Talk Show Host

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

The cloudy day darkened an already unlit living room, creating an ambiance of loneliness and solitude in the room. A single figure sat in a faux leather armchair that looked towards the unlit fireplace, a book rested on the small end table beside him. His normally blond hair looked dark from being unwashed, and a chin that was usually only covered in a light stubble had become almost unkempt looking. Francis lifted a shot glass filled with vodka to his mouth mechanically, opened his mouth, poured the containments of the glass into it, closed his mouth and put the shot glass down only to pick up the bottle of vodka pour more into the glass and start the cycle all over again like a well-oiled machine. He enjoyed the burning sensation that the back of his throat felt as he downed shot glass after shot glass, it was the only thing he was actually feeling right now. His whole body felt numb, two days ago he found the love of his life again, and two days ago he'd been so overly enthusiastic about finding him again, that he kissed him without thinking and lost him, again. Why was he so stupid, why couldn't he just think things through, he'd been miserable these past three years without him, losing him again after those few fleeting moments of happiness was unbearable.

Knocking came quite suddenly and unexpectedly at his door and he considered not going to get it, he didn't want company right now. He just wanted to wallow in his misery and drink. What if it was Arthur? Francis blinked; suddenly a little sober then he had been a second ago. He got up, hoping that if it was Arthur he wouldn't come off as desperate or needy with the drinking and the lack of lights on in the house, he could just always say that he was celebrating a job well done in his own way. Peering through the spy hole in the door his hope disappeared and frown formed on his face, who had called Matthew this quickly. He would never hear the end of his wallowing in pity state from his cousin; even his little sister wasn't as bad as Matthew. But Matthew would have heard his footsteps and know he was home.

"Matthew," He said swinging the door open. He was slightly shocked at his cousin's disheveled look, his hair was mused and his clothes rumbled, Francis would have guessed that he'd just had a good bout of sex if his eyes weren't all red and puffy as if he'd been crying. Very few people made Matthew cry without sorely regretting it later if not at the hands of Matthew himself, then Gilbert, Alfred or Francis.

"Where's the alcohol?" Matthew asked with just one sweeping look at Francis.

"Living room, why?" Francis asked allowing his cousin into his apartment; he was really going to have to have a talk with family members about calling before they dropped in. But Matthew just pushed past him and made a beeline for the living room. Francis raised his eyebrows in amusement as he shut the door; Matthew wasn't even pouring the vodka into a shot he was just drinking from the bottle. What had happened? Matthew very rarely drinks and when he did it was casually at a bar, but he tended more often than not to be the designated driver.

He headed into the kitchen to grab more bottles of any alcoholic beverage he could find. It looked like Matthew was dead set on drinking and wouldn't be stopping any time soon and Francis sure as hell didn't want to stop anytime soon. "So… is everything okay?" Francis asked sliding onto the couch that was cattycornered to the chair he had previously been sitting in beside Matthew.

"Gilbert can't keep his dick in his pants!" Matthew shouted, the bottle of vodka was almost empty and his face was now extremely flushed, was it healthy for someone of Matthew's stature to be drinking that much in such a short period of time? Wait, Francis shook his head as if that would somehow clear some of the alcohol he had previously consumed out of his addled head, had Matthew just said that Gilbert was cheating on him. "Nope! Not whatsoever, in fact I bet he's over in Canada right now having some big orgy and enjoying finally being single again after so many years. I hope he gets a whole bunch of those SDC's or SBT's, Frannie what's those things you get when you have un-un-un-" Matthew never really finished that sentence as he burst out into laughter and began to pull off his shirt. No wonder he never drank, was he always such a lightweight?

"Why don't you put that bottle away." Francis suggested trying to cover up the other alcohol bottles with a dollies on the coffee table.

"Nope, un-uh, I'm gonna get marriet toit, cause the dickhead won't marry me." Matthew slurred cradling the bottle of vodka close to his chest. Francis had half a mind to call Gilbert up right now and demand an explanation as to why Matthew was accusing him of cheating, but he was still recovering from his own relationship issues and was still slightly tipsy himself.

"Okay, well at least put your shirt back on." Francis amended taking the now doily covered bottles of alcohol and putting them behind his back as he walked back into the kitchen. Being halfway sober wasn't fun, he felt responsible enough to not let Matthew drink anymore, but all he wanted to do was drink too.

"I hate him!" The now empty vodka bottle went sailing into one of the dining room walls. Francis jumped putting the bottles he had been carrying down onto the kitchen counter and ran back to Matthew before he could hurt himself or someone else in his drunken anger. Tears streamed down his cousin's face as he had never seen before. Matthew had always been the strong one in the family even if he didn't always look it, no matter what you could always count on Matthew to be there for you, he always knew what to say even when others didn't. He even knew when it was time to say nothing and he would just listen or rub your back as you cried on his shoulder. He wasn't afraid to tell you what the reality was even if you didn't want to hear it. To see him this upset that he had drank a whole half a bottle of vodka in almost five minutes, that he was crying this hard made Francis want to tear Gilbert from limb to limb, no one hurt his cousin this badly and gets away with it, no one ever had. "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

Francis made his way around the couch and wrapped his arms around Matthew. "Hey, hey, it's okay." Matthew's chest pressed into Francis's side and cried into his shoulder and Francis didn't say anything more he just wrapped his arms around Matthew and let him cry out whatever it was that Matthew had built up inside. How could this have happened? How could Matthew and Gilbert gone so wrong? Had Matthew even had anybody really to talk to throughout their issues? He and Alfred had gone to Europe and beyond, Feliciano and Ludwig were with Lovino and Antonio in Ottawa leaving just Gilbert and Matthew in Montreal. "I'm sorry; I should have never left you. I should have called more often. I'm so sorry, Matthew." But his words only made his cousin cry harder. "God, I'm so sorry."

"I don't understand where we went wrong." Matthew said pulling away from Francis finally, he flopped down on the couch and Francis followed him just letting the other man speak. "Things were going well and then they weren't. Three years ago when you left, I was the one who didn't want to get married, and maybe that's when things went wrong, I don't know. Maybe I was just giving Gilbert too much mixed signals and he'd had enough. We've been fighting, Francis, and it's been bad, it's been really bad. And I kicked him out of the bed because I couldn't bear to sleep next to him anymore and he was drinking a lot and the other night he just didn't come home. And at first I thought that he'd gotten too drunk and was lying in an alley way or something and then he walked through the door all fine and dandy and smug and- and," Matthew slapped his thigh and shook his head as if couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "And I don't know, I just knew, I knew he'd cheated and I was so angry I yelled at him for all of ten seconds and then I just got strangely calm, and I walked into the bedroom and packed my bags and left for- for somewhere, I didn't even know where I was going till I was getting on the plane.

"You, you want to know the-the worst part." Matthew grinned halfheartedly at Francis. "I still love him. And this," he pointed as his chest. "it hurts so badly."

"I know."

"Why? Why do I still love him? He ripped my heart out, Francis, he ripped my heart out and stomped on it. So why do I still love him?"

"I don't know," Francis leaned over and kissed Matthew's forehead like his mother used to do to him when he was scared as a child or hurt or she just wanted to show that she loved him. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, I've been busy over here dealing with my own problems selfishly. I should have remained in contact with you guys." He had been selfish and he knew it, he had been blinded by his own grief for so long that he hadn't been able to see the effect it had on others and Monique had tried to show him that, and he hadn't wanted to see.

"I don't blame you, Francis, I never have." Matthew said quietly, it was the same voice that had comforted him when Jeanne died, asked him the questions about life that no teen wanted to ask their parents about, the same voice that during the summer between Francis's freshman and sophomore year when everyone else was running around still trying to figure out what happened to Monique had come to him feeling as if no one else would truly listen and told him that he was gay. Only Alfred had known before Francis and that was because the two couldn't keep a secret from each other.

"Come on, let's go make dinner and get some food in you. You did just drink a whole half a bottle of vodka." Francis said standing up.

"You make dinner, I'm going to go find some aspirin and lie down." Matthew groaned and Francis felt a bit of satisfaction for the half a bottle of vodka his cousin had downed like it was water, honestly he thought only Russians did that, don't tell Alfred he said that.

"Okay, do you want to lie down on the bedroom or on the couch?" His question was answered by Matthew sprawling out on his couch. "I'll go find you some aspirin then."

"Thanks, Frannie." Matthew groaned,

"Oh, and Matthew, put a shirt on, or I'll take pictures of you holding the vodka bottle and send them to Alfred." Francis said good naturedly before disappearing down the small hallway to his bathroom.

Arthur took a deep breath before putting his hand up to knock, was he at the right apartment, had Alfred even given him the right address? Of course the American had given him the right address, he wasn't trying to play some nasty trick or anything, he wanted Arthur to give Francis another chance. Oh here goes nothing. Arthur put his knuckles against the wooden doors, just diganol of the brass 714 and then knocked against the wooden door. He held his breath again as he heard movement inside the apartment. Francis was home then. The knob turned and Arthur felt his heart beat faster. There was so much he wanted to tell Francis, he wasn't upset about the kiss, he had been shocked yes, but upset no. He had enjoyed what conversation he and Francis had, had before said incident and he felt a connection there he couldn't explain. Plus Alfred had refused to give him all the details concerning his and Francis's romance the first time around so if he wanted answers to his past he would have to talk to the Frenchman, Alfred refused to say but the bare basics. He and Francis met under unusual circumstances that required him to live with Francis in Montreal, Canada. They had lived together about a month before some more unusual circumstances wound Arthur in the hospital where Arthur disappeared.

The man who answered the door was not Francis. They had similar wavy blond hair, though Francis's was longer and a lighter color, this man had close to amber but not quite and he had indigo colored eyes hidden behind a wire frame of glasses unlike Francis's sapphire blue. He was a very handsome young man, probably a year younger then Francis. It didn't take long for Francis to rebound if the man's half nakedness was anything to go by. "Arthur, come in." Did, did he know this man? There was something familiar about him now that Arthur saw him. He walked in mechanically still trying to search his head as to where he had seen the young man before.

"Matthew, who is at the door?" Francis asked coming from down the hallway. Arthur almost didn't recognize him with the amount of stubble that could nearly be called a beard all over the Frenchman's face. "Arthur."

I want to,
I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon this surface for the birds
The birds
The birds

You want me
Fucking well come and find me
I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches
And nothing, nothing, nothing

Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and write a silly note): I really do like the bond between Francis and Matthew, it's very much a big brother, little brother relationship. I don't think I write drunk people very well though, but I don't have much experience being around them either so I can't really say what they do. But I thought Matthew might a little bit of a lightweight and that he might not have much experience of drinking but on occasion.

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