Perseverance (Hetalia [FrUK])

Chapter 4 - The Problem

Strangely enough, Arthur woke up without the overwhelming urge to shoot the sun out of the sky.

It only took a careful moment of reflection to deduce that he'd gotten drunk yesterday. Although how that happened, he couldn't begin to fathom. Whenever he woke the next day after drinking, his vision would always be too sensitive to brightness to see anything properly. That was the giveaway.

His hangover today seemed tolerable, compared to other times. He could handle a tiny bit of noise and light. Usually, he suffered much worse.

"Where are we off to today?" the Englishman muttered, making his way to the coffee table where he'd left his schedule. He became distracted with the giant gift basket. "Hello . . ."

He read the note and stared at it in befuddled amusement. It was a nice enough gesture, but it was unprecedented and rather creepy at the same time. He'd never gotten anonymous gifts before, and there was a high chance his benefactor was a stranger entirely. 

He studied the contents of the basket and was delighted to find tea in there. They were exquisite tea brands and definitely hard to come by. Whoever got all this for him was certainly generous with the money . . . It would be a waste not to make a cup of tea with it, especially when a headache demanded to be remedied.

While he busied his hands with tea preparation, his mind wandered to yesterday and his lack of recollection of the events.

"I went to dinner," Arthur muttered. "Drank too much whiskey. Er . . . then what? How'd I get back here? Wait, someone was with me. Who was it . . . ?"

He poured boiling water into a mug and dropped in a tea bag. He then sat down in one of the armchairs and studied his schedule. He had approximately an hour before he had to head down to the pier to board a boat heading for Kauai. By the end of his vacation, he should have visited all the islands. Brilliant.

Arthur blew on his tea and took a sip. It was like a warm blanket had enveloped his insides, washing down his esophagus, clearing his mind.

And yesterday smacked him dead in the face.

"Francis!" Arthur hissed, shooting up from his seat. "That sly wanker! When I get my hands on him, I'll—"

He looked around and finally—or just—realized that Francis was not with him. He must have left before he woke up.

Feeling foolish for overreacting, Arthur fell into his seat and moodily drank his tea. What the hell had the Frog been doing while he was unconscious? Hopefully not anything shady . . . Well, there was nothing in Francis' behaviour from yesterday that suggested he was thinking of anything vulgar.

Actually, he'd been rather . . . kind? He did stop Arthur from drinking before he'd gone too far.

No. That was probably just coincidence. Francis had never showed him any decent amount of kindness, and that wasn't going to change.

"Oh, no," groaned Arthur, as another piece of his memory resurfaced. He covered his face out of embarrassment, despite being the only person in the room. What would Francis think of him now after everything he'd said? Damn, he'd been so foolish.

He hadn't meant any of it, and Francis must have realized it was the alcohol speaking, but Arthur couldn't help but find himself caring. Why did he care what Francis thought of him?

Actually, better question: Why the hell did they end up at the same restaurant in the first place—with the same reservation? Had that really been a mistake on behalf of the restaurant staff? Didn't seem likely that a top-notch restaurant made such amateurish mistakes.