Crossing Borders [Hetalia]

девять - hellish hangovers and relentless siblings

The day begins strangely, with the rising sun being accompanied by a sporadic knocking at the front door. For some, it invites memories of yesterday's terror; for others, it's only an annoyance that deprives them of their precious slumber. And in the end, it's Arthur who begrudgingly vacates his make-shift bed in order to answer it.

He's greeted with a face full of ample... er, "tracks of land".

"U-Ukraine?" he stutters, now seated on the floor after recoiling from the woman's uncharacteristic charge into the Russian home. She barely spares him a glance, whirling about the entry hall, looking into each room before coming to a stop at the base of the stairs.

Turning back to Arthur, she produces a sheepish smile. "It is me, Ukraine," she says in answer to his stammer. "Lithuania called me last night and told me Belarus was here! Oh, I was so worried for brother Russia, I came as soon as I could. I even lied to my boss! He thinks I'm having a meeting with Hungary."

All this information so early in the morning... it's enough to short-circuit the unfortunate Englishman's brain. His fingers rub delicate circles into his temples as he rises to his feet, sifting through everything that Ukraine has said to make sense of it all. As the whirlwind of information settles and he blinks open his sleep-laden eyes, he starts, staring at Ukraine with a newfound intensity. "Wait. Then are you here to take Belarus home?"

She bobs her head amiably, her smile blooming with less hesitation. "Da, I am."

If Arthur weren't a full-blown English gentleman, he might have leapt with all the grace of a schoolboy and flung himself upon Ukraine in a hug so brilliantly physics-defying that his many magical friends wouldn't be able to help their jealousy, shouting for all to hear, "Oh thank the bloody Queen, you beautiful person!"

But he is a full-blown English gentleman. He's England itself, for Queen's sake. He could never lower himself to such an American level. No, no, Arthur is much too proper for such antics. So in place of those, he allows himself a tiny smile and a breath of relief, his hand settled over his heart. "That's the first good news I've heard in hours," he says, to which Ukraine laughs lightly.

"My sister can be quite the handful, da?"

"That's putting it lightly," Arthur corrects. Dusting himself off, he waves a hand at the staircase. "Well, if you're looking for her, you'll find her invading Russia's room... and hopefully not anything else."

Ukraine, bless her heart, doesn't get his hidden meaning and skips off up the steps as innocent as ever, giving Arthur the chance to drag a hand down his face, quietly berating himself for making such an obscene comment. A bloody gentleman, indeed...

Arthur, deciding yet again there is safety in numbers, tails Ukraine to the Russian's room. It's him who cracks open the door, casting a brief glance about the room; his eyes widen as he draws the door open fully, revealing the scene of Russia cowering in a corner, a table tipped over in front of him as a sort of blockade; Belarus lies across his bed, snuggled among his blankets and a fair amount of clothes she's pulled from the closet, a contented smile touching her lips.

Their entry breathes life into the ransacked room, stirring one of its occupants into raising his head beyond the table. His own smile blooms as bright as the sunflowers he's so fond of, and he hurries out from behind his barrier to clasp his sister in a warm embrace. Said sibling has since burst into tears, overjoyed to return to her brother's side after these long, lonely years spent under her boss' thumb.

"Ah, you two," Arthur coughs, breaking apart the reunited duo, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it appears Belarus is waking up..."

This would be disconcerting news for anyone, if truth be told, but it especially worries Russia, who in a complete disregard of his character makes a show of ducking behind England, asking in a hushed voice that he'd like Ukraine to take Belarus with her on her way out.

The scene does not progress favorably by any means, as Belarus is known for her strength and her insatiable desire to "become one" with her delightfully petrified older brother, and what follows her awakening is nothing short of a man-hunt, an event which she embarks on to recapture her brother as he flees throughout the house in search of safety and solace. 

Ukraine and England (coerced into helping due to his own fear) chase the girl all through the day, as at some point Russia thought it a good idea to escape outside; though Belarus was quick to follow and thus it only expanded the playing field and further troubled the other two competitors.

And where, pray tell, are Alfred and Valentina during all of this? 

Ah, of course, Alfred sleeps straight through the commotion, decidedly useless without his personal alarm (read: Arthur in all his bloody English glory and love for punctuality), while Valentina is unfortunately caught in the restroom (having gone there in the night when woken by her unsettled stomach), her forehead pressed to the wall, an arm slung over her eyes.

The lights are too bright, the breathless morning (which, subsequently, bleeds into an equally stagnant afternoon) too loud. A brief moment of respite, in which her insides remain inside, allows her to ponder Mr. Ivan's condition. Worry creases her smooth brow. He drank far more than her last night; is he handling himself well, or in a worse condition than even herself?

Ironically, though spared from the horrific aftereffects of overdrinking, Ivan is trapped in a situation far exceeding her own in terms of unpleasantness.

However, Valentina - blissfully unaware of his current predicament - only returns to her toilet bowl and remains slumped on the bathroom floor for the remainder of the day.

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Short but sweet, I should think. This is more of a filler just to explain what happens the next morning. The next chapter will be... very feelsy, so I thought it'd be good to end it here with a bit of humor.

Seriously, though, poor Valentina. She should back off the drinking for a while, huh?