Nameless (Hetalia Fanfiction)

Hello all of you! Thank you for clicking on this. I got the idea for this story about a week ago. And I got really excited to write it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of it's characters. I do however own the OCs.

Nameless - Chapter 1

What is a memory? I asked myself for the who-knows-how-manieth time. And why are they so important? Why don't people realize how important they are? Normal people go on with their lives not giving a second thought to the questions I constantly find myself pondering. Why is it that we forget things? Why is do people remember? I couldn't come up with the answer to these questions. Sadly, not getting the answers that I strive to retrieve only makes me wonder more things. Do memories affect the person to whom they belong? Or in other words, do memories determine who you are? That's one that I won't find the answer for any time soon. If you lose your memories are you still who you used to be?

Why am I even wondering this? It doesn't help me in any way. After all, asking questions doesn't solve problems. Pondering things won't fix what's already been broken. Therefore, it's useless for me to waste my time asking these things. But no matter what I do, I always get lost in thought, thinking about memories and sounding like some philosopher. It's like an endless loop. At this rate I'll never get on with my life. Now I find myself thinking like this daily.

Why? Why won't I let myself get on with my life? It's probably because of what happened. Because part of me is scared. Scared that I'm no longer who I used to be. Worried that I'll never remember my forgotten past. And, of course, angry at myself for being so pitiful!

For those of you who haven't guessed yet, I lost my memories. Both the good and the bad have been buried deep in the unreachable corners of my mind. No matter how hard I try, I can't remember anything. Not even a name. Well, that's not entirely true, I remember a name, but it's not mine. I don't know who it belongs to, but I know for a fact that it's not my name. I never dwelt on it. I need to know more about myself before I start to concern myself with others. When I think back, I can't remember anything before waking up in the hospital.

I remember being confused. I had no idea where I was. Or how I got there. I was in a white room; on a white bed. The room was empty except for a TV and the machine I was hooked up to that that showed my heart beat.

The doctor walked in not even a minute later. He explained that I was in the hospital because of a car accident, but I wasn't so sure. He also told me the extent of my injuries. I had a fractured wrist ,a few bruised ribs ,and I had hit my head. Hard. Apparently there were no fractures in my skull, but it had been hard enough to give me amnesia. The doctor also informed me that they had found alcohol in my system, lots of it. According to the doctor that that was the most likely the cause to my accident. That part I found obvious.

He told me that my memories would come back, and didn't dwell on the subject. I remember being pissed off at him for not giving a damn about his patient. The only bit off concern he showed was him telling me not to drink and drive again. As if I would! Hello! I lost my memories because of it and got put in the hospital! I'm not an idiot. He was acting as if I had brain damage instead of amnesia!

That was three weeks ago. I go discharged from the hospital today. And I have no idea what I'm going to do. I don't know my name, I have no degrees, no diploma, and no references. All I had was $20 one of the nurses gave me out of pity. How the heck am I supposed to get a job? And where the hell will I stay?! I don't have any friends to crash with! Stupid car accident! Because of it, I'll end up on the street! And the wurst part is, I won't be able to afford beer! I don't know why, but the thought of having to live without it scares me. Maybe I was an alcoholic? No that can't be it, I don't think alcoholics would worry about jobs. I probably just used to love beer.

Back to the last subject, how will I get a job? I could always make up an alias, but the most I could do is a job at a low class burger joint. I let out a sigh, this was not going to be easy. I got up off of the park bench I had been sitting on. Might as well get started. "The sooner I start, the sooner I finish," is what I said to emptily reassure myself. I began to walk down the busy streets. I looked at every store I passed by, hoping to find a 'Job Wanted' sign. My spirits dropped with every building I passed by. It seemed as if no one was hiring. I stopped myself before I could start thinking negatively. I would find a job. The city was a big place, there had to be an opening somewhere.

I ended up walking for hours and still no luck. I looked up to see that it had already gotten dark without my notice. I briefly wondered how long it had been since the sun had set. Then as if to accent how long I had been out, my stomach growled. It was only then that I noticed the smell wafting through the air. It smelt like burgers. It was probably coming from one of the restaurants nearby. Fast food seemed a little low class for my tastes, but I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. I only had $20. And you know the saying, "Beggars can't be choosers." And, in this case, I'm a beggar. So I followed my nose to the restaurant the smell came from. I was right, a fast food place. I walked thought the door, not noticing the sign in the window. I went to the front counter and noticed how empty the place was. There weren't any customers. I found that strange. There was no one at the register, so I had to yell, "IS ANYONE HERE?!"

I heard a bang come from the nearby kitchen. Then a voice called, "I'll be there in a moment!" And in less then a moment, a man appeared behind the counter. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone. It's been a slow day."

"No kidding." I said.

"Ya... so what'll it be?" The man said putting as he put a hand behind his head. He must have been embarrassed about running an empty fast food place. I ordered something random off the menu, because I had a lot more important things on my mind then food. And I'm sure I don't have to explain them. Cause it's kind of obvious. And if you can't get it, you are a freak.

I saw the cashier guy go into the kitchen and make my food. Wasn't there someone else to work the kitchen? And when I thought about it, there was no one working the drive threw either. It seemed to only be that one guy. A light bulb went off in my head. "Hey!" I called so the guy could hear me in the kitchen. "Isn't there anyone else working here?"

"No!" He called back from the kitchen. "Didn't you see the 'Help Needed' sign in the window?"

"Isn't it supposed to be 'Help Wanted'?" I asked.

"Well this place more workers or it'll be forced to close down. So I think it's more dire then 'Help Wanted'. We'll hire just about anyone. Why do you ask?" He walked out of the kitchen with my order. He handed me my food, and I saw a glimmer that was in his blue eyes that wasn't there before. Hope perhaps?

"Because I'm looking for work." I told him. As I said that, a grim appeared on his face from ear to ear. His eyes lite up even more then they had before.

"So you're thinking about working here?" I could tell from his voice that he was trying really hard not to rejoice. Just how desperate was he? Then again, he did say this place might close down. I nodded. "Great you start tomorrow!" He said.

"What about an application?" I asked.

"Who cares about that?" He said, "You're the first applicant in weeks!" Doesn't care much about going by the book does he? But I probably wouldn't care if I was in his place.

"How much for the food?" I asked, looking down at my meal. "On the house!" He said. "Really?" I asked, "Thanks... um..."

"Steve." He informed me. The cashier, Steve, held out his hand. Oh crud, this was the part where I'm supposed to shake his hand and tell him my name. What was I going to say? I didn't even know my name, how was I supposed to tell him? I decided to wing it. I grabbed his hand and shook it. Then I said the first name that came to mind. "Scott, nice to meet you."

"You don't look like a Scott." Steve said as he broke the hand shake.

"I've been told that a lot." I lied. Well, I managed to get myself a job, it's at a low class burger joint, but I know for a fact that there was no way I could do better. One problem taken care of. Now there was only the matter of where I was going to stay.

I sat down with my food at one o the MANY empty tables. Since Steve had nothing better to do, he sat down in the seat across from mine and began to talk my ear off as I ate my food. He was such an annoying chatter box, not bothering to stop talking for even a second. At one point I wondered how he was even breathing. There was something about his endless ranting that seemed familiar. It reminded me of someone, but to hell if I know who. At first Steve talked about work explaining how things went at the "restaurant". Then he strayed off topic and talked about random things. I tried to listen, but he spoke so fast that it was hard to understand. At one point I gave up trying to listen to what Steve was saying. It was to indecipherable. I picked up a few things here and there. Like apparently, he used to have a wife, and is currently single. But he has his eyes on a girl who doesn't know that he exists. And he has a dog named Sammy, who refuses to fetch. Things like that.

At one point he stopped talking, it was a small pause, and he was clearly about to say more. But before he could, I cut him off. "Can I stay at your place?" I had to ask because it was impossible to get an apartment in a couple of hours. And I would NOT stoop as low as to stay at one of those homeless shelters.

"Woah dude, we just met." Steve put his hands up in objection, "I'm thankful that your going to work here, but I don't like you like that. As I said before, I like someone else." I couldn't believe that he actually thought I meant that!

"What are you thinking?!" I said, "I just need a place to stay for a little while. My girlfriend broke up with me and won't let me into our house. You know how it is." The lies came out effortlessly.

And Steve believed them without even thinking. "Of course I know how it is. Brake ups are hard. You can stay at my place as long as you don't try to put the moves on me."

I laughed at his joke. "Don't flatter yourself!" Steve began to laugh too. This was great, I killed two birds with one stone. I got a job, and a place to stay in less than a day! Talk about luck!

So I ended up staying at Steve's house for the next two, maybe three weeks, before I got an apartment. A lot happened in that time. I got to meet that girl who Steve was head over heals for. Steve told me a couple of times to keep my hands off her. I'll admit, she was pretty, but not my type. So he didn't have much to worry about. Also, we sort of half managed to teach his dog fetch. He'd get the stick, ball, or whatever we threw no problem. But no matter what we did, that mutt wouldn't give them back.

And the burger place I work at started getting applicants. A guy named Cameron got a job the day after I did. A week later, a girl named Martha applied. Eventually, most of the positions got filled. It definitely made work a lot easier. It might have been empty the day I got hired, but the rest of the time it was anything but. The place was almost always crawling with customers. We were lucky if the place was empty for 3 minutes. Who knew so many people liked fast food?

I moved out of Steve's house into a one bedroom apartment. It was small, and the neighbors were as bad as they could get. But it was the only place I could get with a landlord who isn't picky about his tenants. Everywhere else they ask for a credit score and things like that. So it wasn't an option to be picky about it. Besides if I avoid my neighbors by taking the stairs instead of the elevator, I won't see them long enough for one of them to start something with me. I learned to do that on my first day there, when a guy tried to start a fight with me in the elevator because I was standing to close to him. I guess three feet isn't as far as it used to be.

I'd say the story gets interesting about four or five days after I moved in. I got up like any other day, so in other words, I didn't want to get up and almost broke my alarm clock looking for the off button. I swear, alarm clocks are the worst invention in mankind! But at the same time, if it weren't for them, I wouldn't make it to work on time. So anyways, I got out of bed, and rubbed my eyes. I was still half asleep and exhausted. I walked over to my closet and put on my uniform. I'm supposed to open the place today. And lucky for me, it's not crowded in the morning. I mean who would wake up at 5 in the morning to eat fast food? I will admit the pancakes were pretty good, but that's not the point.

I glanced at my clock. It was fifteen minutes before my shift started! How'd so much time fly by so quickly?! It was probably because I took so long to get up! It didn't seem like there'd be enough time for breakfast. Just enough time to get there before my shift started. That is, if I hurried. And trust me, I did hurry. I ran into the hallway of the building and locked my door in three seconds flat. Which I think should be a record for something. I dashed down the stairs in lightning speed. I was in so much of a rush, that it didn't occur to me to take my bike. I ran out the door as fast as my legs would take me. I couldn't remember the last time I ran so much! Well, at least in the span of time that I can remember. By the time I made it to work, I was out of breath. I walked in the front door and breathed in large huffs, gasping, and lungs burning as if I swallowed a match.

I flipped the sign from the 'Closed' side to the 'Open' side. Then I remembered, I was opening the shop! No one was here but me! Nobody would have noticed if I was late! So I did all that running for nothing!

I mumbled, "This is why I hate mornings," as I went into the kitchen to prepare food for when the customers would arrive. Since it was a couple of hours until anyone would come in, I made myself breakfast, which consisted of pancakes and maple syrup. Good stuff. I spent the next two hours killing my boredom by watching the TV by the counter. When the door opened, I quickly walked to my post and pretended that I hadn't just been goofing off. I've learned that if you don't look like a slacker, you get more tips.

A boy (the customer) walked up to the counter. He looked about 18 or 19, and wore a green hoodie. I couldn't place what, but there was something familiar about him. Did I know him from somewhere? If I didn't figure this out, it would bug me all day. He looked up to order, and I saw them, unmistakable violet eyes behind a pair of glasses. Then without my permission, a word escaped my lips. But not just a word, a name. It was the one name that I could remember after the car crash. The one I did not know the owner to.

"Matthew."

A/N: Can any of you guess which country the main character is? I gave some pretty good hints. For those who don't know human names: Canada = Matthew On another note, this took me EIGHT DAYS to write and I am very happy with how it turned out. It took forever to type out! Not sure how long it will take to post the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy!