Past
The stagnant smell of smoke wafted from the kitchen. Arthur's cooking, I grimaced internally, I do hope I keep them down this time! I took my rightful place at the dining table and stared down at my placemat.
"Decided to join us, Matthew?" Arthur kept the convocation light, fanning away the smoke emitting from the oven with a checked tea towel. Placing the baking tray of burnt scones on the stone counter, Arthur stationed two of the homemade coal-rocks onto each of our plates, a dollop of cream and jam to serve.
"Thanks." I muttered into the snow fur of Kumajiro, as Arthur set my allocated plate down in front of me.
To refrain from hurting my mother-country's feelings; I took a bite into the solid-rock surface and chomped away, trying my best to ignore the foul charcoal taste, and swallowed hard. Throughout it all, my face had morphed into a grimace of utter disgust.
Alfred mirrored my same expression, even from across the hardwood table, I could tell he didn't want Arthur's good intention to blow up in his own face.
"So," Arthur started, munching contently on one of the many scones he had piled onto his plate, "Have you picked a free day to see Dr. Wright?"
I dropped the remnants of the scone I had bitten into subconsciously. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape Arthur's plan to get help from some haughty psychiatrist! Pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I exhaled loudly.
"...How does Wednesday sound, are you free to take me then?" I offered in response, relaxing my tone. Arthur sifted through his mental agenda, I swear he has an eidetic memory sometimes...
"Only if you are willing to wait until after I finish up a World Meeting at five-fifty." He confirmed with a hopeful smile.
I nodded in acceptance. It's Monday today, so I have a bit of time to prepare a rouse, I thought to myself, standing up from the table to feed a groggy, still half-asleep Kumajiro. Bringing a paw up to rub the sleep from his eyes, the little polar bear cub looked up at me not-so patiently.
The fridge looked a lot more sparse since the last time I opened it. Then again, we haven't gone out for food in a while. Holding the last fillet of trout in my hand, Kumajiro snaffled it up quickly and still craved more.
"Hey Al, do you want to come food-shopping with me? I need to buy Kuma more fish." I turned to my twin, thinking it would be nice to have a little bit of company. I knew for a fact that a voice in my head didn't make up for much socialization.
"Sure, broha!" America piped up, bounding to the coat rack to fetch his bomber jacket, "Can we get a dozen Pop Tarts while we're there? I'm running super low on my awesome American candy, it's killing me!"
Grabbing the keys from the bench top, I follow my overly-enthused twin out the door, just barely waving goodbye to Arthur.
Alfred...you haven't changed a bit...
~•~
"What?! This is a Farmer's Market, not a Walmart!" America complained, realizing our whereabouts. I find that the best fish is from a local market, not from a supermarket deli.
"I didn't say we were going to Walmart, now did I?" I mentioned sarcastically, that shut him up.
Alfred groaned, "But my Pop Tarts-OW!" America started, but I whacked the back of his head before he could complain anymore. It was always effective, leaving him silently grumbling. I almost felt inclined to spray him with a spray bottle full of water while wagging my finger at him.
"But nothing, eh." I finished curtly.
We walked around the busy and very loud market grounds, stopping occasionally to buy the rest of the supplies on the shopping list. Obviously, I crossed out all of America's requests, much to his disappointment.
He knew he had a diet plan to focus on, though he always seemed to have an excuse for pigging out on the couch late at night.
Finally, we came across the fishmonger. He gave me a friendly inclination of his head as a greeting, and asked us what we'd like.
"Twenty-two pounds of trout, thanks!" I ordered, getting out my wallet to pay.
I thanked the fishmonger and walked away with almost all his supply of trout. Alfred chuckled at the man's face as we left.
"We are still here you know!" Matt spoke a full, English sentence for once. I jumped in surprise, I though I wouldn't hear from him or Maddie ever again. Alfred gave me a puzzled look, "Dude, you're seriously not that skittish! It was just a cat!"
It took me a second to realize that I was surrounded by people and Alfred, as well as there was a cat in front of me. I laughed off my embarrassment, silently cursing at Matt.
And I knew he could hear me, for his laughter was herd loud and clear inside my head.
~•XxXxX•~
The guilt had never left my stomach ever since I accepted the strange drug that Matt "prescribed" me. Not only the guilt was making me sick, the fear was as well!
Get it together, I told myself, it's just a needle! Cracking the complex code of my safe in a brief moment, I carried the shoebox carefully over to my bed.
"No more than 5mL," Maddie reminded me. So now I can hear her as well? My life just get's weirder and weirder everyday!
As if fitting the needle into to the syringe wasn't daunting enough, I had to measure out the correct dosage. Who knows what kind of side-effects this drug houses!
"There, exactly five." I whispered, being sure not to create too much noise to my brother's or my mother-country's ears.
Without thinking of the pain, I jabbed the needle into the inside of my arm, holding back a string of profanities. Emptying the contents of the syringe into my bloodstream was hard to do without noticing the pain.
"Fuck..." I growled under my breath, as I pulled out the syringe from my arm. Nothing happened.
Just as I was about to scream at myself for believing in that sleazy bastard, the narcotic's effects finally kicked-in. It was a mixture of wonder and pain. Everything that moved was delayed, while my head felt like it was pounding itself to a pulp.
I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing or screaming, so much it started to bleed.
And then, that's when the magic happened...
~•~
I opened my eyes to a yonder white tundra, surrounded with gigantic fir trees blanketed in dresses of pure snow.
"Where am I?" I asked the trees, and the snow, and the whole world I lived in. Noticing my higher voice, I looked down at myself.
Just as I thought, the drug was real. Fashioned in a white nightdress and beside me a familiar polar bear cub, it wasn't hard to see that I was, indeed, my past self.
"What is an 'opeless little garçon like yourself doing out 'ere in the cold, 'arsh world?" A familiar, rich French accent asked me from behind. I spun around to find my savior, my only true relative, Francis.
"I'm Canada, and who are you?" I play along, making sure not to stuff up anything. It would be a shame if I unintentionally said something due to future knowledge, if I did, I'd be in a very tight situation.
"My name? It is Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy, but you can just call me your Papa." He replied gently, bending down to ruffle my blond hair.
I had forgotten what it's like to feel true love, but the feelings were hitting me hard now like a tidal wave. Francis swept me up into his arms and held me securely, but warmly, whilst trudging black the way he came.
"Where are we going, Papa?" I asked, curiously.
"Home, mon ange," He replied, pointing to a log cabin in the distance.
...Home...
~•~
I woke up briefly, the green digits on my clock radio stated it was past midnight. Having seen that crucial part of my life being played out in front of me again, it will take me an eternity to get over the deep-set, emotional after-shock.
Tears cascaded down the apples of my cheeks like a broken dam and for the rest of the twilight hours; I clutched my shaking body in the way France had done so many years ago, and repeated that one and only word that ticked over and over in my mind...
"...Papa..."
Translations:
• Garçon = Boy
• Mon ange = My angel
This chapter is slightly smaller than the last, I know, but I hope you still like it. Also, a BIG thanks to this story's first follower, it means a lot!
Tune in next time for 'Chapter Three, Heart'!
Bye!