RUNAWAY

🇫🇴~nítjan~🇫🇴

Norway looked up at the tall building where he and his brothers would meet the other nations.

He still didn't understand why Glenia ran away with Iceland. 'We were protecting her,' he always told himself 'She had no reason to run,'

Or did she.

He shooked his head. His mind was telling him something was wrong, but he didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. When he finally became a big brother to someone other than Iceland the chance just flew away, never to be saw again. Impossible.

Norway sighed, looking at the people that were delaying him. Denmark got his uniform stuck in the car while Sweden and Finland was trying to help him get it unstuck. "Will you hurry up?" He called over to the three, eyes looking at the black cloak being pulled at "We're going to be late now,"

Finally they were able to get Denmark's uniform out although it ripped a bit.

They ran straight to the huge building

~~~

England sighed as he looked at his watch, the time showing that the Nordic 5 were now late.

He specifically told them to be here at nine in the morning. Not half past nine. "They better have a good explanation," the Englishman muttered to himself, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor.

America was sitting on his seat on ease. England wasn't arguing with France ever since they got to the big meeting room. France was also bewildered by how England was ignoring all his insults and profanities he threw at him. It really put him on edge.

"What is wrong with England dude?" America asked himself, looking to his brother for some sort of reassurance.

Canada looked back when he felt the gaze of his brother on him. His violet eyes looked back to worried baby blue ones. That was when America saw that Canada was concerned as well. "I don't know. Something must be going on, eh?" Canada whispered, leaning in so the person beside him - which was England - wouldn't hear him. The Brit had terribly good hearing so he had to be extremely careful, unlike his brother, who just said it. And when America says it he normally yells it.

Germany was also on edge. He was normally the one who organised the World Meetings, not the tsundere tea drinking Brit that was once his enemy. The only time someone else organised the World Meeting was when Glenia - the older one mind you - organised it in the intention of asking what they would like to do with the high schoolers that found out of the countries.

That was five years ago.

Everyone knew she was dead, and long dead. They all paid their respects, even the ones she didn't know all too well. Heck, even South Korea came and he hadn't talked to her since WW2.

"Germany, what's happening? Why have we been gathered here?" The soft voice of the Italian he came to call a 'friend' broke his train of thought. Germany looked at Italy to see his smiling face reduced to a troubled frown. His eyes, of course, were still closed, his hazel eyes hidden behind his eyelids.

"I have not a clue, Italy. But I suppose it's a good reason considering England isn't fighting with France for once," Germany replied to his comrade, looking briefly to the British lad across the table who was looking at his watch intently, and at the same time, ignoring the yells of the French baguette poking him on the head while yelling things at him like "Stupid Angleterre! Listen to me when I talk to you!" Or "Spain, mon ami, won't you help me get this stupid black sheep of Europe to finally acknowledge my handsomeness??"