Chapter Twenty Three
A/N the last chapter was kinda crummy and also late so this one is one of two in the same week. (Or is it even two chapters? The first one is hella short. *1600 something words, which is about a thousand less than usual) A/N over.
Fingers tapped nervously on plastic phone keys, dialing a number that had only recently become a contact, (or rather, just a thing he found himself calling more-often-than-was-pleasant) Mathew found himself humming an off-key version of the "Jaws" theme song.
It was eight at night. Cuba had turned in for bed an hour earlier, feeling utterly exhausted from his plane flight. (It wasn't that the times were different, but the flight had really been getting to him and, no matter how comfortable he felt in his friend's home, the national differences were hitting.) So there Canada sat, one shoe on and the other in the dining room.
The couch in his living room was nice, soft, not too scratchy… everything to be hoped for in such an object. That's why he was now sitting here… wait, was this considered rambling?
Shaking his head to clear the already scattered thoughts, he pressed 'dial' and waited. At first, there was only the buzzing vibration of the dial tone. He was in a slightly painiced state, his energy from the middle of his and Cuba's conversation coming back after his friend had gone off to bed. He had been barely suppressing the urge to ask about magic that Cuba had no further information on for nearly an hour until they had parted ways for the night.
Even if he had nothing specific at all this outsider view/confirmation was more than welcome. He was aware that they were chasing nothing, that there could be no 'winner' or 'loser'. There was no good outcome he could think of in his mind. Either they would be wrong and China would be pissed or they would be right and China would be significantly more pissed. (Considering that his friend, Russia, would have worked behind his back to find very personal information and share it with his mortal enemies, Canada understood this.)
Thinking about it, Canada grimaced, almost feeling sorry. "What a world we live in," he thought, "enemies joining together to hunt down the personal life of a man who is both equipped with nuclear weapons and also surprisingly trigger-happy," He sat up straighter, waiting for the phone to finish dialing, "but for what reason?" his thoughts broke through again, "it's certainly not personal gain, there isn't anything in it for us… are we just bored?"
...That was probably the correct assumption.
Finally there was a 'click' and the Canadian's ears caught the humming of background noise. His eyebrows raised, had England picked up or…? "Great Britain can not be here at the moment, if you wish you may call back later or leave a message," the recorded audio of the Brit's voice crackled painfully out of the plastic and metal speaker and Mathew could almost feel his blood pressure rising, "...this recording will end presently." there was a soft, mechanical 'beep' and then the phone was silent again.
"God fucking damn it England," Canada's seethed, his near-growl of a voice coming out much louder even as he tried to drown out his adrenaline, "I need you to pick up, I NEED you to pick up before I die of congested blood valves,"
He wasn't exactly certain what congested blood valves were, or even if they existed, but it didn't matter. He was too hyper-focused on getting this information off of his hands, "I don't care if it's one in the fucking morning this is more important than your godamn beauty rest!"
It really was one in the morning in the UK wasn't it.
Canada softly cursed himself, turning off his phone and leaning back against the soft, puffy back of his couch. His eyes stared unseeingly upward, focusing on the light that was still on, but not directly so. He felt like he might cry, not from sadness or even anger but from the inability to hold in his excitement. Well, his fear in the form of excitement.
But he wasn't going to leave a recording, that was for damn certain.
He wanted to hear how England reacted to the news (seeing his face would be even better but since there was an ocean and a painful flight in the way audio would have to do). He was especially curious because England knew magic and, though he would never say it to his friend's face, Cuba wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable in the general subject. Sure, he could teleport, which was its own hell of an ability, but that wasn't magic in the same way that charms and curses and all the rest were.
If anything, Canada felt as though they should have been talking to Norway or Japan for reasons separate from one another. They hadn't actually talked to Norway about any of this yet, which Canada felt odd about since the near-equally cold nation had an extensive knowledge on specifically old magic. Yeah, Arthur knew a lot, but Norway knew other types of magic. Other types of magic than the rigid English style.
Japan, on the other hand, had not even occurred to Canada as an important subject in this investiagation (which now sounded incredibly stupid since Japan had known China for the longest). In truth the short, black-haired man hadn't really contributed a lot to their research. (Not that Canada would ever say this in a mean way, after all until now- or until England picked up the GODDAMN PHONE- Matt hadn't done anything either.)
But, according to Cuba, Japan also had magic.
Canada had not been made aware of this. Yes, it was more than possible that the other's had forgotten to tell him, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence actually. Still, it felt… off. This wasn't an accusation, no no, far from it. He trusted the Asian country, even if they had been at war so recently. Japan had given them anime after all. Maybe it was judgemental but he still felt as though his brother's friend was hiding something.
Ah. He almost laughed.
Hiding something.
What a popular topic.
Maybe the other's had caught on to it or maybe they hadn't. Now, in this era of boredom and stalking, Canada felt even clearer than normal that they all had secrets. Uncomfortable secrets. Blisteringly embarrassing secrets. All the secrets. He had known it before but this new obsession had started to make him even more tuned into it than normal. It felt… weird. (In truth he was really lucky, it was good to have the upper hand in black-mail as a representation who found himself in conflict more than he would have hoped.)
He was lucky in that sense.
For one thing, he didn't really have much to hide. And what he did have to hide were other people's secrets.
A small smile quirked his lips. It wasn't only Japan who was withholding information, If fact, just as they all had secrets that were so painfully strung out of view he was more than confident that they were all withholding important information. Even France, who didn't often have specifics to share with people, seemed suspicious in the sense of knowledge that was needed.
In short, Canada didn't really trust the others and they probably didn't either.
He sighed and closed his eyes. If he waited a few more hours it would be more likely that England would be awake but at the same time that meant he would get no sleep. He could sit here and pretend to be doing something useful or he could set his alarm for just a little early, go to bed, and wake up ready to tackle his phone-call before he spent another day with his friend.
That was definitely the best course of action, no matter how little he wanted to admit it or how secretly angry it made him that he had to be five entire hours behind the man he needed so desperately to call. Canada did really want to get enough rest in order to have a good day and go to the mall with Cuba as they had planned together but how was he supposed to go to sleep when he had such exciting news on his hands?
Even if not many other people would consider it exciting, or even evidence at all, he felt as though England would enjoy it. Smiling as if hiding a secret (which, he supposed, was sort of the case) Canada relaxed against the back of his couch. He would set his alarm in a few minutes, and then he would go upstairs and sleep.
Cuba had the guest room, which Canada had labeled as the guest room only because it was the largest bedroom in the house behind his own. (He would have let the biggest room be the guest's but he was usually the only one living in his house, well, besides Kumajiro.
His pet polar bear was currently at a friend's house, he had apparently wanted a little vacation of some sorts, so Canada had set up an overnight with one of his work friends; a very nice lady who was regrettably human. (Canada knew he would miss her gravely when she passed away.)
At the sudden intrusive thought, Matt sat up, shaking his head. It was really never a good idea for any of the representations to think about their human friend's inevitable demise, that was, if they were unlucky enough to form a bond with someone they would miss so dearly.
Sleep.
That was what he was supposed to be doing.
Not being sad, no, that wasn't what a job that he needed to accomplish. In fact, he was supposed to be here to help the small band of partial-stalkers in their quest to… well, stalk people. So, in accordance with this, now clearly wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself, not when worse things had happened in the past, and especially when they were so obviously glaring as a possibility.
Not when those worse things were starting to seem more and more likely to have hurt people he cared about.
"Alfred," he whispered under his breath, remembering that fateful, half panicked telegram from all those years ago, "please, please for the love of all things maple, keep those eyes a secret,"
Violet.
Stunningly violet.
