A/N: Uh, hi! XD I know I really shouldn't be starting other multichapter fics right now when I could be working on Scores and Scales but…Well, I got another fanfiction Idea and I wanted to write/type it up so that way I don't forget about it. ^ ^ So here you go! :3 this story is based off the Vocaloid song Paper Plane by Rin kagamine.
Warnings: If you haven't heard the song…This story is about WW2 concentration camps..don't read if you get offended please.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Although I wish I did. T^T
The day was sunny and bright. Birds were singing in the trees, and children were out playing in the streets, laughing and throwing Frisbees, enjoying the feeling of the sun on their skin. Everything seemed calm and happy. The only thing that could have passed as odd, were the parents of the children, who were glancing around nervously, their tired eyes full of worry. Then again, how could anything be completely calm at a time like this? The year was 1942, and the Second World War was in full swing.
A young ten-year old boy with the name Alfred was also out playing on that sunny day, but he wasn't with any other children. He didn't have any friends. He had lived in a hospital his whole life, having been diagnosed with at a slow acting paralysis disease at a young age. Today was one of those lucky days he was allowed out of his small, bleak hospital room for a few hours. "You must be back before supper." Elizabeta had told him. That was okay with Alfred though, he really couldn't care less, just as long as he could go outside, even if it was just for a few minutes. Too oblivious to notice his tense surroundings, he folded up a plane out of a paper he had found in his room, then continued onward, running across the street, feeling accomplished for making such a awesome plane. "Heh, I'll call you America, okay?" He said with a grin, bringing his arm back and tossing the plane. "Woaaaahhhh! Look at it go!" he exclaimed to no one, cupping a hand over his eyes to watch it sail upwards towards the sun. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew the plane off course, and it started sailing towards a large open field. "H-hey! Don't fly away, America!" he yelled, chasing after it, ignoring the 'do not enter' sign that was planted at the front of the field. Picking up speed, Alfred caught up just in time to see his plane fly right over a tall, barbed wire fence. "Awww mannn!" he whined, approaching the fence slowly, "How am I supposed to get it now?" he asked no one, crouching down next to the fence. He tilted his head to get a better look at his plane. It was now resting peacefully in a patch of tall grass on the opposite side of the fence. Alfred stared at the plane for a moment, as if he could use some of his non-existent telepathic powers to will the plane back to him. When it finally kicked in that he wouldn't be getting his beloved plane back, The blue-eyed boy groaned and rolled back onto his heels, falling backwards into the soft grass. "So much for that, huh?" he said to the sky, blinking at the clouds with a yawn. "Man..just running that much was hard work..I should ask Nurse Elizabeta if I can come out more often…" Alfred closed his eyes for a moment and extended his arms and legs, stretching out his tired limbs. Sighing at the feeling of the warm sun on his skin, Alfred closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep to the sound of singing birds.
Arthur blinked up at the sky, sighing at the feeling of the sun on his pale and dirty skin. Life here is boring, the green eyed boy thought. But then again, it's not like Arthur could get up and leave. He was a prisoner. A prisoner who was dragged away from his peaceful home a few weeks before, and brought to this concentration camp on a overly cramped train. Why was he taken here? Well, his mother, unable to handle the stress of constantly worrying about her son to be discovered, she turned him in, hoping that would keep her safe from the Gestapo. But when they had come to take Arthur away, they took her as well, much to her surprise. Serves her right, Arthur thought angrily, that wench. Shaking his head in disgust, Arthur stood up and was about to go and look for his 'jail mate' Antonio when he heard what sounded like a voice. A voice? No one is supposed to talk during the day. Curious, Arthur turned and started walking towards the source of the voice. Realizing how close he was from the fence, he froze. It was strictly forbidden for anyone to visit that fence. Anyone caught or seen at that fence was immediately taken to the gas chambers. Shivering at the thought, the green-eyed British boy started to head back to his bunkhouse when a piece of folded paper caught his eyes. Slowly turning around to face it, he tilted his head curiously. Was he delusional, or was there really a paper airplane there? Narrowing his eyes, he found that it really WAS a paper airplane. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he darted forward and snatched the piece of paper and fled back to his previous spot. Turning the plane over, he examined the neat folds with admiration. It had been a while since he had seen one. Flipping it over, he noticed that 'America' was scribbled in messy handwriting along one of the wings. "America, huh…?" He asked to no one, looking up once again to look at the tall, barbed wire fence. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed a boy laying down in the grass on the other side. Oh…this must be his, Arthur thought. Perhaps I should be a gentleman and return it. Frowning, he ran his finger along the plane sadly before sighing and reaching into his pocket. When his hand resurfaced, he opened his palm to see the tiny pencil sitting in his hands. He had snuck it into his pants while the police weren't looking. He carefully unfolded the plane and walked over to a wall, placing the plane against it so he had a surface to write on. Smiling slightly, he wrote on the boy's plane with a cursive font. "Git..I'm surprised he came here…" Arthur muttered, re-folding the little plane. Slowly walking to the fence, he glanced around once more before bringing his arm back, and flicking his hand forward, sending the plane over the fence. He stared down at the boy for a moment, envious of his freedom and obvious liveliness. Furrowing his thick eyebrows, he turned away, a frown on his face. "Idiot.." he looked up at the sky one more time before quickly running towards the bunk house, emerald eyes searching the masses for a tan, brown haired boy.
A/N: pff..I'm not sure I like this one..3 I might not continue it..Here, how about you give me your opinion? If I should keep writing it, PM me, or Review with a 'yes'. ^ ^ To Scores and Scales fans, the next chapter is coming up shortly~ Thank you for reading! :3