The sound of crashing thunder was what woke the little Canadian up from his otherwise peaceful dreams. He sat up; looking out into the darkness of his bedroom as his eyes fell on the large window in front of him and he shrank back into himself as another clap sounded and when the lightening flashed he bolted, rushing from his large bed out the door.
His little feet barely made any sound on the wooden hallway as he ran to his papa's bedroom; the large wooden door never looking bigger than right then as another clap of thunder and lightening followed him and he let out a startled squeak, pushing the large wooden door open and peeking into the darkness.
It smelt of smoke and wine; a scent that had become comforting to the little colony as it was a smell he likened to his papa, who's snores could be heard from the large four-poster bed he was asleep in.
As quietly as he could he snuck over to the side of the bed and attempted to climb up, but he was far to little to do so and ended up falling on his butt with a small 'oompfh!'
The noise was enough to waken the elder nation whom blinked in confusion, looking around his bed before he saw the tuff of curly blonde hair at his side and he reached down to retrieve his little colony.
"....Matthieu, what's wrong?" he asked, voice heavy with sleep as he forced his eyes to focus, alarmed when he saw tears gathering in his precious little colonies big violet eyes. "Mon cher, what iz it? Tell papa what iz wrong?"
The little colony sniffled, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid for waking his papa up for something as stupid as a rain storm, but he couldn't help it-- the wind and rain had been scary and the shadows it created in his room terrifying. He didn't need to answer his papa considering another loud clap sounded, shaking the room and causing him to squeek in fear and bury his head against the man's chest.
And Francis understood and sighed softly, wrapping his arms around the little boy and running his fingers though his soft blonde hair. "....Oh Matthieu," he cooed, "Zee rain iz nothing to be afraid of mon petit garcon..." he pulled him away a bit, looking down at him. "...Tell you what, you can sleep with moi tonight, oui?"
The little Canadian nodded as he was picked up and settled down beside his papa and as soon as Francis had laid back down he was cuddling into his side, clinging to the French man's nightshirt and this time when the thunder clapped he wasn't afraid-- how could be be? He had his papa there.
~*~
Years later; far too many to count Matthew found himself getting ready for bed; his room had changed much since his youth, his toys had been put away and adult things replaced them, a desk full of paperwork he had to complete, a wardrobe full of business suits and ties instead of frilly gowns and nightshirts.
But one thing hadn't changed;
And that was just how terrifying the room became on a stormy night when the shadows turned into monsters; though now they turned into REAL monsters; instead of claws on his ceiling they turned into guns and bayonets, and the thunder didn't sound like a monster roaring but a cannon ball being fired and as he lay awake trying to shut out the terrible images and sounds he found himself rushing from his bed, bare feet following a familiar path in the dark.
The wooden door at the end of the hallway still looked far too big, even though he was a full grown man now.
He opened the door and it squeeked slightly with age that it hadn't once had and the smell of stale smoke and wine meet his nose and he was still comforted by the smell as he made his way over to the four-poster bed still set in the middle of the room, covers perfectly made but not dusty; goodness no... He didn't let the room get a speck of dust in it.
He crawled into the large bed, devoid of the same warmth it had once had and curled up in the middle of it as he tried to imagine callous fingers brushing though his silky hair he'd inherited from the certain someone he was missing so very much at the moment.
He fell asleep in the old bed, wondering where he had gone wrong to be forgotten by the man he had once so lovingly called his 'papa'.
