Any one up for chapter 2? Ready, set, go!
I don't own Hetalia or A Christmas Carol!
Chapter 2:A Night Visitor!
"You were so little when I last saw you," the late empire reminisced. "You were so cute! You've grown!" He bent down to look to look at England's eyes. "And so have your eyebrows!"
"Rome, what are you doing here?" England asked before Rome could make any more comments about his facial features. "You died centuries ago!"
"Si, true," Rome replied. "But I'm allowed to come back every now and then to see Italy and Romano. I've even visited Germany. Strange how I've never seen a woman in his bed." Then Rome stared at England's bed. "Hmmm …..."
"But why have you come to see me?" England wanted to distract Rome from the fact that he was sleeping alone. "What are you doing HERE?" Rome looked at England and then his eyes brightened like he had remembered something.
"Oh yes!" he exclaimed. "I'm here for your welfare!"
"By interrupting my sleep!"
"Not your physical welfare, silly boy!" Rome chuckled, ruffling England's hair. England shoved his hand off his head. "I'm here to fix your mindset!"
"There's nothing wrong with my mindset!"
"Then why won't you go to America's birthday party?" England got off the bed and moved away from Rome.
"Why should I go and have his Independence rubbed in my face?" England replied, grumpily. "I had enough when it first happened."
"Come on, Little Britain," Rome said. "You think that's why he's invited you? You were an important figure in his life. Is it so hard to believe he wants you there because he cares about you?"
"If he cared so much," England retorted, hotly. "Why did he go? He went to war with me to leave me behind so why did he do that?"
"Have you ever asked him that question?" Rome asked. "He's the one with the answer to that but I'll say this. Just because he came into conflict with you, it doesn't mean he hated you! You should give him a chance."
"He'll just laugh at me and come out with some joke about it," England huffed. "That wanker can't be serious for a second."
"I don't think you give the boy enough credit," Rome commented. "You should go to his party and talk it out with him. You can't let the Revolutionary War get between the two of you forever." England suddenly began coughing.
"This is why I can't talk to him about it," he said between coughs. "Every time the War's mentioned …... "
"You know that's all in your mind, right," Rome replied.
"It's always been that way!" England retorted. "I was sick immediately after the War."
"Because you caught a fever, sitting in the rain, crying," Rome shot back. "It was the only time you were ever truly sick over this business. But you convinced yourself it was because America won his independence so whenever the Revolutionary War comes up, you cough, have a headache, throw up or all of the above but it's all in your head. You can't spend the rest of your existence like that so take my advice and talk to the boy. Go to his party and find out why he really wants you there!"
Arthur thought about what Rome was telling him. Could he do it? Face up to the past and talk it out with America? Rehash the war? England began coughing again.
"I can't!" he said, adamantly. "I'm sorry, Rome! I can't!"
"So what are these 'plans' you told America that you had?" Rome demanded. "The usual! Go to the local pub and get falling down drunk, having a crisis about what religion you are?"
"What if it is?" England muttered.
"Not this year!" Rome announced. "I was hoping to avoid this but you've left me no choice. You're going to be visited by three spirits. One will be here at one o'clock on the morning of the first of July, the second one at two o'clock on the 2nd and the third one at three o'clock on the third. On your own head be it." Rome then realised that England was laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"I get it now," England replied, still grinning and picking up his book. "I fall asleep, reading A Christmas Carol and you show up, like Marley's ghost, telling me I'm going to be visited by three ghosts! This is a dream, isn't it! Of course, it's a dream!"
Rome walked up to England, put his finger and thumb up to one of England's eyebrows, grabbed an eyebrow hair and yanked.
"Owww! What did you do that for, you git?" England rubbed his eyebrow.
"So you'd know that this isn't a dream," Rome replied. "Those ghosts are coming so suck it up! These spirits will resemble, even act like people you know but they are spirits and they'll be there for your own good. So be nice to them."
"Must I?" England groaned.
"You're the one who decided to be a stubborn fool so you can't back out now," Rome said, adamantly as he began to fade. "I can't stay any longer. Now remember, Little Britain! Be nice to the spirits!" Rome faded from sight.
England shot up from his pillow, gasping for air. His bedroom was dark, no sight of any ghostly visitor (but then, there would not be, would there!). His book was still on the bedside table where he had left it and there was no signs of disturbance anywhere. England blew out a breath. With no evidence to the contrary, England lay back down to sleep, convinced that the whole thing had been a dream.
Despite the fact that his eyebrow was throbbing.
The next day, the 30th of June, England spent time catching up on paperwork and when he had finished, he decided to go for a walk. Passing the coffee table, he spotted the invitation and plane ticket and his mind turned to the events of the night before. No! Not events! Dream! That's all it was! A dream! He passed the table without a second thought and left the house. He spent a restful hour, strolling through a local park, sitting on one of the benches and relaxing in the sun. Then he went to his favourite tea shop for a cup of Earl Grey and a scone. And, as afternoon gave way to evening, England slowly made his way home. When he entered his living room, the invitation and plane ticket were still on the coffee table. He wanted to throw them away so they would not be haunting him but he could not bring himself to do that. So he did his best to ignore them.
There were several missed messages on his phone which he had left behind, many from France. England knew what those would be about. Always before the 4th of July, France would try to persuade England to attend America's birthday party. An exercise in futility! England ignored the phone and spent the rest of the evening trying to ignore the coffee table until it was time to retire.
England was already asleep as his clock ticked toward midnight and the 30th of June changed to the 1st of July. The hands continued to crawl round full circle until, finally, it completed the hour and struck 1 o'clock.
England's sleep was disrupted by the sensation of someone climbing on his bed as the mattress dipped beneath the person's weight. England was further awaken by a certain, annoying French laugh.
"Hon hon hon! Time to wake up, Angleterre!"
No need to tell you who just showed up! It's my head cannon that England fell sick when America left him in the rain and he associated that with the the Revolutionary War and now anything to do with the war causes England to fall ill but it's all psychosomatic. Look out for the next chapter tomorrow when England takes a trip down Memory Lane.
Hasta la Pasta!