A/N: I am super sorry it took this long to update, but I have been busy in life, and my school starts next week, which is sad.
Here we see backstories, and next chapter will be Winter Break Part Two.
No, I have not suddenly started owning Hetalia.
England was tired and lonely. Tired of everyone. And at the same time he wanted somebody to talk to. It was the worst feeling ever. He had just recently lost Hong Kong, and he felt like the British Empire was collapsing. Or, it had already collapsed. He honestly could not tell anymore.
He wandered around the halls of the World Summit building, and did not know where he was going. He had forgotten. He saw America, and walked slowly over to the table he was sitting at, not even knowing why. How would the idiot American make him feel any better? He normally only made him feel worse about himself.
"Greetings, America. How are you?" England said, his voice empty.
America looked up at him, noticing England for the first time since he had been drawing a comic or something, for all England knew he could have been drawing up plans for war. "Yo. Do you want something? I'm kind of busy."
England sighed. Of course you are busy, drawing comics and whatnot. "Not anything really. I just..." England paused for a brief moment, "why did you want to leave me so badly?"
America stared at him in surprise. England didn't need to wonder why. He had always tried to avoid discussing when America had been a colony. "Um..." America racked his brain, running through what he knew was going on in his former guardian's country. Oh, right. He had lost... "Hong Kong just got returned to China, hasn't he?"
"Yes." England wanted to go. Why was he talking to America, again?
America stared flatly at England, to England's surprise, and there was none of his usual cheerfulness. "Because you were holding me back, and putting up unfair taxes, and not treating me like an adult country. That's why. You do that to a lot of your colonies. Not the exact same way, but you did treat India horribly, and you should know that already."
This sent England reeling. It wasn't his fault! How had he done anything wrong? For the first time, England felt a definitive emotion: Anger. "Well, that wasn't my fault, strictly speaking," he said, heatedly.
America suddenly stood up, his eyes flashing, "Yes. It. Is. Why don't you think so? We all have admitted to making mistakes, so why the hell are you unable to? Why don't you give a damn about how you have treated people and tried to start over? The rest of us have, and we are still trying to live it down. I know that Germany is still beating himself up for the holocaust, and isn't he doing much better? But. You. Never. Change."
England held up his arms, trying vaguely to defend himself from the words. He tried desperately to change the subject. "Why are you so angry right now, America?"
America looked at him, his expression softening, and said, "My country is just dealing with some... issues. That's all. You really shouldn't care."
England's eyes stung, and he wondered if he was going to cry. That would suck to do in front of America, so he turned away and walked off, loneliest than ever.
That day he talked to several countries, with varying results. But he felt with all of them that he had somehow ruined any relationships with them at some point or another.
And he wanted to start over.
That night, in the privacy of his home (which was large and impressive, like most of the countries, though there were a few, like America, who lived in an apartment, that preferred small houses), he opened up one of his many spell books, and looked for a spell that would fit his parameters. Finally he read a spell similar enough, and with his extensive knowledge of magic, gained over many centuries, he was able to tweak it so that it would work.
Then Flying Mint Bunny came, and he told her that he wouldn't be able to talk to her for several years, but that she could return if he ever thought about her after next week. She agreed, not questioning his judgement, and promised to watch after England's other magic friends, as well as the other members of the Magic Trio's friends.
England went into the Magic room, and drew the pentagram on the floor and lit the correct candles, and chanted.
After the spell was completed, and the glowing disappeared, England set off, knowing there were still things he needed to do before he sort of died, which was in about a week.
A week passed, and England waited eagerly as his last hours disappeared, wondering what it would feel like to die, and then be reborn. Hopefully, once he was reborn his horrible relationships with his companions could be fixed. Or something like that. He honestly didn't know, but at least SOMETHING would change.
Within what he figured was the last few minutes, there was a knock on his door and opened it to see Norway and Romania, who walked in without waiting for an invitation. Once they entered, England closed the door, and Norway started speaking. "We know you did something, and we want to know what it was. It has been building up all week, and I was able to ignore it until now, but this is big. What is it?"
"I'm not telling you, and even if I did, it's too late anyways for you two to do anything," England said smugly. He had been expecting this at some point, and was only glad it hadn't happened earlier in the week, otherwise they might have been able to change it.
Romania narrowed his dark eyes. "Come on England, we know you did something, so why not let us know?"
A ringing started in England's ears, and he knew that it would be any minute now, so why not tell them? "Fine, I'll tell you. We are going to die, all of us."
The other two froze, and England was satisfied to see an actual expression on Norway's face, one of shock and fear. "You're joking," Romania spoke first. "Please say you're joking."
"No," England shook his head. "All the countries are going to die, but don't worry. We are going to be reborn."
The edges of England's vision started going fuzzy. Maybe a minute left, though probably less. Norway stared. "You aren't lying. What the hell is wrong with you?"
England smiled softly, his eyes filling with sadness, his vision completely black. "I need a chance to start over. And I know I can't do that with things how they are."
His head spun, and he barely registered the fact that he fell to the floor, and that Norway and Romania had fallen next to him. Then he lost consciousness, and essentially died, his body dissolving.
Arthur Kirkland was born on April 23, in a town just outside of London. His parents were named Alice and Markus Kirkland, and they honestly did not like their son, because Arthur was too different from what they wanted. They had wanted him to be strong and athletic, like his dad, but instead he was small and thin, and preferred reading instead of most sports, though he did enjoy football (also referred to as soccer), though wasn't much of a competitor. He also had a younger brother, as well as several older siblings, but his parents only seemed to hate him, and so he began to fight them, until they eventually grew tired of him and sent him to boarding school, forbidding him to come home until summer, and even then he was expected to act non existent.
Matthew Williams was born on July 1, three days before his much more outgoing cousin. He lived with his mom and dad in Canada until he was eight, when his parents died, and he was forced to move in with his aforementioned outgoing cousin and his family. He carried around a stuffed animal polar bear everywhere, even to school, which eventually led to some problems with bullies and some criticism. However, his cousin defended him and he spent the next four years as his only friends being the polar bear and his cousin (though the cousin caused some problems as he was often mistaken for him).
Lovino and Feliciano Vargas (who were born on the same day, March 17, though there was a year difference) grew up as orphans in Italy, and lived with their grandfather, Romulus Vargas, who also homeschooled them. Feliciano was babied due largely to the fact that he was very sweet and innocent, but Lovino was not, since he was older and more shy and foul mouthed to everyone, even those who tried to act kindly towards him, mostly because he felt threatened and believed that everyone who treated him kindly were only after his grandfather's money. They were both very artistic and good cooks, though they both disliked most physical activity, except for running, which they were very good at.
Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt grew up in Germany, and Gilbert taught Ludwig pretty much everything. Gilbert was friends for most of his life with Elizabeta Hedervary, though for a large part of it thought that she was a boy (Elizabeta was still dealing with some gender issues). He also met Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Francis Bonnefoy at school, where they became inseparable. Ludwig was always very guarded and shy, and most people were mildly intimidated by him, so he did not have many friends for a long time.
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo grew up in Spain, and he lived happily with his parents, and enjoyed playing the guitar and just being generally carefree.
Alfred F Jones (no one but him and his parents actually know what the F stands for) was born three days after his much quieter cousin, who came to live with him when they were both eight, and Alfred became very protective, wanting to help him and be a hero to him. They slept in the same room in Alfred's house in the state Wisconsin, and for the first few months Alfred and Matthew slept in the same bed since Matthew kept having nightmares. Alfred's heroism led to him being nearly an outcast in school, but he continued to stick with his cousin and made few friends, though he was very engaged in sports and science clubs. He enjoyed pretending to be more clueless than he actually was because it led him to being underestimated, but he was in fact very smart. One of his few friends was a Japanese boy named Kiku Honda.
Francis Bonnefoy was born in Paris, France and enjoyed romance ever since he was very young, though his parents divorce when he was six. He flirted with people in the general hope of falling in love, but only succeeded in falling in love in the summer after eighth grade.
Kiku Honda was born in Japan, and moved to America when he was nine. He became friends with Alfred F Jones in some strange attraction of opposites. He enjoyed anime and fanfiction, and enjoyed writing fanfiction just as much as reading it.
A/N: So, I haven't received any reviews lately, which sucks, and I totally want you to review more! If you do I will give you my eternal gratefulness.
I honestly do not know what trouble America is having, but, being an American citizen, there are many problems, so don't look much into that. Also, this is definitely a modern day fic, but I did not want to give it a specific year in case if people (*gasp*) read it after this year, so just assume it is the year it is currently.