Hetalia Fanfiction - Absolute Zero - Chapter 4
Once Lauren was clothed in the outfit she wore yesterday, she, Matthew, and Gilbert all climbed into Matt's red-orange pickup truck to head to Quebec for clothes for Lauren. Gilbert didn't really want to come along, but he would feel like they were ignoring his awesomeness if they left him behind, so he tagged along, even though Gilbird stayed.
Lauren was excited and stared out at the snow-covered landscape around her. The trees, the buildings, the people outside doing their own things, and everything else was all so beautiful. Lauren was excited, but wasn't good at showing it, actually. She had her arms crossed-she was cold-over her chest and she stared blankly out of the window, as if she were a corpse. Matt was afraid that she was displeased, and kept asking her if she would like to turn on the radio or change the station or to roll down the window or stop for something.
She almost immediately understood what was wrong, so she turned to him and said, "Oh, I'm okay, thank you, though. I'm really happy that you're doing this, Matt, you're so nice. Thank you."
Gilbert sat in the backseat behind Matt, so he had a clear view of Lauren and she him, so he kept asking her questions like, "Am I awesome?" or "Did you meet Gilbird?" He would've actually asked better questions to start a conversation, but he wasn't used to new people to talk to. Sure, there were countries that he hadn't talked to in a while to start back up with, but he'd spoken to them all before. The closest he'd been to a new "friend" was when Hugh, Texas, had been getting mad at a few other countries for being jerks-especially Juan, Mexico, as if he actually remembered anything about them.
Actually, Hugh remembered things from history, as if he had been there. He still hadn't actually witnessed it, but it was more like when you're ten years old and hear your parents' stories about how you bit the nurse during childbirth, so you see it in your mind as if you could remember it, or about when you kicked your mother's bladder while in her belly. No way to remember it, but you imagined doing it, and it was fairly accurate.
The drive was actually fairly quiet, heaviness weighing in the air. Once they got to Quebec, Matt found a hotel that was fairly inexpensive and parked the car. He, Gilbert, and Lauren all climbed out. He was glad that passage between Quebec and the rest of Canada wasn't affected. In fact, the people of Quebec and the rest of Canada weren't very hateful to each other and often went about their daily lives normally. Matthew led Gilbert and Lauren to the front of the inn, where it led to billards on one side of the lobby and a bit of a kitchen on the other, a sign saying (FREE FRUIT - FREE COCOA). Lauren asked Matt, "Can I go to the kitchen for a snack?"
He nodded and said, "Yes, but not too much. We'll go get a real lunch before going shopping for your new clothes."
She thanked him and headed off into the kitchen. Gilbert thrust his hands into his pants pockets, beginning to whistle, and started to follow her into the kitchen, but Matthew stopped him and said, "You're paying for s-some of this."
Gilbert groaned and said, "Fine. But only cuz I'm awesome like zat!"
The German strolled after Lauren into the kitchen. He found her peering into the small fridge, bent over, craning her neck to find whatever she might want. Gilbert looked at her butt for a moment, then forced himself to continue on walking, fearing that Matt might be watching. Matt was a soft-spoken Canadian, but he was, after all, Canadian, and could swing a hockey stick like Alfred could swing a baseball bat. Once, Gilbert had made Matt so angry-which was actually hard to do, since he was so even-tempered and seemed like a sissy-that Matt had taken his hocket stick and hit Gilbert forty-two times with ten hockey pucks. He hit he pucks exactly forty-two times, and no matter where Gilbert ran, how fast he was, or what he did to try and avert the weapons, he was always hit. He was bruised up for over a week, and it hurt for him to relieve himself for even longer.
Reaching up to grab a cup out of the cupboard above his head, Gilbert began to pour himself some coffee. Lauren closed the fridge and reached up for a cup as well, but she was too short. Gilbert smiled in his conceited way and grabbed a cup for her. He handed it to her, and she took it gratefully. Before Gilbert could say anything, she thanked him and scuttled away to the far side of the kitchen, where the sink was. She poured water into the cup and placed it in the microwave.
"Hot Chocolate?" Gilbert asked, and she curtly nodded, her back to him. Lauren turned around, eyes wide and sparkly as though she didn't see anything and was wanting to see, and she asked in a far away voice, "What's that smell?"
Her gaze was odd and sleepy, as though Lauren was on some awesome drug that made all thoughts leave her brain. Gilbert, forcing himself to stop thinking about that awesome drug, told her, "I don't know-vhat does eet smell like?"
Gilbert could see the lump slide up and down her throat as she gulped. Lauren opened her eyes wider, then squeezed them shut and reopened them. As though hypnotized, she turned around and grabbed a packet of hot chocolate mix with marshmallows in it, and she said in a strained voice, "Alcoholic."
Lauren felt like nothing existed in her brain. She didn't know if she liked it or hated it, and that is what made her hate it. The indecision-you should always be absolutely positive of what you felt, thought, and believed, or you were hopeless in every way. She listened to the hum and purr of the microwave as it spun the cup of water around, heating it. She clenched her eyes shut, fingers digging into the foil packet of powdered chocolate, and she thought, 5n+(3+4)-6x=76...what is n?
Working that question quickly pulled her out of the daze, so she gave up after she figured out what 3 and 4 added up to, so she went around looking for a snack. She found an apple, not noticing that Gilbert leaned against the wall on the other side of the kitchen, back in the corner of two walls. She began to notice him and felt his stare, and even though she was uneasy, she was glad for a familiar presence, so she said, "I like dogs, sir. Do you like dogs?"
Surprised, Gilbert was jerked from his thoughts. He asked, "Huh? Vell, it depends on ze dog."
"I like all dogs," she said. "Well, the little dogs kind of annoy me, I think, but I like the big dogs, like St. Bernards, Malamutes, and German Shepherds"-Gilbert interrupted, saying, "My baby bro loves Shepherds. He has zree; Jaeger, Lars, und Bruno."
Lauren smiled, turning to face Gilbert. He was relieved to see her normal-looking face, and she said, "Those names are awesome! Will I ever meet the dogs?"
Gilbert shrugged, pleased that she knew vocabulary similar to his, and he looked away casually as he said, "I do not know. Zhey're big, manly dogs, and zhey're vicious vhen fighting occurs."
Catching the German off guard, the Canadian said, "That's even better!"
As he looked back at her, she took a bite out of her apple. Matthew called to them, "Guys, we're ready to go to the room."
The microwave beeped right then, so Lauren called, "I just got my hot chocolate!" while rushing to pull the mug out and apply the powder. She kept flinching away from the white cup as she poured the powder, but she didn't seem to mind the heat too much, seeing as she held it firmly in both hands only a few seconds after stirring up the powder and small marshmallows. She felt the heat sting into her skin, but it didn't bother her. She followed Gilbert, dropping the apple in the trashcan after only a bite, and saw Matt standing in the lobby.
"Let's go," he said, holding a key card in his left hand. The card said 5C. They left the lobby out the back door, which led to stairs to the top floor. They walked under a patio that cast shade over them, walking by doors and windows. Lauren felt awkward when passing windows, as though taking a glance to the right might make the residents believe that she was peeking in to spy or something.
They found their room and headed in. Lauren set her cocoa down on the nearest table and jumped onto the bed closest to the door, landing on the stomach. She groaned, saying, "I'm tAAAAAI-urrd."
Matthew, dumbstruck, said, "B-But we have to g-go shopping f-for your c-clothes."
Lauren only groaned, the sound muffled by the bed. Gilbert sat down on the bed next to that one, saying, "I vill go get my computer in a moment. I vill have to update my awesome blog for about an ow-ver."
Defeated and embarassed, Matthew sat down on the foot of Lauren's bed while Gilbert got back up to go get his laptop. Once back, Gilbert wrote in German on the site he made all for his awesome self.
Yeah, totally awesome, right? Gilbert wrote on his online diary, And Mattie has a new sister, Quebec-she goes by Lauren. That name is so common and unawesome. She's pretty awesome right now, though. She's weird, though, and reminds me of somebody. Not Matt, heck no! He's too nerdy. She is smart and wears glasses, but she's not as nerdy as Matt.
She's also shivering a lot and when she touched a totally hot cup of hot chocolate, she seemed relaxed by the heat. Is that freaky or awesome? Oh well, I'm still awesome. Matt just rented an inn in Quebec, and I totally escaped paying for a fraction of the cost to get here. If anything, Lauren should pay-she's Quebec, after all.
We're shopping for her clothes here and all that unawesome stuff. If Lauren let's me pick her clothes, then maybe she will be a little awesome. But she's kinda freaky. When she started making hot chocolate, she acted like a total zombie! Her eyes were dead and she sounded like she was a robot speaking! I hope it's not contagious, or else it might ruin my awesomeness.
A little while later, a woman knocked on the door. Matthew answered, and she asked in French, "Could you take the time to answer this poll on how you feel about Quebec becoming independent?"
Matthew wished that the woman couldn't see him. She was dark skinned, possibly with lineage in Spain, and she had a shaved head which was covered by the hood of her jacket. She was pretty but older, maybe in her fifties. Matthew gulped and knew that Lauren was watching. He said, "I, I am not f-from Quebec. I, I think that Quebec doesn't need to leave, but if majority rules, then Quebec should l-leave."
Lauren came bouncing up, no longer tired. She asked the woman, in French, "May I give my answer?"
The woman beamed and said, "Of course!"
Matthew's little sister knew what her answer was. She was absolutely positive and would never change the answer. She said, "Non. Unless Quebec is abused by Canada, like how England had abused the thirteen colonies, then Quebec has no right to leave."
The woman put tallies here and there on her clipboard and says, "We thank you both!"
She turned around and rushed away excitedly. Matthew closed the door, feeling Lauren wrap her arms around his waist from behind. She beamed as brightly as the woman had, and she said in English again, "Yay! Thank you for being honest! That's all that matters, even if you said that I should never leave, or if I should leave, or if it didn't matter!"
His face ran red, and Matthew stammered, "T-Thank you..."
Gilbert had been confused for just a moment. How did Lauren speak French? Although it made sense that she could speak French-after all, she's Quebec-he didn't know how. He had to learn English, but then again, Prussia didn't speak English in all of its history. With a nonchalant shrug, Gilbert continued updating his blog for all of his awesome fans to see.
Alfred watched the news, Hugh sitting to his right, as the Texan chirped, "And what's totally cool is those Mexicans still want me! Man, my cops are totally cool! They stopped those illegals and sent them back!"
With a laugh, Alfred said, "Totally, right? Hey, one sec, Imma go order some take-out Chinese..."
He got up, heading to the front porch, to call for some Chinese noms. Alfred pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number-he actually had it on speed dial-and said, "Um, yeah, can I prease have some Teriaki chicken? Oh, and I wourd rove for some white rice. Courd you prease give me extra duck sauce?"
A feminine voice on the other end growned, "Aiyah, accent is stupid...fine. Twenty-two dorra's, and forty-fai minutes."
The Chinese dude or dudette hungup, and Alfred headed back inside. The dude on channel seven said, "Several more states have decided to vote on a seccession. Texas has a whopping 90% vote to secede-five more points, and they have the right to go. Arkansas voted 76%, Florida has a 63% vote to secede, California only has 33% for seccession..."
Wide-eyed, the American stared at the TV. "...Montana voted 54% to secede...Delaware only voted 42%...Nevada voted 78%, New Mexico voting 62%...Hawaii voted 74%...Puerto Rico no longer wishes to be called a fifty-first state..." Fire was seeming to sear Alfred's brain. He sunk down into his sofa by the door, holding his forehead in his right, gloved hand. What kind of brother was he to cause so many of his siblings to wish to leave so badly?
"Washington State voted 56%...Michigan had a 48% vote...it seems like most of the East Coast still has pride for being the original America, huh?" The man's female buddy said, "I agree, but still, more states are voting to secede..."
The man continued, saying, "Nebraska voted 65%...Alaska, with 86%...Alabama had a 63% vote...and all other states held the same numbers as last time, except for Oklahoma, whose vote dropped down to 54%..."
Hugh laughed, saying with his southern drawl, "Whoa, dude, how come they all don't like you no more?"
Alfred sighed, closing his eyes behind his glasses, and said, "I don't know, bro...I try hard...but, but for the past eight terms, the people voted into office...they're all douchebags...first my healthcare, then my guns, then my manufacturing...I hate to say this, but if history is right, then a war might be the only thing that could like, help me...we could all rally as Americans under the red, white, and blue, and we would be working at home, making our own things for the war..."
Raising a right, blonde eyebrow, Hugh asked, "Hold on, you sayin' the only hope to get out of this recession-depression-secession is to have a war?"
A gurgle escaped Alfred's throat, and he knew that he was being uncharacteristically thoughtful, but he said, "Never mind. Forget I said it."
He got up and left, then quickly headed back in the house and told Hugh, "When the food gets here, the rice is mine."
Now that that business was done, Alfred left, slamming the door behind him. He climbed into his Ford Mustang-it was a classic model, not the new ugly versions-and drove away.
On the radio, a stupid rap song about comparing naughty things to Captain Crunch came on. Alfred hissed and turned off the radio, driving in silence, the only sound entering his ears coming from honking horns in the distance and the purr of the engine.
Stopping at a red light, Alfred waited patiently and calmly. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the person in front of him just chilling out like him. The person began to play with their phone as the light turned green. Alfred saw the guy not paying attention, like dude, really? and he scooted up to the back of the dude's car. No matter how close Alfred got, the guy didn't move. Alfred found himself screaming at the guy, "IDIOTTTTT! YOU STUPID MOTHER-" he laid down on the horn, his own eardrums popping.
The guy still didn't move one inch. The light turned yellow, then red. Then the guy pulled out illegally and preceded to be hit by a speeding car that had the right to go, and Alfred didn't even get out of his car to check on the stupid dude. He was example to the epicness of the United States.
Idiot Driver was okay, but his pathetic VW was totaled. He deserved it, thought Alfred, and drove around the wreck as the light turned green again. He was ticked, and no one was going to stop him.