Two Worlds (Hetalia X Reader)

2. The Painted Door

Sleep had always been your sweet escape. Not becasue you were lazy or because you were always tired; because the worlds your restless mind constructed were always the most peaceful. The most magical. The most enjoyable.

However, the world tonight was none of those. It was plain and boring. Well. It wasn't exciting yet. You never know what types of surprises your mind could stir up.

You stood in a hallway. The walls were wood paneled and the floor carpeted in red. It was a narrow passage but the ceiling reached far over your head.

The ends of the hallway were about a hundred meters from both of your sides. Each end held a door. There was also a door behind you. You could feel the cold doorknob pressing into your spine.

You step away from the door behind you to escape the unpleasant feeling of cold metal on your bare back.

The hallway was really starting to creep you out. It was eerily silent. You couldn't even hear the sound of your own breathing or the pulsing of your blood in your ears. Could anything be heard in this hallway? Wanting too test your theory, you rap your knuckles lightly on the wall opposing you. Nothing.

Interesting.

Suddenly, as if mocking your attempt at making noise, a loud banging sound resonates from the door to your left. You feel your heartbeat pick up.

Please don't do it, you beg yourself. Please don't do it.

You stare at the door that had just made the noise.

Do it.

"Shit." You swear aloud. But you didn't hear that either. You just felt your chest and throat vibrate as you spoke.

With carfull steps, you made your way to the door. As you got closer, the details started to come into focus. The door was made of dark wood. A splintered crack ran straight through the middle of it and the doorknob was made of tarnished silver as well as a plaque at the centre of the door engraved with the number two. You leaned in closer to it and grazed you fingers across the silver.

There was a loud smash and the door rattled beneath your fingers. Startled, you jolt backwards, your foor catching on the edge of the carpet beneath your feet. You tumble backwards and land on your tailbone.

The pain felt all too real. With your heart pounding in your chest, you scrambled to your feet and ran back towards the door you hand started at.

Only, it wasn't there. You brushed your hands against the wall and pounded on it with your palms. What if something came out of the dark door? What it came to kill you? One disadvantage if having dreams as vivid as you did was that nightmares tended to traumatize you. You looked back, eyes wide with fear when there was another banging sound.

The door shuddered. With no other option, you ran towards the door that was on your right. It was your only option if you wanted to escape.

So you booked it to the other door. You didn't have time too get a good look at it because you were too preoccupied with getting through it. It took you a few moments to register that you recognized the door.

It was the one you had painted.

You yanked the door open and were automatically hit with an overwhelming stimulus to every single one of your senses.

All of the sound came back in the form of yelling; the scent of coffee and paper flooded your nostrils; brilliant sunlight blurred your vision.

And then everything stopped.