Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.

..

Not much of it was eaten, though.

Back inside the apartment, William is now done with his bath and is looking at the mirror in front of him. He leans closer towards the glass to see if anything is wrong with his hair—he found none. The man then glanced back at the tub to see a tiny puddle of brown inside; he immediately took the shower head and washed the liquid down the drain.

Unsure if there was such a dye (as of the colour in the tub) on him, William checks his hair once more to find that every tress he could see is its supposed natural blond colour. Still being cautious, the Englishman looked at his body for any smidges of the colorant—again, he found none.

Happy with himself, he walked out of the bathroom whilst wrapping a small bath towel around his waist.

The first thing he headed for in the bedroom was the nailed in dresser at one side of the room. It looks to be brand new with its shiny coat of varnish, but that old thing had been there even before William had bought this place. It's probably been there before the apartment itself had been built.

The Englishman then pulled out the top drawer until it was detached from the dresser—he put it on the floor and proceeded to do the same with the others. Only then when he placed the last one on the floor did he notice that the clothes had the same label on them. In all of the shirts and bottoms neatly packed inside, there would be a small, white label with the initials: 'FV' on them (the lettering even looks as if it were individually stitched in!).

Thinking about the Japanese man, William didn't find the other to be such a loyal fan of one designer—he quickly shrugged it off; it's not his business, anyway.

Now looking at the empty dresser in front of him, it revealed (to his relief) a small door-like cover is seen at the very back. Opening its door, there seems to be a bag wrapped in a plastic cover that looks as if it had been there since yesterday. Removing the plastic and unzipping the bag, a set of clothes was found inside of it.

As it sounds a little disgusting, it's actually far better off for him than chancing to wear Kiku's clothes (not to mention underwear)—the other is smaller than him, and the clothes seem to be fitted. It would also be no doubt that the other would recognize his own clothes being worn by the Englishman.

William does have a sense of decency in him, mind you. Besides, the clothes still looks brand new.

Before doing anything else, William re-arranges the drawers of the dresser so as to the fact that there would be more room to walk in. He then goes back to his bag and pulls out a simple pair of jeans, a dark-coloured shirt, socks and a pair of shoes. As he puts them on, he notices that there is actually a small tear in his jeans.

…It's not too noticeable, anyways—no need to whinge about it.

Though in all honesty, he'll admit, William would prefer to wear something a bit sharper and rather sophisticated; this was packed up two years ago, nevertheless. Let it be known that he had a… somewhat different sense of style, back then.

Besides, wearing these kinds of clothes is actually quite timeless and acceptable. It's still alright; no one would suspect him to be much of a solitary person while wearing this simple attire (it kind of makes him look like someone who's outgoing, actually)—

The Englishman stopped in thought before he had the chance to count the number of friends he (thinks he) really has.

Going to the bathroom once more, he picked up his other clothes and stuffed them in the bag he was holding up. Looking at the counter, he saw his wallet, a hard, plastic bottle filled with whatever is inside of it (though one would suspect it to be medicine since it looks to be so), a lighter and a small container of some sort—it's like the ones you put contact lenses in.

Pocketing the wallet and lighter, putting the small case in the bag then picking up the bottle, he went out to the bedroom to look for his shoes.

With what he was wearing last night now packed inside the bag, William heads out of the apartment with only being able to lock the knob of the door (the key is with Kiku, obviously). Nearly crossing paths with the old, landlord by a few moments later, the Englishman is now on his way in the same direction where the Japanese man had just walked on.

A few meters away from the apartment and the first alleyway, there is an even narrower alley just between two (yet to be opened) shops—the Englishman stopped in his tracks by the passageway.

Making sure that no one was around, William drops the bag he held in the dark lane and opens the bottle in hand to reveal the crude stench of petrol. Crouching in front of the bag and pouring the bottle's contents until it was no more, the Englishman stood up whilst picking up a piece of paper of some advertisement that littered the disgusting cement floor.

Rolling up the paper and lighting it with his lighter, William drops the burning advertisement onto the (very flammable) bag. It only took a few quick moments before everything was engulfed by flames.

The Englishman quickly kicked the bag over to another side and the fire only grew larger in its unsatisfied hunger; the grey smoke coming out of it begins to surround the man as if it were asking for more things to be burned— he, of course, pays no heed to it.

Done with his personal deed, William leaves the alleyway on the opposite side from where he came. He looks to be without any worry in him—he knows that that alley is practically abandoned and that place is usually where people tend to burn things like what he did (except, it was more of trash than clothes and polished shoes).

Ignoring the fact that the smell of smoke was beginning to waft up from behind him, the Englishman finds himself somewhere near the open market that was having the same atmosphere of its sleepy vendors.

Deciding to try and lose the stench of petrol and smoke (and whatever foul odour was back in the alleyway) on him, William walks towards the stalls of fresh and bountiful food ahead of him.