Chapter 6: Nostalgia,Karma,and Drama

                                    

                                          
I'm so sorry for the long hiatus, but freshman year is worse than I thought. I would love to write more, but the stacks of homework every night keeps growing. With that being said, if any of u would like to volunteer to complete my AP Human Geo work,  I'll be updating way more often. (BTW when I put France's dialogue in italic, it means he's speaking french) 

                          
Thank you all for reading my fanfic, and supporting me when there was the uncertainty of another update. It's insane that I could even have 217 notifications. I love it when you guys comment on my fics! All your messages and thoughts really keep me going.
                          
NOW WHAT YOU"VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR
                          
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"What is your problem, cat?" France says as I struggle out of his arms. If this half-wit would have looked at the paper for longer than 3 seconds, I would have been out of this mess! I would have been at home! I would have politely thanked him and the boys and they would have gone home without any worries! So if this twat wants to ask what my problem is, he can go look in that mirror!
                          
I hiss at him, trying to get my point across. He bends down and restrains me from leaving. He looks me dead in the eye and starts his speech.
                          
"I know you don't understand this, but I have just lost someone very dear to me." I've never heard him talk to anyone like this. Both accent and pitch were bolder. I may never say this out loud but it was attractive. "I may never see or hear from him again. I want him to be safe, and I can't find that out with your nonsense. He could be anywhere on the face of the earth; suffering, Isolated...." His distressed eyes drifted away for a moment and his grip became tighter," ... with another lover." He instantly released me as he stood up. 
                          
What was that all about? He doesn't actually think I would be in love with someone, much less someone in love with me?  Why does he care anyway? The last time I've felt passion was a century ago. France and I would fight like our fate depended on it. Sometimes after a war, we would do something romantic to ease the tension. ha, that was such a long time ago. I wonder if he even remembers those times.
                          
"Hello, is this the Irish brothers?" I turn around the corner to see France on the telephone. What was he doing calling my brothers? The things they know about me is enough to classify me on a morgue table, and I would like to keep it that way. "Hello Ireland, I was calling to see if you knew anything about your brother England?" There was a long pause, with audible screaming on the other end. "I'm sorry! I'll be more cautious when- No no I never meant to!" The screaming stopped, and France tried another brother.
                          
 He continued this cycle of screaming when he ran out of brothers. I was enjoying myself listing to France flabbergasted at my brother's insults. After a couple of minutes of twiddling his thumbs, he called another number. I started at him questioning who was on the other end. I only have so many brothers, was he going to try my colonies? He knows just as well as I do, my colonies want nothing to do with me.
                          
"Hello, Norway. I was calling to see if you knew where England is?"
                          
It became quite. Why would he call Norway?
                          
"Yes, I've seen a map before. I was referring to the physical embodiment of England."
                          
It became quite. 
                          
"Yes, I acutely care about him! Do you know where he is?"

                          


                          
It became quite. What help would he be?
                          
"I've already searched his house. It looks like he just up and left his house. I searched in his study and a book was left open."
                          
The quite was short this time.
                          
"How should I know what book it was? The pages were blank!"
                          
Blank? I know we are becoming old, but he should have seen at least the titles.
                          
"I don't know why he would be reading an invisible book. Maybe he put a spell on the text so only wizards can see it."
                          
I could perform an act like that when I was a child! In fact, I completed that spell on a transformation book when we children because I didn't want France to read it and turn me into his pet.
                          


                          


                          
oh shit