This is my first story here on . I've written a lot of stories on Wattpad, though. I love constructive criticism. I do not own Hetalia. This will be EngIta (England x North Italy). It will contain things like depression and disorders and some things like that, so please tell me if I'm wrong about something. I'll try to do research, but I might still get things wrong. This will include my personal headcannons and ones I find on the internet. I do not claim ownership over the ones that come off the internet or anything. If I include something from your story, I am sorry and I promise I am not trying to steal your work. There won't be anything inappropriate except for maybe some Francis jokes or something. For anyone who is still going to read after this paragraph, I hope that you enjoy. (Edited.)
Arthur looked out the window. He gazed at the trees and the grass. His room was big, even if it was a room for two. It had comfy beds and desks and a lot of bookshelves- something he had made sure he would have when he got the room. Even the bathroom was nice. The food in the cafeteria was, surprisingly, actually very good. The library was just huge, filled with books. The birds outside sang happily, and at the other side of the building there was places for every and any sport you could think of. It was much, much better than anything that Arthur was used to.
Arthur hated the place.
He had gotten there a little less than a week ago. No matter how brilliant the place seemed, there was no hiding from the fact that it was not for normal people. Normal people aren't allowed there. No, there aren't vampires or werewolves or anything. Arthur would definitely have prefered to be a vampire, because at least blood tastes good. No, it's for people with eating disorders. Or mental disorders. Or personality disorders… Things like that.
While the place may have good food, or sports, or even a library, that doesn't get rid of the fact that some of the people there don't even keep their food down, or that everyone there has to talk to a therapist regularly, and that no one there is normal or even okay. If they are, then they definitely don't stay for long.
Arthur looked away from the window, deciding to stop thinking about how much he hated the place for now and read the book he had gotten from the library. The library was definitely one of, if not his first favourite places at the place. Not that he wouldn't jump at the first chance of leaving he got, because there's no doubt that he definitely would.
He opened his book to the first page and started reading. If Arthur had been one to look at the bright side of life, he would have been thankful that lessons didn't start until his second week of being there. The place offered education as well, of course, so that if they get out, they won't be behind in their schooling. Since it didn't start for a couple more days, Arthur allowed himself to get enchanted by the book's spell, blocking out everything.
He was so distracted by the book, that he didn't notice his roommate come or try to tell him something until a hand was waving in his face, in between him and his book. Arthur snarled, "What?"
"You're late," his roommate, Gilbert, said. "Shouldn't you be-"
Arthur cursed, cutting him off. Arthur scowled suddenly, muttering "shut up."
"Maybe I von't even remind you next time. Don't say zhat to zhe awesome Gilbert!"
"I wasn't talking to you," Arthur muttered. "And thanks for reminding me, you bloody wanker." Arthur stood up and walked to the door, putting in a bookmark, closing his book, and putting it on the bed on his way out.
While the classes wouldn't start until the second week, the biweekly sessions with a therapist started near the end of the first week.
Arthur walked into the room, and the therapist looked up.
"Herro, Arthur," he said.
"Hullo, Mr…" Arthur started, trailing off when he realised he had no idea what his name was.
"Call me Kiku. We're supposed to create a comfortabre and trustfur atmosphere. Would you rike some tea or anything?"
Arthur nodded after a moment. "Yes please. And I apologise for being late…."
"It's okay," Kiku made some tea for both of them and gave Arthur his. "So how have you been doing ratery?"
"I've been doing fine. How about you?"
"Good. And you can sit down…."
Arthur sipped the tea and sat down at a seat. "Oh. Okay, thanks…"
"You're wercome."
"So how does this therapy thing work? Do you just ask me a bunch of personal questions and expect me to answer all of them?" There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry, that was a bit rude…."
Kiku looked at him. "Don't worry, most peopre don't even bother to aporogise. At reast, not at first."
"I usually try not to be rude, especially not for first impressions. There are exceptions, of course, but still…"
"I can understand that. To answer your question, if I ask any questions that seem too peresonar, you don't have to answer them."
"Okay." Arthur internally sighed in relief.
"You know why you're here, right?"
"As in, in here, or at this place?" Arthur asked.
"Both. Or either."
"Yeah, I know why I'm here. You know why I'm here, right?"
"Yes, I do. Anxiety and depression, correct? We suspect more, though, that's just what you've been diagnosed with so far."
"Yeah. What else is suspected?"
"Possibry an eating disorder, serf harm.
"Is there anything specific you think may have caused your anxiety or depression?" Kiku asked.
"Yes, but I don't think I want to go into specifics. You'll probably know sooner or later from questions that you ask anyway, but still."
"Okay. So you have some sibrings? Would you mind terring me about them?"
"My older siblings aren't all that nice, and my younger brother hates me," Arthur replied. "I have a twin as well. I don't really want to talk about this any more, or at least not today…."
Kiku nodded. "Okay. What's you're favourite corour or corours?"
"I like green, red, blue, and black," Arthur answered.
"Those are nice choices," Kiku replied. "What are some of your favourite things to do?"
Arthur thought for a moment. "I like to read, write, ride horseback, boats, and archery."
"Interesting. A lot of different types of things… What are some things you disrike?
Arthur shook his head. "Far too many to list."
"Can you name a few?"
Arthur nodded after a moment. "Book haters, orange presidents, Francis, and most people in general. Among other things."
Kiku struggled to keep a straight face on the second one. "Okay. How are you liking it here so far?"
"No offense, but I hate it here. Sure, it's much better than what I'm used to, but I don't like it here, really, at all."
Kiku nodded. "It'rr take some getting used to."
"Definitely." There was a moment of silence.
"Werr, you can go back to your room if you want. If you ever need anything, you can arways come talk to me."
"Okay. And thanks for the tea. Bye." Arthur put down his empty tea cup on the table, and stood up, then walked out.
"Goodbye, Arthur-san."
Arthur walked back to his room. Gilbert saw him walk in and walked out for his own therapy session. Arthur sat down on his bed and opened his book. He was only on page fifty. By the time Gilbert came back, Arthur was on page one hundred and thirty one. Gilbert tried to talk to him, but Arthur didn't hear, so Gilbert just went to bed. A couple minutes later, Arthur realised he couldn't make out the words anymore. He looked out the window and realised that the sun had set. Arthur was about to turn on the light when he realised why it was off in the first place; Gilbert must've turned it off when he went to sleep.
"I guess I'll go to sleep and finish my book in the morning," Arthur muttered, putting in his bookmark and putting his book on the bedside table and then lying down. He tried to sleep for a couple of minutes. He was just on the verge of sleep, sleep just about to take him, when suddenly he sat upright, and he could feel sleep drawing back again. He cursed his mind. Sure, he liked to write, but did he seriously need to think of an idea right as he was about to get to sleep. However, he was never one to let go of a good idea when it came to him. Not to mention he would never be able to sleep if he didn't write it down. He went to the desk that he had claimed as his own the moment he came to the room. He turned on the small light and tried to angle it so that it wouldn't bother his sleeping roommate (not that he would really feel bad if it did). He picked up his pencil and opened the spiral notebook he had sitting there, ready for a situation like this. He started writing.
"Are you writing again?" Gilbert muttered. Arthur jumped slightly, startled. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"You know how I get when I'm writing or reading, Gilbert," Arthur replied.
"Okay, maybe I meant to scare you," Gilbert admitted, smirking slightly. "But seriously, it's zhree in zhe morning, Arthur."
"It is?"
"Yes. You voke me up at zhree in zhe morning from your writing and muttering," Gilbert said.
"I mutter when I write?"
"Yes. You do. Now go to sleep."
Arthur bit his lip. "Give me ten more minutes," he said.
Gilbert shook his head. "Two."
"Seven."
"Five."
"Okay. Five. Thanks," Arthur said, and went back to writing before Gilbert could say anything else.
Exactly five minutes later, Gilbert said "time's up."
"Let me finish the paragraph…"
"No."
"The sentence."
"Nope."
"The word?"
"...Sure."
Arthur finished the word, then closed the notebook, turned off the light at the desk, and walked over to the bed.
"See you in zhe morning," Gilbert said. "You are going to breakfast, right?"
Arthur snorted. "Of course I am. They suspect me of having an eating disorder, so it's not like I even have a choice."
"Do you?" Gilbert asked.
"Do I what?" Arthur asked dumbly.
"Have an eating disorder," Gilbert clarified.
"Of course not," Arthur answered.
"You sure?"
"...Of course I am."
"Are you lying?"
"My answer is no either way. Take your pick."
Gilbert was silent for a moment before he talked again. "Can I use zhat? It's awesome. Not as awesome as me, of course, but it's awesome."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. He was lying on his back, and the lights were off, so it wasn't like Gilbert could see him, but Arthur knew that Gilbert knew what he was doing anyway.
"Yeah. Sure, use it," Arthur said, then mumbled: "I swear, if you were a superhero, you'd probably name yourself Awesome Man."
"Yeah, I probably vould," Gilbert said. "Vhat vould you be? Bushy Brow Man?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be a superhero."
"Vhy not?" Gilbert questioned.
"I'd be the evil mastermind trying to take over the world. Or maybe an angel that's secretly a demon in disguise. Or maybe- Oh!" Arthur practically jumped out of bed, and Gilbert grabbed his arm.
"No," Gilbert said.
"But I just got this brilliant ide-"
"No. You'll keep me up all night with your writing."
"You weren't even going to sleep," Arthur protested. "You were talking instead."
"I vas about to go to sleep," Gilbert said.
Arthur let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and said in a voice that made it sound like all his hopes and dreams were crushed: "Okay. I guess I'll just try to go to sleep but then be kept awake all night as this idea develops and undergo the horrific torture as I face the fact that I won't ever remember this idea once I do finally get to sleep and then wake up in the morning. And then I'll spend the whole day thinking there's something I need to do but not remembering what it is. I'll fall into a deep state of depression because I'll feel like a failure at life because I forgot something so simple to remember. Then I-"
Gilbert clapped a hand over Arthur's mouth. "Be quiet. I seriously doubt zhat all zhat vill happen if you don't write down zhis idea. If you do forget your idea, I completely expect for you to rub it in my face or be angry at me for causing you to forget it by making you get some sleep tonight. But go to sleep and zhen be angry at me. I just vant to get to sleep for now, okay?"
"Okay," Arthur said, getting back in bed.
"Zhanks."
"Whatever."
