I've really been wanting to start this fic since...well...A long time XD I love RoBul and I personally love my portrayals of them if I can say so myself XD
This has...not-so-well thought-out sensitive content, including eating disorders and the viewing of supernatural beings and such. It may also be my most depressing fic by a longshot. THIS IS YOUR WARNING! HEED IF NECESSARY!
Anyways, I don't think that will be a problem for most. XD Onto the title lecture!
My favorite ESC Bulgaria entry has always been Na Inat by Poli Genova. Seriously, go check it out if you haven't already. The song is inspirational and it's surprising I didn't get the idea for this fanfic from the song. What's even more surprising - to me at least - is that I saw the translation after I had decided my take on Bulgaria. Guess what? It fit PERFECTLY. No joke.
Anyways, enough chat. This is dedicated to all the disabled, insecure people in this world. God bless you.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own airports or Hetalia or this quote. Sorry. Deal with it already XD
But yes, I know, I will find strength in me
Even to reach the sky
No matter what, No matter what
Oh, I know the power will be with me
To do what I can do.
- "Na Inat" by Poli Genova.
I had been on an airplane before. We never traveled unless it had to do with placing me in a new hospital - and even then we didn't go by airplane. Airplanes aren't safe for me. Not only do airplane rides make my ears pop, but that irrational fear of riding in a moving vehicle takes over the calm section of my brain.
But I can't, you can't, I don't think anyone can get to America without taking a plane - unless you want to swim. The only other way is by boat and I'm certainly not keen on being tossed by waves. No thank you.
The choices weren't that hard to sort out if you're a smart individual that values their life.
We took the plane.
I started to regret my decision when I found myself in the crowded airport luggage parking lot with my parents and tons of people much too close for comfort - jostling me, sending our suitcases flying away at lighting speed.
The airplanes themselves were fine, though my ears popped like kettle-corn - but this chaos? No, I'd almost rather travel by boat.
The people of this country seemed cold and judgmental, which didn't help me feel any more comforted with the concept of coming here.
Yes, I admit in all honesty: An androgynous, severely emaciated young adult in a crowded airport must've been a strange sight to behold. But feeling the stares of the passersby from the back of my neck was horribly unnerving.
"Nikola," My aunt Sofiya whispered from next to me. She hardly ever called me by my name, and when she did I knew something was very wrong. The last time she used it...Never mind.
Even though I wasn't looking at her, I knew that startled look she gets when she doesn't know what to do; Her brown eyes widen and her soft black curls seem to droop. I knew she was wearing that expression right now, maybe even ten times worse than usual. I wasn't the only one who was distraught by the new country. Of course I wasn't. She didn't want to move.
"Yes?" I asked quietly.
She placed her soft hands on my narrow shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Be strong."
It's hard to grasp the concept "strong" if you're me. If you've been living with life-affecting disorder - one that leaves you hungry, eternally useless, and - in other words - absolutely helpless to what could come speeding towards you - "strong" is not in your vocabulary.
I'm eighteen, going on nineteen. Eighteen-year-olds should be able to enjoy their last years of childhood without disability getting in the way. I didn't sign on to live in this hell.
No, I'm sorry, but I am not strong, and I never will be.
A little while later, I realized we had been standing on the same blue patch of pavement for a while now. Uncle Borislav was staring intently into the distance, brows furled in deep thought. He was a man of action - someone always on the move and ready to try new things...Though he mostly was a sports fanatic. I, on the other hand, would rather shrink under the covers of my bed and read a good book than watch or play sports.
"W-What are we waiting for?" I asked tentatively.
"The Karpusi family is coming to pick us up." My uncle responded, his eyes unmoving. For once he looked serious, unlike the man I'd usually seen back in Bulgaria.
We had already moved all of our stuff to our new house with their help, so of course this was going to happen. I felt stupid thinking that we were gonna get "home" without them.
Mrs. Karpusi is a friend of my aunt's, a high-school teacher as well as a single mother, I sense that I can respect her even though I've never met her. I'd heard lots about her from her son, Herakles - the boy that I pen pal with. Herakles said she was strict, with no hints of kindness to most people - but that she had a fondness for certain children. She'd stayed strong. Now, since Herakles was going into his senior year, she could take a break to manage her own business and teaching job.
Though I'd never met either of them, the family's kindness was too good to be true. Herakles had helped me with my English (though he said I barely needed it) and cheered me up with photos of his pet cats. In return, I helped him with his homework and sent him pictures of the paradise called nature.
It was a lasting friendship, though very strange and distant.
"Hello!" a female voice shouted from a few feet away, interrupting my thoughts. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I immediately straightened and tried to look as proper as possible - hard since I probably looked like a skeleton with skin to anyone else.
I suppose this was her - Mrs. Eleftheria Karpusi.
Her gaze intimidated me - the way her green eyes seemed to review me like the disgusting person I was. I suddenly wasn't looking forward to meeting my pen-pal and moving next door to this woman. I hoped she was kind to me - not like my old neighbors. I didn't want to be judged anymore. If America was the land of opportunity and freedom, didn't I have the right to live my life free from this burden?
Behind her, a tall, teenaged boy a bit younger than me, waved at me. By the looks of it, that was Herakles. He knew me, but I barely recognized him. I felt guilty about that but he had changed during the two years he didn't send me pictures. Since two years, he had grown more muscular - something which I envied since I barely even had skin. His wild hair had grown a longer, falling in the soft waves of a chocolate fountain.
A calico kitten rested peacefully in his arms, undisturbed by the loud noises of the crowds. It looked like the cat from one of the photos from two years ago - or maybe one of the offspring. Was it even allowed in this type of public area? I hope he had checked.
I'm positive that I hadn't changed: same thin, glossy, black hair, same pale skin and sharp cheekbones. Same creepy black eyes. And I was probably as short and skinny as I was two years ago - maybe even more so.
Mrs. Karpusi hugged my guardians and asked them about their health, which made me feel slightly offended. Talking about "health" seems to mock me. People don't know health until they have health problems. But I didn't mind as much as I usually do. My parents...They were smiling. Ever since the incident, it seems like they haven't smiled. It felt good to see them happy again.
But then those hawk eyes turned to me and she floated over to me, her chandelier earrings sparkling. "Is this Nikola?"
I shook, or at least I felt like I was shaking. "Yes, ma'am..."
"You're eighteen?"
Was this how people greeted each other in America? "Y-yes..."
She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at that. "You're awfully short."
I stared down at my sneakers and shuffled my feet. Most short people hate being short, but this was different. I was born born short and I'd die short. I hated it. It didn't help that I was skinny too.
"Mom!" Herakles voice was impressively deep and smooth, the direct opposite of my own. "You're embarrassing him!"
The intensity immediately left her eyes and she suddenly seemed like a normal mom. "I apologize for my actions." She laughed. "Even at this age, I am rather...impulsive."
And just like that, she was all smiles and laughs, as if someone had flipped the "serious" switch to "happy". Was I the who had put her in such a good mood?
Me?
This is one of the extremely rare Nikola POVs in this fic. The rest is all Dimitri XD
Anyways, Nikola is one of my favorite characters to write about. A detailed description will show up in chapter...three I think. He's adorable, trust me. :3
This is my first fic I'm asking for serious nit-picking. I'd really appreciate reviews on how I can improve. :D
See ya on the next chappy! :D