- I swear to you that we can make this last -
If it Means A Lot to You; A Day to Remember
-Hetalia-
The numbers on Arthur's alarm clock glew bright red through the apparent 5:06 am darkness when he felt the tugging at his comforter by little hands. With a grunt he rubbed at this eyes and squinted at the small figure sniffling at the side of his bed. Dragging himself up onto an elbow, Arthur sighed a bit.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Arthur didn't need to see to know that Peter bit his lip as he nodded and whimpered out a pathetic "Mhm."
Arthur shifted closer to the wall and pulled back his comforter. Peter squirmed into the bed and under Arthur's arm the moment there was enough room.
"It's alright, now. It was only a dream," Arthur murmured as he held his little brother close, gently running a hand through his hair as the little boy clung to him.
"It was scary!" Arthur made out through the muffled whines Peter made into his shirt.
"I'm sure it was," he soothed.
"I saw Mummy, and– and–" Peter broke off into tears again and fisted Arthur's shirt. Arthur wrapped his arms tighter around him.
"Mum's alright, Peter. She's fast asleep right down the hall, I promise."
"B-but– G-Gil's daddy... he..."
Arthur frowned. "Peter, do you even remember him?"
Peter hiccuped and shifted to peek up at his big brother. "...No, not really... but it was a dream, so I... I knew it was him."
Arthur gave him a tiny smile. "It was only a dream."
"But he hurt Mummy..." Peter mumbled as he rubbed the tears off his face.
"Only in your dream, Pete. He wasn't a mean person in real life, and either way he couldn't have hurt Mum today, you know that."
Peter nodded a bit and wiggled himself higher to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder.
"Can I sleep here tonight, Artie?"
"It's already morning," Arthur pointed out, "but sure."
Peter settled down and Arthur continued to pet his hair for a few more minutes, until he thought the little boy was back asleep. Then he closed his eyes.
"Hey Artie?" Peter whispered.
"Hm?"
"...What happened to Gil's mummy and daddy?"
Arthur blinked down at his brother, but Peter wasn't looking at him. Arthur let his gaze shift over towards the calendar on his wall.
"Don't worry about it, Pete. Come on, it's late. Let's go back to sleep."
-H-
Peter woke Arthur again three hours later as he waded through the toy ocean on his side of their room. Arthur grumbled to himself about the noise and rolled over, prepared to go back to sleep for a few more hours, but unfortunately the little boy had noticed he was awake.
"Hey Artie, have you seen my army men?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you kept your side clean, you wouldn't have this problem."
"Aw, come on! Please can't you just help me look for them?"
"No." Arthur wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and tried to block out the ruckus Peter was making.
"Pleeeeeease," Peter whined.
"No."
"But Arthur! I need them!"
Arthur huffed at that. "What could you possibly need your army men for at," he rolled over to check, "eight am?"
"I'm going to go play at Anaise's house in an hour."
Peter was standing in the middle of what looked like the aftermath of a post-tornado earthquake. Arthur frowned at him for a moment while the little boy stared back, pouting.
"Doesn't Anaise like girly things?"
Peter looked confused. "Yeah? So?"
"So why would she want to play with your army men? War isn't really girly."
"Because they're cool!"
Arthur snorted and nestled deeper into his mattress, closing his eyes again. If he could just catch a few more hours of sleep... But the sounds of all kinds of heavy plastics and metal clattering about as Peter continued his search made it impossible. Arthur groaned but gave up and dragged himself up out of bed, watching with frustration as more and more of Peter's mess crawled over the silver duct tape that split the floor in two.
The contrast between their two sides was ridiculous. Not an inch of carpet was visible on Peter's half as every action figure, toy truck, and plush animal imaginable lay strewn about in some horrible, clattery sea. Meanwhile Arthur's half of the room looked nearly uninhabited, what with all the cardboard boxes of his things sitting neatly to the side. There was hardly anything left; just a half empty bookshelf and the bare essentials he'd be using for the remaining week.
These were his last days living at home. That thought was enough to make Arthur more than a little sentimental on a normal morning, but as Peter sat down and shoved half his mess over the line, Arthur just felt a bit relieved.
The feeling only grew stronger when there was a knock on the door and Scott's voice bid them good morning with "Oi, cut out that racket an' get ready to go already!" He continued on with fading mutterings about being underappreciated as he moved on down the hall.
"I take it Scott's driving you, then."
"Mhm," Peter nodded. "Daddy's gone off to work already and Mummy has to go to the airport to pick up Owen. Artie are you sure you don't have them?"
Arthur rolled his eyes and made for the door. "No, Peter, I have no idea where your army men are." He yelped when one of Peter's toys stabbed him in the foot. Hopping up and down for a moment, he amended his statement. "Except for this bloody one. For Christ's sake..."
He could almost hear Alfred saying Don't you mean for Pete's sake? in the back of his head as he stepped out into the hall. Despite the stupidity of it, it made him feel a bit bittersweet.
Two days. It had only been two stupid days since that git decided to give him the silent treatment, and already it was starting to get to him. Arthur frowned at his own lack of will as he made his way to the kitchen, hoping the kettle was free.
Though he supposed it was impressive that Alfred had even managed to last 48 plus hours without talking. Normally it was impossible to get him to shut up. Arthur wasn't sure if it was a testament to his will power or to his childishness that he'd kept it up for this long.
The kettle was already on the stove, so Arthur moved to the cabinet for a cup, casually berating himself as he went. Because honestly, if all it took for the boisterous American to get his way was two days of the cold shoulder, Arthur was a greater push over than Feliciano. Not that there was anything wrong with Feliciano, but really, Arthur had a reputation – and pride – to maintain.
Liam entered the kitchen as the kettle began to cry out. Arthur kept to the corner of the counters, handing his brother a mug when the other glanced his way. In Arthur's experience, Liam wasn't exactly a morning person, particularly when he hadn't had caffeine. Though in all fairness he wasn't very tolerable to begin with, but thankfully he didn't lash out without reason. Scott was another story.
Once Liam's cup was full, he left without a word. Arthur wondered vaguely if a deadline was coming up as he went to pour his own cup of hot water. From the hall he could hear the heavy sound of Scott's boots and the trailing pats of Peter's trainers as the little boy went on about how much fun he was going to have at Anaise's house and how sure he was that she'd love the army men. Arthur wondered just how torn apart their room must have been.
On the bright side, assuming Liam was busy at work in the study, Arthur was more or less home alone, at least until his mother got back from the airport. With four brothers, alone time was a precious rarity, and certainly one Arthur needed, what with how hectic life had been lately. Just a few hours of quiet, uninterrupted peace, and a chance to catch up on his reading. Excellent.
Arthur finished preparing his tea and made his way back to the bedroom, already feeling optimistic. Today had the makings to be a good day, or at least a good morning. And if these were his last days home, he might as well enjoy them.
When he went to push open the door, however, it refused to budge. He frowned and pushed more of his weight forward, hearing the cacophony of plastic clutter as the door moved only inches and stopped again. Arthur grumbled under his breath and added more force, spilling some of his boiling tea in the process and cursing at the pain that caused. Eventually there was just enough room for the Brit to shimmy through the doorway, and as he did he got a good look at just how much of a disaster Peter had made.
Arthur wanted to scream in frustration, but he remembered Liam and fought to maintain his composure. Peter would come home eventually, he told himself. There was no way in hell their mother would stand for this mess to go uncleaned, and while Arthur was above being a tattle-tale, Peter didn't know that, and the Brit wasn't above being a blackmailer. And, he supposed, trying to keep his optimism intact, the mess of trucks and playhouses and action figures did make a nice barricade. At least he knew Scott and the others would have a hard time harassing him so long as he stayed in here.
That made him feel a bit better, especially since he couldn't count on Alfred to come and save him as he had before. Not that he needed him to, of course. Arthur forced his door shut and shuffled through the clutter to his bookcase.
He'd just lain down and opened a book when his cellphone buzzed against the side of his mug. Arthur huffed and set the book down on his chest, picking up his phone to see he'd gotten a text from Elizaveta of all people. Some of his irritation shifted into curiosity, and he opened the message.
Gil – borrowing her cell. Is this a bad time?
It wasn't the first time, of course, but still a surprise. Arthur wondered why Gilbert hadn't simply called him instead. He could tell from the text that it wasn't an urgent matter, though still serious. Vaguely Arthur remembered Peter's nightmare that morning and glanced over at his calendar once again, but it was still too early for that.
No. What's the matter?
Arthur set aside his book and sat up better, taking a sip of his tea as he postulated on what exactly could be bothering his Prussian friend. Arthur didn't think he would have been fired, though that would certainly be an issue. Ludwig being fired seemed even less likely, what with all the extra hours Gilbert complained he put in. Perhaps he wanted to talk about that again. Arthur's phone buzzed.
Did I do anything at Franny's party?
Well that was certainly vague. A moment later he received another text which he assumed would clarify.
Like stupid.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. Another text came.
I mean more than normal.
The way Gilbert was beating around the bush made Arthur more than a tad concerned. He frowned at his phone as he typed out Why do you ask? and then waited impatiently.
Ludwig's been pissed.
Arthur doubted that was entirely true. Gilbert had a tendency to overreact to his brother's emotions. Then again, the albino had been rather tense last practice. Had he and Ludwig fought?
Perhaps you should be asking him, then?
It took the Prussian all of five seconds to reply. I tried!
And then; He won't tell me, he just sighs like I'm some kind a disappointment.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
I doubt that. He worships you, you know.
As he should, because I'm Awesome!
Arthur snorted. Crisis averted, then. He set aside his phone and turned to pick up his book when the damn thing buzzed again.
But apparently not at the party. What did I do?
Arthur set his novel back down. Fine. If it was so difficult for him to have some alone time, then he was going to be difficult as well.
You know, as I recall, your alcohol tolerance wasn't something to sneeze at. I highly doubt you drank enough to black out before Ludwig dragged you home.
Arthur wondered for a moment after he sent his reply what time that was, exactly. He and Alfred had left around maybe ten or so. Ludwig had promised not to let Matthew break curfew, but had he been able to keep that promise?
So maybe I had an after party at home. Sue me.
Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that.
And you didn't invite me? I am hurt, Gilbert.
Ja, well apparently you deserve it, b/c youre being a major dick rn.
Oh, improper grammar. He must be getting on Gilbert's nerves, then. Arthur smirked but decided to throw the albino a bone.
I left the party early, you know.
Gilbert replied before Arthur even had the chance to follow it up.
So you have no idea.
I didn't say that. All I know is that you took Matthew out on the dance floor twice, got him drunk, and kissed him.
Arthur expected another fast reply, but nothing came. Arthur considered that Elizaveta may have taken back her phone, but somehow he doubted that. There was a subtle, sinking suspicion in his gut that he'd said something wrong, though he couldn't figure out what exactly it had been.
After nearly fifteen minutes, Arthur's phone buzzed again.
I kissed him?
His unsettling feeling grew stronger.
So he says, anyway.
There was another long pause.
Fuck.
Arthur chuckled despite himself as he realized a few different things at once.
This is why I don't drink around Alfred. he hinted, though he doubted Gilbert would catch the implication. Either way, Arthur was staying out of this. He knew better than to play matchmaker with his friends.
-H-
Arthur knew the moment his mother returned from the airport, not by the sound of the front door, but by the rowdy sounds of Scott pounding on the study door upstairs and telling Liam that their eldest brother was "finally fuckin' home, an' you're gonna waste all day in the damn library? You better get out of there before I send him in after you!" A cursing fight ensued afterward and Arthur learned that yes, Liam's deadline was coming up, and that he had enough distractions without Scott being an "utter prat." After that point Arthur just tried to tune them out and prayed that Peter's mess would hold the door.
Which it did, but unfortunately it wasn't his brothers but rather his mother who was the first to try and open the door.
"Arth- what on earth?"
Arthur looked up from his book and grimaced while his mother pushed more of her weight against the toys.
"Arthur! What is this mess?"
"Peter left it that way before he went to Anaise's," he sighed, setting aside the novel yet again and rising to his feet. By the time he'd reached the door she had edged in enough space to give him a look of stern disapproval.
"So you just left it like this?"
Arthur frowned. "Well it's his mess, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "You can't even move in or out of this room! You could have at least cleaned up some of it. Enough to make a path for the door."
Arthur didn't say anything. His mother sighed.
"Speaking of Peter, I need you to go pick him up around four."
"Why can't someone else do it?"
She gave him a look of both irritation and exhaustion. "Because Liam has work he needs to finish and Scott and Owen want to head out to dinner together, and I know you're going to refuse to join them. Your father has to work late tonight and I've just driven all the way to the airport and back."
Arthur shifted. "Well, yes, but I've spent all weekend packing and running about – I was hoping to have some time to myself today." That and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with Anaise's neighbors. Honestly some of the Australians around there frightened him a bit.
His mother made a sound in the back of her throat and threw her hands up. "Fine. Fine. I'll do everything, then, just as I always do."
Arthur felt the urge to apologize to her, but she was already walking away and shaking her head. Guiltily he shuffled Peter's things so that there was enough room for the door to open.
-H-
It was just after six thirty when Scott threw open the door. Arthur jumped a bit, dropping his book and watching it rattle onto the floor.
"Have you seen Mum?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Er, no?"
Scott snorted and glanced up at Peter's bed. Then he frowned and without looking away asked "Where's the bairn?"
Arthur looked at the clock. He started to get a bad feeling. "...I thought Mum went to get him..."
Scott glared at him. "Weren't you supposed to get him?"
"She said she'd do it."
"Well then where the hell are they? Didn't they come back two hours ago?"
Arthur hesitated. He'd been too wrapped up in his book to listen for the door. He honestly had no idea if they'd come back at all.
His silence apparently made Scott angry, and the redhead opened his mouth to snap something when his cellphone started to ring. Scott jerked it out of his pocket and gave Arthur a 'this isn't over' look before gruffing out "Aye?" into the receiver.
Arthur watched curiously as his brother's expression changed from angry to simply aggravated as he asked "Which one?" Then he looked simply confused and told the caller "Aye. Why?"
When Scott went pale – paler than usual – Arthur clambered off his bed and hurried to the door. A million things raced through his head while his brother half breathed out "What?" and nodded along with whatever the caller was saying. Everything from dog bites to kidnapping to his father being fired ran through his mind.
Scott nodded and gave a weak "Right," before ending the call. He didn't look up.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, looking from the phone to his brother and back.
Scott took a couple slow breaths before looking up.
"Mum was in an accident."
Everything stopped for a moment. Arthur couldn't quite swallow as several horrible images of mangled cars flashed into his mind's eye. An accident. A fatal accident? A life threatening one? Was Peter with her? Oh god, Peter- And the last conversation Arthur had had with their mother was an argument- No, no, she had to be okay. She must have been, she couldn't- they couldn't-
"Oh God..."
Scott gave a tiny nod. "We have to pick up Peter and meet Dad at the hospital."
"So he's okay..."
Arthur felt tiny. He felt like he was a little boy again, helpless and at the complete mercy of the world. He felt as though his stomach had dropped out of his body, and he was very cold and nearly clammy now, despite the near August heat.
"Yeah, she didn-" He watched Scott force a swallow. He was still staring at his phone. "He's still at his friend's. Go get Liam."
Arthur nodded and they split apart. The moment he started moving he couldn't help but run, a sort of panic taking over him. He took the stairs two at a time, sometimes jumping even three before scrambling down the hall and pounding on the study door. He heard something spill and several Irish curses, and then Liam threw the door open looking ready to stab a man.
"What in God's–"
"Mum was in an accident. We have to go get Peter and go to the hospital."
The words shut Liam up just as quickly as they'd shut Arthur down. His older brother nodded and stepped out of the room, following along mutely as Arthur hurried back down to the entrance hall. Scott and Owen were already waiting there.
The drive was silent as Scott rushed a bit over the speed limit. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any cops out, or at least not along their route, and when they pulled up in front of Anaise's house Arthur rushed out of the car and ran up to the front step.
He'd rung the doorbell twice before Anaise's mother pulled it open.
"Oh, you're one of Peter's brothers. We were wondering what had happened – I gave your mum a call but she didn't get back to me."
"Sorry, there's been a bit of a family emergency," Arthur said, trying his best to keep his voice even as Peter appeared behind the woman.
"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that, is everything all right?"
"We'll know soon. Come on, Peter."
Peter took his hand and followed along behind him, nearly tripping over himself to keep up with Arthur in his rush.
"Artie, what's going on?"
"We're going to the hospital."
"Why?"
Arthur nudged Peter into the car in front of him. "Mum was in an accident."
Peter's eyes went wide as he buckled his seat belt. "Is Mummy okay?!"
"We don't know yet," Arthur said.
"Don't worry, Peter," Owen called from the passenger seat as Scott sped back onto the highway, "your mum's a strong woman."
Arthur sincerely hoped he was right.
-H-
Critical condition. They were operating on her now, the nurse said. Her and the other driver.
Arthur couldn't remember ever feeling so terrified in all his life. Their father had his head in his hands, bowed in half and looking nothing short of lost and broken. It chilled Arthur's blood that much more to see him like that, with Owen sitting beside him, a hand on his shoulder. Liam had curled himself up in a corner of the waiting room, staring at the muted television without really seeing it. Scott sat in another row of seats, explaining as delicately as he could to Peter exactly what was happening. Peter was crying.
Arthur stood between the two rows. He wanted to pace, but he hardly felt steady enough to breathe, let alone move. This was all just... How did one even handle this sort of thing? Critical condition. The blunt reality of those two words was unreal. How did something like this even happen? Not that knowing would ease any of his panic, but it would certainly give him something else to do with his thoughts than flounder about helplessly. Something else to do than blame himself, because if he'd just gone and gotten Peter like she'd asked...
"I-is Mummy going to... are we going to be like Gil?" Peter choked out. Arthur shuddered. Scott frowned and pulled the little boy into his lap.
"No, Peter. Shhhhh, it's alright. Mummy's not going anywhere."
Peter hiccuped. "B-but you said–"
Arthur came to sit beside them on instinct, accustomed to being the first one Peter turned to when he was upset, since they shared their room. Before he could get a word in, though, Scott answered.
"I told you the truth – Mummy's very hurt right now and the doctors have to work really hard to help her. But that don't mean she won't be alright, does it?"
Peter sniffled. "...n-no,"
"Right." Scott forced a smile, and Arthur could tell from the little twitch of his eyebrows that he wasn't as positive or as strong as he'd like to be. But as Peter settled down a bit more, blinking away the last of his tears and rubbing at his face, Arthur remembered when he'd been the little boy in Scott's arms. Thunderstorms spent in living room forts, with a torch between them as a 'campfire' while Scott told him fairy tales. The nights he spent being calmed down by Scott after nightmares about the lake he'd nearly drowned in when he was four. Despite their constant feuding and competing, when he really needed him, Scott had always been there.
It didn't mean Scott wouldn't punch him in the face later, when they got into another fight, but for now at least, Arthur could rely on Scott to be a rock of sorts for at least him and Peter to anchor themselves to.
With Peter calmed, Arthur was out of distractions. A cycling mantra of This is my fault ran through his mind, again and again. He could have picked up Peter. He was being selfish, insisting that she went in his stead, and she'd been tired out already. He'd been more fit to drive out. He might not have gotten hit, but even if he had, he deserved it more than she did. If he just hadn't let her go, hadn't made her go.
"Arthur."
Slowly Arthur looked up at Scott. Peter had disappeared, gone off somewhere while Arthur was stewing in his guilt.
"You're blaming yourself, aren't you?" He kept his voice low and gentle, making sure this conversation was private. Arthur couldn't bear to meet his brother's eyes.
"She wasn't supposed to be on the road."
"How d'you figure that?"
Arthur flinched. Scott was going to make him say it, wasn't he? "I... She asked me to..."
"And you didn't, so she did." Arthur nodded. "And?"
Arthur forced himself to look Scott in the eye. "And it's my fault she was driving. It's my fault she was out on the road and that she got hit. Don't you see, Scott? If I had just done what she asked-"
Scott put up a hand to stop him. "But you didn't, and you never were going to."
"I could have!"
"You wouldn't have," Scott insisted. "We don't control our fates. We just live our lives, and what we choose is what we were always going to choose."
Arthur tried to think that over. He shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."
Scott shrugged. "It's just how I see it. But let's say you're right, and you could have gone out in her stead. We'd still be here, in the end."
Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but suddenly the image of his brothers sitting in this waiting room without him came to his mind. Peter crying while his mother held him close, trying her hardest to keep from crying herself, trying to be strong for her boys. Scott smoking in the corner despite the no smoking sign, or perhaps sitting beside Liam with a hand on his shoulder in some quiet reassurance.
"I... She was tired, though. If I'd been driving, maybe I'd have seen the other driver faster. What if I had more time to react, or faster reflexes. Or what if I'd taken a different route. What if I'd–"
He jolted when that hand came down on his own shoulder.
"Don't sit here asking yourself 'what if' over and over. What if Peter'd never been born, then wouldn't Mum be fine?"
"That's- That's different!"
"It's not. What happened happened. Unless you know how to go back and stop it, don't ask."
Arthur wilted under Scott's harsh gaze. There was a certain aggressive compassion there that he'd seen in few other people, and it always shook him the most when it came from Scott.
"But..." he couldn't help saying, though he didn't know what was going to come after it.
"You have to take life as it comes and do what you can with it," Scott said. "Learn from your mistakes, fight for your dreams, and never regret anything."
Arthur thought about his brother seriously for the first time in a long while. About his dreams and his motivations, the way he saw the world and the way he made sense of it... It was hard sometimes to remember there was an actual person behind the brute of a man he was always fighting with, and whenever he did remember, it stunned him for a moment.
Arthur could barely imagine living without regrets. He regretted so many things...
"How?" He sounded weak when he asked. The hand on his shoulder moved to drag him into a sideways hug.
"Do what you think is right, and stand by it until it's wrong."
With that, Scott gave him a final clap on the shoulder and stood, pulling out a lighter as he moved towards the exit to go smoke outside. Arthur guess he needed some fresh air. It must have been stressful, spending all that energy comforting his little brothers while worrying himself about their mother.
Arthur thought about regrets. He'd wronged a lot of people over the years. He'd drank himself stupid hundreds of times and done things he felt ashamed to think about. He'd hurt and had been hurt by Francis. He hadn't been able to help Gilbert nearly as much as he wanted to back in ninth grade. He hadn't been the greatest big brother to Peter, or the best older brother figure to Alfred or Matthew. He hadn't been the best boyfriend to Alfred, either.
If he had been driving, if he'd been in the accident, what would Alfred do?
He'd be pacing about like a wild animal in a tiny cage, unsure of what to do with his hands, frantically muttering all sorts of nonsense. Arthur could just see it. He could see Matthew sitting in a chair, sometimes reaching up to try and still Alfred, though it wouldn't work. He could hear Alfred, saying crazy, ridiculous things like What if I'd called him or Oh my God the last thing I said to him was so mean.
Arthur could see now why Scott told him not to question the possibilities. It could tear someone apart, trying to fix it all in their head and agonizing over their mistakes.
Learn from your mistakes, Scott said. Arthur stood up and made his way outside.
He pressed a speed dial button and prayed that he'd go through. He leaned against the building, watching the clouds drift by in the periwinkle late evening sky as the phone rang, and rang, and rang. He tapped out an anxious rhythm against the wall until finally there was a click.
"Hello, you've reached the cellphone of Francis Bonnefoy. I'm busy spreading love to the world, but leave me a message and I'll be sure to share it with you as well."
Arthur couldn't help rolling his eyes. At the beep, he bit his lip, losing some of his nerve.
"...Francis... It's me. I've... well, some things have come up lately, but I'm calling to say... I know I– I mean I didn't–"
Arthur sighed and forced himself to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For everything, honestly, but mainly for what I said about Joan. Jeanne. It was wrong of me. I should have treated the both of you with a little more respect."
He sighed again and ended the call. He hadn't expected to feel better, exactly, but admitting he was wrong only made him feel guiltier. Arthur considered heading back inside and sitting back down in that hellish waiting room, but he still had another call to make. He had to do this, he told himself. Before he could lose his nerve, he hit another speed dial button and held his breath.
There were a few rings, and Arthur was beginning to think he'd be transferred to voicemail once again when he heard a click. There was no 'hello', and Arthur let out his breath, not really sure why he'd thought there would be.
"I suppose you still don't want to talk to me. Fair enough." Arthur shifted his weight awkwardly. "I suppose I've been taking a lot of things out on you lately. I... Well, they say we hurt the people closest to us the most..."
With Alfred keeping so quiet, he might as well have let the phone go to voicemail. Arthur looked up again, seeking out the first star behind the clouds.
"You are important to me. I worry too much, I know, but it's because I care."
He waited, hoping Alfred would say something. He didn't, and Arthur winced.
"A lot of things are changing," he mumbled. "I don't want us to be one of them."
He moved to hang up when Alfred finally spoke.
"Dude, I'm not going anywhere. I mean, yeah,we get in fights and stuff, but we've been friends for like more than ten years now. I'm not just gonna throw that away, y'know?"
Arthur laughed, just a little. "Right."
"You're important to me, too. And I know you care. You just gotta ease up a bit. You're letting all that stress get to your head and it's messing up our communication or whatever."
Arthur nodded. "You're right."
He heard Alfred laugh. "Never thought I'd hear ya say that! But I totally accept your apology and we can talk again. So what's up?"
Alfred treated it all like it was just so easy, like the world was simple enough that a little phone call could fix anything. Right now, Arthur really wanted to believe that.
"I'm at the hospital."
"What? Why? What happened? Oh my God, dude, are you okay? Holy shit,"
"I'm fine. Physically at least."
"What do you mean."
Arthur took a deep breath. "It's my mother."
-H-
Arthur stayed outside for a while after he'd hung up with Alfred. The sun had finished setting completely, and there were more stars out when Scott came up to him. Arthur glanced sideways long enough to see who it was before turning back to the sky.
"We got news from a nurse," Scott said. Arthur whipped around to face him.
"Well? What kind of news? Is she okay?"
Scott nodded. "Aye, she'll make it." Arthur let out a sigh, feeling a smile tug at his lips. "She'll have to stay here for a while, though. That's not all."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"
"We found out who the other driver was."
Arthur's eyes widened – the way Scott said it told him it was someone important. "Who?"
The Scotsman pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag before answering.
"Julius Vargas."
A/N: First, this chapter is nearly 6k words. That's more that twice the last chapter's length. So, hopefully it makes up for the cliffhanger and the wait? Either way, thank you for your patience with me, and I hope the wait was worth it.
So here we have some (lots of) UK bro interaction. When I started this story I knew literally nothing about the British Isles family, which is why Scotland is named Scott, rather than Alistair (my current preference). It's also why we didn't get to see much of them before; I didn't know how they behaved or even how they spoke. I'm still a bit vague on Ireland and Wales, but as I've started cosplaying Scotland, I'm getting a better grip on him. So this chapter is about the complex relationship they all have.
Allegory time! So, the accident Arthur's mother was in is symbolic of the fall of Britannia. The England cosplayer to my Scotland had a headcanon that England blames himself for her death, so we see a little bit of that here. I don't know too much about the fall in all honesty, but I do know that some people say it was Germania's fault, while many others it was Rome's fault that she died. Hence Peter's nightmare about Gilbert and Ludwig's father, and then Julius Vargas (Rome) having actually been in the accident.
Arthur mentions having said something awful about Jeanne. This is a reference to his statement at the party in chapter 11, as well as some off-screen comments of the same nature, and is metaphorical for her being burned at the stake by England.
Finally, the phone call between Arthur and Alfred is symbolic for England finally repealing taxes after the Sons of Liberty boycotted their goods. England still passed an act that basically said England has the right to tax its colonies along with the repeal, but they were sort of empty words considering that later the boycotting happened all over again in pretty much the same way. But we'll get to that later.
Translations for this chapter:
Bairn: Scottish English; Child. (I'm not entirely sure if this is actually a Celtic/Gaelic word or if it's just Scottish slang, but either way the Scots will call children and/or the youngest child of the family the bairn, so Scott uses it here to reference Peter)
Aye: Scottish English; Yes
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even with all its tension and angst. Thank you as always!
~VV