Perseverance (Hetalia [FrUK])

Chapter 2 - The Struggle

A few days after the initial phonecalls, Canada found himself on a plane flight with his brother, America. Of course, he wasn't all that surprised. Getting France and England to vacation at the same location had been an easy feat, but why stop there? Alfred F. Jones was a firm believer in the phrase 'Go big or go home'.

"So you chose to stalk them," said Matthew. "And you're dragging me with you."

"Of course," said Alfred, munching on a bag of peanuts. "It was your idea."

Matthew decided not to grace that statement with an answer. There was no arguing with Alfred once he'd determined who was right and who was wrong.

"I don't know about this, Al. Following them is risky. They'll definitely notice something is up."

"Dude, you're giving Arthur and Francis too much credit. Besides, if you're with me, nothing can go wrong."

I forget, thought Matthew. He's only doing this to alleviate his boredom.

"We're there to make sure they actually interact, Mattie. Anyway, wouldn't it be fun to watch them? It'll be like watching a sitcom!"

Yep, thought Matthew. I was right.

"So what's the plan, then?"

"You gave Francis the schedule, right? As long as he follows it, he'll run into Arthur for sure. First up, of course, is the dinner."

Alfred paused in the middle of what he was saying to sneeze. Some guy sitting behind them said 'Bless you' and Alfred gasped loudly, quick to return a grateful 'And bless you too!'

"He said bless you," Alfred said excitedly to Matthew. "He blessed me."

"Yes, God bless America, I get it," the Canadian mumbled.

This was going to be a long flight.

~*~*~

A few hours later | Honolulu International Airport | Gate 11

"What are we waiting around here for, Alfred?" asked Matthew. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And why are we hiding?"

The duo were waiting secretly behind a black marble pillar situated in front of the bathrooms, Alfred crouched down, and Matthew peering over his shoulder (kind of like their geography). It was the perfect position to scope out this terminal's gates, and the smell wasn't even all that bad.

Of course, the occasional person would walk by, on their way to relieve themselves, and they would happen to stumble upon and stare at the two nations. None of these people had bothered to mask their look of utter befuddlement as they passed. Alfred was oblivious to it as was his wont, and Matthew had been self-conscious about it at first, but now he'd gotten used to the feeling of stares and silent judging. It was somewhat of a dull throb in his dignity now. 

Alfred was gazing intently at his phone. "'Kay, Old Man Eyebrows texted me earlier and he said he was getting off at Gate 11 . . . Although I don't see him."

Matthew frowned.

"I know," said Alfred, nodding without taking his eyes off the phone. "I didn't think Artie could text at first, but he proved me wrong. He doesn't look like the type of person who'd get texting."

The Canadian's frown deepened. "No, not that. I was just thinking . . . He could've just left already."

"Nah, man. According to the schedule, the old Baguette Beard is supposed to be walking this way to claim his baggage. Artie's flight is supposed to arrive a bit before that."