Alfred F. Jones, the so called cheerful and obnoxious high school boy. He's the most loved and bright student in the Hetalia Academy. He's always so happy and nothing can change that.
At least that's what Alfred wants you to think...
He's not the bo...
They all thought America was going to wake up eventually but two months was too long it drived everyone crazy. There was nothing wrong with his mind (proven by the magic trio), no wounds nor bruises, the doctor and even the nations that are professional in medics told everyone that he is perfectly fine.
So what in the world was keeping their bubbly Alfred from coming back to the living?
That question kept on running in their minds whenever they come visit the sleeping American. Matthew cried out one time and kept on yelling at the peaceful looking nation to wake up! Please please please WAKE UP!
Russia and Sweden had to take him out of the room while England and Finland tried to calm him down but eventually, all nations also screamed or whimpered at Alfred desperately to just wake up at least once.
There wasn't any sign that can indicate he will ever wake up again. It scared them.
What if he won't ever wake up?
Another question that crushed them inside. They won't be able to talk to him, laugh with him, smile with him, eat with him, play with him or even just be with him.
They don't want to ever admit it, but they knew deep within their dreaded souls that there won't be bubbly Alfred anytime soon.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Everthing hurts.
That was the first thing that Alfred felt. Hurt. Pain ran all over his body like wildfire that he never really felt in his lifetime until now.
"-omebody down there!" a voice yelled as the air finally started to clear, revealing a still form. A boy laid there motionlessly, only his chest's faint rising and falling indicated that he was still alive. His clothes underneath his jacket were torn beyond recognition, but the remains of his once clean brown bomber jacket somehow survived whatever the hell the boy was in.
"Oh shit! What the fu-"
"Hey get it together man! We gotta help this dude outta here."
Alfred can hear something shifting towards him. He doesn't really care about that because pain Pain PAIN is what's running constantly in his mind.
None of his senses seemed to act normally. He tried to breathe but the simple act of respiration was beyond him. Muffled voices echoed around him, as if he was submerged in water.
He wants to tell them that 'HOLY MOTHEBRBSKCHSKCJ EVERYTHING HURTS DUDE!' Or an unusual simple sarcastic saying of 'Hey I think I just literally broke my ribs tryin to breath here. I'm pretty sure ya'll ain't a big fan of pain either so help me as soon as possible-' But he only managed to splurter out gibberish words.
"-ow in the world is he even alive!?"
"-id you call 911 yet?"
"I already did, they'll probably be here any minute now."
