Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. This story is, however, mine. Please enjoy.
Countries' names:
America: Alfred
Canada: Matthew
England: (not canon) Evan
Russia: (technically not canon) Ivan
China: (not canon) Cory
Prussia: (not canon) James
Germany: (not canon) Aldwin
Japan: (not canon) Darwin
Italy: (not canon) Edmundo
Romano: (not canon) Jason
Spain: (not canon) Arturo
France: (not canon) Peter
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America tried not to think about how he was going to say goodbye. But he found it harder and harder to ignore his time limit.
"As soon as this semester is done, you're pulling out of college, it's too stressful. We're immortal, not stress-free. Our country comes first, our people take priority."
He sighed deeply, exhaling through his nose. He replayed England's words, twisting them, turning them, trying to find a loophole. He couldn't, not really. It was true, he was a country personified, he was immortal, but that didn't stop him from being stressed. He wasn't entirely human, but he was close enough to know that prolonged exposure-- even to nonhuman beings-- wasn't healthy and ultimately could lead to death(in his case, a form of comatose state where his mind would try to catch up and sort through everything). Alfred couldn't do that to himself, or to his country.
Which brought him to the second point: His country came first, his people were his first and foremost priority. But this point brought him round full circle to the whole reason why he went to college again in the first place. While his people were his top priority, they weren't his only priority. He had likes, dislikes, hobbies, other duties. He was a country, but he was also still a teen; granted, a teen centuries old, but still a teen. How would he know what to do? What the right choice was? Alfred didn't feel like he'd come full circle, like he'd figured out the root of his problem.
My people take priority.
My people. Priority.
Priority. People. Understand?
Understand. My people. Priority.
Something seemed to click right then. Do I understand my people? Alfred realised his problem wasn't about his likes or dislikes, at least, not in the way he'd been thinking. He'd assumed that if he wanted to prioritize his people and their needs, then he'd need to comepletely leave behind anything else that made up the other facets of his personality. While he wasn't wrong, he wasn't right either. He could do his recreational activities and see how his people were doing, whether they were happy or not. Just like how he'd been going to college and seeing(not really) how college students were living their lives; he could do the same with all of his people, go to the different workforces, experience first-hand what his people were working for or against.
Alfred was his people and his people were Alfred, he couldn't turn a blind eye to their struggles and their accomplishments just to pretend that his country was the same it was in the beginning. He needed to bring the true issues immediately affecting his people to the forefront, he needed to make people understand that everyone had different struggles and that no one else's struggles were less than anyone else's. For that to succeed, he needed proof; irrefutable evidence that nothing was black and white, there was a gray-scale spectrum. He needed to our himself back into the narrative, he couldn't afford to stand to the side and watch everything unfold; he needed to be the author, not the reader. He needed to reach out to his people and pray that someone, anyone, would listen.
Alfred rose from his bed and walked over to the window. The last of the slush was drainin away, sinking into the ground. Dead green poked through whatever white was left in the lawns of fellow neighbours. New shoots of grass were breaking the Earth's skin, the trees were beginning to show the buds of new leaves. Alfred opened the window, he took a deep breath; the world felt new. A small smile ghosted Alfred's lips. The sun poked out from behind a cloud, its rays of light finally giving warmth.
Alfred, for once, felt ready to say goodbye.
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"So you're. . . Trying for a relationship?" Alfred couldn't make heads or tails out of Jordan's words. First, Jordan claims he hates his ex-dormmate due to his sexual conduct and lack of respect for Jordan's privacy, now he's telling Alfred that the allegedly hated ex-dormmate was actually a pining dude who hadn't been able to get over Jordan? And that they were going to see if they were compatible by dating? Alfred shook his head. "I'm gonna be honest, Jordan, dude, that sounds like a really rushed romantic fanfic."
Jordan had the decency to blush lightly. "Yeah, well, sometimes things like this happen. ." He cleared his throat, but stayed silent, then he cleared his throat again. "Listen, I get that this was rushed, but I can't deny that I haven't thought about having a relationship with someone; Jonathan's the closest I've ever been with someone, I've known him the longest. I just--" he struggled to find the right words, "I just want to see how we mix, how we adapt to each other. I'm not perfect, I can't even tell if whatever it is I'm feeling when I'm near him is actually love or not, but-- damn it!-- I want to try. I want to figure this out, and I'm not going to figure it out by myself. I can't tackle feelings and emotions the same way I can tackle a math problem or a thesis; I just end up in a worse tangled mess than in the beginning. I need help, and Jon's offering to help. We're not even really official, we want to see if we even fit for each other."
Alfred chuckled to himself, reaching out to muss up Jordan's hair, like a parent does to a child. "I'm just glad you could patch things back up with him. From the few classes I had with him, Jonathan seemed like a pretty cool guy. Whatever happens, I hope you guys can get through it."
Jordan huffed a little and roughly fixed his hair before looking at Alfred. He smiled and muttered a quiet "Thanks" before looking to the side, watching people milling around campus. His smile dropped. "What happens now, Al? You just gonna up and leave once the semester's out?"
Alfred sighed and watched the college students walk around. Someone had just stepped into a muddy puddle when he spoke. "I suppose so. I've been neglecting some stuff lately, due to all the extra work I had to do, besides, but now I've got a purpose again. I know what I'm supposed to be doing now, I haven't known my purpose in a long time, I don't want to waste my time not following it." He looked back at Jordan and saw that his eyes were trained on him. "I'm not wasting my shot at experiencing things first-hand and bringing them to the eye of the public. Not anymore."
Jordan's eyes glinted in the midday sun. "Well, sounds like you're gonna need a writer," he said smoothly, watching the cars go by before turning back to Alfred. He offered a crooked smile. "I'm taking a few classes, once I'm done with 'em I'll be qualified to write articles and be a journalist, along with being a lawyer."
Jordan's offer hung in the air, Alfred stared in shock. Slowly, as if it were a timid child, a smile grew on Alfred's face. He grinned and nodded. "I'm probably gonna run into legal issues, you'd be a real help. Who knows, maybe I could help you too, bring up the injustices in immigration?"
The two smirked and shook hands, standing as if to take their leave.
"Well, Alfred F. Jones," Jordan declared, "it'll be a pleasure working with you."
Alfred laughed and nodded. "I feel the same, Mr. Jordan."
"Until we meet again, Al."
"Until we meet again, Jordan."
The two parted ways, the whistling sound of a quick breeze shifting their hair out of their eyes. The two looked up to the sky, and saw a bright future they would influence into reality.
The End
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C_A: I'd like to say that this has been one heck of a journey.
I love this story to pieces; but, like a delicious pie, it must be finished to truly appreciate it and all its splendor.
Whether there will be a third installment to this series is highly unlikely. I'm not versed in any of Mexico's politics, heck, I doubt I can even find my parents' hometowns, I know next to nothing about Mexico's struggles; in Hetalia, Mexico is only briefly mentioned, I believe.
I cannot imagine what I would write about. I've written Mexico in these stories as someone who is self-assured, who deals with his problems but is still imperfect. Unlike America and Canada, Mexico doesn't have something he has to prove in Hetalia. If I were to make a story about him, it would most likely be half-assed and fall flat.
No, this series is at its inevitable end.
I love every single commenter who decided to give this book and its predecessor a chance and who voiced their opinions and thoughts. You guys are the best.
To quote Hamilton: The Musical: "Tomorrow there'll be more of us." I hope this story continues to reach people. To quote the musical once more, "Raise a glass to Freedom."
Thank you.
Finished: 12/07/2018
23:56 P.M.
Word Count: 1611+