HETALIA
They say freak...when you're singled out...
The red...well it filters through...
So lay down...the threat is real...
When his sight...goes red again...
Seeing red again...
Seeing red again...
This change...he won't contain
Slip away
So clear your mind
When asked, who made it show?
Made it show?
The truth...he gives in to most
So lay down...the threat is real...
When his sight goes red again...
So lay down...
The threat is real...
When his sight...
Goes red again...
So lay down...
The threat is real...
When his sight...
Goes red again...
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
Seeing red again!
SEEING RED-!
They say freak...when you're singled out...
The red...it filters...through...
By CHEVELLE
HETALIA
"...Their eyes stared at the school's picture as each had before. Each holding something they felt about it. The school, each other and the knowledge of the others most likely is there. They all held this in common. That was which the close and similar. But this one was looking upon it differently. Each singular one looked upon it differently...it was almost the same. The feelings, the emotions, and their purposes. Almost all the same...except that each hid something from the other. Like a dark hidden secret. A secret that will soon unfold...as the tale of these countries goes on...and you, my dear reader...will understand finally."
HETALIA
The bass boomed inside the room as hard rock played. The guitar screeching alongside the drums in the background. The voice screaming into his ears. The lyrics were the only thing he could relate and make sense out of. He liked this intense music and soon became adjusted to the changes. By listening to the music, he was slowly healing by the lyrics that patched up wounds nobody else could and drinking so much that he will forget the past. Both of those somehow seemed to get his mind off of some things. His mind still somehow always went back to that bastard-France, somehow. For some reason they always somehow argue. Still they kept their respectful distance at the same time. The memory of how France always picked on him had always lead to remind him of his so called "brothers." A memory of them that haunted him completely. Remembering how they treated him like shit every time they saw him was enough to make him feel so unwanted. Even though he knew that the youngest out of all them may hate him completely though he-himself, could never bring himself to hate him. Hatred was the one thing he turned onto France and not at the same time.
He sighed as he picked up a little voodoo doll of someone.
"What the bloody hell you lookin' at for? You going to try to hurt me again? Well I've got news for you-you fuckin' bugger." He picked up the small glass-looking flask up to his mouth. He placed it on his mouth and chugged it. He then lowered the empty glass and cast it aside. He grinned evilly as he picked up a needle and drove it into the doll's chest.
"...Must be screaming in pain by now..." He chuckled to himself as he picked up another needle. He stabbed it in the same place. "How does it fucking feel? How does it feel to be writhing in pain like I have for a long time?" He laughed diabolically. He continued to pick up the needles and put them all in the same place. His smirk turned into a grin. The music seemed to be coursing through him now. The sound of the singer screaming, the fast tempo of the guitars and drums and the sound waves hitting him inside. His laughter drowned out by the lyrics and the music.
"THE ROOF! THE ROOF! THE ROOF IS ON FIRE! WE DON'T NEED NO WATER LET THE MOTHERFUCKER BURN! BURN MOTHER FUCKER-BURN!"
He still laughed as he grabbed a razor, from a pile of other objects he had, and started to stab the doll until the he saw a hole form large enough to see the floor through.
"DIE YOU FUCKIN' BLOODY WANKER! DIE!" He cut up the doll and poured some cooking oil on it. He picked it up and grabbed his metal bowl. He placed it in there and smiled. "They're right you know...we don't need any fuckin' water." He took out a box of matches and opened it. He took out a match and struck it on the side of the metal bowl. It sparked then lit. The glow of the match revealed his face. His cold green eyes staring down at the doll. They almost to be lifeless-merciless. He grinned and threw the match out in front of him. The whole bowl lit and a large grin was on the English man's face.
"Burn motherfucker burn..." He whispered along with the lyrics. It burned for a long time. He watched it burn until it started to twist and turn as it became black and flakey. The flames engulfed the doll completely. Devoured it all. Then the flame began to dim and go out. As soon as the flame went out-the whole room engulfed into black, leaving behind laughter and the sounds of hardcore metal.
HETALIA
A hand went over his mouth as he once again yawned in the last few minutes prior to the last one. He glanced over to his watch and noted that he again was very early. He looked up and around. No one. His face fell into a frown and he cursed at least a dozen times over in his mind. Just then the door opened and revealed a blond with shoulder-length hair and blue eyes with a scruffy beard. He looked around and smiled when he saw the other in the dim room.
"Iz zhat you mon cheri?" He had a bit of a happy tint to his tone. He cursed under his breath when he saw the French man.
"Don't call me that...Frog." He hissed and could feel his temper starting to unwind itself. The "frog" simply smirked and backed away by a step. He saw that he was sitting in the shadows and was glaring at him. It made him feel a bit uneasy.
"So mon cher, what brings you 'ere to World Academy W?" The "frog" asked. The English man still held his posture and continued to glare up at the "frog." He then stood up and took a step towards the other until their faces met from a distance thus making the French man jump a bit.
"None of your damn business...'Francy pants.'" He said bitterly. He then went past him and bumped his shoulder on his way out of the room. He slammed the door behind him causing the sliding door to clash. The French man had watched and still stood sighing. Clearly the English man was not very glad to see him. His eyes seemed to narrow towards the ground and he frowned.
"I zee...you're still the zame as ever..." He said to himself as his blonde curls fell over his face.
HETALIA
"Feast yer eyes on this 'ere bloke! Ain't he a big 'un?!...and that is what we say amen. For God, our savior...Coming this Friday in theaters...So call us at this number if you wish to get your whole set of these fine kitchen...In the heart of our country's dear London, was a large fire in an apartment building. Firemen reported it had only started out in one room then started to catch into the other rooms on the same floor. Luckily they managed to put it out quickly after they received a call from one of the staff members saying that the neighbors complained of smelling smoke. Also a miracle that it had not caught the whole building on fire and no one got hurt...Wait a moment..." The talking head on the screen took a paper from someone that wasn't in view. Her eyes quickly read the paper and looked up for a brief moment. Then back at the paper until putting the paper down and looked back up. "Sorry 'bout that...we just received the latest discovery that there was a casualty involved. Apparently the resident of that room was found in the parking lot...completely burnt to death...no identification as of yet and...it seems that person had fallen out of the window since the window was broken through..." Then the news channel immediately the television's station flipped to commercials.
HETALIA
He sat staring off into space as he was once again in the dark. The school accepted him into their doors and into their dorm but he specifically asked to be placed into one of the other housings on campus. He blinked his eyes and was in his own room again. He could see through the dark that there were some empty alcohol bottles and the mess of his small 'spell casting.' He looked at his hands and his back hit the door. He slid down it and fell to the floor. He clenched his hands into fists against his forehead and grasped at his bangs. He clutched them tightly in his fingers. He was just tired. Maybe even stressed. He sat there recalling whatever he remembered at the WAW school. He remembered seeing everyone he basically grew up with and knew. That couldn't be coincidence...right?
"Crazy...that's right...all of this stress and things like that are just bloody makin' me a little loony..." He whispered to himself. "Right...that's all it is. All this shite is makin' me a bit loony." He released his head and looked up. His eyes met two dark ones. It was a green rabbit with wings and sniffed at him with its nose.
"You okay...?" It asked softly. He let out a half sigh and smiled lightly.
"I am now...you really do know to cheer up a sap don't you?" He reached out and petted the head of the bunny. He looked around and noticed the others weren't around. "Odd...where are the others?" The small bunny looked around also with its ears perking up.
"Oh...they said they'll be back soon because we didn't know how long you'd be at that school you wanted to go to." The rabbit replied and curled up on his lap. His smile dampened a bit and still petted the rabbit on its back.
"That's alright. I do need some time to myself to feel just a wee better." He admitted. The rabbit looked up at him again concerned.
"You sure you're okay?" It asked a bit worried. He stared down at the rabbit and his hand ceased from petting the rabbit any further. He blinked his eyes and tears welled up as he suddenly hugged the rabbit. He started to cry and sob. He held the small green rabbit close as he just let it all out. The rabbit patted him with its small paw.
"There there England. It'll be fine and I'll be here. Just like the rest of us. Don't cry please?" It assured as it tried to comfort him and still nuzzled against his shoulder. He still sat in the dark crying and held the rabbit so close to him. But he knew if anyone were to see him in this state they would call him crazy because nobody else could see these creatures like he could. These creatures were his only friends. The only ones that wouldn't reject, argue, bully or even make him feel so unwanted. They cared for him and made him feel so special. Not make him suffer or even hurt. They weren't like everybody else. Not like everybody else.
HETALIA
He opened back up his eyes and found out he was once again in the dark. The lingering darkness that he couldn't run from. He sat up and saw he still wore his clothes from the WAW visit. He sighed. The memory of France's sullen face came up first. "That blasted Frog asked for it anyway..." He told himself. Too sudden he felt a slight dizziness as his head throbbed in pain. "Aw hell..." He cursed holding his head and there he held a faint tapping on wood. He looked over at the door and he saw a shadow from underneath the crack.
"Curses..." He muttered under his breath and then yelled, "It's open!" The door opened and revealed a familiar face.
"Yo cuz...I just heard from some of the other guys that you'd be home...The hell? Why's your room all dark braw?" The young American walked into the room and stumbled over a metal bowl. He looked up to see it was America. Soon memories of their past took over and he bit down on his lower lip. He wasn't in the mood to see him right now and knew he wouldn't be able to handle him. America came a bit closer to the older man before the Brit's eyes met the Americans'. The American looked down at him with his dark blue eyes and saw that his old friend's eyes were red and a few tears fell off his face.
"Hey...you okay...?" America came closer and knelt down in front of the Brit. He placed a hand over the Brit's shoulder. Another reminder of a past memory of theirs burned into his sight. Then the Brit's hand smacked away the American's arm. America gasped when he saw he was suddenly on the floor. He looked over at the other. He was crying. He trembled and his shoulders rose and fell.
"Eng...land?" America stared at the Brit until the other made a move.
"America...just...just go home. I can't bear to see you right now..." He immediately got up and ran out of the room. America watched him and saw that the Brit was clearly didn't want to see him.
"England...dude...do you like, hate my ass or something?" He asked but England couldn't hear him since he was running away from his home. Away-to get away and clear his thoughts. Letting it be washed away in the rain. In the rain that poured heavily on his back and not onto his head.
HETALIA
He still found that everywhere he went-it was no different. Everyone and everything almost seemed the same except for him being able to see the supernatural. He saw ghosts linger around areas and sometimes people. He saw the other creatures like the pixies and fictional characters from books. He looked down as he wandered through the dark streets of London.
"Get away from us! We don't want you to play with us! Go play with your friends who aren't even real!"
"Oh you gonna make your imaginary friends appear again whenever you want to?"
"What a looney! Believing that fairies are real!"
"You ought to be locked up in the madhouse! Nobody will want to be near a crack head like you!"
"Talking to yourself again? No wonder everybody thinks you're bloomin'
mad!"
"You call yourself 'normal?' What a bloody riot you are! You're a freak! A mad man!"
"Since you've been talking to yourself-you're starting to frighten us. I believe you need some time alone."
"You're clearly not the gent we thought you are. Why don't you give it up? You're not going to change our minds."
"You freak! You seriously need some help, maybe a lifetime of it. You ain't normal. We don't want your kind 'round our lot."
His eyes were narrowed as he still walked on and wandered through the streets of this empty place. His memories turning him from reality and making him relive through the past. He continued to walk on where the streets became more quiet, more isolated and barren.It was something he was starting to get used to ever since America left his care. He was learning to become more independent at that time. Though it left him a large tear through his being. In his heart and in his soul. He didn't know how much longer it will take to heal up. Will it be another year? Another five decades? He didn't know. He didn't care. He continued on into the streets and let his mind wander along into the darkness that soon embraced him.
HETALIA
A/N: So this is a random Hetalia fanfic I wrote and focused on England/Britain/UK and how he looks "emo" I guess. I guess I gave it more meaning than I thought. I'm not sure if I should continue on with this and make another chapter or what yet. Tell me what you think! England: Please...for the sake of all of us you better not continue this. Bloody story put us to sleep and made us bored...comment, favorite or even subscribe if you think or believe it was worth the poor author's time to stay up all night and shorten her life. Now get outta here and quit bloody reading what I have to say! GO ON AND GET!
HETALIA