Some Head Canons...for Everything

Hetalia ~ No...

"God, Arthur! YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO ANYMORE!"

"I CAN DO WHATEVER THE BLOODY HELL I WANT!" Arthur shouted at Alfred. The Brit felt tears stinging the edges of his eyes, but didn't let them spill over. No more tears are falling on Alfred's account, he thought to himself. He closed his eyes, so he didn't have to see his little brother's face contorted in rage. A loud thump sounded, and Arthur drew his eyebrows together, thinking that Alfred had kicked his coffee table out of anger; he'd done that before.

"Hey!" the older man shouted, eyes still clamped shut. "Don't you dare damage my property!"

To his surprise, the only reply that Alfred offered was a groan. Arthur's anger very quickly subsided to concern, and he opened one eye to see what was going on when he heard Alfred mutter dazedly, "...Arthur."

The noise he heard hadn't been Alfred kicking the table. It had been Alfred collapsing on the table for support. He squatted, one hand on the tabletop, the other pressed to his forehead. His big blue eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth formed into a grimace.

"Alfred?" Arthur questioned gently, taking a hesitant step forward. "Alfred, are you all right?" Alfred's breathing quickened slightly, and he opened his right eye. Arthur noticed a tear glistening there.

"Ah..." Alfred groaned again, taking his hand away from his face. Arthur saw the bright-red smear on his palm, and it took him a second to realize it was blood.

"Ouch," Alfred said, staring at his hand in shock, then feeling for the origin of the blood. "Damn." A deep cut went from the left side of his forehead to the right, then curved to the corner of his eye. A few red droplets glistened, along with the ones already starting to drip down his face.

"Alfred!" Arthur cried, running to Alfred's side. Alfred narrowed his eyes and tried to push Arthur away. "I'm fine," he slurred.

"No!" Arthur grabbed his shoulders. "No, you're not okay! You're hurt!"

"I ... I'm fine. I'm n-not a baby..."

Alfred fell limp in Arthur's arms. Arthur cried out, making a noise like he was being strangled. He felt that his "no more tears over Alfred" promise wouldn't hold up. "Alfred! Hey, wake up!"

Arthur tried to steady his breathing, but he couldn't. He stood, gently setting his unconscious brother on the ground, then paced back and forth. He couldn't think straight at all. Step. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Step.

Pulling out his phone, he punched in Francis's number.

"Francis," he said, the panic in his voice rather obvious.

"Arthur? What's wrong?"

"Francis, what do I do? Alfred was at my house. We were arguing, then suddenly, he fell over. He's got a gigantic gash on his forehead, he's bleeding, and he's unconscious. What do I do?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Francis yelled, "Call an ambulance, you idiot!"

"Okay, okay!" Arthur replied, his voice tight with emotion. Just as he was about to press the "off" button, he heard Francis mutter, "I'll be over there as soon as possible..."

~

The sky was clear. Alfred stood among the crowd of people, though he knew he wasn't really there. It was just a vision. Almost like a memory.

"That plane looks like..."

"Oh no..."

"Oh God..."

The people around him erupted in confusion and chaos. And that's when the pain came. Sharp and stabbing, it felt like someone had shoved a knife into his head and was slowly dragging it back and forth, opening up a wound that would never be healed.

Screaming. People were screaming, their cries piercing Alfred's fragile heart, bringing tears to his ocean-blue eyes.

And then he was part of it, part of the screaming, part of the panic, part of the pain. His head was going to explode. His brain was going to melt.

MATTIE

ARTHUR

WHERE ARE YOU?

~

"What's wrong with him, though?" Arthur asked, taking a shaky breath and looking at Francis across Alfred's limp body on his couch. Francis sighed as though he didn't care, but Arthur knew better. Francis cared. Of course Francis cared. Alfred was basically Francis and Arthur's son, after all they'd been through...not that Francis and Arthur were a couple.

"Should we tell Mattie?" questioned the Brit timidly. Francis looked up, seemingly snapped out of a daze.

"Of course we should tell Mattie!" he practically shouted, making Arthur cringe. Suddenly, Alfred stirred in his sleep and whispered, "They're going to die...so many people...dead..."

"That's it!" Francis said, springing up from his chair, while Arthur only looked at Alfred with fear and worry written all over his face. Francis scrambled to the television remote. Arthur nodded. Tears started to flow down the American's cheeks as he twitched and groaned.

"I haven't seen him like this since...well..." Arthur was stopped as he realized what was on the news. "Oh my god..." Francis stood with his mouth open, unable to look away. "No..." The buildings were on fire, they were burning, they were collapsing...they were gone.

"No. No. No. No. Francis, what...."

With a gasp, Alfred opened his eyes and jerked upwards. "Help me..." he begged to the other two. Francis nodded. He still seemed unable to speak. Arthur embraced his friend, pulling Alfred close. "Alfred, what happened?"

"I... I've been hurt..." Alfred whispered.

"Are you alright now?"

"No."

"But can you remember everything? What day is it?"

"September 11, 2001."

A/N: Right. So Hetalia, they're all countries. This was not meant to be disrespectful to 9/11 victims in any way. Please let me know if you think it was, and I will happily edit/remove this one-shot. I just promised just-beat-em-up that I would write this :)