A Guide to Happiness || A Hetalia Fanfiction

-Chapter 2-

A clenched fist slammed down onto the alarm clock, breaking it. Splinters of plastic lodged themselves into the man's hand, and tiny waterfalls of blood trickled and pooled onto the wooden bedside table. "5 more minutes" An American accent grumbled as he pulled the covers over his head. He knew he had to get up soon, but he also knew that the others would set up the meeting with or without him.

What seemed like a few minutes later, America got out of bed. The bleeding hand picked up Texas and placed it on the bridge of the American's nose. It was at that precise moment that the sky-blue-eyed man realised he had an injury. A variety of obscenities soon left the man's mouth.

Once all the yelling had subsided, America treated his hand. Luckily, the wound was incredibly easy to treat. Then, ringtone for his phone resonates the air.

'It's probably Iggy or something' The American thinks as he picked up his phone.

"Wassup? The Hero's speaking" He answered,  his voice peppy as if he had been awake for hours. "America? Where are you?" So, It's France. . . What could the Frenchman want from him? "The meeting started hours ago! The Rosbif was right. . . you really are just like an overgrown infant!" The rest of France's berating became white noise for the American. Shit. . . He hadn't meant to be THIS late. America practically ran around his hotel room getting dressed and all. He hung up on the Frenchman as he ran out of his room, food would actually have to wait for once.

As he reached the meeting room, he was met with unsettling silence. Something weird in the scary way must of happened, even he, one of the most oblivious nation's, could see that. His pace slowed in caution and slight fear, and he gently turned the doorknob to the left.

The atmosphere the room held could suffocate even the most oblivious. Many pairs of eyes bore into America's soul, all holding slight varients of the same emotions. For once, the self-proclaimed hero felt awkward about his tardy punctuality.

"Ah, America, please take a seat" Germany's voice dripped with grave seriousness, like the American's very own when he and that Commie were discussing the fall of the Berlin Wall. Glancing around the room, the man noticed that some of his friends were missing.

The walk to his assigned seat was agonizingly slow, it was humiliating really. But America tried to not let all the stares and glares get to him. Sitting down in his seat, America asked: "So. . . What'd I miss?". No one answered the American's question for a good 30 seconds, they shared undescrible looks instead.

"Well," The host, Italy, started: " England, Denmark and South Korea haven't arrived. They never checked into any hotel and never actually landed in my land. We tried to call them but to no prevail" Italy's voice was scattered and was full of fear: "They might of gotten kidnapped or-"

"That's enough, Italy" Germany ordered, but it was much softer. It seemed like it was an attempt to calm the frantic Italian down.

"Kidnapped? I highly doubt it" America huffed as he got his notes and notepad out. Kidnapped? Really? Knowing these people as well as he did, they probably never bothered to show up.

"Ah, I also called Éscosse to check up on the Rosbif" France added, saying 'Rosbif' with venom, though it was plain to see that the Frenchman was deeply concerned for his long-term rival.

"Okay, shall we start?" Germany asked rhetorically, and the meeting commenced. It went unusually smooth for once. 'It must have something to do with those who are missing' The German thought. There really wasn't any other explanation.

"Alright, break is now starting. Meet back in here 30 minutes from now" Germany ordered. Slowly but surely, everyone filed out.

---
Over the first half, China had grown increasingly worried for Im Yung Soo, also known as South Korea. Yes, the younger had always been a pain in the ass but the elder cared for him as they were family.

"China-san? Have you heard amything about South Korea-san yet?" Japan asked, his face and voice filled with concern. China sighed before replying: "Not yet, but I'll see if I can find out anything aru". The remaining 25 minutes of break passed unbearably quick.

Once the half hour was up, countries filed back in, holding idle conversations with each other. Then France walked in.

The Frenchman looked utterly deafeated, his eyes were wide in disbelief and some abstract sort of fear. It looked as if someone had dropped a bombshell on or set Paris alight infront of him. As he sat down in his designated chair, a lone tear trickled down his cheek. The tears fell rapidly and like a waterfall down the Frenchman's face, it was a little more than weird to see such a strong-willed nation break down crying at seemingly nothing. It was as if he had finally come to grips with something that he should of known.

"France? What's wrong?" Prussia asks in a worried tone, his purplish-red eyes glimmering with a flurry of emotions.

The Frenchman doesn't answer but he does look up to face the ex-nation. Those indigo eyes bore a certain type of grief that only a few nations have experienced. Prussia, being one of those nations, knew that something horrible had happened.

"Francis?" The Prussian asks once more using his human name: "What happened?" The response that the entire room received was one that they hoped to never here.

"Arthur" France used the Englishman's human name: "He-He's dead! He-" A deathly silence befell them: "He killed himself!"

---
Damn Inky! Back at it again with the angst and dead memes

--*shot*

Oh yeah, as no one guessed the three nations right, this chapter is getting dedicated to myself-

I hope you enjoyed it, I'm not sure if it's good but I tried when writing it okay?