This is my first ever published story, so please bear with me as I cry over my mistakes. Also, I'm fairly new to this website, so I'm trying to get the gist of things. Rated M for possible future chapters
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. It was created by the god Hidekaz Himaruya
"I'm sorry, sir, there is nothing we can do."
Alfred merely looked at her in a state of disbelief.
He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. No way could it be true.
His breath hitched. "Y-you can't even try?"
The woman across from him solemnly shook her head.
No. No. It can't end this way. It just can't. All that time they had spent together laughing and smiling. All the sweet memories they had shared. Gone.
He stood there for a moment to recall that beautiful golden skin that glistened on sunny days and kept him warm during cold ones. Wherever Alfred went, the other was sure to be there waiting for him, ready to go on an adventure. They were inseparable, those two. Alfred didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
Everything around the young man suddenly became still as tears welled up in his eyes. The child crying in the corner incessantly wailing for his mother was no longer heard by Alfred. The sirens outside weren't even enough to pierce Alfred's mind. Nothing mattered anymore.
His usually proud, sparkling blue eyes turned empty and defeated as he whispered, "Are you sure I-I… will never get t-to see-"
"Yes," the woman cut him off, eyeing the impatient line of people behind him, "McDonald's has decided to permanently stop selling French fries."
Alfred jolted awake, his heart almost beating out of his chest. His eyes darted around the dark room as he sighed in relief. He wasn't in a McDonald's. It was just a nightmare.
I'm never playing those scary video games again. He swore to stick to playing Neopets in his free time instead of the McDonald's Video Game. Bitterly, Alfred recalled the agony he felt when his restaurant had failed.
The American took some time to steady his breathing and proceeded to pull out a Big Mac from under his pillow. He thought it would be pretty genius to store the burger under the pillow he was sleeping on so that his body heat would keep it warm in case he needed late night reassurance, like right now.
"I'm going to McDonald's tomorrow just to make sure that they're still selling fries." He quietly mumbled to himself as he munched on the burger. "You know what," Alfred said, talking to nobody in particular, "I'm going to go right now. Can't sleep on an empty stomach." He finished his midnight snack, stomach growling for more. "I know, I know. I'm going already."
Alfred made his way to his front door, not caring that he was still in his Superman pajamas, and walked outside. He locked the door and proceeded to stroll down the sidewalk toward the nearest 24-hour McDonald's. He closed his eyes and breathed in the gentle night air. There were faint footsteps behind him, but he didn't care. Alfred was too busy imagining his late night reunion with his beloved French fries to notice the steps quicken. He inhaled one last refreshing rush of air before it was replaced with a rag. He panicked and instinctively tried to pull away, but the chloroform quickly overpowered him. His blue eyes grew tired and were soon hidden behind his eyelids as his unresponsive body was dragged into a car.
Arthur was never a morning person. Hell, the Briton wasn't in a good mood at any time of the day. But today was even more annoying than the rest. Today was the day Arthur had to start his new job; his new and rather embarrassing job. He was to stand on a street corner and advertise for a costume shop by dressing like a pirate. He begged and pleaded to at least wear a costume that would cover his face, but the manager said that the pirate costume was already opened and unsellable. The only thing that kept the man from flinging himself off a bridge was that it put bread on the table and was the only job that didn't require a drug test. He was being paid under the table and it was fast cash. Arthur secretly thought he looked quite handsome in the attire, but would die of embarrassment if someone he knew saw him in it.
Grudgingly, Arthur released himself from the warm comfort of his bed. A cool breeze rolled in through the window and Arthur cursed as he realized that he had accidentally left it open. He shut it and made his way toward the kitchen. As Arthur prepared a kettle, he sensed something odd. It was like someone was watching him.
Mum, I'm sorry if you're looking over me right now. You're going to roll in your grave once you see what I've been reduced to wearing. Well, probably roll because you'll be laughing too hard.
Arthur sighed at the thought of his mother seeing the job he was reduced to. The Briton sauntered over to his room and changed into the dreadful outfit. Despite how utterly embarrassing it was, he couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous and strangely handsome he looked. In the new attire, he strutted into his kitchen and prepared himself a cup of tea.
The tea gradually disappeared from his cup, but something still seemed off. An all too familiar feeling came about him, but this time he didn't know why. Then it hit him, he was being drugged.
Arthur's green eyes widened in panic and he threw his cup at the ground.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking hell what's going on.
His vision slowly started to fade until his green eyes only saw black.
Matthew felt the warm sensation of the sun spanning across his skin. He opened his eyes and shut them again to give into just a few more minutes of sleep. Wait, shit. His eyes flew open in a wide panic.
Alfred looked around. How did he get here? Where even is he? Surely this isn't McDonald's. He tried to get up, only to realize that his limbs were tied.
"Fuck," he cursed.
Ludwig woke to a throbbing sensation on the back of his head. I swear, if Gilbert doesn't show up in five seconds to explain, I will give him absolute hell for the next thirty years. The German lay in the warm sand, quietly exploding in rage as five seconds passed without his brother showing up. In frustration, he shouted in German, "Gilbert Beilschmidt, if you don't own up to your acts and untie me right now, I will-"
"Hey! German! Over here! Do you speak English? Oh, I hope you speak English. I don't think you would know Italian and I don't know German so I really really hope you speak English." Ludwig looked toward the voice and saw another person in the same predicament as him. The man looking back at him screamed.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me, scary German man! I didn't mean to interrupt you in your bout of rage, but I don't know what to do or how to get out of this rope but looks like I asked the wrong guy because you look really scary! Don't hurt me, please! I'm just a poor little Italian boy with a family back home and a job to work! Please Mr. Scary German Man, I'm only nineteen and I haven't even met the love of my life yet! I'm too young to die! I surrender! Mi arriendo! Mi arriendo!"
Ludwig only looked on in utter confusion as the bound Italian man flailed about, yelling in a language he could not understand.
Yao cracked open his eyes. So bright. No thanks. Who keeps yelling over there? Please be quiet, aru. Some people are trying to- hold on, where am I? He tried to rub his eyes, but was stopped by the ropes binding his hands behind his back.
Ivan lay in the sand, contemplating his surroundings. He figured that the day was nice enough to be lounging around. His purple eyes scanned the sky above him thoughtfully. I wonder if Raivis is behind this. The Russian let out a small chuckle. Oh my, he's going to be in for a surprise once I get home. It wasn't until he saw other people on the ground that he realized that this was not a prank.
Arthur was greeted with a massive headache. Well, not really greeted, more like punched in the brain. The bright light only made it worse. "Fuck me," he hissed. Someone had gone into his house and drugged him, he knew that much. Where he was or how he got there was beyond him. All he knew was that whoever was doing this was going to pay.
Kiku woke up, immediately knowing that something was wrong. He blacked out after… after… what was he doing again? It was strange; his thoughts weren't usually this cloudy. Also, his hands and feet usually weren't bound. He took deep breaths and attempted to meditate in order to clear his mind.
Francis yawned and tried to stretch out his arms. Why can't I move my arms? Ah, maybe I'm still tied up from last night. Yes, that would make sense. But why am I here? A beach? I don't think I made love to a mermaid. Maybe this is a bad dream, but most of the time, those have the British in them. Perhaps my lover will turn out to be a British mermaid. He pondered about the act of making love to a mermaid and whether or not it could even be done. His thoughts were severed as several shouting voices cut through the humid air.