Chapter Text
Everyday in this modern time is an ordinary day for a man who calls himself Francis Bonnefoy. Well as ordinary as being a country personification would go at least. “We’re almost in Paris monsieur,” his driver mentions in passing. “Merci,” the man responds as he looks outside his window mindlessly. The first thing he wants to do is go back to his apartment and relax, of course it’s not that easy. Traffic in his capital has been a pain, it’s always been but for a reason he doesn’t understand it’s more of one as of late. A car suddenly cuts them off, seemingly speeding. “Hey!” His driver yells and honks their vehicle. “Never mind them, the authorities will handle this if they keep going at that speed” Francis says, in an attempt to calm down his driver. “You’re right,” they responded. They turn and reach a red light behind another vehicle, allowing people to pass. So much traffic, he thinks and looks out.
They turn a few more corners and arrive at one of the many apartment complexes. “We’re here” his driver informs. France gets out with some bags. “Merci” he thanks and walks in. “Bonjour!” The attendant greets. “Bonjour” he responds. “Let me take your bags for you” a staff member offers. “Non, I can manage” France refuses and walks into the elevator, pressing the button to his floor. As he waits, his phone rings, he puts his bags down for a moment and picks it up, not checking for the caller. “Bonjour, this is Francis speaking,” he answers. “Dude! I got this amazing idea that I need help with!” Alfred or otherwise known as America’s voice was heard. “Oh America. What is this idea?” He asks, voice shaky. “Great! As my side-” the loud voice started, Francis tunes him out in favor of the silence the halls give him. He walks into his apartment and places his briefcase on the counter. “So do you think that you could help?” Alfred asks. “Non, I’ve already got a lot to do here” Francis answers, not wanting to deal with the others' shenanigans. “Are you sure? It can be really useful in case-” the blonde was saying but was cut off. “Non, that’s my final answer. Au revoir~” he stated. “Wai-” Alfred said and was cut off by France hanging up on him. He takes a deep breath and walks to the bathroom, needing to take a long shower.
On the other side of the globe, two blondes look at the phone dumbfounded. “I told you I should’ve been the one to call,” one of them said. “This could spell disaster. Then again we could be wrong” Alfred says, struggling to not break his phone in frustration. “How about we try again later? I’ll call this time” Canada, or Matthew suggests. “Nah, I’ll do it. Knowing you, France will look and see your contact, then question who you are” Alfred admits. Matthew sighs defeated, “I guess you’re right”. The hero looks at his brother, “how about we go to one of your Tim Hortons to get our thoughts straight?” he asked. “Alright” Matthew answers a little too quickly.
Unbeknownst to everyone, a man stands in front of a coffin underground. “Tomorrow I’ll start. I promise we’ll be together my love” a deep voice promises, placing their hand on the glass.