Chapter Thirty-Three
A New Door Opens
"I'm just saying this isn't the most stealthy path or plan we could be following right now."
"I understand the concern but this is what we're doing so kindly back the fuck up, Arthur."
Woah, where did that come from? Didn't realize we were a bitch now.
The nation stopped in his tracks, clearly aghast in the dropped jaw and hand held to his chest to hold the wounded ego.
"There is no need to take such a rude tone with me!" Arms crossed over his chest as Arthur continued to follow behind us, "Why does everyone think they can be so rude to me. I came along to avoid petty squabbles like this, not induce more headaches for myself." Once he caught back up with us, I rubbed a hand down my face in hopes of brushing the anger with it.
"I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean for that to come out. It's just- after the whole post office thing-" My hands started moving with each new sentence, trying to shape the explanation I couldn't even create. I did a final motion with flexed hands then let my arms fall in defeat. "I don't know... I'm just tense." Arthur's own glare softened and the crossed arms returned to his sides. A silent acceptance of the feelings I wasn't able to vocalize but he knew all too well. The nation to my left, however, didn't pick up on the touch moment of connection.
"Well, you did yell at the secretary to get the address..." Vladimir said with a pointer finger raised in objection. A glance out of my peripherals was enough for him to retract the finger and motion for his lips to be zipped shut. I flashed an exaggerated smile that quickly fell away as I refocused on the path.
It was an impeccable sidewalk. Not a single crack in the smooth, slate colored concrete. Each square aligned perfectly with the next, creating a continuous path that lies between beautifully manicured lawns that bust with bright colors of green grass and rainbow flowers. How much money did it cost to make this path? How much money did it cost to live next to this path?
I didn't realize the post office paid this much.
It doesn't.
The houses of architectural mastery continued to solidify my hypothesis. No postal worker is going to live in this area without significant financial backing. My feet slowed as the awaited number appeared next to me. 637 painted in a looping green calligraphy decorated the mailbox. The house it belonged to was just as sophisticated as the ones to the left and right. Glancing behind me, I expected to see a neighborhood watch staring us down as though an alarm sounded that we weren't nearly wealthy enough to be here. But the street stood empty, and calm in the mid-afternoon sunlight.
"What are we waiting for? Let's get this over with!" Vlad started strutting up to the door, pausing with his hand raised for a knock. He reeled back his hand and went to rap it against the wood but froze a second time. Turning around, he gestured with an open hand.
"Would you like the honors, ___?" he asked, grin faltering slightly to show the uncertainty below. I sighed but walked up the small path to the door anyway. Arthur followed behind with his own silent curiosity. Unlike Vladimir, Arthur had no idea who stood behind this door nor what it meant for us to be seeking them out. He stood next to me atop the doorstep as I raised my hand and let it fall twice against the wood.
The knock rang throughout the neighborhood, shattering the silence I didn't realize was so fragile. I glanced behind us once again, feeling as though I'd broken a rule by knocking on the door. We waited on the step with held breath. I hoped the door would open without the need of a second knock. I feared the neighborhood would be less accommodating after a second intrusion of its rich saturated peace.

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Hetachains (Rewritten Hetalia Reader Insert)
FanfictionThey say things in life happen for a reason. Every little sway of the wind has purpose flowing inside it. But it seems reason took a day off when creating you. Especially when deciding to send you a cardboard box marked only with 'To ____ ____'. Th...