Hetachains (Rewritten Hetalia Reader Insert)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mike's still a character?

I didn't stop running. Not until it hurt to breath. Not until my lungs could barely expand before meeting some invisible barrier that kept a full breath from entering my body and my feet threatened to shatter with each step. I couldn't get the image of Carla's face out of my head. Her face full of anger and voice full of hate.

"And you don't have any empathy! Control Freak!"

Her voice echoed in my head. Control freak. Is that what she really thought of me? A robotic control freak? My feet slowed to a walk, lungs gratefully taking gulps of oxygen to sooth my screaming muscles. I looked around for a familiar landmark but the halls that surrounded me were unknown. In my daze I must have gone to a new part of the club building. Well, if it's new to me then it must be new to everyone else. The farther from them I am the better.

I dragged myself to a stairwell, soles scraping along the floor loudly as I fell back onto the stairs. And I sat there- just sat there waiting. Waiting for what? That I wasn't sure. But as time ticked by my breathing slowed and my feet went numb with sleep and I was still sitting on the cold stairs. Maybe I was enjoying the silence. Or maybe I was waiting for it to end.

Told ya so.

And there it is. I groaned, the noise exaggerated in the thick quiet.

What? You're the idiot that shouted at her. You picked a fight and got your ass kicked. What do you want? There are no participation ribbons for being a bitch.

Bitch. She called me a bitch too. God, that hurt.

She didn't say it to make you laugh.

I know that! I just...I just never thought we'd fight like this.

Well, you should've rethought that before calling her a child.

What happened to the supportive voice. I thought I had some epiphany that changed how I thought about myself?

We tried that, remember? 'Don't say something you'll regret' was a pretty helpful tip, no? You'd seem to prefer this method though.

A scream rose in my throat, threatening to burst from my mouth and bring with it all the emotions that continued to bubble inside my chest. I wove my hands through my hair. My fingers gripped onto chunks and held tight as if bracing for the breakdown.

"_____, there you are!" A voice cut through the shouting inside my mind. The low tambre pulled me out of my thoughts and back to reality. My fingers loosened to the luck of my scalp and the pressure in my throat lessened. I looked up from the diritied tile, surprised to see who stood in the stairwell doorway.

Mike Fanalis usually looked messy, but now he held a bedraggled look to his outfit. Striped shirt half tucked into his wrinkled jeans. Left shoe completely untied while the right sat in a triple knot. The lack of preparation was obvious. Mike has rushed from his house without a proper warning. To think that I was the reason for his rush took all the humor from his appearance.

"Mike? You look like shit." I said, immediately cringing at my choice of words. Cursing at someone is what got me into this mess. Let's not dig a deeper hole just yet. I averted my eyes. If I just don't look at or talk to him, I can't ruin anything more than I already have.

Oh yeah. Because that always works out.

"God, ____, I'm so glad I found you. We've been looking for you- Vladimir's worried sick-" Mike's sentences overlapped, one trailing off as another began while he pulled his phone from his pocket, "I-I have to call Carla-" My head snapped up as I stood from my step.