Remember Me: A Hetalia Fanfic

Chapter 12

England's POV~

"GAHHH!!" I shouted for dear life.

I woke up with a pounding headache, and the light killed everything inside my skull.

I hid my head underneath the blankets, and then realized that I was not in my bed. I did not own a dark green blanket.

Lovely. It just gets better, doesn't it?

I tried not to curse. I figured it wouldn't be gentlemanly.

I immediately sat up and looked at my surroundings. Surprisingly enough, there were not many wall decorations. The only thing that was placed on the wall was a simple red, gold, and black tricolor striped flag. So I was in Germany's house... That was odd.

I glanced at the little digital clock standing on the bedside table, with much discomfort.

1:57 PM.

I overslept. I never overslept.

I jolted out of Germany's (hopefully guest) bed, and noticed my messy clothes. My button-down long sleeve polo shirt was messed up at the collar, and the first two buttons were unbuttoned. Not only that, but there was a huge purplish stain in the middle, and the shirt was super wrinkled. My dress pants were no better. My shoes were placed on the floor near the bed. Of course, the stain on my shirt smelled like alcohol; a sign I was most likely at a bar.

"I'm such a darned twat," I told myself, removing my stained and alcohol-scented shirt.

There was a small knock on the door.

"Yes?" I asked, curious as to who was there. The person behind the door opened it.

"Good morning, Eng- Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were changing your shirt," an embarrassed Sarah told me.

She looked down at the floor with her embarrassed red face.

"Gah!" I exclaimed pretty loudly with rage, not quite expecting her to be at the door, "No... no, it's fine. It's only my shirt. And I...don't have another one to change into."

It being fine was an obvious lie. My face had been on fire from the blushing. A gentleman should never show this much skin until after he is married. Therefore, I covered my torso with the blanket from on the bed.

I folded and placed the dirty shirt on the bed and started, "May I just ask, did I get... really drunk last night?"

"Really drunk doesn't sum it up," she informed me.

Even better, isn't it?

"Did I do something... bad?" I asked.

"I don't know, I only came when America sent me a text to go pick you two up."

"America was with me?" I asked in shock.

We never went to the bar together.

She nodded, keeping her gaze on the plain wooden floor.

"Would you like me to ask Germany if he has any spare shirts for you to borrow?" she asked.

"Yes, please that would be much appreciated," I replied.

Within a quick motion, she turned around and left closing the door behind her.

I sighed.

"I hope I didn't pull anyone's curl," I muttered to myself, thinking of all the bad things drunk me could have done.

I unwrapped the blanket from my torso, and paced the room, my way of getting my mind off things.

"God, I am so stupid," I told myself, "a bar with America? Was I mad?"