This story is written through your POV. But at some points, it switches to a Hetalia character's.
|| Your POV ||
The rays of sun bathe your bed sheets, casting transparent lights bleating through the covers awning your body. You let a low groan escape from your lips, refusing to discrete your eyelids.
You rolled over in an ached fashion, only to receive a blinding glint of light befalling your eyelids. You hiss a bit in frustration. Your eyelids forced themselves open, revealing a pair of fatigued _ eyes.
Your head rolls to the side, peering to the alarm clock standing on your night stand. It read 9:23 a.m. Too early in your opinion, but your muscles screeched at you to slump off of the welcoming comforter.
Obeying what your body demanded, your legs swung over the side of the soft mattress. The bare bottoms of your feet softly plop onto the wooden tiles of your bedroom floor.
You wore a _ shirt with a pair of _ shorts. Your hair was a knotted mess.
Your half-awoken gaze swept the _ walls of your room. Hetalia posters laced the walls, ranging of all sizes. A slow smile began to paint its way onto your face as you remembered it was Saturday.
Your head snapped towards your _ laptop, quickly rushing to plop yourself down into the chair sitting near the desk holding your laptop.
You didn't care how you looked at the moment, what you wanted to do was within the many pecks you lay onto your keyboard. You opened your history, scrolling down to finally find the Hetalia fan-fiction site.
A satisfied squeal vented from your lips as your fingers drew down the touchpad, looking at all of the new stories decorating the Hetalia: Axis Powers fan-fiction home page. You eagerly tapped the touch pad delicately, your head soon resting on your head for a long while of reading.
|| England's POV ||
Another world meeting with the other obnoxious wankers. Another headache to affix. And another day of swearing about a conference of senselessness. What joy these world conferences brought.
A bushy eye-browed man was walking down a widened hall. He wore a navy green suit with a darker brownish-green belt lacing from his right shoulder to the belt circling his waist. He wore russet boots with raised up to his knees, all of the knots tied properly. He had messy golden hair and emerald eyes which seemed to match the man's appearance.
He picked up speed when a voice broke out, realizing he must be running a tad late for the meeting. Seconds later, he swooshed the door open and slid into his chair just in time to hear the fool himself, America, begin to blabber about how to solve global warming using a hand-built superhero.
It was all bloody nonsense and rather childlike in the man's opinion. He drew his golden watch from one of the pockets hiding in his coat, gazing at the roman numerals decorating the whitened surface of the device. 1:02. Not very late, after all.
The nation leaned back into the chair he resided in, ready for another hour or two of bickering and bustling.
|| Your POV ||
Your head cast itself up and down in a rhythmic pattern matching the tune of the Marukaite Chikyuu theme song ringing through your headphones.
You could easily lip sync the words without a single flaw, having listened to the song an uncountable enumeration of times. This was England's theme.
You had been listening to it for some time now, having given up on the fan-fictions after searching for a story your emotions kicked you to jump into. You scrolled up and down a Hetalia tumblr blog, peering at artwork with a boorish feature painted onto your unfazed face.
The clock at the bottom right hand corner of the screen read 1:13 p.m., you had been on for hours. You didn't seem to care, though. It felt like ten minutes in your mind.
Finally giving up on the laptop, you rose up from the chair, scooting it back with a quick gesture before heading into your closet. You ran your hand through the many clothes adorning the hangers.
. A familiar, soft substance rubbed against your fingertips. You grasped the soft shirt in your hands, pulling out a _ hued t-shirt. It had the English flag decking the front, with the letters "ENGLAND" lacing the top of the picture.
A smile spread onto your face as you threw it onto your bed, snatching a pair of blue jeans from the bottom half of the clothing depository. You clicked the closet with a firm click before you began to change from your matted pajamas into the newer pair of clothes laying on your bed.
You admired yourself in the mirror for a moment or two before leaping over to your dresser. Your fingers fixated onto a thin hairbrush sitting on the smooth _ counters of the dresser.
You began to quickly lash the hairbrush through your matted _ hair, grooming out all of the knots with rhythmic strokes.
You softly threw the hairbrush back onto the dresser top before locking your fingers onto the doorknob of your bedroom door. You creaked the wooden door open, poking your head out of the crevice by a few inches.
You scanned the hallways, expecting something to pop out if she had just frolicked through the hallway without thought.
Oh, wait. They're all out of the house. Parents are out on business and the other animal, my brother, is at a friend's house. You thought, the sly grin on your face beginning to show. A whole day to yourself with no one at home. Oh, this was going to be fun.