Sinful Nostalgia | Hetalia

11 || The Gift of Guilt

I stand in line at a new Canadian convenience store, only stopping by because I wanted a quick breakfast. I was on my way to go visit Feliciano, just to see how he was doing. Of course, I could never forget what was said between us at my last visit. Right in front of Lovino, too. Was Feliciano really just loopy? Probably so. Nobody would conciously say that to the person who caused their physical distress. Especially if that person was me.

When it was my turn, I made my way up to the cashier. For a moment, I didn't think I could see the person working the register. "Hello?" I call, looking around. When I look back, to my surprise, I found a young girl with curled blonde pigtails waiting. Awkwardly, and feeling a bit guilty for calling out her name when she was just before me, I set the pancakes on the table before me. "O-oh, s-sorry, I didn't see you at first."

"I get that a lot..." the cashier mumbles, putting the money I put on the counter in her register. "Would you like maple syrup with that, eh?" I nod my head, and she slips the packets in the bag that she had put the boxed pancakes in. The name on her name tag read Meg. "Thank you so much for shopping here!" She beams at me, and I take the bag.

"Thank you," I tell her, then look around the shop, since nobody was behind me. "Did you guys just open? It's really big." It was sort of a gas-station (hence the pumps outside), mixed with a restaraunt and a gift shop.

"Yes, we opened about a month ago," the apparent Meg informs me. "Would you be interested in buying something from our gift shop?"

I glance around, thinking that buying something for Feliciano wouldn't hurt. After all, he was in the hospital. I didn't want him to be down, though I wasn't really worried. The main thing I was worried about was what I was supposed to say. I was also sort of anxious as to what Lovino would say to me, since yesterday he didn't really have time to tell me off.

"Can I buy that bear?" I point to a fluffy white teddy bear that had a red t-shirt, with the Canadian maple leaf engraved in white. Reverse colors, I think.

"Yes, of course," Meg smiles. "Are you buying for a special someone?" She scans the bear, the question as innocent as can be, but yet... I bristled for a moment. How special was Feliciano to me? It was too embarrassing to tell the real answer.

"I-I just have a friend who's been hospitalized," I mutter. "In that wreck last night."

"Aha," Meg nods. "Well, here's the cute little guy!" She was referring to the teddy bear as she hands it to me. "Shop here again soon, eh?"

"I think I will."

***

The hospital was just far enough that I had to take the bus down there. It smelt of dirty people, and feet. Feet in particular, I think. I could hear an English woman chatting with her boyfriend casually - "And then I accidentally burnt the scones! Oh, the disaster!"- and a Spaniard strumming a guitar with a serene expression on his face.

It made me think of how America is such a huge mixing pot. There are so many people from different countries here, from the Greek hippy who sits on the side of the road with a hoarde of cats, to the Canadian girl who works at the convenience store, to a happy-go-lucky pasta-loving Italian who sat in the hospital with a hurt foot. It even included the German girl who couldn't remember her past. Me. It was interesting in a way, and much more... colorful.

"I'm sorry, dudette. I love you, but I think I've had enough scones for today."
"Aw, you really ate that much?"
"Yes, yes of course!"
"Good! Since you love them so much, I will send you home with extra!"

I smile quietly to myself at the sound of the English woman and her slang-speaking boyfriend chatting. They care about each other. That much was obvious, even when I didn't even know their names. The man pretending to love her cooking. The woman trying to make sure he was happy. It was standard boyfriend-girlfriend relationship.

"We are now at the hospital stop," a voice crackles over the speakers. That included me as the people who were going to visit sick or injured loved ones filed off the bus. My feet touch the concrete ground, and I marvel at how large the hospital looked from out here.

When I was first going, I was in such a state that I couldn't really take it all in. The building was towering, with a large white cross emblazoned on the roof. People went in and out, ambulances parked just outside. Feliciano was in this place, up in that same little room. Just the thought fueled me to go straight inside, and up to the wing in which he rested in. Lovino was sure to yell at me today, but I don't care.

I enter in the sterilized building, which smelt of cleaning supplies, medicine, and slightly... fragrant. Making my way up to the front desk in the lobby, I find the same Japanese girl who had asked us to leave yesterday. "Good morning," she greets quietly. "I am the subsitute front desk for today, so anything you need, please let me know." She had a tendancy to replace her l's for r's when she spoke.

"I would like to see Feliciano Vargas," I tell her, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

"I will go and see if he is ready for visitors," the girl informs me. "Could I perhaps have your name and relationship with the patient, please?"

"Monica Bielschmidt," I tell her, then think for a moment. "I... am his friend."

"Alright, Miss, I will be with you shortly." And the Japanese nurse walks off into the halls.

I wait for what seems like forever, until the Japanese nurse returns, a clipboard in hand. "He is waiting for you," she tells me, and the smallest of smiles graced her lips. "He is most eager to see you. His room is number 248."

"Thank you." And with that, I walk away and down the halls, searching for room number 248.