'ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏʙᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

12

"Alright, Portugal, since you're joining our little club for now, you get the honour of reading this." Antonio announced, holding out the journal to João.

He looked at it with a scepticism. "A book? What kind of club is this again?" he scoffed.

"A club that likes to share everyone's scary little secrets using this lovely little book." Antonio replied with a grin. "And it's your turn to spill the beans."

"Alright," João replied, asserting himself, "I'll play your game."

He took the book in his hands, the page folded over where he assumed everyone else had got to. He had no idea what had been read, and he wasn't really sure how to respond to such a book as the one now in his possession. To be honest, he was sort of ambivalent. There was no concern that anything involving himself had been shared besides what he was already aware about, and that had already been discussed . . .

"What the fuck happened?" João said pointedly. "And why the heck was it your boyfriend who called me?!"

"He's not my boyfriend," Antonio sternly replied with a frown, "and if you're so interested in knowing, stick around! Play the game, João! Join in and I'll let you tell me why I'm having one heck of a time here."

They stared at each other for a moment. Antonio was determined to not have an emotional breakdown and João was similarly determined to try and not show his concern for his Iberian nieghbour. While they hadn't always seen eye to eye, they was still a mutual care and compassion between them.

"I know what it was about, you know." Portugal eventually said, breaking the silence.

Spain sighed. "I know."

"Then what's the problem? We know what happened, we've discussed it so many times before!" João responded. "Why are you acting like this?! How many times do I have time apologise to your dumb--"

"¡NO SEAS ESTÚPIDO!" Antonio exclaimed.

His patience had worn out and so had his mettle, and the barrier that was containing all of that emotion burst and an almighty wave of destruction was unleashed. Portugal didn't even have time to react before someone in desperate need of consolation, comfort and kindness had launched themselves at him. Shocked by the action, he stood there, frozen, until he realised that Antonio was crying into his shoulder, muttering little Spanish apologies. Something clicked in him in that instant. He held the Spaniard. He held him close, and reassured him that regardless of their past, he'd stand by his side and protect him no matter the cost. Forever.

"Alright," João said, leaning back in his seat, green eyes dancing over the name at the top of the page, "this is Germany's."

Everyone sat down quietly--Germany and Prussia, all those miles away, especially--and got ready to listen intently to what was to be read. England and Japan were still in the kitchen, but no one wanted to wait. Some were already annoyed at having to remain overnight in order to complete the book, and they wanted to get as much done as possible. They weren't even halfway.