The spell had gone horribly wrong.
Arthur stood there motionless, his arms still lifted to shield himself from the explosion. Soot gathering at his feet, he shook his head to hide the ringing in his ears. A frown worked its way onto his face at the ruined spell book at his feet. Reaching down to pick it up, the cover crumbled to his touch. It was a shame. The book had been hundreds of years old.
Exploding aside, the spell didn't appear to have done much else. He felt no strange side-effects as he dusted himself off. Relief filled him as he straightened up. He had endured much worse backfires in the past. He was thankful this one had been so mild. Removing his singed cloak, he let it fall to his ankles. Now came the hardest part; tidying it all up.
The meeting was unbelievably dull. Alfred was on another rant about nonsense he had long stopped listening to. Instead he found himself picturing the flight back home. He wondered how long he would have to wait before he tasted freshly-made fish and chips. Or perhaps a homemade shepherd's pie? His stomach grumbled. His mind was filled with thoughts of food when someone asked him something he didn't quite catch.
"Hmm?" He half-turned to China, who sat next to him.
China watched Alfred with glazed-over eyes, ignoring Arthur completely. He frowned and looked to his other side. Italy's head was propped up by his arm as he dozed off. He focused his eyes back on Alfred, who seemed oblivious to everyone's disinterest.
"—and that is why the conservation of the Florida panther should be our highest priority!" Alfred's conclusion caused the non-sleeping nations to perk up. He held his arms out dramatically as he sported his trademark grin. Arthur wondered if he was waiting for a round of applause. Flustered at the lack of response, Alfred sat back down and shuffled his papers.
"Finally."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The word was whispered right into his ear. Arthur spun around in his seat, heart pounding. His eyes frantically searched the space behind him. No one was there. He shivered, who said that?
"Ahem, England?" Germany's voice brought him back to the present. He turned. His voice caught. A room full of nations stared back at him. His face burned at the sudden attention.
"Sorry, I just," he struggled to come up with an explanation, "I thought I heard something. Sorry."
Although he continued to get a few worried or amused looks, most of their curiosity had been sated. Arthur kept his head down, ears red with embarrassment, and pretended to read his notes as the meeting rattled on.
With the meeting finished, the nations were left to eat and mingle. Arthur nibbled absent-mindedly on a biscuit. He struggled to place the voice he heard before. It had been so close. Right into his ear. There was no way someone could have snuck up on him and then hidden so quickly.
"Are you feeling alright, Angleterre?"
He could picture the condescending smirk accompanying those words. Biting back a groan, Arthur turned and narrowed his eyes at Francis. He definitely wasn't in the mood to put up with him right now.
"What do you want, frog?" He muttered half-heartedly.
"There's no need for that," Francis raised an eyebrow and his smirk grew, "I am very concerned about your health, England."
Arthur said nothing. He figured his glare spoke well enough.
Undeterred, Francis leaned forward and placed his fingers around his shoulder in mock-comfort. "Have you been hearing voices? Do you need to talk to someone?" He winked, "Strange things happen in old age, you know!"
Shrugging the hand off, Arthur readied himself to retort. "I am not hearing voices, I—"
He trailed off. A wave of rage washed over him. So strong it drowned out everything else. What the hell? He thought, his head reeling. Anger pulsed through his body. He wanted to hit someone. Damn it, he wanted to kill someone. He held his fists at his sides, trying desperately to calm himself. Clenching them, Arthur scrambled to determine the source of his fury.
"You…?" Francis raised his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. His presence certainly wasn't helping things. Grinding his teeth, Arthur turned away from him. His anger reached a boiling point he struggled to contain. He needed to…to throw something.
There was a crash. A chair flew across the room. It slammed into the wall next to them, showering him and Francis with bits of wood. A dead silence loomed over the nations. Shaking splinters from his hair, he spotted Alfred and Russia. Glaring at each other, with noses nearly touching, they looked like they were ready to start throwing punches.
When a stream of angry Russian filled his mind, Arthur realized with a jolt how very wrong he had been about the side-effects of the spell.
The spell had somehow given him the ability to read Russia's thoughts. Russia! Of all people! He paced back and forth along the small hotel room. His fingers frantically ran through his hair as he tried to think of a solution. The spell book was unsalvageable and, unfortunately, it contained instructions on how to fix his newfound telepathy. Arthur groaned and sat down on the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands.
How did it work? Could Russia read his mind as well? Would it wear off over time? He had so many unanswered questions. He let out an angry sigh. "Ugh, this is why I shouldn't mess about with magic," he groaned to himself. It was a fickle thing, and it always seemed to bite him in the arse sooner or later.
Arthur racked his brains while his fingers tapped his knee in thought. There might be a copy of the book, but it could be anywhere and he wasn't going to find it anytime soon.
I suppose I'll just have to deal with it for now. He would have to search for another copy and, in the meantime, avoid Russia like the plague. Easy enough to do. He already kept the intimidating country a comfortable, lengthy distance from himself.
A knock on the door snapped him from his pondering. Flattening his hair with his hands, he peered through the tiny eyehole. Blue eyes and a wide smile filled his vision. Arthur sucked in a steely breath. Unbolting the door, he opened it enough to greet Alfred, but not wide enough to welcome him inside.
"Yes, America?" He asked, keeping his tone neutral, but polite.
"Hey, England!" The younger nation's smile widened, "Me and Japan were heading out to eat. You should join us, dude!"
The thought of being a third wheel didn't sit well with him. But Arthur knew if he didn't distract himself, he'd be up all night worrying about his "little" problem.
"Alright." To his own surprise, he was already starting to feel less miserable about the whole ordeal. "Just a moment so I can get changed." Alfred nodded as he shut the door. He threw on something a bit more casual. Catching a glance at himself in the mirror, he fiddled with his hair. When random tufts refused to lay flat, he resigned himself to his unruly appearance.
Within a minute or so, Alfred led him down a few floors to Japan's hotel room. Japan met them halfway down the hallway, with Canada in tow. Exchanging hellos, Arthur gave Canada a questioning look.
"I didn't know you were coming, Canada?"
"Yeah! Me, Japan, and Canada are going out, I told you upstairs," Alfred explained, counting out three with his fingers.
Arthur frowned, recalling what he had said moments before, "I'm certain you didn't mention Canada?"
"I did!" Alfred frowned, but it was replaced with a grin, "Are you starting to forget things, old man?" He poked Arthur's forehead a couple times to emphasize his point. He took a step away from the offending finger, causing Alfred to miss a third poke, and grumbled to himself. He let it go. He didn't feel like arguing today.
"Either way, it's good to see you," turning, he flashed the Canadian a small smile. Japan nodded in agreement. Canada, who seemed worried during his and Alfred's exchange, brightened up considerably.
Alfred picked out a local diner a short walk from the hotel. He and Japan started talking about video games, while Arthur and Canada lagged behind. He made awkward small talk to fill the silence.
The two were about ten feet behind Alfred and Japan. Canada's stride suddenly slowed, and Arthur struggled to adjust. "Did you see what happened earlier?" He strained to hear his quiet voice.
"What?"
"At the meeting. America and Russia," he half-whispered, "I don't know what they were arguing about, but now he's acting like it didn't happen."
Arthur hummed in agreement. It was a bit odd. He had been so busy worrying over the spell, he completely forgot about it. He remembered how tense the atmosphere was between the two, and how Russia stormed off without saying a single word.
He figured that Alfred said something offensive, but Russia's reaction made him think otherwise. He usually met the American's comments with a sly insult or two of his own. Whatever Alfred had said, it must have gotten through his thick skin.
"He's not even bragging about it," Canada added, "You think he'd take every opportunity to bring it up, eh?"
"That is unlike him," he agreed.
"Hey, guys, this is the place!" Alfred shouted back at them, pointing at one of the storefronts. Sandwiched between a barber's shop and a tacky antique store stood Jackie's Diner. Despite its distance from the main road, it was packed with people.
The hostess greeted them brightly as they entered, forced to raise her voice over the chatter. She led them to an empty booth, handing everyone their menus. Arthur ran through the list of choices and decided to try out their fish and chips.
As they waited for their food, Canada brought up how boring the meeting had been. "B-besides Alfred's speech," he added after the American shot him a betrayed look.
"I thought the meeting was very insightful," Japan piped up.
"The best part was my presentation on the lion."
"You mean the Florida panther?"
"Panther, lion, same thing," Alfred shrugged as he scrolled through his phone.
"Hey, England, what happened at the meeting this morning?" Canada asked, throwing him a questioning look.
Alfred paused and looked up. "Oh, yeah! What was up with that?"
The Englishman flushed, "I just…I thought I heard something. That's all."
"Like what?" Japan asked with interest.
He hesitated. "I thought I heard someone say 'finally.' Why does it matter?"
"Weird! Maybe it was a ghost," Alfred suggested, leaning back in his seat, "I heard that ghosts like to whisper in your ear like that."
"Maybe," Arthur was tempted to roll his eyes. He managed to resist.
"Maybe it was saying 'finally, the meeting's almost done'!" Canada joked. He grinned as Alfred immediately burst into laughter.
"Good one, Mattie!" Punching his brother's shoulder, Alfred wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. The waitress returned with their drinks, setting them carefully on the table. After she left, Alfred continued, "Speaking of ghosts, there's this new movie coming out. Can't remember the name, but a ghost possesses some woman's kid and…hey, wait a minute, why the hell are all the horror movies about possession lately? Fuckin' weird. Anyway, I'm sure you have a one-star review ready to go." He turned back to Arthur with a wry smile.
"I'll stop writing them when you stop making such shite films," he retorted, grinning into his drink. He was relieved the topic of conversation had shifted.
"That hurts, England," Alfred clutched at his chest dramatically, "At least Matthew appreciates my work. Right, bro?"
As the American pestered his brother, an uneasy feeling settled in Arthur's gut. He looked down at his drink, a well of sadness clung to him despite his good mood just a moment ago. He ran his finger along the cool glass, leaving marks in the condensation. He looked up and took a glance around the booth. He wondered how close they all really were. Sure, they all shared history together, but could they technically be called his friends?
Alfred and Canada had left him long ago. He had done terrible things to all three of them in the past. How could they forgive him for that? He felt numb; his mind flooded with bad memories. Would they be so friendly toward him if it wasn't a good political move? He ran his eyes along the grained woodwork of the table. Clutching his glass, he felt heavy, and…alone.
"Are you feeling alright, Igirisu?" Japan's voice was quiet, but filled with concern. Alfred continued defending his films to his brother, both oblivious to Arthur's change in mood.
"Just knackered from the meeting this morning, don't worry," he insisted, managing to crack a strained smile. Japan nodded half-heartedly, not convinced by his words, but didn't press the issue. Arthur's sadness only deepened, and with it came a sense of frustration at himself.
Is there something wrong with me?
That voice…it was the same one from the meeting. Arthur shook his head and blinked with realization. He glanced around the restaurant, and his eyes settled on a familiar figure. Russia stood on the sidewalk outside, watching the group of four through the large window. When their eyes met, he turned and took off down the street.
Arthur froze in realization. Those had been Russia's feelings? His heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. He had no idea how lonely the other nation was. He remembered a time when he felt the same, when his own self-hatred tormented him. It still does, he grimaced.
His gaze lingered on the window, waiting for Russia to return. When he didn't, Arthur frowned and stood. Excusing himself, he snuck out of the diner.
He followed the sidewalk until he reached a stretch of shops. He recognized Russia leaning against the brick wall of a clothing store. He took a long drag from a cigarette. As Arthur approached, they locked eyes, and Russia snuffed it out with his boot. The other nation's uneasiness pricked at his chest, but Russia himself remained expressionless. It made him pause. It was still strange to feel someone else's emotions inside him.
"England," he gave a stiff nod.
"Alright?" Arthur replied, hesitant. He hadn't exactly given any forethought to what he was doing. Embarrassment spun in his stomach for acting so spontaneously. He wanted to avoid Russia, not track him down after a sudden, misplaced feeling of empathy!
"Is there something you want?" England didn't have to read his thoughts to tell he was pissed off.
"Y-yes," he swallowed, "I saw you outside the restaurant, and…"
Russia glared at him, but said nothing, waiting for Arthur to explain himself. He could feel Russia's insecurities filling around his own mind. He continued, "I was wondering if…erm…that is, you'd like to go for a drink?" He mentally slapped himself, so now I'm spending even more time with him?
Distrust and suspicion flared up within the Russian. Images invaded Arthur's mind. A drunk Russia, hunched over his drink, spilling secrets. On the other side of the table, he saw himself. This false-England hung on every word, smirking. It was off-putting. This was what Russia thought his motives were, to steal information? Arthur furrowed his brow. He had little interest in learning his secrets. How could he convince him he had no ill intentions?
"Not right now, obviously," Arthur elaborated, "It's just…at the diner…you seemed like you needed a drink." He finished, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid.
He could feel Russia weighing his options. "I always need a drink," his smile clashed against cold eyes, "Very well, we will go after next meeting, yes?" Arthur's heart hammered, knowing the reason Russia agreed was to extract secrets from him. He made a mental note to watch how much he drank tomorrow.
"Looking forward to it," Arthur managed to wrestle out. He turned and made his way back to the diner. His heart hammered against his chest. With every step, he felt Russia's eyes burning holes into his back.
What sort of mess had he gotten himself into?
"Hey, England! What took you so long?" Alfred's voice cut through his thoughts as he made his way back to his seat. "Your food is getting cold, dude!"
"Sorry about that," Arthur apologized, "There was a queue for the toilet."
"Yeah, this place is packed," Alfred agreed as he glanced around the crowded tables, "Oh! We were talking about your films while you were gone."
Arthur's eyebrows raised at that, trying to hide his excitement, "Oh, really?"
"Yeah," mischief glinted in the American's blue eyes, "Maybe one day you'll be as good as me, but Matthew doesn't think so."
Canada stuttered, "I-I never said that!"
As the two brothers quarreled, Arthur picked at his cold fish and chips, his thoughts elsewhere. He knew what unbearable loneliness felt like; to feel isolated for centuries. Perhaps that was what caused him to run after Russia. His heart was in the right place, but he worried that he was making a big mistake trying to befriend someone so unpredictable.
Although, he did have the upper hand, being able to read Russia's thoughts and all. If he did get into a dangerous situation, he would at least see it coming. Arthur mindlessly stabbed at his breaded fish with a fork. Besides, he might as well make the most out of this unfortunate situation.
A/N: And that's the end of the first chapter! Let me know what you think! This is the first Hetalia story that I've uploaded, so let me know if the characterizations feel off. Especially let me know if England's dialogue seems un-English! My boyfriend is British and he looked it over for me, but if either of us missed anything please let me know!
