'ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏʙᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

11

Most of the preparation for dinner had been completed. Japan and England were taking a short break, allowing for time for conversation and tea before the time came for them to finish off making dinner. 

Around five minutes into this break, Portugal peeked his head into the kitchen in search of a certain Englishman. Once he'd spotted that unmistakable messy blonde hair, he called out to him, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything too important . . . Not that it actually mattered to him if he was.

"Hey, England, can I borrow you for a second?" he said, smiling when Arthur looked at him.

"Uh, sure." England called back, feeling somewhat confused.

He quickly and sincerely apologised to Japan, promising his return, and hurried out of the room after the Portuguese man, curious to know what was wrong and why he was needed so seemingly urgently. Saying that, he was suddenly starting to dread knowing . . .

"Is everything OK?" he asked when only they were in an area further down the hallway.

"Yeah, thanks for coming out. I just needed to talk to you in private for a moment." João answered modestly. Arthur waited for an elaboration, and Portugal eventually got the hint when he was coughed at. "Oh, sorry, I meant somewhere more private."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Fine," England sighed in exasperation, "but make it quick, João. Really quick."

<> Meanwhile . . . <>

"Oh, Ivan, you're back!" Yao remarked when the tall Russian walked into the meeting room, where he and Francis had been conversing. "I take it you found America."

"It would appear so," Ivan replied, "but he is still with his brother outside."

"Is everything alright? Is he OK?" Francis asked, slightly more concerned.

"Da, I believe so." Russia smiled. 

He decided that it wasn't his place to share what happened outside, and would leave that to Alfred to reveal if he felt that was for the best. He was still blindingly curious as to who had sent him the message that ordered him outside to find Alfred in time, however, but he felt that both he and the American owed them thanks. And then maybe a good scare, since they were no doubt the person behind the journal and Ivan was starting to side with Lovino more . . .

"Anyway," he said, "what did I miss? Canada didn't have the chance to tell me."

"Ah, well, allow us to fill you in." Francis smiled humbly. 

<> Elsewhere . . . <>

"Fratello, where are you going?!" Feliciano called out to Lovino as he began to head towards the building's entrance and exit. He wanted out. "You can't just leave!"

"Is that so?" Romano said, feigning surprise. He halted and turned to his brother, who now had the chance to catch up. "Who the hell is going to stop me, Veneziano? You? You wouldn't even dare try, you're so pathetic!"

Feliciano didn't reply.

"This entire day is a complete waste of time, energy and I'm sick and tired of someone who thinks themselves to be above everyone else happily spilling our secrets!" he continued, trying to hide his guilt for evidently having silenced his brother with offense. "I can't take it, Veneziano!"

"That's why we're all here together!" Feliciano cried. "We're here to support each other, console each other, and to make each other better people! Fratello," he said, pleading, holding a hand out for Lovino to take, "don't be the one who backs away because they're scared . . ."