Music has healing power
It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours
~Elton John
"What the bloody hell is taking that git so long!" America was late by over two hours.
Two. hours.
Almost all the countries couldn't help but nod in agreement. Germany had a vein popping out of his head, hands clenched. Not even Italy stood near him.
"O-Kay z'en. Now, did anyv'one see or go v'i'z America at lunch or around z'at time?" Silence was the only answer. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Did anyv'one see America leave?" Again, silence. Germany looked down and brought a hand to his forehead. "Did anyv'one even talk to him?" He said, a little desperate at this point. There was a glance away, a nervous laugh, a pair of furrowed brows. No one knew. "Fine! Let us split up and look then-"
"Why don't we just continue the meeting?"
"Why don't I punch that face of yours comrade?" Immediately, Russia gave a innocent smile at the crowd, not sure who had talked. Too wrapped up in fear of Russia, no one saw the hockey stick out. Or the the many pairs of furious eyes.
"I say, let's get going then," England clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. A hand clamped onto his shoulder and he screeched. All eyes turned to him.
"I, uh, you-Canada, lad, you scared me!" he ushered the Canadian quickly out of the room to avoid the stares. A few countries snickered. They slipped into groups to start the search, the axis powers together, England, France and Canada in a group, China with Russia and his sisters. The rest left for last minute flights booked weeks ago or urgent business. Or others were just annoyed with the hosting country not being there. The groups got together quickly and out they went.
Jared couldn't say the last time he had had this much fun. Even when he was playing guitar. He strummed three quick chords as the boy he had met-Albert, Alfred was his name-put him back to back and sang a couple notes. A crowd had gathered, more than he had ever seen, that's for sure. Alex-no, Alfred-just drew people in like that. He could have had the worst voice ever, and Jared had heard some pretty dang awful voices, and still gain a crowd. So with a voice as good as any out there, he gained an arena of people.
To explain his singing voice, which could only be described as ridiculously good or ridiculously odd, he would have to say it was one of a kind. Or maybe, a bunch of kinds. It somehow changed between verses, mashing into an odd mix of rock and country and pop and soul. It was like the best singers-all in one. And the way he played with the crowd, jumping into it, leaning into girls and boys alike, dancing with children, even Jared, timid and awkward as he was, couldn't help but let loose. It was astounding the coordination between them too, like they were made for each other.
But if anyone asked Jared, he would say Alfred would be able to blend like that with anyone. They performed together, leaning forward and backward with the beat, dancing around with the other, putting on a fantastic show.
He would make a killing tonight.
Canada was leading their trio, consisting of him, France and England. He went out with his brother often enough to know the usual hangouts, not that anyone would know that. Or remember him long enough to ask. Still, he knew America had some special places he didn't know about. Things he kept to himself. So he could never be too sure on where he went. His brother could be unpredictable. More than his disappearance, or really absence since he didn't bother to show up, he was more shocked by the countries. To say he was shocked when everyone volunteered to search for his brother wasn't even close though.
The other countries, although having a friendly relationship, could be... harsh. It was a shaky bond between business partners more than friendship, or at least that's what it seemed like. Even England, who Canada knew cared about America more than he would ever admit in his lifetime, crossed the line all too often. Not that he usually didn't deserve it, but sometimes it was just hard to watch. America seemed to laugh at the snide comments by now, brush them off as if they meant nothing.
But, sometimes when it's just the two brothers together, he can see the way it wears him down.
Why would the countries do that? Canada himself asked the same question over and over. He always arrived at the same answer. He knew it was his people-not the brashness, the stupidity or the rudeness-it was the absolute brilliance, utter craziness of the people that made them like that. America emwas/em the first to land a man on the moon.
America seemed oblivious to it, but really, how could he not see what was in front of him? There was just something to America, even if he didn't know what. God, he was overthinking his brother. The lovable idiot he was.
Now, where would that lovable idiot go to? He would most likely take a scenic route, the one near the shop windows... Canada knew just where to go. He tapped France's shoulder, because England didn't care for having his shoulder tapped and could be downright sassy, and let him turn before speaking.
"Excusez-moi, France," he waited a second before adding the -is. Human names in public.
"Oui, Matthieu?"
"Please follow me, eh?" Both nodded in turn and followed Canada-
before they forgot about him.
Excusez-moi (French)- Excuse me
Oui (French)- Yes
