France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Thirty-Four- Draw a Circle, That's the Earth

"We'll have a ten minute recess!", I call out quickly, and that seems to catch everyone's attention. 

I watch as everyone quickly flees from their seats, starting to socialize, go to the bathroom, or the vending machine in America's case. It was really hard getting used to calling everyone by their country. Sometimes I still revert to their human names- earning multiple glares and disapproving looks. Of course, I still call Peter 'Peter'. He'll never be England to me. 

Me and Peter have become known throughout the world as the beginning of the next generation of countries. That got us popular- really, really quick. The press started asking the others when they were going to retire, and who they'd choose for their replacement. The fact of the matter is, there's no human in their lives that they'd trust with the job of being a country. I understand that now. I would never give this position to some random french citizen- They'd destroy France!

"That went.. well", Canada strolls up to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. 

"Tais-toi", I laugh, leaning against him. "Nobody takes me seriously."

"Nobody takes anything seriously here. You should know that."

"I really should", I roll my eyes, only to catch Peter staring at us enviously.

Right. Peter. 

For a while, he assumed we'd be a couple. I guess all the confidence from finally growing up and being recognized as a nation got to his head, and when he saw Papa and England together, all happy and cozy, he thought that me and him would be like that. I remember when he tried to flirt with me during a World Meeting. Poor Canada, he was too awkward and frigid to stand up and intercept it. Of course, I handled it by punching him- as hard as I possibly could. He got the message, and never tried to come onto me again. Still, we end up fighting more than necessary. I can't help it! Teasing him is so much fun. We had our first war not too long ago! Of course.. we called a truce. We're both still babies with a huge country. It wasn't our best decision, but mon dieu he was getting annoying. 

"Are you coming to the party after the meeting?", I ask, turning back to Canada and fixing his tie for him. "Everyone's going.."

"I wouldn't miss it", He grins, and kisses the tip of my nose gently. 

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Three Hours Later...

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"Happy birthday, Papa!", I grin, tossing streamers and balloons every which way, alongside the others. 

I chose a good hospital when Papa fell ill. They agreed to push his bed next to England's. They spend every day next to each other, and still fight and kiss and make up as if they were still in their golden days. 

Papa hasn't been doing so good for a while now. Then again, he's an old man. His skin is wrinkly, hair grey and stringy. The handsome face from his youth is only visible if you stare hard at his softened features. The same goes for England- except he's doing worse. They keep him on a respiration machine, an I.V drip connected deep into his veins. We all know his time is coming soon, but none of us dare to say it. 

"Charlie!", He grins, spreading out his arms, his voice hoarse and fragile. I quickly skip over and give him a gentle, yet tight hug. "I missed you!"

"I was here just yesterday!", I laugh, running over and hugging England. "How are you, ya old Brit?"

"I've been better", He coughs a bit, sitting up. Everyone seems worried- I know they want to help in some way or another. "How is Peter? Has he ruined my country yet?"