The World I Live In (Crazy Hetalia Fanfic)

Seven

                “Well,” He says, “We’re almost there.” America has a house in every state, and all the states are also people, which is weird. We’re in southern California, more specifically San Diego, and he has a suburban house here. We’ve been driving since we hit Malibu, and my butt has fallen asleep. I wiggle, trying to wake it up, which makes him laugh.

                “We’re almost there, I swear. Then you can wake up your body to your hearts’ content.” I laugh, and even Tony, who is sitting in the back seat of the car, is making a sound that sounds like laughter. The car is a dark green, old school Jeep. It’s convertible, and has dents on the sides. Judging by Americas’ face when we found the car where he parked it when he left, he loves this car. We finally turn down a road with houses on it, and go to the most ancient, oldest looking house I have ever seen. We park in the driveway, and I glance at him, raising an eyebrow.

                “This was one of the first houses in San Diego. Of course I live in an old house.” I nod in understanding. We get out, getting our shit from the back. Tony disappears. “Oh yeah,” America spoke, noticing how I am staring at where Tony had just been, “Tony has superpowers. It’s really cool, right?” I nod, still not speaking out of shock. I hear a sound behind me as the door clicked open, and Tony is standing there. I thank him and step inside.

                There is garbage here and there, but aside from that, it’s a bachelor’s pad. When I walk in, there are two hallways to the sides, and in front of me are stairs. I find the house personally nice. The entry room is wooden floored, as are the stairs and the room to the left. Going into the left room, there’s a dining room and kitchen. I go to the right afterwards to find a green carpeted room with a brown couch, and a huge television. Below it are tons of different game consoles, from the very first Nintendo Sega to a Playstation 3. There is also a closed door, but I’ll figure that out later, because America just walked in.          

                “Guest room is upstairs, unless you want to sleep with me again.” He wriggles his eyebrows, and I stick my tongue out at him. “In that case, my room is also upstairs. Tony sleeps in the basement, where no one can find him. He is an alien, after all.” I go up the stairs to see a narrow hallway with three doors. One to the left, one to the right, and one at the end. “To the right!” He calls up the stairs, and I go into that door. The door is a push-from-the-outside type of door. The room has a slanted roof, due to the fact it is the top floor in the house, and the window looks over the house next door. There’s a bed at the far end of the wall where the roof is highest, and a small closet where all of my stuff can fit easily into. I unpack with the complementary hangers in the room, and sit on the bed, admiring the room. It has carpet, but this time it’s light blue. The rest of the room is white, and there is a desk on the other side of the door with nothing on it. This room is empty.

                “Finally,” I hear a sigh of relief, and springs creaking as America flop onto his bed, “I’m finally home, on my beautiful bed! Gah!” I laugh, but am alerted when I hear loud banging and thumping. Jumping up, I run to his room to see someone pinning him down on the bed.

                “Where is he!?” The man shouts in a musty accent I can’t place, “Where the fuck is Italy!?!?”

                “Dude… I don’t know…” America tries to shout at the man, but it comes out in pants and whispers, because the man has blocked off his throat, choking America.

                “Damn it,” I mutter under my breath. I’m going to have to save America. Sneaking up behind the very muscular man, who, by the way, is dressed in green army clothing, which could only mean he’s prepared for anything physical, I crouch down by the bed posts, and after counting to three, leap to my death.