Author's note: Another 1 am short snippet written for #hetaliawritersmonthly challenge on tumblr. I didn't have much time but this prompt was too perfect for the NA brothers, I couldn't resist. I hope you'll like it, let me know what you think!

Summary: Not everybody holds the same memories dear and innocently careless words can hurt.

Theme: Friend or Foe
Prompt: "We grew up together. You just never noticed I existed" —Shauna Philip

Insignificant

They both lay sprawled over their backs, the mattress slightly sunk under their weight but still soft. Above them, a gentle rain tapped over the cabin's wooden roof, the sound as soothing as Alfred's rhythmic breathing next to him. Matthew's eyes were starting to slide closed, the stress of the long day finally melting away from his stiff muscles.

The warmth enveloped him, so cozy and—

"You know, Mattie, this reminds me a lot of when I was a kid."

Too groggy for anything else, Matthew answered with a muted hum of agreement. It was all his brother needed.

"I never really liked the rain, back then. It's too noisy, you know? I mean, not like this, but just—" Alfred made a wide gesture with his arm and then let it fall on his side with a soft thump. "Then it gets worse and bring thunderstorms. So, even if it was just a slight drizzle, I couldn't fall asleep because I didn't want to be taken by surprise and waken up by a thunder or something."

A small smile blossomed over Matthew's lips at the recollection. Being waken up by the hurried thumping of small feet over the wooden floor, having his mattress dip under the added weight as Alfred threw himself at it. Blankets shifting as a small body crawled under them. Then, hot breath blowing against his ear as Alfred would whisper, "Mattie, are you awake?". And that would be the start of a night spent together. While Matthew had never minded rainstorms, the warmth and weight of his brother's body against his side had always been pleasant. A special treat, almost.

"But it wasn't so bad when Arthur was there. He would let me sleep in his own bed and then tell me stories… I remember he once made up one about a fairy that gathered power from thunder and lighting, and used it for… uh, actually, I don't know. Something good, I guess, I mean, given—"

"She directed lighting to the surface of earth. It would give enough energy to make plants and vegetation grow. And thunders were the way of the Earth to thank the fairy and let her know her gift had been received," Matthew finished for him, barely suppressing a yawn.

That had been a nice story. Arthur had been so much better than him at telling it, of course, depicting lighting and thunder with vivid words that had kept Matthew wide awake… but that had been in the past. Now, Matthew could feel himself slipping into a slumber, his eyelids fluttering closed and his perceptions slowly fading…

Until the mattress dipped abruptly as Alfred turned on his side to face him.

"Woah, how did you know that? Did Arthur tell you the same story some other time?"

Matthew's entire body stiffened against his will. With the alertness washing over him like a cold shower, he opened his eyes and trained them on his brother's expressive face.

"…What do you mean? I was there with you, Al."

"Wow, for real? …Uh. That's odd, I don't remember that. I thought it was just Arthur and I. Funny what you can forget."

Matthew didn't know what hurt more: his brother's words, or the earnest confusion on his face that screamed how much he didn't see anything wrong in them. For Alfred, they were just an innocent observation.

And maybe, they truly were. The bitterness clawing at Matthew's chest was surely an overreaction – it had been so long since then, after all. How could he demand Alfred to recall?

…Even if Matthew did.

He supposed he could have borne it better if it had been only that one time. Yet, it was always like that with Alfred. The small, apparently inconsequential snippets he had left behind painted a much bigger, darker picture – a picture in which Matthew was far too often pushed aside. Nothing more than an unwelcome ghost.

Matthew rolled on his side, turning his back to Alfred.

"…Yeah, funny indeed." Honed by years of practice, his voice didn't tremble. "Goodnight, Al."

But even as his brother's soft snoring filled his ears, Matthew's eyes stayed wide open, staring blindly in the dark. A deep weariness inside him begged for the release of sleep. Yet, the cold that had seeped into his bones left no space for comfort.

(word count: 724)