I'm sure you'll see who's point of view it is soon enough so I won't say anything, I shouldn't need to. But yeah, this is the first thing in my little folder that I'm posting as an 'Here you go, feel free to adopt this bunny' story. Just let me know if you post it somewhere and link me so I can read it - otherwise have fun.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
His head positively ached with pain and he couldn't figure out why - the last thing he remembered was everything going black as he'd been about to say something. He couldn't quite remember what he'd been about to say, either, but he knew it hadn't been important, so he dismissed it anyway.
Shifting slightly, he pushed the other, the one who was half on top of him, off only to realize that he'd certainly not been in the company of someone that light yet heavy, earlier on. A frown appeared on his lips and he cracked an eye open, immediately closing it at the bright light he was subjected to and quickly turning around to open his eyes again.
Finding himself face to face with Romania, his frown deepened, he hadn't seen this man in a week so why was he there now? Why were he in his company now - for that matter, when had the Romanian come to him? Things definitely weren't adding up as they should be, the last person he'd spoken to as far as he could remember was Russia, not Romania, so what exactly was going on?
Forcing himself to sit up, the Norwegian man glanced tiredly around himself only to have another realization. He wasn't at home at all. And while that could possibly explain why he was in said company, it didn't explain how he'd arrived in what was obviously England's home when the last he remembered was visiting Russia for something about work.
Either way, he needed to get up and get himself some coffee so he could figure out why there were such gaps in his memory. Because that was the only reason he could think of that had him blacking out while on a visit and waking up in England.
It took him a second glance to see the cauldron on the table not too far away and to realize they'd both been on the floor, Romania and himself, and he found himself questioning if this was what had taken his memory. Had something happened, something gone wrong? And in that case, where had England gone? Had this potion taken his memory and England as a whole? If that was the case, what about Romania? What would Romania have lost?
He had to figure it out, so he reached over and shook him harshly, figuring that was all that would be needed to wake him. Of course, it didn't seem he'd be able to wake him anytime soon as the other didn't even react the slightest. How strange, not at all like the Romanian when in his company. One would think he'd be up early, as well, but it appeared to not be the case. Perhaps coffee would do the trick?
Figuring it wouldn't hurt, probably, he pushed himself up from the floor and took several shaky steps before steadying himself and moving out of what had once been an impressive living room, through the hall and towards the kitchen. He really hoped that England still had some of the coffee he'd left behind the last time he'd been there or he'd be having trouble until he'd been at the store, he was sure. Norway had to pause that thought and take several steps backwards to return to the mirror, though, when his mind caught up with him to tell him what he'd seen as he glanced into it while passing by.
As he looked into the mirror, expecting full well to see his own eyes staring back, he froze, a feeling of shock and worry and perhaps even slight horror sinking in. Because staring straight back at him were not the blue eyes he normally held, no, instead he was gazing into the green eyes of England himself.