JC CH 3

       Fidgeting his thumbs he glanced at the clock. 5:00 P.M. on the dot. Usually the rambunctious American would have come back right now if he had been in a good mood. If it was a bad mood he would have texted him a mad face telling him to meet him at a McDonalds. But not this time. The silence started to take its toll on the victim.

       'I hope I wasn't too harsh this time. I was mildly drunk and had forgotten what I had said. I remember that America didn't think I was drunk. I hope I didn't make anything worse by driving him away if he just wanted comfort.' England was snapped out of his thoughts as his phone vibrated. He hurriedly snatched it up and looked to see who it was as his hopes were high for wanting to apologized to the American. Seeing the contact he groaned. France. Out of all the people. If it wasn't America he would have at least wanted Canada to be calling. Never the less he picked up anyways.

       "What do you want, Frog?" He snapped. France laughed at the other end of the line.

       "I was wondering if America was there? The poor little country has been feeling bad lately and said he was going to your house. Is everything alright?" The line was silent for a long while putting France on edge. With a shaky voice England responded.

       "How bad was he feeling?" England felt guilt pummel him in a gigantic wave. Whatever he had said when he was drunk most likely did not help the poor American. No wonder he hadn't contacted him yet. He might be drunk at a bar for all he knew! Drowning his emotions in the clear substance as the Brit had a few hours earlier.

       "Just a little bit behind depression and not far from going to it! What happened? Is America all right? Did he even come to your house yet?" France grew even more worried after he had heard what England asked. What has happened that he did not know?

       "I was drunk." All the color left France at that very sentence. Nothing good happened when England was drunk. He never remembered what he said all he would have the memory was of his physical actions.

       "I have a GPS on his phone. I can track him and you go look! Stay on the line alright?"

       "Alright! Where is he now?" France typed on his computer until he was able to pinpoint the signal. It wasn't in Britain but instead in the pasta loving country of Italy. This surprised France for a moment. Italy had locked himself up in his room with no food or water unexpectedly. Romano and Germany were both trying to help. But why would America go there for comfort?

       "Where is he frog?!" England's short tempered yell brought France out of his current thoughts and back into the situation at hand.

       "He's in Italy. The town where Feliciano lives. I don't know why he would go there. It wouldn't help his attitude that's for sure! I'll link the signal to your phone alright? Now get going!" France typed away at his computer. He was so glad he had researched that book of technology that Canada had gotten him for his birthday. That boy was so helpful.

       "Alright I'm going! Jeez he's my brother..." England grumbled protests as he grabbed an emergency suitcase and dashed out of the door. Flagging down the cab he remembered his standby jet available to him at all hours.

       "France I must make an important call quick! I need to hang up."

       "Alright, but make it quick!" Hanging up on France was one this England enjoyed in any situation. Dialing for the jet he quickly made arrangements and called France back in under 3 minutes. He suddenly became aware of his unbearable headache. 'Great, the hangover.' He must not have noticed it due to his worry about the former colony. He shook his head to clear it. As he got out of the cab and onto the jet his worry only grew numbing out the pain.

       With all his might, he hoped that he hadn't said anything for the breaking point.