Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, all rights go to its creators.

Part 3: Chapter 3: Of Fond Messages

England listened to the message left the Monday after he sent his letter. "Hello England, I caught the sunrise again. Have you ever seen the sunrise in your home? I wonder if it is the same, here and there. We could get married under the sunrise or the sunset in either of our countries! Marry me! Marry–."

England felt the corners of his lips quirk upward and a small warmth in his chest. There was something innocent and childlike about Belarus's fascination with the sunrise. It was, dare he say it, adorable .

England shook his head at the moment and proceeded to fix himself some tea because it was down right ridiculous to think so.

But soon England looked forward to Belarus's voicemails each day during the week, listening to the small bits of life his Eastern European counterpart partook in. It felt almost like he was listening to an audio diary, having never responded to any of the messages. He'd drop whatever he was doing to get within earshot of the answering machine to hear Belarus's modulated voice.

By not receiving a message from Belarus, over the next two days, he assumed she'd read the letter and responded accordingly.

Prideful as he was, he wouldn't give in to the temptation of calling her back and proceeded to clear all of the messages from the machine the next day.

00000000

The World Meeting was in Denmark this month. England stepped into the meeting room and immediately was taken aback by everyone in the room at the moment, turning their attention to stare at him. England blinked before furrowing his eyebrows, "What the bloody hell are you all staring for?" And then a chorus of whispering started.

England frowned before going to his seat. He looked over to see France looking quite smug. England wanted to punch him in his ugly frog face, but just dug his nails into his palms instead.

"Ah Angleterre isn't it wonderful?"

France asked, waving his arm about in the frivolous way that he did.

"What are you going on about frog breath?"

"That even you of all people could engage in the service of Venus." He let out an annoying little giggle.

"Who told you that Belarus and I had sex?" He exclaimed, raising his voice a bit. "Or did you see it yourself, you fucking pervert?"

"You just told me. Ohonhonhon." France smiled at him, mischief in his eyes.

In response, England grabbed hold of the Frenchman's neck and proceeded to squeeze his windpipe until his knuckles turned white. France gasped before England felt him grab hold of his neck as well.

And then he heard the sound of the door burst open. England turned his head to see Belarus. She made eye contact with him before she shifted her eyes to France who still had his hands around his neck.

"Get your hands off of him before I slice off all of your fingers." She said unblinking, tone even and flat. Instantly France lifted his hands away from England. England even let go of France in reflex of her words. France gulped in a large amount of air. The room fell silent for a moment before the murmurs returned. England lowered his arms and turned away from Belarus, mouth curled in a frown. France eyed them both curiously. England blew a breath out of his nose.

"Sweet sister, how delightful! Russia told me the news!" England snapped his head in the direction of Ukraine who's "large tracts of land" were at level with his face. She pulled Belarus into a hug, at the other nation's visible discomfort.

England was relieved for the distraction from having to face Belarus.

Soon the World Meeting began and Belarus had to take her place beside Russia.

They were approaching the winter solstice for the Northern Hemisphere regions. So around this time the nation's participated in a Secret Santa gift exchange. They would be picking Nation names this month and exchange gifts in December to give everyone enough time to get a gift.

England usually dreaded this holiday tradition because he typically got thoughtless gifts or the person he was gifting something to was annoying. He'd gotten America last year, and the bastard was monumentally ungrateful; he'd handmade him a blanket. To which he said it was for "sissies" and "little girls who believed in that fairytale tale bullshit." England didn't think there was anything wrong with stitching the unicorn he'd given America for his bicentennial onto a blanket for him to wear.

Poland was his Secret Santa last year, and had given him a manicure kit to pluck his eyebrows, fucking twat.

So England was surprised when he dug out a slip from the "festive" hat, and received Russia.

Russia, for as long as he could remember, had been passed off to Belarus whenever a nation received him because they feared Belarus and what Russia's reaction would be if they got a "bad" gift for him. So every year Belarus was Russia's Secret Santa and as stated before with all matters between the two, it did not go well for Russia.

So England was stuck with Russia and the immense pressure that if his present wasn't good enough, Russia would break all of his bones.

Denmark was called to the podium by Germany and started discussing the importance of family relationships during battle. But again, England didn't care about that. He thought about what gift he'd give Russia.

He's always wearing that one scarf...maybe I'll make him another one.

He started to sketch the design in his notepad. A blue scarf with sunflowers embroidered on the surface, and a few clouds could go with the sky backdrop.

000000000000

Soon Germany dismissed them for a snack break. A few of the countries filtered out but most were still in the meeting room lingering around. France climbed on top of the meeting room table. What the bloody hell is that buffoon doing now?

France pulled a megaphone out of his bag and held it up to his mouth. "ATTENTION! ATTENTION!" France pulled the megaphone away from his mouth when he had everyone's attention, quieting the room to a dull murmur. "I have an announcement, The results for the pool are in!" France continued, this time without the megaphone, a smirk on his face as he briefly made eye contact with him.

England looked up at the other nation curiously. A pool for what?

"England and Belarus engaged in passionate love making! So whoever voted on him, come forward to receive your winnings! " He exclaimed.

There was a loud course of groans that sounded after that. England wasn't really paying attention after that, he felt anger rising in his chest and blood boil in his veins. England usually didn't need a valid excuse to hit France but he was sure the Frenchman had crossed a line this time. This was exploitation not only of himself but of Belarus too. He assumed it must not have been easy for her to admit she had feelings for him, and to even go as far as to be intimate with him was a milestone in itself. And for some reason what made him the most upset was that to France that rare moment was a sick game.

With a loud cry England tackled France and knocked him from the meeting room table, sending them both crashing onto the floor on the other side of the table. There was a chorus of loud gasps.

"What the hell is wrong with-". England landed a few punches into France's ugly face before he was picked up and off of France by America, who'd hoisted him over his shoulder.

"SHeeesh Britain relax, France has people to pay." And then America muttered, "People who aren't me."

"Put me down! How dare he place bets on who I sleep with! Fucking frogfaced pervert!" England yelled, squirming in America's grasp. America finally let him down once they were outside of the meeting room.

England crossed his arms and America sighed, "Dude the meetings get boring. Remember that big pool we had for Germany and Italy back during World War II?"

"Oh right, you idiots really don't know the meaning of private affairs. But I hope you all will at least stay out of Belarus's business now, you know this is not her usual behavior, and the last thing she needs is you all pointing that out."

"Yeah I'm sure France isn't gonna hold any more bets about you two. It was a good 6 months though, and I came pretty close during that period when Liet and Belarus were dating! Damn, Portugal's gonna be one rich son of a bitch...well not really but you know." He shrugged.

"Are you saying you had no faith in - never mind, go on back. I'm not going to attack Frogface again."

"I'm going to a burger place down the street, real quick. We've got like ten minutes of break left." He said before walking past him.

"That's not enough-" England started but he was already gone out the door. England decided he would need some tea if he was going to survive the rest of this headache of a meeting.

When he walked in the only two other people were Lithuania and Belarus. He raised his eyebrow as the two other nations turned to him. "What the fuck took you so long? I was waiting in here for like 20 minutes! And ten of those were spent with this bastard explaining that we did have sex."

"Well I-"

"I didn't ask for the details!" Lithuania exclaimed. His cheeks now red and England felt his irritation increase. Lithuania shook his head walked past him and out the door

"I made you some fucking tea but it's probably fucking cold now." She said shoving it into his hands.

"Thanks…" She stared at him and he, feeling slightly uncomfortable, looked down at the tea she'd given him.

"Lithuania told you about the bet they were having, I presume. I was a bit tied up with that." England frowned, "They just don't mind their own damn business." He spared a glance at her again, she didn't look troubled by what he'd said. She was apathetic as usual, having stepped back towards the table to pick up some chocolate.

"Didn't that bother you? England asked, finding himself walking over to where she was in spite of his earlier hesitance.

"No, it would have before but not now. They were right in the end that my feelings had changed." She said popping a piece in her mouth, before she met his eyes. For some reason her words made his heart skip a beat.

He didn't feel grounded so he clenched the cup of tea in his hand.

"W-well yes, but that sort of thing shouldn't be entertainment!" England wanted to believe she was a different person, and so far Belarus wasn't giving him any signs that she was marriage hungry or obsessed with him. But it didn't sit right with him, there had to be a catch.

Why was she taking this so well ? Where were the threats? Where was the stabbing? Where was the overly clingy behavior? Where was the jealousy?

"I think you should drink your tea before it gets any colder." she said, her voice a bit sharper

"So that's it? You're fine with me not wanting to marry you? Just like that?"

Why the bloody hell did I ask that? Why would you fucking want her to not be ok with that? Are you fucking mad?

She clamped her mouth shut and nodded. "Well I'll head back then." He said, something didn't sit right in his chest. It felt a bit tight and something was wrong. But he brushed it off because feeling conflicted feelings about Belarus was not something he wanted to deal with right now.

On his way out, England hurriedly sipped his tea, and then he bumped into someone.

"Oh! England I was looking for you! I wanted to thank you for indirectly giving me like 500 Euros...and various other currencies I have to get converted to Euros." Portugal said before embracing him.

And for some reason England's heart beat rapidly in his chest. Something was different about Portugal, good different. It made his vision a bit hazy and his thoughts all over the place but certainly one thing was clear.

"I love you Portugal."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Criticism Welcome.