Circle & Square - Yellowstone (Hetalia fanfiction)

Chapter 7

Note: The Italics means that it is deliberately crossed out, I just didn't know how to do that on wattpad... hehehe...

Chapter 7

A loud sound woke me up from a well-deserved sleep, being awake constantly for days to work and care for Canada was too much of a stress even for a country, but just as I finally had a chance to rest for a few hours, more things happen...

'England, England wake up. Somebody's at the door.' I opened my eyes a little only to see a pair of large blue eyes staring down at me.

'What are you doing, you pervert?' I stretched lazily, covering my previously exposed chest with my duvet while reaching for my clothes.

'I promise, this time I really am not doing anything weird, there is someone at the door and I don't think it is appropriately for me to open the door for you. And by the way, he looked really worried so you better hurry up.' He, who-shall-not-be-named, smirked and waved goodbye at me before walking back to his 'room'.

'Mr Kirkland.' An unfamiliar young man asked me, his strong American accent apparent, hearing this, my heart started to beat fast. Who is he? Maybe he has news from America? Is America still alive? Is he okay? Is...

'Mr Kirkland?'

'Oh, yes, that is me, and you are...'

'I am Toby Miles, I just arrived at England from Washington, a young man I met at Washington asked me to bring this to you.' I looked down and saw a thick parcel, wrapped tightly in cello-tape as if the content inside was something very precious.

'America? You are from America? What was the young man's name? Was it Alfred F. Jones? Was he okay? Is he coming here?'

'Sir –, Mr Kir – , Plea – , Slow do –, Sir, please, I can't answer any of the questions if you don't slow down. He didn't tell me his name, and I am really sorry, but the plane I got on was the last one coming from the capital, therefore, I am really sorry... for you loss...'

I didn't comment further, I could feel the sadness and almost disappointment even though I knew that America will not leave his country even until the end. I smiled at him and took the parcel he handed to me. With him saying a few words of empathy and reassurance, I thanked him and finally closed the door.

'England? What was it about?' A voice shouted from upstairs.

'Nothing, just a call for a meeting from the boss. I need to go now, it seemed to be urgent.' I lied and opened the front door once again, ignoring the sharp cold air that didn't seem to exist a few second ago. Without waiting for a reply from France, I quickly walked out holding the parcel so he, who-can-see-through-every-lies, wouldn't have time to question me further.

Walking quickly towards nowhere, I finally arrived at the park I used to go to, being in central London, such a quiet and peaceful place was not numerous, and this has always been the perfect spot of relaxation, the birds chirped, the leaves and branches danced in the air in tempo with the quiet and solemn wind, not a soul was around, occasionally a distance shout could be heard, but right now, this is heaven in London.

I hesitated.

Should I really open this now?

Am I really ready for what is in there?

I didn't hesitate further, breaking the cello-tape with my bare hands, I ripped the parcel. Envelopes fell down from my laps onto the ground, I bent down to pick them up, only to pause a little as I recognised the writing on the fronts of the envelopes. That familiar handwriting of his, oh god, I really have gone mad, everything I see reminded me of him, I shook my head and picked them up one by one, reading the names on the front.