Unsolicited Advice

Words Count: 2,978

A/n: THIRTY FOUR REVIEWS? ARE YOU GUYS CRAZY?

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I have been really caught up with real life events that I couldn't ignore so I decided not to surf the internet for a while. Also, I'm kind of falling into a new fandom (How I Met Your Mother! Neil Patrick Harris! …ahem) so I had a specific writer's block for this story.

Anyways, I'm really, really shocked by the overwhelming and surprisingly positive reviews for this story, so thank you! I will try to update more often XD

Extremely late update is extreme late. BUT! MUCH LONGER CHAPTER. Y/Y?

And. Desperate attempt to thicken the plot yay?

-X-

Three: Fated Meetings and Conspiracy Theories

-X-

"Why are you crying, little boy?"

The boy, purple eyes wet with tears, looked up slowly to the owner of the soothing voice. The owner was a man with a calm smile and beautiful, gorgeous hair, and the boy slowly stopped crying. The man smiled wider at this development, walking to his side and gracefully sitting down on the grass field, right beside him.

"It would be a sad thing if a handsome boy like you is crying on such wonderful day like this in France," the man started talking again in French, "pray tell, boy, what has hurt your pristine heart?"

The boy's eyes widened in amazement. To be honest, he only understood some of what the man had been saying—his French wasn't that good! But there was something in the man's smile that calmed him.

He never liked to talk about this condition of his, much less to a stranger, but before he knew it, he had blurted, "My mother."

The man turned to him now, fully facing him, his curious expression urging him to continue. "My mother," the boy continued in stuttered French, "she is sick again. I thought she was getting better but yesterday she couldn't get up from the bed. I… I don't know what to do…"

The boy could feel his eyes started to water again, so he rubbed them with his hands. The last thing he wanted from this kind stranger was pity; he was sick of seeing the looks from the adults—the baker across the street, the mailman who delivered the newspapers every morning—everyone. Crying, of course, wouldn't help.

He was surprised when he looked up and saw that the man look genuinely hurt. He was even more surprised when he patted his head and smiled.

"Well," the man said, his smile unwavering, "I don't think your mother would feel better if she knows you have been sad for her, right?"

For a lack of better words, he nodded.

"I have a solution for you!" the man said cheerfully, and much to the boy's surprise—produced two stems of bright red roses out of nowhere. The roses were beautiful, to say the least; the thorns had been scalped off and the flowers seemed to have just bloomed. It was red, bright and vibrant, and he couldn't take his eyes off them.

"Flowers are a language by themselves," he explained. "If it is so hard for you to say a word to express your feeling, then don't."

He handed the boy the roses, whose eyes were now wide in amazement, "let the flowers speak for you. Red roses like these, for example, mean love. Give them to your mother and she will understand."

The boy nodded excitedly. "Thank you, sir…?"

"Bonnefoy. My name is Francis Bonnefoy."

"Well, thank you, sir Bonnefoy!"

The man chuckled. "Call me Francis," he said, "and remember… all girls, not only your mother, love flowers! Always give flowers, and girls will line up to sleep with you! Invade their vital regions!"

The boy blinked. "Sleep? Invade?"

"Uh… never mind," Francis patted the boy's head, quickly changing the topic. He got carried out a bit just now. "Now off you go. Give your mother the flowers and send her my regards. Hopefully she's going to get better."

The boy stood up and beamed at him. "Thank you sir! Thank you!"

He was already down the hill before Francis realized he'd forgotten something. "Hey, kid!" He shouted at the tiny figure, "what's your name?"

Fortunately, the boy could still hear him. He turned and shouted back.

"Suoh! My name is Tamaki Suoh!"

And before Francis could say anything, Tamaki was already too far away for his voice to reach. So Francis only shook his head and smiled to himself. Tamaki Suoh… from the name, it was obvious that the boy had a Japanese blood in him. He chuckled at the image of the boy.

Interesting…

-X-

Haruhi Fujioka was lost.

Admittedly, this was not the first time she was lost; in fact, she had been lost so many times in the last couple of days in this humongous foreign country it was ridiculous, but never had she felt so lost without anyone to ask. In the previous situations, there would be the either the twins or Tamaki to accompany her and translate her questions to the people; this time, though, her only companion was Alfred, and said Alfred was now talking animatedly—not to mention fast—to a stranger. In (presumably) English. Which she could not understand.

It did not help that the other man replied in a very weird accent that was even harder to decipher.

At some point in their conversation, Alfred blushed, and Haruhi became really curious. She was not usually a person who liked to find out about other people's businesses, no, certainly not; but now Alfred—the dense Alfred, the most oblivious man she had ever met—was blushing, and damn if she wasn't curious why.

A little voice inside her head supplied a completely ridiculous reason: the man must've asked whether the two of you were on a date, of course. She blinked. WHAT. What had she just thought? She chided herself for even thinking of such a ludicrous scenario.

Yet she felt the heat crept up her face due to that particular suggestion, and she decided she had to interrupt, however important their conversation was. She needed a distraction from her stupid thoughts, before she started thinking about things like 'crush' and 'love', or people, like Kyouya—

—oh, well. Too late for that. Not that she minded much anymore; she had been fighting a losing battle in trying to keep a certain bespectacled host from invading her mind.

But she still had to take the two foreigners' attention, so she decided to walk up to them, mumbling, "uh…"

Both of them seemed startled by her presence, as if they—including Alfred—had forgotten that she was there (and not that she was hurt or anything by that, no, not at all—). The stranger turned first at her.

"I am so sorry, miss Fujioka," he said apologetically, his Japanese coated by a very, very thick accent, "I didn't mean to disturb your… date with Alfred."

There was seriously something wrong with her blood vessels now. Why did she keep blushing? "It's okay, I don't really mind. I presume Alfred-kun has told you my name, mister…?"

The man's expression was of surprise, and then relief as if he had successfully gotten away after making a mistake. "Ah, yes, of course—Alfred just told me about you," he said hastily, "and Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

He offered his hand for her to shake, and she grabbed it. Much to her surprise, Arthur knelt down and kissed her forearm.

This time, there was no denial. Haruhi blushed furiously.

Alfred chuckled at her reaction, "Oh, look what you've done, Artie, you flirt."

"Don't call me 'Artie'," Arthur stood back up and hissed, though Haruhi could hear that there was no venom in his voice at all. Alfred only laughed.

Arthur started explaining about his relation with Alfred, but Haruhi's mind wandered.

There were two things about this Arthur that Haruhi had noted from the five seconds it took to scrutinize him from top to bottom.

Firstly, he had… prominent eyebrows, for a lack of better words. Haruhi had never been so unsettled by others' appearance—she barely cared about hers, anyways—but really, look at those eyebrows. They looked like caterpillars!

Okay, she digressed. That's one fact; secondly, he looked so at ease around Alfred. Though he looked so prim and properly dressed, Haruhi could see that his overall posture suggested that he was comfortable knowing the other blond was around; not to mentions they seemed to stand closer than necessary to each other, their shoulders almost touching…

However, before she could come up with any conclusions, her train of thoughts was interrupted by an extremely familiar voice.

It was high-pitched, annoyingly whiny but endearing.

"HARUHIIIIIIIIII!"

-X-

Haruhi Fujioka had decided that if anyone—including but not limited to: her father, the Host Club, her classmates, the clients, her geography teacher, the fishmonger that liked to give her 10% discount and his wife whom always scold him for that (well, these were really the first people that came into her mind)—ever told her that the United States of America was, in any way, big, she would kindly correct them that yes, it was a very common misconception. Because it really was. "The United States of America is big" is a blatant lie.

Because if this country was big, how the hell could this even happen?

First, she could meet Alfred again, despite one not knowing where the other stayed. That fact itself had strongly disproved the conspiracy of the size of the USA. Then, Alfred happened to meet this Arthur, whom she assumed was the same Arthur person Alfred liked to talk about. Half-brother, and supposed to be living across the ocean—another fact that strongly suggested that maybe USA was only slightly bigger than a small island with two coconut trees because how the hell could they easily meet one another like this?

And the third, signifying evidence…

"HARUHIIIIIIII!"

America? Big country? It's okay, we all believed that once. Fear not, the America-is-Large-Phase would pass, just right after the Santa-Claus-is-Real phase.

"Ta—Tamaki-senpai?" She stuttered, looking incredulously at the fast approaching senior, "why are you—how did you—"

"This must be love, Haruhi!" Tamaki cried out, running animatedly at her with dramatic tears flowing from his eyes, "the power of love from you resonated with mine that my feet and heart just brought me to you!"

Haruhi wanted to say that it was scientifically impossible, and that there was no direct relationship between human's heart and the synapses that moved our feet, but she must first do one important thing: avoid being crushed by an imminent bear hug from her senior.

Dear mother in heaven, she thought silently as she stepped back, what the hell is happening now?

-X-

The first thing that came into England's mind at the situation was: poor child.

Haruhi had been clearly lost. America must have dragged her all over the place, 'showing his awesome home' or something equally silly (he shuddered at the thought of knowing the American so well), without realizing that maybe Haruhi would want to stay close to the people she actually knew instead of, well, an American stranger?

But there was an upside from America's obliviousness. England now had time to ask Haruhi Fujioka herself about the entire situation. That would save him a lot of time—he might be able to hear the full story without America's introduction about his heroic role in the story (which were usually longer than the actual story, dear lord, he still remembered the time when he tried to ask him about the Korean War).

But as most of England's plans these days, it was interrupted.

"HARUHIIIIIIIII!"

The second thing that came into England's mind at the situation was still: poor child.

He didn't expect Suoh's interruption. The teen seemed to appear out of nowhere, much to England's surprise. But then again, neither did Haruhi. And she was obviously irritated by this; her face went from surprise to annoyance in split seconds and now she was evading a bear hug from said senior.

She managed to evade the first hug, and the second, leaving Suoh tumbling awkwardly. But he didn't seem to take a hint; England presumed he just thought "I was calculating Haruhi's distance from me wrongly", and England started comparing his stupidity with America's.

Really, did this world need two of these idiots?

And Haruhi wasn't so lucky anymore. The third hug was coming, and before she could find where else to evade, she stopped in her track when she heard another voice. Another familiar voice to England.

It was high-pitched, annoyingly whiny but endearing.

"ENGLANNDDDDDDD!"

The third thing that came into England's mind at the situation was: poor me.

-X-

Kyouya Ootori had lost his mind.

He didn't think it was possible before this—the Kyouya Ootori, third son of the prestigious Ootori family and smartest student in Ouran High School? The Kyouya Ootori, leader behind the famous Host Club and the Shadow King? The Kyouya Ootori, 'losing his mind'?

He was so putting the blame on Haruhi.

That… commoner. Walking around as she liked without informing anyone. Didn't she know how dangerous would that be? Didn't she know that the Host Club didn't have as much influence in America as much as in the Japan? Didn't she know how worried he was? Didn't she—

—Whoa. Wait. Worried?

He was… worried? About Haruhi? He tested the idea in his mind. Yes, he was certainly worried about Haruhi.

These past few months, he'd spent a lot more time with her, he now realized. Since the mid-year exam was coming, Haruhi had been staying late after the Club, while Kyouya, being Kyouya, also stayed late. And the rest, as they say, is history—in fact, it had come so naturally that he didn't realize it happened.

On the first day, she sat at the other sofa in the room, and Kyouya continued typing into his laptop. He barely batted an eyelash when she murmured, good night, Kyouya-senpai, and closed the door slowly to avoid making too much noise.

And then she started a conversation. A line or two. And then he started initiating conversation when she didn't, and she started doing work at the same sofa as Kyouya's because really, it was just about convenience, not to mention it made him easier to teach her when she had difficulties in answering a question, or when they had to share some food.

By the day before the exam, they were sitting side by side in comfortable silence.

Kyouya blinked at the sudden revelation. Huh, he thought lamely, and made up his mind. He had to find Haruhi as soon as possible, before something—anything—could happen to her, and he had to make full use of his contact. Even if he had to call that person.

He punched the familiar numbers into his phone.

"Hello, Mr. Kiku Honda? This is Kyouya Ootori."

-X-

""This is boring,"" the twins declared in unison.

Hikaru Hitachiin had never been so bored in his life.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it really was rare to find him bored. Usually he would have something to do; pulling a prank on Tamaki, harassing Haruhi… well, the two were practically his source of entertainment. The two who, now, were both missing.

Kaoru looked equally bored, and he finally snapped.

"I can't take it anymore!" He announced and, after telling Kyouya the he would go out, but not too far away, promise, of course I'm not lying do you think I'm Milord that is an insult you know, he ran to the garden outside the hotel.

Kaoru followed him as he asked, "Hey, do you have any idea where Haruhi is now?"

"No," Hikaru shrugged, "but I believe Kyouya-senpai would find her—and Milord—in no time."

Kaoru looked at the sprawling green field. "Yeah," he said, "I think you're right," and his eyes suddenly lit up, "hey, do you see that thing?"

Hikaru looked at the place where Kaoru was looking, and grinned when he realized what it was. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Kaoru's grin slowly crept across his face, matching Hikaru's. "When am I not?"

Little did they know, two people behind an overgrown bush had found them suspicious. One of them was tall, his silver hair glistening under the sun, and his red eyes narrowed at the sight. He gestured to his companion who was smiling—who had been smiling for god knows how long—and pointed at the twins.

"I think they're trying to ruin our pranks," he whispered, and his brown-haired friend shook his head.

"See, I told you, it was too obvious. We shouldn't have used that," he sighed, and the silver-haired man glared at him.

"Look, France is the one who's good at this whole 'subtlety' thing, okay?" He hissed, then returned his gaze to the twins, "And now that he's suddenly missing, all the job lies with me. And you know me, I'm all about awesome theatrics!"

The brown-haired one shrugged. "Well, now that we're busted, time to approach those boys, no?"

Red eyes widened, as if to say, you're ridiculous. Then they narrowed again in an act of defiance, and after a full minute of staring contest, he nodded in defeat.

"Alright, Spain, you win. Let's talk to those twins."

The man—Spain—chuckled. "You'll thank me later, Prussia."

-X-

A/n: next up: more flashback, Tamaki-France interaction and comparison by Haruhi, something from Japan's POV (finally) and some Bad Touch Trio + Hitachiin Twins hijinks. Seriously guys, stay tuned. I'm on a roll now.

So, what do you think about this chapter? Anyone OOC? Stupid / confusing scenes / plot? If you guys have any suggestions about story, pairings, any characters from Ouran and Hetalia you wanted to interact, just tell me. Who do you think Honey and Mori should meet? Who should Haruhi end up with? I'm pretty open about Ouran and Hetalia pairings (except RoChu), so just tell me your favorite pairings :)

Thank you for SalanTrong, iflywithbrokenwings, and anon for telling me where Disneyland is. NiNiChan13 had suggested DC and fangirl1313 gave a very thorough info for many states (thanks!), but since there's the Disneyland thing, I'll go with LA :).

Reviews, alerts and favorites are wonderful things :)