Arthur Kirkland's Problem

Chapter Eight:

You know the drill. I don't own Hetalia, because Hidekaz Himaruya does. I also don't have music... I'm going to fix tht, and then I'll continue writing this story.

       *Cue elevetor music*

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          Re-cap: "Oliver?" Arthur asked, still not fully opening the door.

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         America froze, unsure of what to do. Oliver cussed under his breath, immediately hiding his knife and grabbing America, eyes daring him to speak. He shoved him into the nearest room, which just so happened to be his, and shut the door.

        "Yes, poppet?" he asked, turning towards the door.

       Arthur opened the door completely now, facing Oliver, worry evident on his face. Oliver noted the black gun in his arms, pointed at the floor. "Oliver, is someone in here? I heard voices... And a gunshot."

         "Maybe one of your imaginary friends?" Oliver asked, not missing a beat.

         "...Possibly." Arthur hesitated, then added, "But I could have sworn that I heard your voice.. Also, none of my friends are in the room."

           Oliver held up his phone innocently, "I actually just got off. My boss wanted me to come in in an hour. I apologize for worrying you."

           "Okay.... Hey Oliver?"

           "Yes?"

          "One of my friends wanted to meet me somewhere. Could I go there instead of going out to eat with you? She wanted to meet me at the mall." 

          "Of course." he handed Arthur a wad of money. "Have fun."

          "Thanks, I will." he handed the gun to Oliver, then left, only to pause half-way in the doorway. "Don't forget to turn off the car." Then he was gone.

           Oliver watched as he left, feeling like something was wrong. He was forced to shrug it off when America pounded on his door. He went outside, strolling slowly, and turned off the car. He placed the gun back in it's secret hold, then shut the door and walked back to his living room. America was now in front of his tellivision, holding his gun.

            The 2p glared daggers at him. "This had better be woth my time."

            "It is."

            He gestured to his table, in his dining room. "Then sit, and let's talk."

            America sat down, if only because Oliver sat down first. He didn't trust him, not in the least, but this was more important than him being comfortable. "Eight years ago," he began, "England got depressed for some unconfirmed reason. He had gotten so bad that Norway and Romania, two... close friends of his, decided to take it upon themselves to help. They used a powerful spell, turning him into a child and erasing his memories. They sent him to an orphange." America's face scrunched up on the word close.

          Oliver nodded, showing his understanding. America continued. "They didn't tell anyone what they did, undergoing even torture without admitting what happened. When they did finally tell us, it was because they chose to of their own free will. They said that they had told us only because if they didn't tell, and get England back, his country would be destroyed. My question is, did Arthur get affected by this factor at all?"