Hello there, I'm making another story based from a nightmare. I think it'll fit in Hetalia though. I do not own Hetalia, all I own is this story. XD. I ship FrUk by the way... and RoChu, PruHun, SuFin, Asakiku and Spuk =D. Anyways, hope this'll get much attention compared to my other stories...
Happy Reading...MABUHAY!
"You bastard! What the bloody hell are you doing here?!", England fumed, his brows thickened from heavy knitting. He wore the usual frown that felt like mandatory for him. Yet, France found this cute.
"Mon Ami, why are you always in a bad mood? I brought wine", France grinned, his face beaming up but only annoying England more. "It's three in the morning, frog! What did you expect?", England pitched. To emphasize his point, he shoved his alarm clock on France's face.
The real reason was; France got kicked out of the woman's house, whom he's sleeping with. It was because of Spain and Prussia's voicemail: 'How'd this one go? She like a whore you said she was? Was she the sister you had sex with the last time we're on London?'.
"Well, there's a reason but it's hard to explain", France scratched his head. He was getting nowhere with England's foul mood. Hesitating, he let the French bastard in. It would be bad for his gentleman appearance if he let this frog rot outside.
"Thanks to you, I don't feel sleepy anymore", England grumbled. France smiled sweetly, "Let's drink then", raising the wine bottle over his head. "Chateau Margaux, one of the finest in the world. Be glad I'm letting you drink expensive bottles". England merely waved his hand, "All the same for me, wine-loving bastard". France just shrugged.
After a minute or two, France returned with burgundy glasses filled with fair amount of alcohol. England raised one and gulped it all on one tilt. "You know, that's the reason why you get drunk easily", France inquired, but England ignored him and began to refill his glass with more than it should've.
After a few glasses later...
"Hey France, turn off the lights, my head's hurting", England slurred, he kept talking to the other direction. France, partly drunk, would fix England's face on his side, "Right here, Angleterre, and I can't turn it off. That's sunlight". England nodded and laughed vividly that France thought he'd go blind. "It'd be better if you always smile, you know? I wish that you were more of a jolly person than this anti-social bastard", France smiled as he yawned. "I'm going to sleep, bonne nuit", France curled up on the leftover space of the couch and slept.
Wild clattering woke him up from his short sleep.
As he opened his eyes, he was surprised by a wide grin that made him shiver down his spine. "Good morning mate, slept well?", came from a rather jolly England. This England has strawberry blonde hair, clear blue eyes and the same old thick brows. What really scared him is the bright smile, with chilly after effects.
"Not really, where'd the noise came from?", France croaked, stretching his limbs that cramped. "I made cupcakes", he giggled and went off to retrieve his fresh batch. France gulped. He once tasted England's weapon of mass destruction aka scones and it gave him a stomach ache that lasted for a week. And he only ate one.
The happy England came back, shattering France's horrifying image of England's cupcakes. It looked delicious and cute, which was disbelieving. "You sure you made this?". England nodded with a huge smile. "Sure?", France still wasn't convinced. "I am positive", came England's reply with a bone chilling smile and raising a kitchen knife in one hand.
"Arthur, you're freaking me out", France shakily took a bunny shaped cupcake from the tray.
"Who's Arthur? I'm Oliver. Eat", England's invitation sounded like a sweet deadly threat.
France took a bite. "It tastes good", he smiled. "Great", England smiled wider now.
Bite after bite, England's eerie smile got bigger. Francis was getting scared now.
England handed a teacup to him, "Tea? Sorry, I don't serve coffee". "Oui, merci".
After drinking the tea, France got sleepy, "What's...in...the...tea?".
England again smiled evilly, "Sleeping drug".
After hearing this, France collapsed on the floor. When he gained consciousness, he was in a dark room, tied onto a chair with only a dull yellow light as light source. It swung back and forth, like those in noir detective movies. It was only then he noticed another man tied up to a chair facing him. He was as still as a statue.
"Monsieur, can you hear me?", France whispered, fearing Oliver might hear him. The other man stayed silent. "No use talking to him", Oliver emerged from the darkness, his face covered in blood, his glorious strawberry blonde hair spotted red. He still smiled. France blanched.
Oliver steadied the swinging lamp. And then, he moved the other chair into France's clear view. It was the England he knew, green eyes glazed, his usual messy hair soaked in blood. His pretty head was pulled back, to show France his entire body dripping in blood. His milky neck slashed, showing the red bubbling blood oozing and a fair amount of flesh dangling.
"He didn't like my cooking. I didn't like him breathing", Oliver smiled, pulling England's untamed locks, his clear blue eyes on England's glazed lifeless emeralds.
"You're insane!", France can't hold his tongue, his fear palpable.
"Oh?", Oliver's smile faded, instead was replaced by a horrifying icy stare. In his one hand was the bloody knife which he licked like it was some sort of icing. He now sat on France's lap, balancing himself on both of the other's thighs. He inched his face to France's, "Maybe I am, mate", he smiled his icy smile.
France was dumbstruck. His words and mind froze out of fear. Oliver now placed both of his slender arms on both sides of France's shoulders. With one bloodstained hand, he opens France's mouth for a passionate French kiss. France could taste the metallic taste of blood. Arthur's blood. His tears flowed uncontrollably upon his fallen ally.
France gazed at the emotionless eyes in front of him. Oliver smiled, "Open your mouth". France followed. Oliver inserted his bloody kitchen knife, skewered France tongue that made France gave out a blood curling muffled scream. France was now choking on his own blood, praying French prayers silently on his head, begging to be spared. Olvier cut his tongue painfully, and raised it on France's eyes like it was a trophy, "Pretty huh?". He held France's tongue and waved it around. France held back a vomit that threatened to burst out of his bloody mouth.
"What's the matter? Cut out your tongue? Oh, I just did", Oliver laughed sweetly. "What to cut off next?", Oliver trailed his bloody knife downwards, pointing it on France's crotch. Oliver grinned wider and France shook his head and screamed intangible words, gurgling his own blood, eyes widening with horror.
"Speak clearly mate, that's rather, undignified", Oliver smiled as he raised the blade and sharply hurled it downwards. France screamed.
"Dammit you frog! Wake up!".
France jolt awake, his entire body soaked in sweat. England's face wore the same scowl he always wore, "It's almost noon and you're screaming so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts". "Arthur! Is that you?", France clasped his face, examining it and his neck. Nothing.
"Bloody twat! Of course it's me, are you still drunk Francis?", England pulled away and France heaved a relieved sigh. "Angleterre, mind if I use the bathroom?".
"Down the hall, turn left, the door on the hallway's end", England snapped, returning to his cooking, cursing when he burnt it again.
France got up and went towards the bathroom, feeling happy that it was just a silly nightmare. There was only one Angleterre, and it was the mass-producing deadly scone maker England he knew. The man who'd smile when he sees his friends, the faeries and his picture with the baby America.
He splashed his face when he got to the bathroom. He was relieved and fully awake. He splashed again. This time, his heart skipped a beat. He knew he was awake but when he raised his head to look at himself on the mirror. He paled.
"Hello, mate", Oliver smiled icily.
I'll post this as complete, but there's actually a continuation. I'll only post that when this story receives enough support. =)
Cheerio, from Oliver Kirkland. =)