For in what seemed like ages, there was peace at the world meeting. Ludwig hadn't raised his voice, Francis hadn't flirted with many of the women present, Arthur hadn't sworn much, and Alfred- for the most part- was quiet.

Alfred only acted like this when something happened, something he believed he was unable to fend off. Matthew knew that better than most. When he broke out in yellow fever as a child, Matthew was there to help. With every lost battle in every war, Matthew was there. He only seemed to be seen when it was beneficial to Alfred.

Right now, something was off. Alfred posture was slouched, his skin a few shades paler, and part of the brightness in his eyes was gone. His hair was standing without its usual discipline, but his cowlick was drooping ever so slightly. Even his bomber jacket- the most iconic thing about him- was torn at someplace. "So, like I was saying," he yawned, "we should probably- I... I've got to sit down." He took a seat next to Matthew. He yawned again, he couldn't have gotten a wink of sleep. "Artie, could you take over?"

"Well, yes, but what's wrong with you?" The boy who tried to lead, the so-called hero, was the one to try to direct the meetings. He's never passed up that chance. "Maybe you should go, you don't seem like yourself."

Clutching his arm, which, Matthew noticed, was something he rarely did, Alfred replied, "Artie, dude, I'm fine. Don't worry, you already do that enough."

Matthew leaned over. "Alfred, are you sure you're okay? You don't think there's been a shooting, do you?"

Alfred, in turn, leaned over so the others could not hear. "No, its something different. Its an outbreak, I doubt its bad. I can handle it."

"Are you sure? I could always-"

"I'm fine. Promise."

"Alright."

Throughout the day, Alfred only got worse. He clutched his arm more, he was close to fainting at times even. Finally the nations could leave. Alfred stayed behind. "Matt, I don't think I can make it back to my place n my own."

"I'll take you, just like when we were kids." He smiled faintly. "Maybe you should stay home for a while, at least until everything clears up."

"Matt, you know me." He chuckled. "That's not happening." He winced, and his hand shot straight for his arm.

"I told you, I'm fine." He put his arm at his side, but cringed at the pain it had caused. "You don't need to-"

"Alfred. Take it off." Matthew had a look in his eyes that few nations could muster when it was needed. Not a look of intimidation, but a look that told you to trust him. It was a look that made you comply. It was both demanding and compassionate. So, the jacket was taken off.

Matthew's previous look was replaced by pure horror. "Arthur!" He yelled, louder than he ever had. The skin was not only sore, rough, and agitated- there were multitudes of red, sweltering cysts forming.

He came running t the sudden outburst. Even from a distance, he could see what Alfred arm had turned into. His heart beat faster. No, he thought to himself, it was gone. It was all gone, it even took me with it once. It... It can't be back. Not now.

The Canadian could see the shock in Arthur's eyes. "You've been around longer, and you've seen things like this. Do you know what-"

"T-The Black Death. So many people dead... Alfred..." He could barely speak. The European nation couldn't let this happen, once in history was enough. "The plague... Please, not again. Not the Bubonic plague again..."