America's Important Message!
BAM.
The sharp thud rang out through the room. Things and stuff and objects slightly jumped. Piled against the door were various items, large and small, that America had dragged and placed in front of the wooden blocked doorway.
BANG.
Currently, hiding behind the safety of the enormous World Conference table, were the previous Axis Powers, a few island nations and other countries, and the used to be Allies.
BOOM.
All Allies, except a certain Russian.
Now, there was no planned World Conference that day. Everyone just seemed to be heading to the room to run some mental to-do tasks. A few of the countries there had come to organize everything out for the next meeting to help and participate in the keeping of things running smooth, as though that would ever actually happen with all of them and more in one room. Something such as that would only ever happen in Germany's dreams.
BANG. BANG.
Speaking of which, others had been in the room for other purposes. Most percentage of "other purposes" being mastering the art of annoyance. Tagging along with certain others, who may or not have left in the first place to be at a far distance from them, needing some space. A specifically awesome country had come to tease his brother about hanging out with an Italian so much, the Italian barely inches away from them. Prussia would often get evil glares in his direction from the blond sibling.
And then there was someone like America, who had wanted to speak with a blond Brit about some unimportant, strange realization while England had some busy work to do which he had left in the current room. Every time he heard some new "news" from America, he knew he would never be disappointed with the reaction England gave himself. Like that one time said Freedom Country told him about a horse he rode (how he got on a horse without crushing it, the world may never know) named Daisy. And how Daisy and all the other horses would always try to munch on plants they passed. And how he came up the question of "If Daisy ate a daisy, would. It. Be. Cannibalism?" The old Brit rolled his forest green eyes at the odd memory and question.
BAM. BOOM.
Oh yeah, the door. The door practically on the edge of being ripped off its hinges by Russia. He wasn't trying to sound mean by constantly slamming the door when knocking didn't work. The Russian was feeling left out. He saw as many countries had already entered the Conference Room and wondered why he wasn't invited to this "meeting", but when he reached the door handle, it was locked. Why? Why would they exclude him? He was a country, too, and an important one as well, not that the others were anything less.
BANG. BANG. BAM.
The thoughts within the space of the room weren't the happiest either. Ideas swirled around as to what level of madness Russia was at currently. Everyone cowered behind the table, some faces straight with no emotion, and some people shaking every now and then.
America was the first to perk up.
"Oh my gosh guys, what if this is how we die,"
"Germany, Germany! I don't want to die!" Italy squeaked out of fear.
Prussia huffed. "Mein Gott, calm down just a bit, Italy,"
Germany added on to what his brother said. "Don't worry, we aren't going to die,"
"But Russia is really big and scary..."
"Dudes, was this ever on 1,000 Ways to Die?"
"America, stop suggesting the fact that we might all die!" England blurted out as he turned to the American.
BAM. BOOM. BANG.
"WE ARE GOING TO DIE, I JUST KNOW IT...!"
"We aren't going to die, Italy. Honestly, can we just stop jumping to conclusions..."
What the German had just said flew right past America's head. Whether he had planned to ignore it or not, the words did not reach his ears. Nothing seemed to be oblivious. He looked as though he was focused on one thing.
England.
America shifted his whole body in England direction.
"Yo, Brit, if we really are about to die-"
"We will all live, stop making things so dramatic!"
Wow, he truly is delusional thinking we'll all survive, America thought.
Once again, phrases of common sense fell upon death ears.
"I have to tell you something."
"What?"
The blue eyed dirty blonde placed his gloved hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it. "I, um... How do I... word this...? Uh... I-I... You and I have know each other for so long... And, uh... Thoughts about each other can change other time... with, um, influence...? So-"
"Come on now, out with it already!" By now, England was a bit pissed. They did not have all day!
America blushed, flustered. Why was this so hard to say?
"Well, as I, uh, grew older, I learned, um, new things about m-myself, and, um, you... And my f-feelings... My feelings about-"
"About what?! Hurry and just spit it out! It can't be so difficult to say! Tell me what you need to say and GET IT OVER WITH." England with very direct with his frustration.
The American had the tiniest hint of tears in the corners of his eyes. "FINE."
Now this is where England got confusion clear on his face.
With tears flying everywhere as his head snapped up, America yelled at England, trying to get his message clear.
"YOUR COOKING SU-U-U-UUUCKS!"
Everyone stared. They had been watching the scene the whole time. England had transparent shock all over his expression, eyes blanks, mouth gapped in horror. And America, well, the young man had fled to a corner. An emo corner.
"I'm so sorry, dude, I've been such a terrible bro, I should be supporting you and I just dissed your cooking... Now you're gonna hate me forever..." America mumbled from his corner.
"I made it to the meeting, da?"