I seem to be cursed with the inability to focus on writing one story at a time. At any rate, while writing the Hong Kong and Canada story I had one of those weird story ideas that doesn't really work with the one I'm writing, but might make a good other story. I plan on trying something different with this one, in which I actually have an idea of where I'm going. Weird huh? Maybe I should make an outline? I don't own Hetalia or the characters, just the story.
Vietnam had been on top of the world. For one, they were having the meeting in her home country, two, all her family was there to support her and three, everyone seemed to be having a good time and were enjoying the environment. There was only one thing that could ruin it.
"Hey everyone, the hero ha s arrived!" Aaaaaaand there it was. Vietnam watched in mute horror and no small amount of rage as America marched into the room, giving his million dollar smile and striding to some of the various nations assembled in the hall to pester them. France and England soon followed after him causing their own personal tornado of chaos. Maybe it won't be too bad, Vietnam though. At least they hadn't said anything too stupid or offensive, yet.
"Hey Vietnam!" Shit, she thought, pulling her straw hat over her face in a vain attempt to hide. "How are you, wow this place is looking good, much better since the last time I was here." Vietnam slowly lifted the brim of her hat to regard the bright blue eyes behind a pair of glasses staring at her with an air of unsurpassed arrogance and confidence; he wore a bomber jacket and had his face and cowlick way too close to hers for comfort. Flushing angrily she narrowed her brown eyes and stared directly into his blue ones.
"The last time you were here you were trying to conquer me." She hissed dangerously, regretting having left her rice paddle in her room. She had not expected to need it this early into the meeting, later maybe but not day one for god's sake.
"Liberate you from communist pigs, actually; because," he added striking a pose in the middle of the room, "I'm the hero." Vietnam could only stare at his stupidity before sputtering out something in Vietnamese that, translated roughly, would be inappropriate for any and all audiences.
"No apologies necessary, I forgive you after all-"America was interrupted thanks to a large smacking sound and a furious Vietnam storming out of the room. Putting his hand to his face and feeling the still red mark in the shape of a hand. America turned to a guffawing England and a shaking in barely suppressed laughter France. "Was it something I said?" America asked bewildered. England laughed even harder and France soon joined him.
Vietnam stormed into her room in the conference building. Though pointless to have one as her house was nearby, she had taken it in order to be close in case something went wrong. Slamming the door behind her, she ripped her straw hat from her head and threw it to the floor. Stomping over to her bead she collapsed into it and sighed, fighting back tears of anger and sadness. Why does he do it? She wondered, why does he aggravate me? Does he get some sort of sick rush out of it? Is he really that egotistical that he doesn't understand what it meant that he invaded my nation? Sighing, she realized she may never know the answers.
There was a soft knock at her door, causing Vietnam to shoot up and grab her hat from the floor. Glancing at her clock she realized she must have fallen asleep, as it was an hour later from when she had collapsed on her bed. This was unexpected, she pondered as she cast her eyes around to try and spot her rice paddle. Who would be trying to visit her after the exhibition downstairs, America coming to apologize? She scoffed. There was another soft knock followed by a timid voice.
"Excuse me; may I talk to you Miss Vietnam?" She turned to the door and saw her rice paddle standing next to it.
"There you are." She whispered, grabbing the stick and smoothing her green dress. She opened the door with a fake smile plastered on her face and froze as she regarded her guest, who had jumped back a step with the abrupt opening of her door. Blonde hair and slightly oval glasses adorned his face and a single curly strand of hair stuck out from the rest right above his face. A timid smile graced his lips and his violet eyes nervously looked at her. Unfortunately for him, all she saw was glasses and blonde hair.
"Hello, I saw what happened an-." The newcomer began.
"America!" She shouted recalling her encounter earlier in the day with a raw fury which quickly enveloped her. The smaller nation blanched considerably at her furious visage, but before he could say anything, Vietnam's rice paddle flew into his face, causing a large cracking noise as it impacted his face. He stumbled back a step, dropping what he had been holding behind his back, where he threw up his hands in a placating gesture.
"Please, miss, I'm no-." Vietnam advanced on him, still brandishing her paddle.
"Try and embarrass me at my own place." She swung her paddle at him again, forcing him to jump back until he hit the wall; she continued to advance, swinging her paddle threateningly. "I've been working hard to make my country better and you embarrass me like that?" She swung her paddle at him yet again, only to have him bring his hand up and stop it with a loud smack. Oddly, he didn't even seem fazed by the pain no doubt shooting across his hand.
"Listen, I'm sorry your upset bu- Ugh." He grunted abruptly as she kicked him in the ribs, hearing a loud crack. He blocked the next kick by grabbing her foot, only to be punched in the face by her fist. Releasing her leg to instinctively grab his face she kicked him in the ribs again causing him to drop to the floor, though he maintained his grip on the rice paddle. Kicking him in the face once, twice, three times he finally released his hold on the rice paddle and collapsed in a battered heap.
Vietnam collapsed, her rage bleeding out from the encounter in a sudden rush. She remained next to the unconscious nation, using her paddle to hold herself up so that she only fell to her knees for several minutes, panting. Staring at the prone body, she began to think about her recent actions. Ok, I may have overreacted a bit, she considered. She glanced to and fro in the hallway. Nobody around to have seen that. Glancing at the body again she sighed to herself. Nothing left to do but hide him for now. Turning her head in concern to regard the rice paddle her eyes widened. Near the head were five indents in the wood, the size of fingers. Shaking her head she turned back to the unconscious nation.
Grabbing the limp form she dragged him into her room and carefully placed him on the floor. Sighing at the exertion she looked at the body. He seemed so at peace, albeit the blood and bruises marred the image a bit but that wasn't particularly important. Sighing again, she turned and placed the rice paddle back near the door. Right before she exited the room she glanced at the unconscious man and shrugged, he had deserved it after all. So why did she feel kind of... bad?
Vietnam marched downstairs, putting on a brave face to confess her actions and hopefully drop the American off with one of his allies. No one would really fault her for her actions after all; she turned the corner to the conference room and froze. Had she been able to, her jaw likely would have hit the floor. There, standing and talking to England, France and Austria was America. This was impossible, she reasoned, masking her shock quickly. It was physically impossible, how could he be both here and lying in her room with a concussion. It just wasn't possible, and yet here he was, all evidence to the contrary. Resolving to solve this mystery, she inched closer to hear the conversation.
After about ten minutes of, hopefully, inconspicuously following the American, Vietnam was about to quit and ask someone directly as to whether America was some sort of mythical creature. Then she heard something both interesting, and horrifying.
"Hey has anyone seen Matthew." America asked. Vietnam cocked her head in his direction. The name sounded familiar...
"Matthew, who is that?" England asked quizzically.
"Matthew, Canada, the great white north. Looks like me, but has purple eyes and a curl of hair instead of a cowlick." Vietnam froze, her jaw dropping in horror. Oh crap. Oooooh crap she made a major mistake, and America was unlikely to forgive her beating his brother half to death. America wasn't in her room, his brother was. She suddenly felt very ill.
"Oh ya, where is he, I haven't seen him. I wonder where he went." She cocked her head in their direction again, attempting to hear more and praying that America really was a mythical creature.
"Maybe he's lost. He's so shy he wouldn't even ask for directions." Oh shit.
"Well, I do hope he is okay, you know how he is, wouldn't hurt a fly."
Oh, F***. This just kept getting better.
Gah, I feel so bad about doing that to Matthew. Oh well, couldn't be helped. It's Kind of essential to the story. Read and Review, tell me what you think.