House of Memories 《Hetalia》

１

The meeting had started a while ago and already he was tired. Usually, he would yell and play the persona he's adopted for years, but today was not his day. First, he ran out of his coffee, he lost his car keys and had to walk in the rain without an umbrella—good thing he has extra clothes in his bag—for a mile, and now the usual degrading of his self worth and esteem.

"Yo, Mattie." Next to him sat a similar blond-haired light-eyed North American. His hair was just below his ears and ever so slightly brushed against his neck when he turned his head, and the signature long curl that protruded from his hairline. "What time does the meeting end?"

"In, like...30 minutes?" He looked at his watch.

"Ugh, I wanna go home!"

"Home as in house or home?"

"The latter."

Nodding his head, Canada laid his head against his arms. Falling asleep for just a short while. America decided to take a page out of his brothers' book and tried to regain the little sleep he has by leaning on his hand. Unluckily, he was seen by all. Something he wished that he inherited from his mother, the silent and deadly skill that his brother got.

Man, how lucky he thinks Canada is. Not in the spotlight and judged by all. Invisible to the eye and protected from comments that break you ever so slightly till you break down. And how he wishes that he could change himself to feel better, to feel loved, but he can't.

"Alright everyone," The muscular blond at the head of the table spoke. "Since ve actually did some stuff today, I guess ve could end zhe meeting early."

Cheers were exclaimed by almost everyone, and America let out some of his own. He planned a three-day vacation to relax and catch up of sleep that he desperately needs. The president has sent him on missions and piles of work for the past month but he has no idea why.

"Alfred, you Okay?" Someone asks. Alfred didn't know who spoke, his mind was blurry and he couldn't focus. It seems as if time was moving fast to him, and maybe he got up from his chair to fast. "Huh?"

"America, you don't-a look so good." A higher-pitched voice asked once again and his vision went black.

"America!" Some people exclaimed, worried and wondering what had happened to the loud American. "You ok? Hello?"

"Is he sick? A fever?" France had asked the platinum blond man who was checking to see if he was alright.

"He's breathing and alive, just unconscious." England sighed in relief. A bit of worry had laced its way to his mind. "And there slight traces of magic on him."

Many people confused. How could something that doesn't exist effect someone like him, someone who doesn't believe in the supernatural. But the people who could wield the sacred art agreed that what had latched to him was done on purpose. The spell was ancient, old and unused magic that many thought to have faded.

As soon as England spoke the words of what had caused it, his unconscious body began to disappear. Panicked, his family yelled and began to search for him the room. "Where'd he go?" The other countries aided the group of blonds that searched the building.

"What the—?!" China screamed as his body began to fade. "Hel—" he disappeared. People screamed and stood shell shocked. The oldest nation had vanished before their eyes and they had no idea why.

"Germany! Fratello!" Italy called to them. His eyes open wide and small in the white sclera. Eyes to the disappearance of hands and in a few seconds, nothing. Many were spared, but some, unfortunately, weren't. People who've had an impact on the unconscious nation; people like Canada, England, France, Italy, Germany, Prussia, Japan, Russia, China, Spain, South Italy, and the Nordic Five were the only ones who were taken.