Dolls (A Hetalia Fanfic)

Dolls

Arthur's eyes were pried open by the light outside. He sat up then looked around. It was the same monochrome room. He had hoped that he would be transported to fantasy worlds with creatures beyond imagination, but he only woke up to a miserable and dull reality.

He shifted to his bedside drawer to grab his phone, checking all his notifications. Surprisingly, he had received quite a lot of messages which came from the different nations. They were greeting him a happy birthday, but he couldn't exactly believe it. They might be pranking him. He checked his calendar, and realized it was April 23, 2019.

"Oh," he muttered. He completely forgot that it was his birthday, but even if he knew about it, it wouldn't be that special. He had no time for celebrations, but he would appreciate it if you would notice it was his birthday.

He just sat there, staring at objects with boredom, and thinking about his plans for the day, until the phone in his hand started ringing. He answered the call, not even looking at the caller's name.

"Mon dieu, Britain! I have tried to call you countless times but you never answered me!"

"You bloody frog," he replied, immediately recognizing that it was France.

"Don't be so cranky, mon cher. It's your birthday!"

"Don't mon cher me. It's my birthday and it had to start out by talking to this pile of rubbish. How lovely."

"How rude. You're wasting your birthday. It's already eleven in the morning. You only have thirteen hours to celebrate! Why not you come to my house and I'll treat you to some pastries, non?"

"I'll pass. I'll just go to the pub and have a few pints. Now leave me alone, wanker."

"You're so boring, Britain. But alright. If you need me to pick you up, I'll be there." He could feel Francis wink through the phone. He replied with a "Okay, now shut up, you utter twat," and ended the call.

Arthur felt delighted by all the greetings. He was okay with just those. Before, usually no one would even notice. However, he felt empty, almost burdened. He was missing something, someone. That someone would wake up at exactly midnight and walk to his room to greet him. That someone would keep him company all day. But, that someone had already slipped away from him.

He remembered that day vividly, like it was just yesterday. It was like he stopped living fruitfully after that day. It was the day where he lost his purpose along with all the efforts he put into achieving it. He had lost someone dear to him, and it was his fault.

He was only a child. He must have felt so alone before he was found by Arthur and was considered as his younger brother. He was so cheerful, but Arthur took that joy away. He was abused, until he couldn't stand it. He wanted freedom. And so that day occurred. He came with an army, while Arthur was by himself. Even when Arthur had the chance to pull the trigger, he didn't. He couldn't. He only fell to his knees, his tears mixing with the heavy rain.

The younger brother stood before the crying Arthur. He was on the muddy ground with his knees to his chest. He looked so small. This sight seemed familiar. But it was reversed- Arthur standing before him, holding out a caring hand. "Let's go, America!"

Arthur didn't feel like reminiscing further. All he wanted to do was drink and accept the solitude he deserved for being a bad brother. He vowed never to colonize another nation.

The brit left his massive house at noon, and quietly walked to the nearest pub.

The chimes jingled and the scent of liquor filled his nose as he opened the doors. There were very little people, and he didn't want to bother them. He took a seat facing the bartender.