England’s mansion was out in the countryside. A good thing, too, because it would’ve stuck out anywhere else. It was Victorian style, and I had to admit that it was very pretty. Right inside was the foyer and there was a staircase in the back that split off into two staircases to the left and the right halfway up. It reminded me of Ciel’s mansion in Black Butler.
I was given a room up the stairs and to the left. America’s usual room whenever he stayed over for world meetings was right across from mine.
After I was all settled in my new room, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said warily, thinking that it was England. I couldn’t exactly turn him away in his own home.
“Hey, dude?” I was wrong, it was America.
“Oh, what’s up?” I asked, relaxing.
“Are you okay? Like, after what Britain said… He didn’t mean it!” America looked legitimately worried, his pretty blue eyes wide with concern. “I’ve known the dude long enough to know when he means something or when he’s just frustrated.” He stepped into my room and closed the door as he was speaking. “And, Holly, dude, lemme tell you. He was just frustrated. I mean, he wasn’t expecting any of this to happen. Hell, I wasn’t expecting you to find out.” He sat down next to me on the bed. “Like—”
“Alfred,” I said, cutting him off before he started rambling again. “Thanks, but I need to that from England himself. Otherwise, I’ll still think…” I trailed off.
Al frowned. “Okay… Good luck with that, though. Britain takes forever to apologize. You’re gonna have to hint at it every time you’re around him.”
I snorted. “Sounds like you’ve gone through this way too many times. Makes sense, though, with England raising you and all.”
“Yeah. So, good luck dude.” He stood up and made his way to the door. He paused for a moment and turned back to me, looking like he wanted to say something. Then he frowned and left without another word.
I tilted my head to the side. Well, that was odd.
- - -
I woke up early in the morning, despite arriving in London at around midnight. The clock read 6:10. I was still on New York time or something.
I got dressed in shorts and a t-shirt before going out to wander about England’s mansion. I peeked into Al’s room before exploring to see if he was awake. However, he was still out cold. Smiling, I closed his door quietly and wandered down the hall in the direction I believed the stairs to be. Luckily, I was right.
Somehow, I made it into the dining room, where there was a giant oak table in the middle of the room with a single occupant: England. He had a plate of food in front of him and he was reading the newspaper. He didn’t notice me walk into the room, thank God.
Just as I turned around to walk back out, I heard him speak. “Holly?”
I grimaced. Great. I turned around and put a sweet smile on my face. “Yes?”
To my surprise, England looked completely and utterly beat. There were dark purple circles under his eyes, and I wondered if he even went to sleep.
“I’m terribly sorry about my outburst yesterday,” he apologized, shocking me. I thought America said that he took forever to apologize? “That was completely uncalled for and I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I don’t even know why I said it. It was—”
“You didn’t expect any of this to happen,” I put in for him, getting over my shock. I gave him a small smile. “None of us did, I get it. You look like you’re about to fall asleep in your food, by the way.”
He looked away. “Shut up. I didn’t sleep last night.”
I laughed. “Yeah, okay. Is that food any good?”
“I think so.” He looked down at his plate. “I’m not too hungry, though, so you can have it if you want.” He frowned at me. “I never noticed how thin you are.”
I looked down at myself, frowning slightly as well. I wasn’t thin because I didn’t eat or anything, I actually ate like a pig. I didn’t like being so thin, either. People assumed that I had an eating disorder all the time.
I shook that thought out of my head and sat to the right of England, pulling the plate towards me. “Thanks,” I said, ignoring his comment. I took an experimental bite (it was England’s food, after all) and was surprised to find out that it wasn’t bad. Sure, it could use some more flavoring, but I was sort of expecting to spit it out the moment it entered my mouth. I took another bite the moment America walked into the room.
His eyes widened when he saw me. “No! Dude, it’ll kill you!” He ran over to me and slapped my back, hard. I spit my food out on the table.
America came to my side and grabbed my face, examining me. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I pushed him away. “I was completely fine until you made me spit my food out!” I stuck another forkful in my mouth.
“But-But, how are you eating that?” he cried, staring at me in horror. “It tastes so terrible!”
“It’s actually not that bad.”
“Really?” England asked, perking up a little while America gaped at me.
Iggy bit his lip. “Could you try the scone?”
I looked at the single scone on the plate nervously. The eggs were okay, but the scone I was worried about. I took a bite, though, half out of curiosity, and half to humor him.
I choked immediately at the taste, my eyes watering. Finally, I was able to swallow the small bite, dropping the rest of the scone back on the plate. “That was an unpleasant experience,” I commented.
Al laughed as Arthur frowned at me. “What did it taste like to you?” Artie asked me.
“Like a petrified couch cushion,” I replied, making a face and shoveling eggs into my mouth to get rid of the taste. The younger country continued his laughter.
England was still frowning. “That’s what someone else said,” he mused.
There was a sudden pounding at the front door and we all grew silent. England scowled. “I have a doorbell,” he muttered as he stood up and went to answer the door, leaving me alone with America.
“So…” we both said at the same time. I smiled wryly while Al grinned at me.
Not five minutes later, England came back into the dining room, someone at his heels. This someone happened to be quite tall, and very familiar looking. I paled when I recognized him.
It was Germany.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN:
Heyo! I'm back from Illinois! Home sweet home! :D I literally have another whole chapter written and I'm halfway done with the one after that. Lol I had a lot of free time in the car.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)
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Never Take the Brown Bomber Jacket
Fanfiction'I got up to look at the thing I tripped over. Picking it up, I saw that it was a very familiar looking brown bomber jacket.' - - - Holly Rosewood thought that she had a normal life, besides being filthy rich, living in a three-story mansion and se...
