A quick summery of a time not long ago….
"Come on, you bloody thing," he exclaimed, stomping his foot, "Why won't you work?"
The Brit opened up his spell book once more, pouting. He gave another sigh.
"One more try," he muttered, "This time, it has to work!"
"Sol supra horizontem…. Adhuc tenebræ evertit calor…. Quod inest in noctis aeternae unumquemvis…. Vocavi te!"
"W-why did I do that?" he thought, staring down at the floor, "I don't even know what that could do…. It didn't even come with any description! It felt like evil incarnate…. I shouldn't have done that!"
The English man leapt to his feet, throwing his cloak to the floor and storming up out of his basement. He raced to the phone, dialing the number of one of his fellow nations.
"I need to warn them… We don't know what that thing could do!"
"I called you all here today…. Because I made a mistake."
"A few hours ago," England continued, pushing away from the table and making his way to the blackboard, "I was practicing my magic. The spell was strange, it had no description to what it would do. However, it did come with instructions on how to perform the ritual."
"It is a bit risky to test without concrete evidence on what it would do, da?"
"So, some…. Thing has been unleashed into the world," China said slowly, "and we aren't sure what it could do?"
"All I can say is to be careful," England then said, "we don't know where or what it might be."
Bright red blood ran down the drain. He watched until all of it was gone, his face expressionless as he reached for the dish cloth, wrapping his hand in it. He then went to one of the cabinets, pulling out bandages and a first aid kit.
"Was I… Cutting myself the entire time?" China looked over to the meat on the counter. Indeed, it didn't seem to have been touched by the blade at all.
He let his hair fall from its ponytail. He stared at his reflection for what seemed like hours.
They had said that they loved his hair. It was soft and felt like the finest of Chinese silks.
They had said that they loved his eyes. The brown eyes were ancient yet still showed slight innocence and girlish features of a young teenage boy.
They had said that they loved him. Yet they all left him. One by one, each left. And he didn't know why. Had he done something wrong?
He wasn't sure why, but as he walked into his room, America felt an unexpected urge.
He began to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor, not entirely conscious on what he was doing, and put them into the laundry bin. Soon, books were placed back onto their shelves in a surprisingly neat and orderly fashion. He made his bed and then took out the vacuum from the closet. When he was done, he stood back and looked at his work.
"Well," he said out loud, "that was really weird."
Red dribbled down his cheek and hit the counter before him. He simply stared at it before taking a cloth. After he had wetted it with faucet water, America dabbed at his cheek.
The red was immediately absorbed by the cloth, yet the blood just kept on flowing. The nation could feel a slight tug appear at the corner of his lips and he gave his reflection a smile. Once he realized what he was doing, gently poking the sides of the wound so the blood would flow quicker, America's smile disappeared and he began to clean the cut.
"W-What if….. Germany doesn't want to be bothered? What if Germany doesn't have time to help me?" Italy stared at the device on the wall, silently pleading it to help him decide. Then, another thought occurred to him, scaring the Italian even more.
"What if Germany doesn't want to help me?" At this, Italy shook his head, backing away from the phone.
"I'll try to deal with this on my own…"
"Holy Rome…." Lightning crashed, yet Italy didn't seem to register it.
"Holy Rome, why did you go?" Unconsciously, Italy began to cry.
"He promised! He promised he would come back!"
"Why are they happy when I'm so upset," he asked, "Why don't I deserve the happiness they have?"
And then Italy began plotting.
Many hours later, Spain stumbled in his walk, much to the surprise of Romano. He simply brushed off the comments that the Italian snapped at him, though he knew.
Some of his people had been killed.
As the nations took bites of the delicious pasta, the first thing they noticed was the taste.
It was much different from what it used to be, throwing many of them off.
Now though, the sauce had a touch of metallic to it. It mixed in well with the pasta, however it didn't taste right in any sense of the word…. They gave Italy their compliments, though they couldn't help but feel slightly nauseous after they were finished eating…..
"I'm gonna go. I'm really tired all of a sudden…"
"Do you want me to drive you Italy," Germany asked. Italy shook his head.
"Vehehe, I'll be fine," the Italian replied, waving as he left the room, "Grazie for the offer though Germany!"
"You okay? You left much earlier than you usually would." China tilted his head questioningly. He then nodded to America.
"So did you." The other laughed, though it seemed to have a sharp edge to it.
America followed China to his car and watched as the Asian got in. As he revved the engine, the nation made his way to the driver's window and knocked. China rolled it down and raised an eyebrow.
"You should learn to smile a little more naturally."
He left China with a confused look on his face as he made his way to his own car.
China flinched, eyes widening and the cup falling from his grip. Glass smashed over the floor, water spilling out.
He raised his hands, staring at them in slight shock as they trembled under his gaze.
"It was only my imagination," he thought as he returned to the couch, "Right?"
He shouldn't think like this…. Right?
Japan didn't hate him, did he?
Blood coated the brick walls and the bodies of the thugs surrounded him.
"W-What…. What did I do?!" China could feel his insides freezing as he stared at the dead bodies all around him.
"H-How…?! I-I don't….! T-This is…." The nation stared down at the ground.
A soft chuckle rose from the darkness, quickly changing into hysterical laughter.
"Now the only person we're missing is China," China's boss muttered.
"If you want, I can go check up on him," America said.
"OPEN UP CHINA! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" Thunder crashed in the distance, lightning lighting up the dark sky as the door creaked open. At this, America took a step back as the lights of the hall flickered, revealing smashed glass all over the wooden floor.
"What the hell?"
"It wasn't my fault that they left, was it?" China's face buried itself in his hands and the tears began once more. But this time, a pair of large arms wrapped around him and the nation cried harder.
The syringe was empty. However, the leftovers of the clear liquid were still inside. America sniffed the tip. There was no smell to it so he put it into his pocket before leaving the room to find some sort of computer. Then, he looked up a list of drugs and their smells. Behind his glasses, his blue eyes widened.
"Where did China get opium from?"
"You idiot," America muttered, holding China's hair out of his face as the nation began to lose his breakfast into the toilet.
"I thought you were getting better!" China gave a weak chuckle and shook his head.
"How did you find out?"
"I found the syringe in his top drawer." Italy raised an eyebrow.
"A syringe?" America nodded.
"He's been injecting opium into his bloodstream," he explained. The American shook his head.
"I tried to help him, but he wouldn't listen. Whenever I turn my back, he gets another one out and he's high again." Italy's frown deepened.
"Do you know why he's doing it?" Once more America shook his head.
"He wouldn't tell me."
The three left the world meeting place, all having gained a new ally in each other.
"Where have you been," the Brit asked once America glanced up, "And what exactly did you do to your hair?" America rolled his eyes.
"I dyed it England," he retorted, "What does it look like I did?"
"You don't want me to exist?" Alfred's voice had gotten even softer than before, something that scared Italy to pieces.
"You want me gone?" Yao had come back into the room and was looking around in confusion.
"You all really hate me that much?" Alfred shrugged.
"In that case, consider me gone." With that said, he then walked out the door, not once looking back.
The two were silent, thinking. Then, Feliciano spoke.
"We don't hate you Alfred," he said determinedly.
"We don't hate you," Yao continued, "because you're our friend. And the reason we follow you is because…."
"… Is because that's what friends are for, si?"
"I don't know what I'm going to do now," he laughed, throwing his head back, "Why would you follow a friend who doesn't know what they're doing?"
Yao rolled his eyes.
"Our job isn't to follow blindly aru," Yao then said, "Our job is to pick you up when you fall until you figure out what the hell you're supposed to be doing!"
"If you can do that, then I hope you'll be able to see that Northern Italy stands with you in whatever battles ahead you might face."
"And I hope you'll be able to see," Yao added, his own grin appearing, "that China won't be far behind aru!"
"Call all of your citizens back home," the American stated, "Whether it be from vacation or work."
"Why?" Alfred looked over his shoulder at Feliciano, red eyes shining as he smirked crookedly.
"Because Feli! World War 3 is about to begin!"
When one is lonely, they can be led to the brink of insanity until the point that they cannot be saved. And by that time, they will wish for a friend's companionship... However, they would never get it.
When one is lost, they cannot find their way forward. With companions beside them, their chances increase. However….. With all three lost, the way gets darker and grimmer with each mistake that is made.
LosT:
Let World War 3 begin.
Do not own Hetalia. I only own the plotline.