HetaOni: Scotland the Brave

Danger

This was an unusual scene.
Wales, Scotland, Ireland and England.
All together, in one tiny, locked room, with nothing in particular to do.
And nobody were trying to rip someone's head off.
Nobody were even behaving like themselves.
There were no clever sarcastic comments from England. He was just sitting quietly up against a wall, with his head resting in his hands.
Wales wasn't spitting out mean spirited insults at his younger brothers. Instead, he was standing with his back against a door, biting his lip very gently.
Ireland was not cracking any jokes about his youngest sibling, or bragging about his independence. He was busy pacing back and forth in the small room, his eyes fixed on the dusty floorboards.
And finally, there was Scotland, who wasn't hissing at the others. He wasn't even frowning or glaring at them. The red-haired man had collapsed on the floor, where he was desperately gasping, trying to reclaim his breath.
An unusual scene indeed.
Then again... This was an unusual scenario, taking place in an unusual setting.
Unusual.
Unbelievable.
Unreal.
Terrifying.
"Can you hear anything Wales?" England asked the oldest of the four, and thus breaking the silence, that had been haunting the room for several minutes.
"No... Not yet..." The brunet replied in a hushed voice, all of the brothers, including Wales himself, found unsettling. Not because he sounded scary. Nor was his reply menacing or threatening. Quite the contrary. He spoke in a rather calm tune, that managed to make him sound like an ordinary older brother, trying to make his siblings less worried.
And that was exactly, what was so unsettling. Usually Wales couldn't care less about his brothers. Hell, he'd probably be glad, if something bad happened to them. So the fact that he now sounded like he genuinely wanted to calm them down...
Well...
It was probably just another proof...
A proof of how this godforsaken place, was able to change people.
"... 'Yet'?" The Irishman repeated, desperate to keep the talking going, and hold the silence at bay.
Wales furrowed his thick brows, and glared at his sibling.
"Yes. 'Yet.' You don't think we've gotten away from it, do you?"
"No no. I'm not stupid ya know. I just thought..."
"Thought what?"
"... Saying: not yet, sounds a bit pessimistic to me..."
"Pessimistic?!"
"Aye! Pessimistic!"
"What the f-"
"O-oi! You two... Do me a favour, and shut the fuck up... I feel shitty enough already, without all of your shite, thank you very much." A voice with a clear Scottish accent rasped, the redheaded owner of said voice sending his arguing brothers evil looks, from his spot on the floor. This earned him some glares in return, but they were short lived, disappearing the exact moment the Scotsman had to curl up on the ground, while clutching his chest, as he was hit by a big coughing fit, moments later. Ireland turned around, muttered an apology, and once again, began his aimless walking around, while Wales just sighed solemnly, and pressed his ear against the wooden door.
Scotland didn't stop coughing, until several tense and awkward seconds had passed. It was only then, someone came to check up on him.
"How are you doing Scottie?" England asked, teasingly using a nickname he knew the other despised, to try and lighten the mood, which had made the air thick, with anxiety and fear.
The red haired man rolled his eyes, and growled some foul words in Gaelic, causing a very confused look to spread across his youngest brother's face. An expression that made the grouchy Scot's mouth curl lightly, forming something that just barely resembled a smile.
"Heh... I'm doing... Well considering I'm currently trapped in a small room, with those three assholes, I call brothers, while my lungs hurt like hell... I'm doing pretty fucking bad."
Both siblings let a quiet and nervous laugh escape their lips, the Scot's being just a bit louder, and a bit less anxious. Weird, considering how the same man, was the first to return to his previous state of frightened seriousness, simply by letting his laugh stop, as his mouth closed, and twisted in a frown.
"... Really though... I haven't felt this shitty in ages... My lungs feels like... Like they are about to implode and explode at the same time... Or something. I don't really know how to explain."
This sentence had gotten the Englishman to stop laughing immediately. Actually, Scotland hadn't even uttered a word, before his brother's smile had faded. The solemn expression he had gotten, could make even the most cheerful person feel gloomy.
"... I see..." The young blond nodded. Seconds later, his mouth twisted into a snarl. "Goddammit Scotland!"
"What?" The older one asked, and slowly began to sit up. "What did I do now?"
"Why did you have to... To smoke?! You used to be able to outrun all of us! Now you wouldn't even be able to beat Sealand, much less that... That THING."
"OI! England, calm down will you?"
"No I won't! We ALL told you it was stupid, didn't we?! We've all told you to stop!"
"Aye, but..."
"SCOTLAND, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE, BECAUSE OF YOUR BLOODY, TAR-LUNGS!"
The redheaded man just barely had time to widen his eyes, in surprise, before Wales jumped back from the door, a horrified expression covering his face.
"... I heard it..." He whispered, quickly looking at his younger brothers, who all looked just as scared as himself.
"Fuck... Wh-what are we gonna do?" Ireland asked, his hands beginning to shake.
"What CAN we do, except running?" The youngest of the four asked, before scrambling to his feet. Everyone glanced briefly at each other, as if to make sure all agreed on this. And that was when their gaze fell on the Scotsman, who was still gasping for breath on the floor.
"What about Scotland...?"
"... I... I can run as well."
"Doubt it... You won't be fast enough..."
"Well we can't just leave him here... Can we?"
The ending to that sentence, made the red head's eyes open wide in fear, and he quickly shook his head. "N-no! You can't leave me! I don't want to die here!"
"I know but... What are we going to do? You'll just... Slow us down, and..."
"You two. Go. Find that wardrobe we hid in earlier." Wales suddenly said, interrupting his siblings's argument. "I'll take care of Scotland."
"What? How?"
"I'll figure something out. Just... Go. Run."
"But..."
"Now!"
And with that, England and Ireland took one last glance at their older brothers, before hurrying to the room's only other door, unlocking it, and sprinting out through it, without looking back.