A/N: Sorry for late update... something extremely tragic and saddening has happened in my life and I couldn't think straight. My deepest apologies for the potential badness of this chapter. I hope you guys can still enjoy it, even though it's late.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, claim to own it, or am a writer or illustrator for it, the person you are thinking if is Hidekaz Himaruya, and you should start making your shrine to him now if you haven't already.
Warning(s): swearing
The two roommates toured the building first thing the next morning; Ivan being unnervingly cheery despite his situation the entire time. It wasn't like Arthur didn't welcome the positive emotion; it just raised many questions that the Brit didn't want to have.
"Grandly Harrison's is a very fun place! There are a lot of people here and most of them are really nice! We all get to play games and the nurses give us candy if we behave," Ivan paused and leaned in towards Arthur's ear. "I haven't been behaving lately, so I haven't gotten any candy, but they took me off of Floor Zero yesterday, so that's my reward!" The large man leaned back up and walked a bit ahead of Arthur, a large grin on his face.
"I also get a new roommate, and so far he has been very nice as well, yes? I hope we will get to know each other more before I have to go back to Floor Zero." The man said happily.
Arthur was, awestruck, to say in the least. He hasn't even been at the hospital a day and he's already met enough personalities to last him a lifetime of headache. And what was this about a 'Floor Zero'? He'll have to ask.
"Oh, my apologies, new friend, but I did not ask you for your name!" Ivan lightly hit himself on the head and rolled his eyes. "Silly me!"
The Brit waved his hand dismissively. "Oh no, it's alright, Ivan, was it? My name is Arthur Kirkland. Charmed to make your acquaintance."
The large Russian giggled and grabbed Arthur's hand again. "That is a good name! You are the first 'Arthur' I have met here! This is very good!"
Arthur chuckled nervously. "Um, yes, I suppose it is, Ivan. Um, what is 'Floor Zero'? It sounds, interesting."
Ivan's lighthearted face suddenly fell into an alarmingly serious expression. "Floor Zero is where you go if you are not good. I would not want my new friend to go there." He gripped the smaller man's hand tighter. "I also would not want my new friend to send me there, like the others."
Arthur's voice squeaked. "O-others?" Ivan's demeanor turned back to a happy one. "Oh just forget about that, da? I have to show you more rooms here! There is the pantry and the activity room and-" he paused for a moment, putting his finger on his cheek cutely. "I think that's it! Besides the offices, but those don't count."
The two soon arrived to what seemed to be a kitchen. It was fairly big, and looked very much like a modern kitchen one would find in a household. A small cream colored table and chair set was in the middle of the hardwood floor space. Beautiful matching wooden cabinets and brown marbled countertops almost made one forget exactly where they were.
"Wow… this must of cost a lot of money…" Arthur mumbled. Ivan shook his head. "Nyet, we also get some government funding and many third party donations, so things such as these cost nothing! It is very nice though, da?" The Brit agreed.
"There are no real plates or cups or cutlery," the large Russian said, opening a drawer and taking out a fork. He then slowly took the fork and bent it in half. "They are all plastic! It is for safety, they say, but I think it is so no one has to wash many dishes." He giggled out. Ivan threw the fork onto the floor and grabbed his roommate's hand again. "Now we go to the activity room!"
They exited the kitchen quickly and went into a door right next to it. Once inside, Arthur was impressed by what he saw. The room was very modern and stylish, like the kitchen, but with a different color scheme. Blue and white sofa sets, chairs, bookshelves and tables were neatly placed around the room. A large screen television with a game console was in front of a sofa set and people were crowded around it. To the left was a computer area, which was occupied with other patients as well.
Ivan shouted a greeting to everyone in the room, to which most ignored. A handful of patients, though, actually got up and greeted the large man like he was old friend.
The Russian pulled Arthur over to a sofa and pushed him down onto it. "You sit here, and I will get some more friends to meet you, da?"
Arthur silently agreed, waiting patiently as one could for the Russia to come back with new people.
He didn't, though.
Minutes passed, and the green eyed man just sat on the sofa, looking blankly ahead at the patients gathered around the television.
'This place is… I can't put my finger on it… eerily peaceful? Shockingly normal for a mental hospital, I'll say that. It's more of a summer camp; a summer camp you stay at forever… ugh, that sounded very melodramatic.'
Arthur felt the sofa dip with added weight next to him. He turned to face the new person, and was greeted with a tired smile and deep, sort of lost looking, blue eyes.
"Bonjour…" the man lazily said, some of his wiry blond hair dropping delicately in front of his face.
The Brit shifted slightly. "Um, hello. What's your name?"
The man scratched his stubbly chin and his smile grew. "It is very rude to ask for a person's name without first introducing yourself, no? You are quite churlish for an Englishman."
Arthur grew angered fast, the volume of his voice letting that be evident. "Nobody asked you to give me lessons in manners! I'll do what I bloody well please! And it's Arthur, for your information."
The other man chuckled. "Mine is Francis. Je suis enchantée de faire votre connaissance." Francis took Arthur's hand gently into his, and bowed to him, lightly touching his forehead to the Brit's hand.
"I don't appreciate the French… but likewise." Arthur muttered, slowly pulling his hand away from Francis. "Though it seems you know my language pretty well." The Frenchman replied, winking at Arthur.
The Englishman grew red, and before saying his comeback, Arthur was cut off by excited noises.
"Arthur, I have found a person for you to meet!" Ivan happily said to him, pushing an equally happy looking blonde towards the two sitting on the sofa. The Russian then wondered off again.
The Brit noticed that it was the man from yesterday, Alfred, though today he was wearing a WWII bomber jacket.
"Hey, I saw you yesterday, didn't I? Sorry about that, I tend spaz out from time to time." Alfred said sheepishly.
"It's fine. I'm Arthur, by the way." Arthur stuck his hand out to Alfred, and the latter slapped it, and then lightly punched his knuckles.
'What the hell was that?! Why did he not just shake my hand? "Um…"
"What dude?"
"You just…"
"I just what, man?"
Francis intervened. "Oh Alfred, the poor Brit is experiencing cultural shock.
Alfred was surprised. "Oh bruh, you're not from here then? Thanks for sayin', Fran." He sat down next to Arthur. "So, where are you from then?"
The Englishman straightened up. "London."
The bomber jacket clad blond tilted his head. "Ontario? You don't sound Canadian."
"Not Canada! England! I was raised in the area my entire life. And you two?"
Alfred spoke up first. "Well, I was born in Boston, but I moved Cali when I was 6, then Georgia when I was 10. Moved up here for high school and stayed. You know how it goes."
"I am from Paris." Francis said slowly. "Though I moved here for college."
Arthur sneered. "Oh yes, I could tell you were a Parisian."
"As I could tell that you were a Londoner." He replied in equal tone.
"Whoa there, you two. No need to be all hostile when you just met." Alfred said, chuckling afterwards. "But hey, Arthur, what room do you have?"
Arthur answered with a simple, "417." Alfred smiled. "Dude, I didn't realize you were Ivan's roomie! That's awesome; he's a cool guy once you get to know him. 417 is 3 doors up from my room and across the hall from Fran's."
"Oh, that's great; I'll know someone besides Ivan on the floor."
They continued on conversing at a steady pace. Talking about, well, as much as three people in a mental hospital could talk about. So, their topics included the a quick run over of how things are at Grandly Harrison's, weather, light politics (before it started to go over Alfred's head), Doctor Who (before it started to go over Francis' head) and cooking (before it started to go over Arthur's head).
"What are you in here for, Arthur?" Francis asked.
The aforementioned man used his sleeve to wipe his eyes after laughing at a joke Alfred said.
"Is this a thing that we do here? Ask each other 'what we're in for'?! What fun!" the green eyed man said joyfully. "The doctors say I have schizophrenia, but I don't believe them at all. My friends are always there to help me, so I don't see a problem. What about you lads?"
Alfred spoke up. "As you've seen, I have dissociative identity disorder. A.K.A, multiple personalities, but the first sounds more great, so I use that."
Arthur frowned slightly at the American's grammar. "It's 'better', Alfred. Not 'more great',"
"What's better?" the younger man asked. Arthur face palmed. "Just- never mind it. How about you, Francis, 'what are you in for'?"
The Frenchman answered nonchalantly, "Substance-induced psychosis, among other substance-related disorders." He sighed gently. "I'm also a histrionic, but it's fairly minor, so no need to worry about that one."
Arthur began to feel embarrassed. Not for the Frenchman, but more for himself for asking him about it. But, as all things, curiosity got the best of him. "So, you're a-" "A druggie? Why yes, I am."
"An ex-druggie, Francis, remember that. You haven't used in years." Alfred said heatedly, throwing a glare at Arthur.
"Oh Alfred, you sweet boy, once a person is a druggie, they are always a druggie. I have told you this."
Alfred stood up. "NO. This asshole comes in here like he fucking knows you and starts saying shit he knows nothing about. Who the hell gave you the right to pass judgment on people?!" the younger man shouted, growing more and more angry by the second. He turned towards the door and walked in its direction. "I have group." He left without another word.
The room, well, the part that Arthur and Francis were in, was silent. "I didn't know it was a touchy subject…" the Englishman muttered.
Francis smiled calmly. "It is alright. I am used to it, and Alfred is more hurt by it than I am. That's just him being passionate about his friends. Once you're here for a while, he'll let that part of him take over to protect you as well." Arthur looked up. "Did he know you outside of here?" "Non." Was the quiet reply. "Oh. Um…"
"You have more questions?" 'Could someone help themselves from having questions about how exactly a person like you got here? And Alfred… he's fairly, interesting.' Arthur just nodded. Francis said back, "Ask away, I do not mind. I need to pass time before group."
And Arthur asked. Fairly personal questions were asked, if he'd say so, but Francis encouraged it, actually. And time did indeed pass. An hour and 45 minutes, just about, and the two Europeans didn't tire of talking. Francis asked the same, fairly personal questions right back, as to keep the conversation as equal as possible. It was like a huge, weird game of 20 questions.
"How are so calm now? I read that histrionics are flirtatious and outgoing. You're very…"
"Somber? Yes, it is the medication I am on. I am not usually like this, but I my symptoms came back harshly earlier this week. I'm still under its effects." The older man leaned in closer. "Am I not flirty enough for you, Londoner?"
Arthur grew red, from embarrassment or anger, he wasn't sure. "Definitely not! Who would want to flirt with a-" Francis put a finger up to his lips. "There is no need for shouting, mon ami. I was just, how do they say, joshing you." He stood up and looked at the clock on the wall. "It's time for group therapy for me." The blue eyed man walked towards the door, then turned to face Arthur again. "Before I go, I must ask, you have schizophrenia, yes? Then why have you not talked to, or referenced your 'friends', if they are always there?"
This made Arthur go blank for a moment. 'I haven't talked to them since I, since I started talking with Francis and Alfred...'
"Food for thought, no? See you later, Arthur."
A/N: Alright you guys, chapter 3. Sorry, this just isn't my week. I lost someone very important to me, and many people may think of it as silly, but I'm hurt by this. Any spelling errors, grammar errors, OOCness and just general badness please tell me via PM or message on Tumblr so I can hurry to fix it. I'd like to thank you all for reading, and special thanks go out to those who fav'd and followed, as well as a very special thanks to Angelic Fluffle, Sora Resi, Amy Kitty and ThePrussianCross taking time out of their day to review. I appreciate it. Everyone, please enjoy this chapter and tell me what should/could happen next chapter, as well as fav, follow and review.