Note: Before reading, please scroll down to the bottom of the page to be offered an explanation of just what this is.
He had fallen asleep at the meeting again, and with much effort from the rest of the countries, they had prevented another needless decapitation at the hands of a certain Russian nation. But now, he sat alone to the right of the head of the table, arms crossed in front of him, the mess of blonde hair half-buried in their comforting embrace. The sounds of light snoring were discernible in the quiet expanse of the room. They hadn't bothered waking him up; it was just as well. It would be much quieter, as America had so jokingly put it.
But now it was dead late at night, and England still had not woken up. Outside, the clouds raged with turmoil; the dew that had hung so stubbornly onto the glass panes slowly cracked as they froze. It was a hefty twenty-eight degrees, and the climate had been rather unpredictable as of late. Even through the heated room, the frigid fingers of frost seeped through, an unconsciously, the male shuddered – but did not awake. He was that much asleep.
Amidst the cackling thunderclouds and tufts of frozen rain that fell from the heavens, the sounds of muted footsteps were discernible. The door creaked open, echoes racing throughout the noiseless room, the creak timed just right to be heard above the growling thunder. The slight noise caused the blonde to mumble incoherently in his sleep, but nonetheless, he resumed his deep slumber. Once he had settled, the newcomer crept in, glasses glinting briefly as lightning flashed across the sky. He paused, eyes blinking, before he tilted his head sideways and smiled shyly. A faint blush coloured his cheeks scarlet, as he twiddled his fingers together as though contemplating on his next course of actions.
It was a good few seconds before he jolted, as though shocked by a sudden realization. Snapping his fingers lightly, he bent over, brown gloves rummaging through the bag that slung across his body. Crinkling patterns and reverberations were emitted, before both hands stabilized, pulling out a large rectangular fabric. It was marked with red and white stripes, with a blue rectangular square by the top-left corner, and the picture of stars dotted evenly on it. Folding it over his arm, he crept forward, his face tensed, as though taking care not to disturb the slumbering man. Once he had crossed the few feet that separated them, he bent over the blonde's hunched shoulders, draping the blanket over him. He cringed back, eyes widening in tight fear, when the other stirred. He relaxed visibly when he found that it was no disturbance.
Seemingly content, the male bent over, kissing the blonde's hair with nothing more than a peck. He stared at the other, eyes boring into the back of the other's head, before he looked away quickly, a melancholic look now on his face. Adjusting his glasses which now dangerously hung off the rim of his nose, he tucked the stray curl behind his ear. He sighed. He shook his head once, before heading out the solitary room, clicking and locking the door in place.
Funnily enough, the door had woken up the other. Albeit groggily, England looked around rather dizzily, before emerald eyes that glowed in the dark set their sights on the new addition around his shoulders. He frowned. "Mmm, America?" he asked, to no one and anyone. There was no answer. A few seconds passed before he shrugged, head slamming back down on his waiting arms as he resumed his sleep. A muttered "Mmm, that bloody git" escaped his lips, just before he lapsed back into the waiting arms of sleep. The smile on his face was unmistakeably evident.
However, had the male kept himself conscious long enough to observe his surroundings well enough, he would have noted that seemingly inanimate white object that lay sprawled on the floor where the other man had been standing. Funnily enough, it looked something akin to a polar bear.
A/N: I always think putting a crap ton of text on the top looks so messy, so I put it down here. xD Any ways, this piece is called Fly On The Wall. It will be a series of chapters 1000 words or less, short one-shots of situations in the Hetalia world. As is suggested by the title, it will take the third person objective point of view, so not only will it be easier for me, but you, as the reader will have to decipher hidden meanings, haha!
This first chapter is a... prototype of sorts, so please let me know what I can do to improve and whatever else. Also, please, please review? c:
Finally, this style is like those "Letters to (insert country name here)" writings. This means that I am absolutelyopen to you guys messaging me situations you want to see me write here, or do it in a review, it doesn't matter! After all, I can't think of all the situations, and plus, I might be able to help satisfy some fangirling cravings. Please don't be shy and it doesn't matter the genre of the situation. This one is serious because that's... the kind of writer I am, but if you want to see a humorous (like, say, France cooking for England or w/e, haha) or even a heartbreaking situation, feel free to suggest one and I'll see what I can do!