Thank you everyone who too the time to drop a review. It's thanks to you guys I feel like updating so regularly xD. You're awesome! It's quite a long chapter this time but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

Chapter 03

XX

Arthur felt himself being gently rocked awake by equally gentle hands and a soft, lulling voice. His brows furrowed and he wondered whether Alfred was trying to coax him into another round of sex, God knew he was tired enough.

"Arthur-san? Good morning, it's time to wake up," that voice was not Alfred's and, as soft as it was, it made Arthur's eyes snap open as cold realisation hit him in the face. So it had not all been a horrible dream. He really was in a different world.

"Kiku?" he looked at that face almost imploringly, willing it to be Kiku, willing him to be in some sushi bar dead drunk, and for Alfred to come and sigh and pick him up, grumbling all the way home. However, the moment passed, and Arthur was awake enough to know that he was not looking at the Kiku that he knew. "No…Japan, right?"

Japan nodded gravely, as if apologising for his existence. "Arthur, I made you breakfast."

"Thank you, Japan," Arthur smiled warmly to make up for his earlier mistake.

The breakfast Japan made was not like the kind Alfred would make for them when he woke up first – which was almost always the case. If Arthur did not know better, he would think that Alfred actually tried to be the first to make breakfast.

Instead of the usual sausage and tomatoes in a big smiley face with eggs on the side, or rounds of toast covered in jam and butter or ham in the shape of teddy bears, Japan had boiled rice and grilled some fish. There was a side of pickled vegetables and a small container of soya sauce that Arthur never even knew he owned. England's house seemed to have everything.

"I've been thinking," Arthur said as they sat down to eat. "I'm not sure how I got here or how to go back but do you think there's any way I can return. Do you think that I'm…"

"I think that if you wish hard enough then you will be able to get back to your own world," Japan picked up his chopsticks.

"But how do I do that? I've been wishing as hard as I can," Arthur tried not to look miserable.

For a moment neither said anything. Only the sound of clicking chopsticks and the moving hands of the clock invaded the kitchen. Arthur was not sure if he could call this an awkward silence since he was not exactly feeling uncomfortable, just a little out of place.

"I won't see him again, will I?" he muttered at last.

"Who do you mean?"

"A…America."

"Do you want to?"

Arthur shook his head. He was not sure if he was lying or not by doing so. "It doesn't feel right. When I see him it feels like a stranger wearing the face of someone I know very well."

"You don't want to see him?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, failing to make contact with Japan's seemingly bottomless eyes.

"Shall we go then?" Japan lay down his chopsticks. His bowl was already empty

Arthur finally looked up, surprised. "Huh? Go? Go where?"

"To see America," Japan smiled.

"But I don't want to see him! He's - "

"Don't worry Arthur-san, it'll be alright."

"You think?" he looked completely unconvinced, but Japan only smiled wider.

XX

"Japan!" America's smiled was as bright as the sun. His hair was tussled by the wind, a few leaves sticking out between golden-brown strands as if he just had a tussle with a bear and come out the glorious victor. His eyes were bright, hands stuffed into the front pocket of a blazing red hoodie. Arthur thought his heart would stop at the sight. He made an odd choking sound and tried to suppress any wayward feelings that rose at the sight.

Japan said nothing, but smiled pleasantly as America approached.

"I see you've brought the old man too," he murmured with a hint of disapproval.

"Hey, I'm only twenty-two!" Arthur chocked, this time on indignation. He resented the fact that America had to open his big mouth and ruin the spell he had been under. "A – And besides, you should respect your elders!" he added.

America shrugged. "So who wants donuts?"

XX

Arthur was sure that someone up there did not like him too much. He briefly wondered what he had ever done to deserve this. Here he was, sitting alone on a bench with America – not too close, mind you – watching him stuff his face with donuts.

Currently, he was fighting the urge to wipe the sugar from the side of America's mouth and suck it off of his fingers in that suggestive manner that would make him blush and – no. America was not Alfred. He had to remind himself of that whenever America was too silent to make the difference apparent.

Yet it was not pleasant to watch America eat knowing that this person that he was staring at was not the person that he had loved. It was not pleasant having to worry about whether Alfred even made it out of the ship safely, or to consider the possibility that he would never return to the place he yearned for.

America noticed Arthur's gaze and frowned. "Where's Japan? He's been in the restroom for ages. Maybe I should go check on him."

"I'm sure he can look after himself," Arthur looked at him distastefully.

"Yeah, but…" America trailed away. Though the end of his sentence went unsaid, Arthur knew what he had intended to say. Yeah, but I don't want to stay here alone with you. It hurt. It hurt even though he knew that this was not Alfred and he should not care what this person said to him. Or did not say to him.

"Fine, I don't care what you do," he muttered

America sighed, tilting his head all the way back to stare at the bleak sky. "This is drag. The last way I would want to spend a Saturday is alone on a park bench with you."

Arthur felt his anger flare up to levels he had never felt in a long time. Sure, he had had his petty arguments with Alfred before but even when they had been on barely cordial terms Alfred had never been so openly rude. He could not stand it. How could this upstart with Alfred's face talk to him with such disrespect and expect to get away with it?

"Hey, how many times must I tell you that I'm not England! You two may hate each other but that's got nothing to do with me! I haven't done a thing to you!" he yelled angrily. It had been a mistake to come here. Why had he let Japan take him here?

America shot him a look that managed to silence any other protests he was about to give voice to. However, Arthur remained glaring at him, trying not to be intimidated.

"Your eyes annoy me," America muttered.

"What?"

"Those things on your head annoy me!" he cried, stabbing his finger between his green eyes so hard that it hurt. Arthur indignantly batted his hand away but America had to end it by flicking his fingers at the bridge of Arthur's nose. "Just who are you looking at with those eyes anyway?" he demanded.

"I…"

He huffed. There was a particularly sour look on his face that Arthur had never really seen with Alfred. "It's the same with England too," America sighed. "When he looks at me, I'm not sure who it is he's looking at…"

"A – America?" Arthur did not dare reach out a comforting hand to stroke the side of his arm; he did not try to ruffle his hair as he would have done. Even as he watched America's slumped back, he was afraid to pat it.

There was something about America that was so different from the Alfred he knew, something that he was only just beginning to see, though he was not quite sure what it was.

Just as the silence began to grow uncomfortable, America suddenly leapt to his feet. "I'm bored. I'm going to look for Japan," he announced, leaving Arthur alone on the bench.

XX

Something was wrong, almost as if he was being blocked from changing into Britannia angel, but England had no time to worry about that when the door almost flew off of the hinges and two very familiar faces tumbled into Alfred's apartment.

"Alfred! Arthur! It feels like it's been so long! We were so worried!" Italy – or someone who looked like the Northern part of Italy anyway – instantly sprung to his feet. "We heard the ship went down and we couldn't get in contact with you. Ludwig said that it would be okay but I could tell that he was worried too! Ah, he wanted to come today too but he couldn't get the day off work, and Lovino was being mean saying that if you didn't drown you'd probably freeze to death out there, and - "

"That's enough, Feliciano," France – oh God, that was just what he needed – silenced the babbling Italian with a wave of his hand. "Geez, you two, I think I have a right to complain too. Did you even bother to check the messages I left?" he said, turning to Alfred, which was good as England would have probably kicked him if he tried to talk to him.

Alfred waved his hands innocently. "S – Sorry, you guys. It's good to see you and I'm sorry for not contacting you when we were safe but things have…things have been a little hectic around here too."

England noticed the cursory glance at himself as Alfred began to explain the situation.

" Amnesia?" France – Francis, rather – exclaimed. England was too tired to try and contradict him. He was beginning to feel like a parrot anyway.

"Oh, and by the way don't call him Arthur, he really hates it when you do that. Call him England," Alfred said and England felt his brow twitch as Francis snorted. "For now, please?" Alfred looked at their guests imploringly.

"T – That's so sad!" Feliciano suddenly exclaimed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "S – So you can't remember us at all?"

"I remember you," England said curtly. "Feliciano and…the wine bastard."

"Wine bastard?" Francis cried with a look of feigned horror. "Oh, you poor dear, you can't remember how you used to call me his almighty majesty and bow before my feet? Here, let big brother Francis take care of - "

"Rejected!"

"Art – Err, England! I was just trying to help!" Francis cried innocently.

"I don't have amnesia! I'm trying to summon the Britannia angel so that I can use my magic to transport myself back to my own world!"

Silence reigned over the room for all of five seconds.

"…You know, I think he's right about not having amnesia, the trauma has obviously made him mad instead," Francis whispered to the others.

"You wanna take this outside, wino?" England raged, grabbing Francis by his collar so suddenly that even he was tack aback.

"England!" Alfred quickly parted them.

"Great. Who'd have thought France could be so annoying no matter what world?" England turned away, muttering curses under his breath.

He would have left them completely, holed himself up in the spare room or in the bathroom or something to get on with trying to figure out how to leave this world but for Alfred's sudden cry of; "England, I'm going to make lunch!"

"We just had breakfast, twat," he turned back, looking at him incredulously.

Alfred shifted nervously, blushing slightly. "Yes, well, it's never too early for lunch! You and Feli can sit down for a while. I'll call you when I'm done. Francis, you can help me out," he gestured for Francis to follow him into the kitchen. Probably for a long chat. Hopefully without being molested.

"Fine, whatever," England huffed and made himself comfortable on the couch. Feliciano cheerfully took one of the armchairs, stooping down to pick up the unicorn plush that had fallen down and had never been retrieved.

A moment of silence passed between them, Feliciano simply patting the unicorn and making lots of 've!' sounds. Another moment of silence passed and England began to squirm. Now that he thought about it, he had never had a proper conversation with Feliciano before. The Italy of his world was still so scared of him that all the necessary talking usually went through Germany and any attempt at casual conversation was quickly thwarted by the fading sound of Italy's scream as he ran away.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked as he noticed Feliciano staring at him. This human version did not seem scared of him at all.

The corners of Feliciano's mouth turned downwards. "Can you really not remember anything?"

"I don't - "

"But that's so sad!" he cried, looking about to burst into tears again, though he did not.

"Then tell me about it," was the first thing England could think of saying and, no sooner were the words out of his mouth, he was ready to kick himself for it.

"Really?" Feliciano brightened to almost blinding levels of happiness.

"I'd like to know," he lied.

Feliciano nodded enthusiastically. "Then I'll tell you about how you and Alfred met. I know 'cause Alfred always tells this story when he gets drunk. Ah, I wasn't supposed to say that! …Anyway, it was a week after Alfred's eighteenth birthday, remember?"

"So late?" England was surprised. That meant that they had not met as children, that he had never known the baby Alfred. England pitied the other him a little; he had never known the cute little boy whom England had loved so much.

"He went to a university open day. That's where he met you. You were a freshman there," Feliciano continued before England could start feeling nostalgic.

"I was?"

"You had a long chat and when he told you his grades you said that there was 'no way an idiot like you will even get to the interview stage with crap grades like that'."

"But he did, I assume."

He nodded again. "Alfred tried really, really hard to improve his grades! I know because I was in his study group, ve! He was always ranting on about 'showing that eyebrow bastard a thing or two.'!"

"Oh really?" England raised an eyebrow. Somehow he had the feeling that, had he been the Arthur of this world, he should be more annoyed at what he was hearing

"And then he got in and you guys met because you were doing the same course, and after that Alfred wouldn't leave you alone. Ah, I suppose you could call it harassment. Ve, bullying, maybe?" he tilted his head to one side in confusion. "But looking back, I think he just wanted your attention!" he ended on a happy note.

"Sounds like we had a whale of a time," England muttered so that no one could miss the sarcasm in his voice.

"You did!" Feliciano chirped happily. England wanted his embroidery hoop so that he could smack something with it, maybe Feliciano. However, he ceased all thoughts of violence as soon as he noticed Alfred's presence lingering in the doorway.

"Lunch is ready," he announced with the same look on his face England had seen when they had woken up; that slightly sad, slightly lost look in his eyes.

XX

"Ludwig's coming to pick you up, right Feli?" Alfred turned to the Italian as they were eating a hastily made lunch. He suddenly pulled on a cheerful expression, forgetting about the sadness he had felt as he watched Feliciano and England talk.

"What about this thing? When are we throwing out this?" England pointed at figure at Francis, who was sitting near his elbow eating pasta.

"As cruel as always, Arthur!"

"My name is England!"

"Yes yes," Francis' dismissive air told him that he really did not care either way. "So, I assume you've prepared the guest bedroom for me," he said.

England could have strangled him there and then had he not been so taken aback by the request. "B – B – But then where will I sleep?"

Francis looked at him as if he were mad. Madder perhaps, since he already apparently thought that he was missing a screw or two. "With Alfred of course," he said as if this were obvious.

England groaned and let his head hit the table.

XX