Author's Note:
Please read. Really please.
I really hope you know that I'm taking requests. I need at least ten to get started and it's also gonna go as a radio show format where you can ask the nations some questions. I really like the idea. it's sounds fun. I have only a month before I go to college and side projects help me write Unrequited so yeah. So please. Please. Please. I LOVE ALL OF YOU!
This was a fun fic to write too.
Warnings: US and UK. Is all. and heavily unaccurate stuff. please. please. please. XD
Himaruya owns Hetalia. I love him for making it!
December 2, 1918
It wasn't his war to begin with, the Germans' actions were just labeled as 'hostile' so his leaders wanted to join in despite being neutral for the most of the first three years of the 'European Wars'.
There was some good in it though—he tries to see the silver lining in everything. It was knowing that he'd be able to watch Francis and Arthur conditions up-close and make sure that they were well and safe. He would know when he had to step in and take care of them and any of his allies. But if he had the choice, he'd help all of the others as well—Ludwig, Eli, Roederich, and Sadik. He was a good enough doctor to help them and a sensible cook to know how to season Franny's chicken right.
He just got back from Europe and he did expect to be allowed a small break. He stayed there for nearly a month hoping to rehabilitate as many innocent bystanders as he could. He centered himself mostly around Germany and with his almost omnilinguistic abilities it was easy to blend in amongst the German crowds.
Alfred did not have a single bruise. They've healed as soon as he got them. It wasn't his economic strength or his military might, which is what most of the humans thought, but his own powers—a weird connection with the spiritual essence of the elements, be it from the weathering rains to roaring fire to the light within him.
His slight fever wasn't from the damage the war caused—only partly—but the general neglect of health—months of fatigue and inadequate meals.
Though he'd rather not be, he was waiting outside the president's office. It wasn't like he hated talking to his bosses...he just—hasn't trusted anyone in politics since Lincoln.
"Mr. Jones..." The vivacious secretary looked as though she was gliding towards him. The way she kept her bust out, her lips puckered, and eyes half-lidded were already making her real intentions known.
Her eyes scanned his form, broadly built and sturdy in his posture.
"The president will see you now..."
Alfred stood up, taking an inconspicuous glance back at the woman. He could've sworn that she winked.
"Thanks." He covered it with a warm smile, faltering as he turned back and went to meet his president.
He knocked the door two times and opened the door, only peeping until his boss turned in his swivel chair.
"Alfred, come in...come in..."
America went in cautiously. He took in some air to help his woozy head.
'What's wrong with you today?' He groaned inwardly, taking his seat. He had his hands on his lap and his back straight and shoulders out. He sat like the perfect soldier which he was in the battlefield.
His boss arranged his pencils and stacked his documents, secretly inspecting his nation's representative.
Too proper. Too young. Too nice.
"It has come to my attention that you were in Berlin for a month. Weren't you informed that I wanted to meet you immediately upon arrival?" The old man clasped his hands together and lips in a stern frown.
"I was but I couldn't leave the people there." The nation explained bravely.
"If you wanted to help then why didn't you help your men?" His boss stood up, sighing deeply, walking towards the window.
"We won." Alfred muttered. "The least we can do's help them recover."
"Why don't you help us recover?" The man leered.
"Being an old colony's made you very Euro-centric..." He made his way back to the chair, watching as the nation clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.
"I have no quarrels with my fellow nations. Wars are your problem. All I want is to make sure my personal relationships with them do not get damaged and our name as Americans to not be completely tarnished for your sake." Alfred's voice was strong, almost like a war general.
"It is your problem too. You've had your fair share of wars, you should know that better than anyone."
His boss went back to signing some important documents. "Weren't you and England at each other's throat before?"
Alfred's eyes were wide in shock before melting into subtle contemplation. The man didn't deserve to know the whole truth. He wouldn't believe anyway. He didn't have to react. He only needed to stay calm.
"I am only doing this for diplomacy..." The nation said sternly. "I am assuring that our connections with the Germans remain...fixable."
"Then you need not do anything from now on." The old man tossed some documents in front of his desk, sliding close to Alfred.
"These papers have already been double-checked, signed, and approved. All you have to do is not question anything in these documents, not present anything in your meetings, and not to gain your fellow nations' attention concerning our agendas. I or any other human representative will deal with the real work and present our cases with the world leaders concerned." He continued, sounding disinterested and uninvested.
"What do you expect me to do?" Alfred spat out, already feeling his blood boil. The files were nothing short of stupid.
"Act dumb. You have the face for it."
"And you have the face of the devil..." Alfred returned the snicker with a yellow-eyed glare.
"That's what I like in my subordinates. A fighting spirit. What are you, catholic? Like your over-affectionate French mother?" The man snickered, something that was really getting to the nation. No one had the right to diss his family.
...
Alfred sighed, shaking in anger. "This is not the wisest thing to do...you know that..." He kept his voice straight, sliding the crumpled paper across the desk away from him.
"Would you like to be the president then?"
America couldn't answer him. He tensed in his seat, knuckles cracking.
...
"Now do we have a deal? I do not want any of your so-called friends to be updated on our activities." His boss extended his hand. "For now. We are progressing far faster than I have imagined and that could bring us as much bad as good.
"Why should I?" America stood up, ready to punch.
"I can make it very difficult for you, your family, and your friends."
Alfred's shoulders drops and eyes dissolved back to blue, filled with fear. He never underestimated the strength of humans. Whenever there was power and greed in the line, man knew what to do get it. He has been oppressed by his own people before and he wasn't the only one—they were only playthings to them.
He understands in a way though. They've been thrown to the world stage too far to hide back behind the curtains. From now on, his government will find a way—subtle or not—to stay on that stage. But he had a bad feeling—sparks dancing across his skin. This would gain more enemies than friend, more conflicts.
Still...
"F-fine." He growled, head down. At least this way, he was the only one being used. At least this way only he'll get hurt.
"I knew you'd see it my way."
America could not forget the sickening smirk the president had as he watched him leave.
America was being stared at. The others usually did but this time it was like they were anticipating something that wasn't dumb to come out of his mouth. The nation looked haggard, eyes sunken and face peppered with lots of sharp stubbles. Upon hearing that he asked Germany to be first in the presentations peeked their interest and their attention caught by America's new air of stoicism and surprising regality.
A frantic whimper echoed inside his mind. Everybody was staring at him. He can feel it. Well—why wouldn't they be staring at him? He was sharing his report after all. Frantic whimper. But then again, it was totally different this time around. It was gutsy to do and—and shit might happen but he was tired of sharing some sort of impossible, childish, and impractical plan on saving the world once very month, braving the ridicule and discrimination.
'G-God...maybe it's my beard—definitely the beard..." He bit the innards of his mouth. He forgot to shave, alright? He's been practicing all night and he's been over-checking everything. He's also been practicing even when he was hauling to ten wheelers across a deserted road—unsuccessfully trying to get his mind off of it.
"M-maybe they know I'm 23..? Do they know I'm Bi—wait—everybody knows that." His mind started to scramble everywhere within its vast dome of knowledge.
To everybody else, he looked like he was just frozen in place with an unreadable expression. To those who knew him well enough, they saw what was really going on.
Ivan frowned sympathetically when he saw Alfred put his hands behind his back. Francis wanted to hug him so badly until everything felt better when he noticed that he was playing with his fingers again but Arthur gave him a stern look— a look that meant 'he has to do this'. Matthias and Matthew heard him shuffling his feet inconspicuously but they were heeded the same warning look from Arthur. In fact, he gave the same look to everybody who were friends with him.
"Um...Ameri—Alfred..." Germany called for his attention. He made sure his voice was comforting as to pull him out of his shell. His friend was definitely tithing inside.
"Hmm?" America looked at him with eyes you'd see when a dog scurries to the dark alleys, hiding its broken leg with loud whimpers. It took every ounce of willpower to get Ludwig to continue with—
"We are waiting for your report..." He said bravely, seating back down when the man's perfect blue eyes bulged and his cheeks turn bright.
"O-okay—Y-yeah—I—I, maybe—" He started coughing until he had enough of a backbone to look straight in the eyes of his fellow nations.
"I-I took the liberty to email all of you my report—um—M-mr. Yao—" The American's sudden tone and formality stunned most even Germany who America spoke with, humbly requesting to be the first to go on with the reports. He knew he was respectful but not formal and to China—China?
China looked surprised as well, weirdly getting hot under his collar as a neat folder was given to him by America with two hands on either side of the folder.
After the very awkward exchange, Alfred took off his regular gloves and put on gloves with metal backs and heavy padding. Before putting on his right one, he snapped his fingers twice and the lights were off. The moment he placed it on, his part of the table glowed in an iridescent blue-green hue. It was like watching a scene straight out of an alien abduction movie. Gasps and mutters were exchanged.
They watched as Alfred raised his hand over the table and a tower of holographic discs appeared. He moved his other hand from side to side, pulling out intangible folders and documents in front of him. His glasses also seemed to have the same projective quality since he was tweaking his fingers in front of it as if he was screwing a light bulb.
"So—" He drawled, watching as the others became too curious for his comfort.
"There are still a lot of things that need to be done in order to alleviate the more serious problems in terms of American economy, American healthcare and the overall safety, the improvement of living standards, and equality of the citi—" He stated calmly with a reasonably stern face with the posture of a company elite when he heard people gasp.
"T-this is—" China had a finger pressed hard on his hard copy. "C-Chinese."
He scanned each line, making baffled noises. "And it's grammatical correct..."
"W-well—" America's eyes darted and his smile was crooked and weird. "it's 'grammatically'—"
Wang glared at him. Alfred knew when to shut up, so he returned to his stiff and commanding posture. The American pulled out a pie chart.
"So as you see here..."
America was fidgeting in his spot. England has been pacing back and forth, muttering curses and avoiding his eyes—not that America was trying to get him to look at his.
He couldn't take it anymore. He just had to say something.
"Arthur I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
"For what?" The man looked at him scrutinizingly.
"Don't act dumb. This–this isn't what I wanted." The young man muttered, shuffling his feet.
"Then what do you want?" Arthur snarled. "I've been with you in all of your shenanigans. I've could be disowned by my own people if they knew that I helped throw tons of tea overboard."
"You didn't have to." Alfred said quietly, hands behind his back.
"I needed to make sure you were alright." The English man turned to his back, busying himself with his beer instead.
"Why didn't you stop me from doing it then?" The American braved to come closer.
"Because, Alfred, it's your own and your people right to do so. And it was my decision to act alongside you." England answered, taking a small taste of the fresh brew.
...
"Even I'm getting fed up with them." He sighed.
Something inside America started to bubble. It was fear. He didn't know this would be the result of the rebellions. He just thought that they'd be enough to catch the attention of the king and they'd be able to settle this more diplomatically.
"I didn't want this." He balled his fists, bringing his head up.
"Not this fast. Maybe we could just ask—maybe a trial government? Slowly lessening contact until we have complete independ—"
"NO ALFRED! Are you trying to be stupid?" England pushed the other's hand of his shoulder, looking at the scared blue eyes with green fury.
"Why're are you so angry with me?!" The blues turned hot enough to melt anyone, teeth snarled and nostrils flared.
"I'm angry because you'd even consider abandoning your people for the sake of having me around. I will be fighting against you but that doesn't mean I will be against you." He shook Alfred sternly. His face contorting to that of hurt.
He sighed deeply, bereft of any other explanation except for one. The sapphires in front of him turned serious, brave, and understanding. Good. Alfred had to be since—
"We are human when this is all over but now—"
"We are countries. I know, England."
America splashed his face with water. It was cold—yes, cold is what he needed right now. The problem with this bathroom was that it was just as depressed as him. That's the deal-breaker, he didn't want things to be depressing.
He looked at the mirror, breathing hard through his mouth as the droplets trickled down his prickly chin. He saw how tired he really was—grey-brown bags and reddened scleras, dull hair and pasty skin.
He shouldn't have done this. He should've just stuck with acting stupid. Hell. If he kept that up, he knew that under a decade he'd become a vegetable. Maybe then—
"They're all waiting for you. No one has the guts to follow your report." Familiar was the voice. Round and pleasant like a baritone and a bell. Gentlemanly yet with a contradicting sarcasm in his tone.
"You don't mean that, Arthur." The American snapped, though he sounded very tired. His hands never let the rim of the sink, to him it felt like it was the only thing holding him up.
"The presentation was flawless. You better thank Tony later. You were humble and truthful. Thank yourself for that. But—" A long scrutinizing silence came after.
"I didn't see the brave man I raised." His voice turned tender, walking to stand beside Alfred who shriveled up more inside, breaking the beautiful marble with his weathered hands.
"They aren't gonna sign the petition, are they?"
...
Alfred sighed when his ex-guardian didn't answer. He turned his back to the post beside him, sinking down to the floor with Arthur looming over him.
"It is asking a lot from them." Arthur said curtly.
"You blew your government and scrutinize them in front of the others. You compared their diagrams with yours and even if—"
"But all of it is right, right?" Alfred asked loudly, expression determined yet confused. Arthur didn't answer.
"I gave you a report that showed how much better it'll be of they just listened to what I have to say. They're not doing their job properly and I am sick of it. I found a way to stop wars and give more to their education. I found a way to stop people getting abused. I found a way to get the shitty eggheads to think about the people for once." He shouted angrily, eyes turning yellow and an unpleasant breeze passing them.
"I solved the crises and I even had spare money for humanitarian programs." Ember was sparking inside his mouth. Currents of electricity, tinged with bold blue, ran across his knuckles.
"You gave hypotheses!" England crossed his arms.
"But they were all success-guaranteed." America stood up, towering the smaller man.
"They were believable Alfred. They were but how are you going to make the hundreds of thousands of people in charge of the money you've counted to feel the same as you?" The Brit looked at him straight in the eyes fearlessly.
"I of all people know that you are great at stuff like this. I have always said that America's reckless and you know I never ever want to tell you that you, Alfred, are being reckless. But this is the most reckless thing you've done, Alfred." It's been a while since he last had to keep Alfred in check. Honestly, he expected him to be more mature about this, out of all the others.
...
"You can't ask two hundred people to sign something for you and think that everything will be better. Our votes and decisions are void." The English sighed deeply.
"Why does it have to be?" The America squinted his eyes and brought his head closer and lower, to maybe intimidate the dauntless man.
...
It seemed to work, seeing as Arthur took a step back to contemplate his thoughts. Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck though he couldn't calm down.
"We're people too and I am sick and tired of being a pawn in a game that fucks up other people instead of them. Damn it. We're not just personifications. Fuck. Even I don't know what we are. I have wings for God's sake, what the hell does that have to do with America? And Mattie!? Who the fuck knows what his has to do wi—"
Arthur raise his voice. "Alfred calm d—"
"NO! I am taking a fucking stand here. Sure, there're a lot of good people out there but it's just getting ridiculous. All this time they've been trial and error. What's wrong with taking things a little slow? A little more—controlled? " The other draped his jacket over his shoulder, walking towards the door.
"Right here. Right now." He stopped, pointing at the floor for emphasis. He turned around to face the sink once more, the one nearest to the door. He had his hands on the sink just like moments ago.
"I have had it!" He hammered the stone surface with his fist. It was enough to make a huge crater.
If he wasn't so riled up, he'd probably waste an hour finding the person who he had to pay to for the repairs. But all he could do was let his fist smolder against in its cradle.
Slow clapping halted his soon-to-be rampage.
"Finally..." England huffed, hands on his hips and a triumphant smirk on his face.
"What?" America asked, sounding like the naive sweet child he was inside.
"All I wanted was to see you like this."
"Like what—exactly?" Alfred looked around as if an answer might be written in the walls.
"Brave." Arthur held his head even higher, nose stuck in the air.
"What do you mean by that?" The taller one squinted his eyes again and pulled down his frown lower and flared his nostrils bigger.
"You were practically stuttering every five seconds. You bolted out when Feliciano simply asked what the petition was for." The shorter teased, a hand on the sink to support his weight, another pion his hips, and one leg bent to form a number four with both legs.
"It wasn't him. It's just—" America sighed, squatting down a bit.
"I know, I know." England came closer, kicking one foot forward. His gloved hands ran down America's back in a comforting manner.
"It's the other half of the room." Arthur smiled, making Alfred blush like he used to whenever he got a surprise act of affection from anyone.
"That was a swell revolution don't you think?" Arthur laughed loudly, chugging down his beer.
It was the morning of his departure. After he made sure that not one of Alfred's men would go and tell on him about his treacherous misadventures, he decided to give his now ex-colony a round of beer before leaving.
Speaking of Alfred, he's barely finished his second mug. He's been looking distracted, not even drinking any since last night.
"Come on..." The Brit was a little tipsy already. "I'll be back soon. It's not like this is goodbye."
"It's goodbye for now." The America said softly. "I know..."
"You know—there'll be a lot of people like us out there. Just stay away from Lukas. He isn't himself lately." Arthur was jovial yet he did sound serious enough for Alfred to take note.
"Your whole crying gig was all fake, wasn't it?" The American looked cross, warm orange flickers floated within his rich blue eyes like this small glitters from a roaring flame.
"You didn't mean what you said."
"I have to be honest." Arthur cracked his knuckles loudly, grinning in his drunkenness. "I didn't mean what I said. It was all an act. I had to be convincing."
Alfred's heart broke. It was like his whole world came crashing down. The camaraderie they shared was nothing. All this time, he mustn't have seen him as his brother...his son.
"Screw you..." He cursed with all the contempt in the world. He got his coat and threw his glass on the hard floor below.
"But." Arthur had an iron grip around his wrist, making the other fall a few steps back. "I really meant the crying."
...
"It hurts, you know? I won't be here to watch you anymore like I used to." His voice turned shaky and breathless.
"And I've been watching you for a while so it'll take some getting used to..."
He turned around, emeralds watery and nose red.
"I know that I'm not any older than you but—"
The smaller man stumbled for a hug, sobbing loudly. His firm arms wrapped around the other's sides, already getting filled out with strong sinews.
England tilted his head up, forcing a smile through his tears. "You'll always be the small white child who popped out of nowhere."
"And stopped you and Francis from completely obliterating each other?" America snickered a little, teasing with a smirk.
"O-of course." Arthur pulled away, too soon for Alfred. He didn't want him to leave just yet.
"And you'll always be the man who shouted 'white child'." The American crushed him again in a strong hug, letting his tears roll down his cheeks.
"I mean—did you see China's face?!" Arthur laughed hysterically seating on the floor next to Alfred. They had peeled off their jackets and shirts, leaving the smaller man in a plain white shirt and the bigger in a grey tank top.
"No, honestly..." Alfred sighed, smiling. He crossed his arms and folded his hands under them.
"But did you see Wald?" He snickered, eyes crinkling.
"You mean I-just-wet-shitted-my-pants?" Arthur leaned closer, bearing his cocked brow and flashing all his teeth in a broad grin.
"Exactly." Alfred shot his answer, snapping his fingers and finger-gunning him accompanied by a wink.
"It's like he got his lips shrunk and teeth magnified ooh and—dude—hair was coming out of his nose!" He gestured with a finger to pull up his upper lips and two others to open up his nostrils more.
"He's nothing compared to Ludwig though." Arthur shrugged.
"How pray tell?" Alfred asked cheekily, tongue prolonging its 'l' sound.
England sighed, shimmying his shoulders as he sank cozily against the wall behind him. "Remember when he accidentally saw Feli and Sadi—"
"In the elevat—" America rocked—in an Indian seat, hands anxiously holding his feet.
"Yes."
"With Kiku and Eli filmi—"
"Uh-huh." England nodded slowly, eyes so wide that it was competing with his giant grin.
...
He watched as the bigger man's face dropped into a surprised yet unreadable face. The American blinked once. Twice. Thrice—
"HAHAHAHA!" Once again the room was filled with Al's laughter, his genuine one. It was loud and funny and infectious and had that loud snort and breathless whimpers.
"Are you alright?" Sometimes, Arthur had to make sure that he wasn't having any problems with his breathing. It wasn't that he had any problems like asthma but just—it's just developed paranoia. Al was a troublemaker with a good heart.
Alfred snorted, still laughing like a maniac. He took deep breaths until he was able to stop. He nodded.
"I'm fine. You know that's how I laugh, dude." He patted the other's back in reassurance. He proceeded to wipe his hysterical tears, taking off his glasses in the process.
"You know—" sigh. "I never wanted to be this whole global superpower. All I wanted was a stable life for us. Then we just got dragged into the spotlight like a new sideshow attraction. Do you think—" Brilliant blue eyes stunned the man in place.
"—that if I didn't join World War I then I'd have a normal life?"
"Alfred, being a country means that the abnormal is the normal. I remember a time when a lot if people could use magic and now look—" Arthur tossed his arms widely.
"They call it fake and since the ban of all ma—" He chuckled. He was getting out of topic.
"Anyway, if that had happened. Who knew what would've happen to us now, I sure don't."
"Yer probably right." Alfred grinned, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. "I might've become another colony or the richest country on earth." He chuckled.
"If you Europeans became poor from war, then you have no choice but give me money for food." He exclaimed boldly, pointing his thumb proudly at himself.
"Now that you're smiling again..." England stood up, picking up his coat before extending his hand.
"You need to get back there."
America shook his head as he carded his fingers through his soft locks, smiling softly. He sighed, accepting the other's hand.
Despite the huge difference in weight, England had enough strength to help him up quite a bit.
"Why can't you just give me my moment?" Alfred teased. "I was planning on making this bathroom my kingdom after everybody knew I was smart." He chuckled.
"Sure." Arthur slurred sarcastically. "Why don't you make a castle out of light, fire, and lightning? Ooh and while you're at it why not make a perpetual thunderstorm too?"
"And have Mattie try to talk some sense into me with Ivan?" Al looked at him mischievously.
"Sure and if that doesn't work, I'll ask Francis to cry in front of you..."
"And if that doesn't work?" America put on his jacket but not his collared shirt.
"Then I'll have Denmark talk to you." England said simply, opening the door for the frozen American. His emeralds couldn't help but crinkle up. Seeing that Alfred's face had gone ten degrees hotter, the grinning English man went on ahead—leaving the door to close slowly on its own.
"And w-why would you ask him?" America chuckled nervously, following suit.
"Don't think that I haven't seen the way you look at him." England answered, sounding so sure of himself.
"It's the same way I look at Francis." He stopped just by the door, letting the other soak in those love-filled words.
"Argh—just shut up!" America hasted in, letting the doors fly open crashing. His face was a shameful red and his eyes were wide in irritation.
"And furtherm—"
Alfred's raised finger slowly lowered upon seeing the two hundred pairs of eyes staring at him yet again. His voice turned to a breathless, wimpy whine.
He shook his head and regained his composure. He had one hand on his back and covered his mouth as he cleared his throat. Afterwards, his hands drop to his sides.
"I apologize for my—" Throat-clear. "—immature outburst earlier. It was extremely uncalled f—"
"We do appreciate your apology but you need not to." Germany, the permanent chairman, smiled a little—just a small crinkle, just a shallow dip on his cheeks.
"Alfred, we are all countries. We love our countries but we aren't blind—we are all prone to pride and our people are always prone to sin, just like us."
"But." Austria stood up. "You're honest about their mistakes...and you're not afraid to expose them."
"That's admirable, master Jones."
"In addition, you showed us your compassion." The Austrian walked around the table in steady well-paced steps. "You care enough to risk your name for this. We could never do that. We're too ashamed to tell anybody our mistakes in letting things fall apart under our noses, too proud, too afraid to say things before they happen—maybe that's why we blame and ruin each other when the bad news does break out."
"I, for one, am happy that you decided to be truthful to everybody—not just the selected few." The knowing Ludwig added, subtly trying to compete with his fellow German-speaking friend.
"We know that they threatened you—we have all been there. It is hard—being powerful but vulnerable." Roederich, remaining oblivious, was nearing Alfred.
"We should've investigated further. It seems that you've been traumatized for a while. We never intended to—close you. We didn't know." He added, smiling apologetically—a rare instance indeed.
"We understand that you never intended anything that has happened. And we know you never had anything to do with whatever your superiors have been doing. What we didn't know was that you really cared about it—that you're not just full of annoying nonsense." The other's watched in silence. The Austrian getting towered by the huge American. Both having similar postures, straight and poised.
"And we didn't know you were even remotely capable of doing all this!" Ludwig uncharacteristically shouted which was returned with 'not-really-helping' expressions from everybody else.
"All we thought you were just shitting with all of us. Like, you're just a self-serving brat they sent to annoy us." Cuba scratched the back of his head, feeling annoyed with his sudden guilt.
"We're just happy that you came out of the closet—so to speak." Feliciano gave his bigger friend a tight squeeze from the right.
"We're countries..." He said rather affectionately. But this was Feli after all.
"But in the end, we're all people—all friends, tiffs and all." Finally, the over-affectionate Italian let go, going back to his seat between his brother, who was giving Al an inconspicuous thumbs-up, and his Turkish lover, who was proudly giving two thumbs up to Al like he was a proud father of sorts—technically, he was his therapist.
China stood up from his chair far away. "I want to say sorry in behalf of everybody who's ever given you the cold shoulder." He recited with the help of his cheat sheet that he must've written earlier. He cleared his throat.
"We took it out on you because we knew that there's no one else we could take our frustrations out on and with you being the rude and stu—" He also joined Austria beside him, standing in front of America.
"Again, we're sorry." He bowed respectfully.
"I would've said 'nothing personal' but we made it personal first." He extended his hand but the taller nation shriveled, hiding his hand in his jacket's pockets.
"I-I...it's fine." America took a step back. He wasn't sure yet. There was a big-enough voice inside him that tell him 'not so fast'.
"Everything's f-fine..." He muttered, loud enough to be heard by most. He decided to take his seat, conveniently near him next to his twin and across Matthias.
His arms were twitching and everybody saw that. How he wished he could switch off his emotions—would make things easier. He thought that this was gonna be an easy fix. This is what he's always wanted, nobody yelling at him unnecessarily and no more hiding.
No more hiding.
...
Canada grew concerned, actually able to hear his twin's rapid heart beats. He fished for his hand inside the pockets, lacing his fingers with his.
"Hey Alfred..." He whispered. Al responded with a soft grunt, not turning his head to face him.
"I think this'll make you feel better." A folder was pushed across the table to rest in front of him.
America shakily opened the clean folder and there it was—
His petition, filled with all their signatures. His heart skipped a beat. A very long beat. He couldn't believe what he saw. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what this all meant to them.
But here it was.
Written on the topmost line was 'Matthias Køhler' but it was crossed out and above that was 'Matthew Williams' and then it was crossed out, replaced by 'MATTH—" long dragged line of ink "—EW WILL—" it was bombarded with scribbles that tore through the paper "KØHLER, DANMARK, BEST BUDDY!" Then a red pen above stating 'MATTHEW WILLIAMS. TWIN BROTHER, FIRST BEST FRIEND, BEST FRIENDS-BROTHERS FOREVER!"
But there was another signature above—
"Arthur Kirkland." Alfred uttered softly. He swatted the paper with his one hand, the flapping sound made filling the room. His smile was wide and eyes were teary.
Everybody followed soon after, there were more appropriate signatures from Denmark and Canada below. France wrote about how proud he was of him. Russia and the other Nordics followed and some other names he knew would've signed anyway—the 'trusted' circle, as they call it. Finally, everybody else followed ending with a second signature from Ludwig who was one of the first to sign in front.
'I as the chairman. Oh who gives a shit. You're buying me beer later...'
"Look, we won't be able to do anything with your country's problems. That's out of our power but you have to know Akicha—" The older twin whispered.
"We're here for you."
Alfred crumpled the paper unintentionally, eyes stung with tears. He rubbed his eyes furiously with his forearm, laughing nasally as he did.
"T-thanks guys."
Sweden couldn't help but smile along with his brothers but then he heard sniffling beside him.
"Big bror...your face's red..." Sweden noticed Denmark's red face and wet eyes.
"I-it's nothing!" The Dane buried his face in his hands. "Damn the fucking thermostat."
The temperature was very pleasant actually but their brother wasn't gonna admit his very obvious reasons. His little brothers figured out that the best thing to do was smile and keep quiet.