Hetalia: Reader x? 9

Where we left off in Hetalia: Reader x? part 8...

..."You can't walk at all after popping your ankle back into place….." he pauses dramatically.

"That means I get to carry you around." Alfred mischievously says, and stands up carrying younger you bridal style.

You look at the two and think, 'They look like a couple. Wait, Alfred looks like he's maybe 16 and younger me looks like 12. What the heck? A 16 year old and a 12 year old, dating?'

You let that thought sink in.

"What the hell?" you say out loud.

And after that, you felt your normal self-begin to wake up out of its unconscious state. You watched the two a little bit more before the scene faded away and found yourself in the room that Feliciano and you passed by.

"Why am I here and not eating the pasta that Feli's been talking so much about?" you ask aloud.

Oh! And there may be a mild case of cussing here and there, it's just mild though. Nothing that drastic. >w< Please enjoy!
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"Well (f/n), you passed out! Do you still want some pasta though?" Feliciano asks you.

"Sure!" and you get up off of the couch you were on.

"Hey Alfred." you suddenly say when you saw the American. And begun to walk away with Feliciano. But you suddenly stopped when you thought over what you just said.

'Wait, why did I call him that?' and you look over at him.

'He looks like that guy from that flashback thingamajig. But minus the glasses.' you think, but shake it off and continue to walk off with Feliciano.

~America's pov~

'Did she just?' he thought, while he watched you walk away.

'Maybe America. York would never forget someone like you, but she did even forget. She'd still be able to remember you somehow.' he thinks wistfully.

And he walks outside for some air. To him, the air in the room somehow felt heavy.

~normal pov~

"So (f/n), what kind of pasta do you want?" Feliciano happily asks you.

"Whatever you have, I'm fine with any kind." you reply.

"Great!" he says and the both of you reach the kitchen.

"Ve~fratello, (f/n) wants some pasta and I want some too!" Feliciano tells Romano.

"Qualsiasi tipo di pasta farà." you tell Romano, he looks over at you.

"Va bene." he replies. And you smile.

'So worth learning Italian.' And then, you suddenly notice there were more people in the kitchen than before. You looked around for the people that were there originally before you passed out. And then, you saw Antonio.

"Antonio, why are there so many people in here?" you ask him.

"Oh, I-, uh… I don't know how to explain it (f/n)." he tells you while scratching his neck.

"Oh." and you continue to look all around the room. All their faces were very familiar to you, but you just couldn't place where. You began thinking of why though, but it lead you into a deep thinking phase.

'Why would they seem familiar to me, even though I have never seen them before? Maybe I saw them when I was walking somewhere. Yes, that. That could be the reason.'

And then you began to wring your hands and then, you pulled your attention to your hands.

'That wringing, it was like father's when someone was starting to… starting to what?' and you run your hand through your hair.

'Wait, didn't I also dye my hair on accident also?' And you try to sift through your memories of this happening, but something was literally stopping you. Leading you to your hand into the counter behind you.

'I know I dyed my hair, it wasn't always this (h/c). I know it.' you mentally tell yourself. Then, you finally remembered.

~memory~

"Prussia!" you shouted when you saw your hair.

"Yeah Evie?" you heard him yell back.

"What the hell did you do to my shampoo?" you yell. You then chose to wring it out with a towel and then tried to kill him.

"Is it permanent?" you ask him, menacingly.

"Not exactly." he says.

"But it does come out." France backs up Prussia.

"It better."

~end of memory~

"So France and Prussia messed with my hair?" you quietly tell yourself. Countries, again.

"Hey, (f/n). Hey." you heard someone say while also poking you.

"What?" you tell the person. You then look up and see it's Feliciano.

"Oh, is the pasta ready?" you ask him.

"Si!" and he holds up a bowl of pasta.

You could not saying pasta happily after seeing it. And the two of you walked over to the table and set up to eat, just the plates and utensils.

You then thought about the other people in the kitchen and thought it was bad manners to just eat while others might want to eat also.

"Uhm, Feli. You don't mind if the others eat also, right?" you ask him. He perks up after hearing you.

"Sure! Hey everyone, who wants to eat some pasta?!" Feliciano asks everyone.

A chorus of yes, alrights, and why not's went up. You smiled at this and the others also chose to sit down at the table.

"Alright, now... It seems like were missing one person." the British guys says.

"Da, I believe it's America." the Russian answers. Then, all of the people at the table stopped moving and stared wide-eyed at him. There was tension and anxiousness in the air right now.

"Are you talking about Alfred?" you ask him.

"Oh! Of course. Sorry about that Miss…?" the Russian asks.  

"(f/n)." you tell him.

"Oh! It's nice to meet you Miss (f/n). My name is Ivan Braginski." he introduces himself.

"Nice to meet you too. Now, who shall get Alfred?" you ask them. You were still confused as to why you called him Alfred, but you just left that thought alone for now.

"I will." the British answered. You look over to him and smile.

"Thanks, but I think you'll have a hard time finding him… what's your name?" you ask him.

"My bad, Arthur Kirkland. And I think I'll be able to find Alfred easily enough." and he then leaves the kitchen.

"Oh! We're also missing my sister, Nataliya." Ivan suddenly says, after Arthur leaves.

"I-I'll go and find her." another person says while standing up.

"Of course, the more the merrier!" you say happily. Unknown to you, the nations were mostly smiling sadly or sighing when you said that, most were relieving a memory.

"What's your name?" you ask him, he had shoulder length brown hair with greenish-hazelish eyes. You also noticed he had an accent, like most people in the room, a European accent to be exact.

"Toris, Toris Laurinaitis. Miss (f/n)." he answers politely. You then chuckle at his politeness, no one's been this polite to you before.

"Don't be so polite all the time, relax a little." You tell him with a smile.

The Baltics, all of them, end up smiling and remembered someone saying that to them before.