Disclaimer: Hetalia=not mine

Warning: none really.

This chapter is short because a second one will be uploaded tomorrow.

I woke up with a start in...my bed? No...I could have sworn I ran out...I thought maybe it ha been a nightmare.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, blinking to clear my vision...This was DEFINETLY not my bedroom. It was...all girly and shit. Well...not girly. French. But I could never see a difference between the two.

I stretched, screaming as pain ricoshayed up my spine.

Not a dream.

"Ghfpbvla, good morning." I knew that voice. And I knew the Frenchman it belonged to.

The voice that was always wro-right.

"How are you feeling?"

I stared at him. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to say anything. I was half hoping that if I closed my eyes again, I would die. That maybe Arthur would show up and apologize and beg me to come home, or maybe I would wake up in Arthur's bed...he'd be petting my hair and and wipping my forehead with a wet cloth, telling me he was so worried...because I had been asleep for so long due to a high fever.

But that didn't happen. All there was was an awkward silence. Of me staring at him with hallow eyes.

I think I startled him, his forehead was creased with worry.

I stared at him and still didn't answer his question.

He put down a tray of...rather deliscious smelling food, walking over to my side. He brushed hair from my eyes and flinched back- sharp, as if he has a disease I didn't want to catch.

He looked hurt and stepped back. "I assume Arthur hurt you like this?"

"Don't you dare say anything aganst Arthur!" The words left my mouth before I could catch them. I didn't even know I was saying them. They just...came out.

My face flushed. "I-I mean...yea..." I looked down at my calloused hands, twinnning them with each other.

I frowned, not really knowing what to say.

His hand was in my hair again, and it was soothing...like Arthur.

And suddenly I smacked his hand away, upset. "D-don't do that."

He nodded, placing the tray on my lap. "I made you breakfast Skylni, and Gilbert and I...cleaned you up, so just rest."

I nodded, feeling uncomfortable. He went to pet my head again, but noticed my discomfort. "We have much to discuss Alfred."

I blinked at him. "Like what?"

Francis sighed. "Like War."

Ok. I'm so sad. So close to the end of this. Anyway. I suppose this was pretty good for my first Stockholm fic, and I'm glad I wrote it. It is a bit pathetic, and I know I can write better than this. So to everyone who has been loyaly reading my story, thank you. I appreciate the reviews and encouragement. It keeps me writing. I hope you will stick with me in my next fiction as well.