Artistic Minds- A Hetalia Fanfiction

Enderman

The air was atypically humid, even though it was late fall. A strange liquid was dripping from my mouth, bitter yet strangely satisfying. The image around me was reduced to fuzzy colors and lights. Conflicting emotions and thoughts entered my mind as I wandered around, unaware of my own movement. 

I felt myself bump into someone. It was a man, taller than me, with large bulging muscles. His eyes were half open as he stumbled from his seat to point his sausage of a finger in my direction.

"Oi!" he yelled, his voice slurring. It was all a blur to me, a random noise rising above many others. "An' what do you think you're doin'?"

I flinched away, an involuntary jerk that caused me to trip over a table leg behind me. My elbows were the first to hit the floor, grinding a layer of skin off. The man loomed over me, his presence seeming to cast an intimidating aura around to those around him. They backed away as I felt his meaty hand snatch the collar of my shirt. My entire body moved upward until my face met his. I helplessly struggled against him, watching the man's lips parting into a drunken smile. My foot shot up abruptly at that moment, landing into the 'soft spot' right between his legs. His grip loosened, and I used this opportunity to break free, crouching low onto the floor. Loud yells surrounded me.

My hands clenched as he recovered from the blow, staggering towards me with uninhibited hatred in his gaze. There was no reason for our conflict, just the very fact that the man and I existed enraged us. It was an atemporal feeling, one that couldn't be explained by the main senses that control the everyday being of our lives. 

In short, we were both very, very drunk.

Swiftly, I dodged one of his sluggish blows, grabbing hold of a table. More yells were heard. I let out a grunt, feeling the furniture rise. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I plunged it towards him, beer bottles and glasses flying in all directions. The man was knocked back, in no time he lay unconscious. Woody splinters scratched his body, blood spurting out of his mouth and nose. The glasses exploded into jagged shards, slicing my hands and legs, and that of others. Rage was blind now, and hadn't been lost as I felt another hand grip the back of my shirt, lifting me up into the air. By then, darkness enveloped my consciousness, and I closed my eyes, letting it take hold.

I woke up in a bed. The first thing I saw was Zealand, his face creased with anger as he set a wet towel on my forehead. He was castigating, loudly, but I could barely make out what he was saying due to the ringing of my ears and a terrible migraine. Next to him was Wy. Her hair was down for once, sticking out in awkward directions as if she had just been sleeping. She was in her pajamas, her eyes red.

"You bloody idiot." Toby's voice was a weary yet furious hiss as he snatched a cup of water. "I tell you every time not to drink too much, yet you had to the moment my back was turned. You never listen to me. Aussies never listen." He was grumbling as he handed the water towards me. 

"I'm fine," I began.

"You are not fine!" he glared at me, and I sensed this would be the beginning of a long tirade. "Is telling Wy and I that you were going on a date and ending up knocking a random person out in a bar fine?" He poured the water in my mouth, and I choked, not expecting the sudden act. Wy whimpered. I reached out to reassuringly pat her head, but Zealand smacked my hand. 

"Wendy, go to bed and sleep," I rasped, desperate for her to leave. "This doesn't concern you." 

"No. It does concern her." the Kiwi now had an acidic tone. "Because I don't think that poor Wy deserves to have an alcoholic as a big brother. Honestly, Jett, the worst future I can see for her is growing up to be exactly like you." At that, I suddenly felt myself jolt backwards, the same movement I would make if Zealand had slapped me right across the face. The inevitable truth of the words stung harder than they should have. I could help but notice Wy, tears falling down her face, rolling to her chin. She took a step back, looking down and letting out a couple of muffled sobs. Despite the aching protests of my limbs, I moved towards her.

"Wendy..." I pleaded. 

"No," she whispered, her voice quivering. She turned around and ran, the sobs escalating into full-on crying.

"Wendy!" I cried out. Zealand's features softened as he observed me, almost sympathetically. He gently placed his hand on my arm. I flinched away.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, shifting his feet awkwardly. "But I'm being honest. You can't live like this. It's no wonder she wants to be around Sealand all the time."

"You're right."

"Wait, I am?"

"Yes, you are, sheepbutt." I was aware about how irritable I was being, even with the efforts Zealand was taking to help me out. He had always done so, throughout countless hangovers, taking time out of his life to take care of his rival country. I always did take it for granted, but it wasn't until then I realized how much he cared about me, like a brother. 

If only Wy would see me the same way.