
The blond smiled as he flipped a pancake in the frying pan, the compliment not going unheard.
"I hope you like blueberry, then." He called back unintentionally as he poured more batter into the hot skillet.
A smirk graced the albino's lips as he didn't reply back, his eyes settling for watching the morning news since there was nothing else on at this time of day, and he was sure the Canadian wouldn't much like it if he ordered pay-per-view. So, he simply sat in silence, waiting for his delicious breakfast as his dead eyes stared boringly at the television screen.
A few minutes passed before the sacred worse called out.
"They're done!"
In an instant, the albino was seated at the table, attacking the plate set before him like a hungry vulture to a corpse.
The Canadian only stood in stared, eyebrows raised, eyes slightly widened as he watched the other male eat his breakfast with great enthusiasm.
It was then that the Prussian realized the blond didn't have a plate of his own.
"You gonna eat too?" He asked after swallowing the large portion of the pancake in his mouth.
Matthew blinked before answering. "O-oh! Uh, no... I'll grab something on the way... speaking of which, I have to go now." He said, turning and walking out of the dining area to get his shoes and sweater on.
The albino watched him, taking a moment before asking; "How long'll you be out?"
The Canadian pressed his heel into his shoe, leaning down to fit it on just right before looking over his shoulder at the other male. "Oh, uh... maybe half an hour or so. Not that long."
Gilbert pressed his lips together into a thin line. That wasn't enough time to find the dumbass American. And he had no idea where the guy was at anyway, so leaving would be pointless to begin with.
"Oh, alright. I'll hop in the shower while you're gone then." He called back.
Matthew straightened himself, zipping up his red sweater, the white Canadian leaf directly in the middle coming together. He brushed some hair out of his face before grabbing the keys off the mantle and heading towards the door.
"Yeah, alright. See ya." He called back, although rather awkwardly before leaving.
The albino gave a small wave with is fork after stuffing another large bite into his mouth, finishing the plate.
He waited until he heard the truck pull out of the driveway before standing up, depositing the dirty dishes into the sink with a loud 'clank'. Interlocking his fingers behind his head, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling in thought while he made his way to the bathroom.
Gilbert knew he had to at least talk to Alfred, somehow get that stupid American to apologize to Matthew. He had to fix things, but he didn't know where that man was staying at currently, and searching around with so little time would be pointless.
The albino pursed his lips as his eyes narrowed, thinking a bit harder. Matthew always left the keys to the truck on the mantle, above the fireplace. And he already knew that the American worked down at the bar he so frequently used to visit...
That was it. The decision was made.
He would wait until the Canadian was asleep before slipping out of the apartment and driving down to the bar, confronting the stupid, thick-headed American.
The albino made his way towards the American's bedroom, quickly walking over to the dresser and slipping the picture out of the broken frame, pocketing it with ease.
This was going to hurt his ego so much.
But it had to be done.
The Frenchman, after leaving the two lovebirds in the cafe, quickly started making his way towards where he knew the Englishman's apartment was at.
It had been quite a few days since the ferocious blond hadn't showed up at his doorstep, and it only seemed logical that he be at his own place rather than anywhere else, so that's where Francis would be at as well. Just to check.
The blond grimaced at the bad feeling he had in his stomach. Why was he worried? Why should he be worried? Arthur was Arthur, and knowing him, he'd probably just want to stop by his own place to clean up a bit, gather a few more things. The poor man probably fell asleep in this process which is why he was missing from the French household.
The feeling didn't cease.
Francis flashed a large, beautiful smile at anyone who happened to glance his way as he walked down the sunny street. Yes, that's right. Today was too perfect a day for anything to possibly go wrong, so there was absolutely no reason whatsoever to be worried.
None.
It wasn't long before the building came into view.
Whistling a small tune, the Frenchman walked into the building, up the stairs, and knocked on the door to his flat. He continued to hum the small tune as he waited, blue eyes scanning the door frame with nothing else to do.
A few silent seconds passed, and the man knocked again, eyebrows slightly pulled down.
The feeling in his stomach grew worse.
This time, the side of his fist pounded on the door as he called.
"Angleterre? Arthur? You in there?" Perhaps he was just sleeping, he thought.
The pounding and shouting through the door became more loud and desperate with each passing second, and soon enough, there was a rather strained and old voice stopping him.
"He's not here, sir. So if you don't mind, there are other people trying to go on with their business."
The blond turned his head, curly waves flowing in his face momentarily as blue eyes locked on a rather old-looking woman at the bottom of the stairs. Wrinkled hands gripped her old hips as she stared up at the rather beautiful man, although frustrated from the loud noise.
"Ah, forgive me, but where is he? Did he go out for a moment or something?" Francis asked, turning towards the lady.
At this, the old woman blinked and straightened, surprised. "Uh, no. He moved yesterday."
The Frenchman's face instantly lost it's color.
"W-what do you mean, moved out?" He asked, the feeling in his stomach at it's all time high.
The lady looked at him as if he were stupid. "I mean, he put in his two week notice two weeks ago and yesterday, he took most of his stuff and just left. He didn't leave an address as to where he's staying now, but I'm guessing he put most of his stuff in storage and is staying in a motel somewhere. Said somethin' about moving back to England."
The man's eyes widened at her words as he nearly jumped down the stairs, grabbing the woman by the arms.
"When did he say he was moving back? He can't move back! Are you sure he didn't leave a mailing address or something?" He started to yell, a bit panicked. This was definitely out of character for him, for no one desired a panicked, desperate blond.
Instantly the old woman whacked the other man's hands off of her, scolding him and cursing under her breath as she straightened her sleeves out.
"Dear Jesus, calm down! But if you really wanna know, he said he'll come back in a few days to get the rest of his stuff! Goodness!" She shot back, shoving her way past the man and back into her own flat, calling back a strict; "An' get outta here before I call the damn cops on you!"
Francis simply watched her leave, his wide eyes unmoving even after the woman closed her door.
She had said Arthur had given his two week notice, meaning he was planning on moving out long before he had gone missing two days ago. Did this mean he was planning on leaving the Frenchman this whole time and go back to England? Was there something that he did wrong that made Arthur make this decision?
The woman had also said that the Englishman would be back in a few days before leaving permanently.
That was his only chance.
Instantly, the determined blond marched up to the woman's door, knocking on it loudly.
"What the hell do you want?" The woman called before answering the door, her glare only hardening once her old eyes landed on the blond. "I thought I told you to get outta here, you no good twit!"
Francis put on the sexiest, kindest, greatest and brightest smile he could muster.
"I'd like to rent out that apartment, if you don't mind."
A/N; WELL, quick updates are quick. o.o Perhaps I should keep you guys waiting, hmm? What do you think? OH and apparently happy Early birthday to MeLaNch0LYdreams. XD I promise to put a HINT of what you asked for in here, because it's definitely not what I planned, but I suppose putting a smidge wouldn't hurt, don't you agree? ANYWAY, it looks like Francis has a plan! O: Wonder what it is? And it looks like Gilbert has a plan too! Though it doesn't seem like it'll turn out too well, what do you think? Will he just fuck everything up even more, or will he be able to put his awesome pride away for a few minutes to bring Alfred to his senses? Eitherway, read and review! Or we may never find out what'll happen next. D8