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.

..

This might be the last time they'll ever see each other again.

--

On his way towards a nearby travel agency, Arthur is still deciding where to go. He mustn't go somewhere daftly obvious, of course. In his mind he makes a mental list—the UK, France, the rest of Europe and America are quickly crossed out.

If he were to go over to the UK, Alfred will definitely follow after since it's an obvious choice; if he goes over to France, Françis would hear of him from the many people he knows there; if he were to hide in anywhere else in Europe, Matthew is sure to find his whereabouts in the next day or two. The thought of travelling all the way to the English mockery that is America is also digging his own grave; he'll stick out like a sore thumb, as people can simply put it.

Surely, he will.

He wants to avoid being in island nations where English is the mother tongue, so Australia and New Zealand are immediately crossed out. Why? It's because they'll think of going to such places next. Their thinking is simple to predict, at times.

The Englishman thinks of going over to Africa and is considering it; he decides to add that to his starting list of options. Arthur thinks of going to Asia, and he also makes it an option since the holidays are coming in a month of two.

Reaching a small building, Arthur is already at the agency's desk and is asking for a ticket. "To where, sir?" the lady with thick, crimson red lipstick asks. Dropping his English accent, Arthur begins to talk like an American. "Do you have a flight to Hong Kong for tomorrow?"
"One moment, please."

A few seconds with only with the sound of the keyboard—"I'm sorry, sir, but all available flights for tomorrow is cancelled. A storm is expected."
"…How 'bout today?"

Another moment—"There's one scheduled for seven at night and at—"
"I'll take it."
"Your name and passport, sir?"

Arthur takes out an American passport form his wallet and gives it to the other. "Daniel Smith," he says as if it were true. The woman opens the small booklet in her hand, and the same name as he mentioned is read. Nodding her head in affirmation, she goes about and makes a ticket for the escaping man.

--

When the Englishman steps into the complex, he is coincidentally face-to-face with the infamous, old landlord whom he so terribly loathes. The elder looks comical and animated as if he were drawn out of a cartoon. "YOU!" he bellows and points an accusing, stubby finger at Arthur. The younger man groans at his terrible luck as the other approaches him in penguin-like strides. "GET OUT—YOU LIVE HERE NO MORE—OUT!"
"Let me just—"
"NO."

The old man's face is red and, if possible, steam would be shooting out of his ears. He lifts up his fat, sagging arms and pushes Arthur away into the pavement outside; the sudden action makes the Englishman stumble backwards. A small crowd consisting of two small children and a dog looked at the scene with curious, innocent stares—they soon pass by in a hurry as the elder sends them a stern glare.

Standing up as the old landlord walks back into the complex's maze, Arthur dusts himself off with quick, random pats to his pants. There really is nothing else to do but to go to the airport now, but the Englishman hoped that he could tell Kiku that he'd be going off… and probably even admit his real name—no, it's too risky to say.

He thinks of going to the other's workplace; he admits that he's forgotten where it is. Anyways, it's much better to let no one know that you're off when escaping—yes…maybe. Arthur concludes that it's none of Kiku's business as it should be for no one else's.

"Bugger," the Englishman says finally, shrugs and walks off.

--

Françis knocks on the apartment's door; no one is opening it nor is there any footsteps heard inside. The man's mind drifts off to the possibility that they are having sex—he doesn't think so; it's too late (or too early, whichever one prefers to think of it at two in the afternoon). Then he reminds himself what Arthur is sometimes like… it probably must be the case, then.

He tries to knock once more but a little more loudly. Still, there seems to be no other inside. The man looks around and sees Elizaveta about to head out. "Elizaveta, ma chѐre, are those two inside?" he points nonchalantly at the door of the couple whilst asking.

The woman turns to face the other and Françis is greeted with heavy eyes with dark circles around and a ghost of a particular smile that comes about after recording (or taking a photo) of something involving two men doing things to one another. She's been editing a video of the sort, the Frenchman concludes.

What he didn't know is who it was about. He left after shoving Arthur and Kiku into their room, remember?

"Kiku went out, but I think George also left because old Mario found him," she sounds a little sleepy yet completely satisfied of something; whatever she managed to record must be good. Almost impulsively, he asks for it.

"I still need to finish the third one, though," she agrees.

--

Sitting by the American in the few seats seen in the plane's first-class area, Matthew is trying to eat his tiny strawberry short cake with thick vanilla cream and four whole strawberries on top. He is trying to because Alfred won't stop playing a race car driving game; the other's body would move and bend as he would make a sharp turn or is driving along in a long curve. The headphones he wears gives off a muffled sound that tells that the volume is a little high up.

Matthew glances at the other and sees the confident, rather oblivious smile that usually graces his features. All the man's concentration is on the game and on nothing else. At first glance, Alfred is an immature goofball; he makes up for it every now and then (he is the unit's leader, after all).

Right now, unfortunately, this time is where you cannot see any of such things.

The Canadian is finally able to take a bite as Alfred is racing in a straight road; it was a hasty action, though. He doesn't notice the small smudge of cream at the corner of his mouth. As he tries to take another bite, Alfred abruptly moves his elbow up and the piece of cake hits Matthew in the face. Sighing to himself, the Canadian stands up to wash it off.

When he comes back, his cake is partially gone. Alfred has just raced through the finish line. Matthew sits down and ignores the obvious culprit beside him. As he picks up the icing-tipped fork, the other's hand flashes from the cake and towards him.

Once more, Matthew has icing on his face; a little bit is on his cheek and on the tip of his nose. "You gotta be quick, Mattie. 'Else they'll get you." Alfred chuckles then grabs a strawberry and eats it. He licks off the icing from his fingertips, and he turns back to the game so that he may start another three laps of virtual fun.

Matthew stands up to wash his face again but not before he eats two more bites of his sugary treat.