A/N: Kay, another fic on the Yugoslav's. That's about it ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I'll never own Hetalia -_-

1# Wedding

The day of their union was just like any other day.

Only it wasn't. The formation of Yugoslavia resembled more of a wedding than anything else, with dancing and cheering and tearful speeches, complete with all the Priests and Imam's that came to bless the new pan-Slavic Nation, to wish it good will and longevity on God's green earth. Anyone who knew anything about the Balkans was well aware of how fragile this new union was, how idealistic. Yugoslavia would either be the best thing for all of them, or the worst idea they would ever have.

But no matter how ugly they all knew it could potentially become, the celebration was beautiful, full of hope and optimism. And everyone was so happy.

The six of them would never glow with that kind of light again.

2# Honeymoon

Kosovo and Vojvodina stared up at their new home. It was the middle of the night, but the windows on the last floor were still glowing with candle light, as they had been for hours. The two of them were still dressed in their party clothes, and they were exhausted but they knew better than to interrupt whatever their father and their five new "guardians" were doing up in the master bedroom of their new home. They had only a vague idea of what was going on up there, but whatever it was, they knew Serbia would not be pleased if they just started to bang on the door, demanding to be let in.

"I should've swiped his keys," Kosovo mumbled absently. He was exhausted. "Cause, you know, he's so responsible and considerate."

Vojvodina frowned. "Give him more credit. He probably didn't think that this was going to happen."

"But shouldn't we be his first priority?"

Vojvodina remained silent, but they both knew the answer to that: Not anymore.

3# Push

Bosnia ran down the stairs two at a time, burning slabs of wood falling all around him as his house collapsed on itself.

His heart beat so fast that it felt as if it might burst at any moment. He couldn't breathe in enough air to sustain himself, and his vision was hazy. He felt close to collapse, but he pushed himself onward. Only one more flight of stairs, and he would be at the door. All he had to do was push himself a little bit more.

Push, Idiot Husband! PUSH!

It's what Herzegovina always urged from him; she didn't like it when he gave up. As her husband, he had to fight to the very end, or face her wrath. It was perhaps the one good fruit that had been borne from their marriage: she expected more from Bosnia than anyone else ever had. He liked to think that this was because she secretly believed in him, deep down. Maybe their marriage wasn't the failure everyone perceived it to be.

Push, damnit, push! I didn't marry a quitter!

Bosnia almost smiled. How proud would Herzegovina be if she saw him persevering as she always taught him? He didn't have much of a will to live anymore; so maybe, instead of pushing for himself, he could push for his wife? At least, just to see her face one more time.

Bosnia made it to the last step, and ran down the long hallway that lead to the front door. Behind him, there was a loud crash, the roof collapsing. And then followed by another, and the whining creaking of the staircases. His house was coming down. He grabbed the metal handle, barely registering how it burnt his hand, and he swung the door open just as the ceiling began to crack.

He stumbled out of his house and collapsed on the front lawn. He panted for a few moments as his house caved in behind him, and he thought he was safe, before he felt his fingertips burning.

Bosnia's eyes shot open, and he saw that his lawn, too, was on fire. He jumped up to his feet and began to back away, before realizing that the rubble of his house was still on fire, as well. War in front of him and behind him. There was no escape.

He looked up, and beyond the fire he could make out a person. They stood there calmly as the fire approached Bosnia, the fire that would crack his skin and burn all the life out of him in thick plumes of grey genocide.

He couldn't make her out specifically, but Bosnia still knew that he was looking at Herzegovina. And his failing heart bled with a tragic kind of acceptance, when he saw that tank of kerosene in her hands.

4# Flowers

One of the first things Srpska realized was that he liked to do was collect things.

Before the collapse of Yugoslavia, back when he was just an toddler and didn't have any territory of his own, Srpska would crawl all over the house and play games by himself. He would pick something random, and then collect all another things like it, and when he was done he would hide them in his room, all together. One of his earliest realizations was that things that belonged with each other should stay with each other, separate from everything else that was different. He was quite the organized little boy.

One day, he got it in himself to collect seeds. He crawled around the gardens that Macedonia liked to keep and collected all the stray seeds, putting them in a small jar that he had found. There were so many that it kept him occupied for most of the day, and in the end he had collected enough seeds to make another garden all by itself.

He separated the sunflower seeds from the peony seeds from the dandelion seeds from the lily seeds, and hid them all away with everything else. And he decided, he rather liked collecting seeds. When he was old enough, he asked Macedonia to teach him how to plant and take care of them.

That was before the war. After the war, he was still mean to Bosnia and Herzegovina in most aspects but one.

Every autumn, he would collect seeds. Every winter, he would keep those seeds safe. Every spring, he would plant them along the border of his territory and theirs. And every summer, he would watch them bloom, and find a certain type of satisfaction in knowing that Bosnia and Herzegovina seemed to love the beauty around their border. They knew, by the way the seeds were planted, that they weren't natural; all the different type of flowers were all planted with each other, and it was all too organized to be Mother Nature's doing. But no one could figure out who it was that took it upon themselves to do that every year.

Srpska never took credit for it. He was a strange child; he took credit for his bad deeds, but when it came to him actually doing something nice…

5# Glue

Slovenia tried to keep Yugoslavia together. Lord knows he did.

Whenever Bosnia and Herzegovina fought, he did his best to mediate. Whenever Serbia and Croatia got into one of their violent arguments, he would go in and break them up. Whenever Montenegro enraged Macedonia enough that she resorted to throwing cleaning products into his face, he would take them away from her, perhaps scold her a bit. He would help Montenegro wash the bleach off before it got into his eyes.

He would hide Vojvodina from Hungary whenever the woman was close to the boarder and would sometimes sneak Kosovo over to see his mother in Tirana. He supported Serbia in his romantic pursuit of Macedonia and tried to gently nudge him into accepting his feelings for Montenegro. He would listen to Herzegovina's complaining and helped Bosnia remember the simple things, like doing his laundry and taking off his clothes before taking a bath. He cleaned Croatia's wounds and held him close and reminded him that everything was going to be alright.

He tried to keep them together. But one day he realized that there were some things in this world that just can't be helped, some things in life that can't be changed.

He ended up being the first to leave the house.

6# Religion

Serbia could only faintly remember his parents, they were just two blurry figures in his head. He looked a lot like his mother and took after his father's personality, but one thing that he inherited from them both was his religion. He held onto his interpretation of Christianity with a scary type of ferociousness against Turkey's (at times violent) insistence that he convert to Islam. Nothing would change his mind on that.p

But Kosovo did covert, and though to bothered Serbia at first he eventually got over it, attributing Kosovo's love for Islam as yet another thing he inherited from Albania. But Vojvodina was wonderfully Christian, and so were Slovenia and Croatia and Herzegovina. So was Macedonia, at times; she flip-flopped from one side to the other more than anyone else.

After Tito's death, Serbia found himself hoping that it would be religion that would keep them all together. But there was no stopping God's destiny for them all.

And in the 1990's, when he knew that it was time to start getting ready to die, he no longer concerned himself with what he would tell his maker once he finally made it up there. He was far too angry for that. For tearing Yugoslavia apart, for giving him his death sentence, he would teach all the Yugoslav's a lesson that they would never forget.

He knew that it would take him to hell. But he figured, he might as well bring the rest of them along with him.

7# Let Go

In all of Yugoslavia, stuck in a house full of Nation's with ridiculously high egos due to all the ethnic pride, Montenegro was the only one who had none of that. Sometimes, he'd see some of his people approaching him, and he would smile, thinking that they were coming for him. But then they would pass him to go talk to Albania, or, more often than not, Serbia.

It was no wonder Montenegro was the last out of everyone to declare independence. For so long, he looked at himself and saw only an extension.

8# Misplaced

Macedonia took a look around, and it dawned on her. She was on the verge of civil war.

Her ethnic Albanian's were rising up against the Macedonian's, wanting equal rights in a country where they had long been ignored. She looked into the mirror and saw herself going down the same road as Bosnia and Herzegovina, only hers would be different; she wouldn't be fighting a war against her spouse. It would be against the scared and cold woman she saw in the mirror, the one with the large, terrified eyes. Her aching chest. Her tenuous health.

Once, in 1945, after the Axis had been defeated and they were all together again as a socialist Nation, they all came together to take a picture in front of their new home. Albania was to take the picture, but at the last minute, at the insisting of the Yugoslav's, Albania joined in as well.

In the picture, Macedonia and Albania stood standing at opposite ends, but just as the picture had been taken, Albania turned her head to the side. If one looked at the picture for long enough, it looked as though she might be looking at Macedonia. Perhaps even gazing at her.

The next day, Macedonia cut her out of the picture. Not her body, just her face.

"Well, fuck. You must really hate Albania, bre!" Serbia commented when he saw what she did.

Macedonia said nothing in return. But that night, she took the picture of Albania's turned face and stuck it in her locket. Carried it around her neck everywhere. No one ever asked, nor did she divulge. But as Macedonia faced a fight with herself the likes of which she never before experienced, she opened up the locket and looked at Albania's face.

I just don't want her to hate me.

More than anything else, she didn't want that. She saw what happened to Albania's already poor relationship with Serbia once the latter beat their son to a pulp in 1998. Macedonia didn't know what it was about Albania that made her care as much as she did. All she knew was what she felt.

God, please don't let Albania hate me.

9# Fragile

Kosovo couldn't remember his first wound. He couldn't remember his first invasion. He could barely even remember his first taste of warfare at all. But he could remember the one day when he learned that everything he ever knew was a lie.

After that, he couldn't live in his father's house anymore. But Serbia was by no means willing to let him go, and the beating had been the absolute worst he'd ever gotten. The whole war had shattered his heart completely, both in its severity and in who it was coming from. And after the war he knew that he would have to work on gaining back all of his lost love, his destroyed hope. His mother wanted to help him do that, and Kosovo allowed her, forgiving her deception because of its circumstance. America seemed to love him as well, and Kosovo used that love for all it was worth.

Sometimes Kosovo would watch over his people and think about how fragile they all were. Why were humans so fragile? Why were their lives so short? Granted, they were always finding new ways to prolong their years on earth, but sometimes Kosovo just didn't understand. How could they stand it? How could they bring themselves to risk their fragile lives over anything, let alone something as insignificant as one's state?p

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. But either way, Kosovo was grateful for the recklessness of his people, their absurd bravery. They died so quickly, but for setting him free he would never forget any of them.

10# Songs

Montenegro wasn't quite like the other Yugoslav's, in more ways than one, but the most important being that he didn't quite possess the same level of machismo as the other men that lived in their home. He spent most of his time sleeping and walking about the house in a slight daze. He was soft and pale and bruised far more easily than Macedonia or Herzegovina ever would, and when he walked, his hips would sway in a delicate way that would drive any man crazy, if he were a girl. He was petite and had jet black hair, and at times had an almost ethereal aura to him.

Once, Croatia told pointedly told him, "You know how many guys would be after you if you were a girl?"

And Montenegro only forced smiled, small and fake but still beautiful in its own right. If he were a girl? If only Croatia knew of the attention he received in the underground, those older men who just couldn't leave him alone. But he remained tight-lipped about it, because he belonged to Yugoslavia and no one else. He taunted and teased the humans only because it was fun for him; he would never give in.

But one day, sometime in 1966 or 67, it caught up with him. Montenegro found himself being chased down into the forest by pious men wielding hammers and chains, hell bent on teaching him the difference between men and women, moral and immoral. Montenegro tried his best to get away, but he wasn't very good at running and they caught up to him quickly. Slammed him down onto the ground.

The world around Montenegro began to spin, painful memories of a war long over flooding his memory; he tried to scramble to his feet, but was kicked back down. They beat on him and tore at his hair, screaming obscenities and proclaiming his damnation. Through it all, Montenegro continually expected the worst, but when the final blow came, the iron hammer to the center of his chest, Montenegro wondered if it would have been better if they had just taken him.

After some long hours, getting over his laziness, Montenegro managed to stand. He stumbled out of the forest, leaning against the nearby tree's in order to sustain himself. His steps were small and his world was made of pain, but eventually he did make it back home. It took an enormous effort to knock on the door; he tried to call out to the others, but when he tried his broken ribs poked at his chest and the calls only manifested into a choking sound.

He never got to see who it was who opened the door; Montenegro fell forward the moment it did, collapsing into unknown arms. He would never know who it was who carried him up the stairs, who cleaned his wounds, who wrapped his chest around in bandages. He half expected it to be Slovenia, knowing the smaller republic's nature; but when he finally found the strength to open his eyes, he found that the one standing above him was Serbia.

There were no words. Serbia sat down next to him and studied him, scrutinizing, and it made Montenegro uncomfortable at first, but then he reminded himself that this was wasn't a leering soldier or some violent homophobic village man; this was his love. Serbia was different, his giant hands, his cocky smile, his bravery and strong heartbeat. But even so, Montenegro knew how Serbia was, how he probably would have agreed with his bashers had they attacked anyone but him.

So when Serbia began to descend on him, Montenegro didn't know how to react. Forgetting that he couldn't speak anyway, Montenegro opened his mouth to question, but Serbia seized the moment and kissed him, and his heart nearly beat out of his chest for the fleeting long moments before the larger Nation pulled away again. It's been fairly quick, but Montenegro had still been left breathless, his broken chest rising and falling as if he simply couldn't believe what had just happened.

And without a word, Serbia rose and left. They never spoke of it again.

11# Remember

Perhaps more than anyone, Croatia didn't miss Yugoslavia. At all.

He didn't miss his fights with Serbia. He didn't miss Herzegovina's annoying adoration of him. He didn't miss Bosnia's obliviousness. He didn't miss how rude Kosovo was. He didn't miss Vojvodina's timid ways. He didn't miss Vojvodina's infuriating devotion to her father. He didn't miss Montenegro's laziness. He didn't miss Macedonia being a cocktease. He didn't miss Slovenia… he didn't miss anything about Slovenia. Good riddance with Slovenia, his golden blonde hair, his pretty brown eyes, his soft skin, his gentleness. Croatia didn't miss any of that most of all.

Or, at least, so he told himself. But sometimes, when the air was still and he was all alone, he would sit and remember the old days when they had all been together. And he would be struck with an odd kind of nostalgia, a faint longing, before reluctantly reminding himself that he hated them all and didn't miss the old union one bit.

12# Acceptance

Vojvodina stared at her father from across the table, and couldn't remember a time when she had seen him so down.

Earlier that day, they'd come back from the meeting that would finalize the ending of the Union of Serbia and Montenegro. Vojvodina watched in silence as Montenegro let them keep everything; he appeared to be fine with starting from scratch, he just wanted out of the Union.

Her heart ached for him. Perhaps above everything else, she knew that Serbia hated being alone. "I'm sorry," she whispered before she could stop herself.

His head shot up. "For what, bre?"

"W-well, I mean… I'm just sorry. You're all alone now, and you almost died and everything… I'm just sorry that I didn't do more."

"Don't worry about it. I… I think that it's better that you didn't do anything. You sent your troops when you needed them, and that was enough. It would've sucked to see you out there fighting, too. That's no place for a girl like you," Serbia shrugged and turned away from Vojvodina. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm still alive, I'll be fine. And I'm not alone, bre," her father smiled. "I've still got you, after all."

Vojvodina nodded, and placed her hand over Serbia's. She couldn't leave; he still needed her. "Yes. You most certainly do."

A/N: Okay... so. This was quite random. And messy. And I'll admit; I didn't try too hard on it. Based the characters off of Yugotalia (LOOK IT UP, ITS AWESOME xD). And... yeah. Historical notes?

Yugoslavia was a pan-Slavic state that existed (roughly) from 1918 to 1992. It was composed of the modern day countries Serbia, Montenegro, Macedonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Slovenia, and Kosovo (to those who think of Kosovo as its own country). There are also the autonomous regions of Vojvodina in Serbia, and Republika Srpska in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Yugoslavia started out as the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, then was renamed the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, and then became the Socialist Federation of Yugoslavia upon the communist takeover in 1945.

The Bosnian War (1992-1995) was basically fought both against what was left of Yugoslavia in 1992 (basically Serbia, Montenegro, Kosovo and Vojvodina) and was a civil war in itself. The Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims) fought against the Bosnian Serbs (Republika Srpska) for territory, and for whether or not Srpska should even been part of BiH (many Bosnian Serbs wanted to stay with Yugoslavia). In addition, the Bosniaks also fought against the Herzegovinians (ethnic Croats), who wanted to join the newly formed state of Croatia. Um… yeah. It really was quite the complicated war, and also one that saw some of the worst fighting since WWII.

In 1998, around the same time of the Kosovo War, Macedonia was almost taken to the same point as Serbia, with the ethnic Albanian minority seeking equality in a country where they weren't given the same opportunities. However, unlike Serbia, Macedonia didn't try to resolve the issue through force; she did it through negotiation, and by re-writing her constitution and allowing Albanian political parties to participate in parliament.

The Kosovo War pinned the ethnic Albanians in southern Serbia, against the Serbs in the rest of the country. It at first was a force seeking equality, but Serbia… just wasn't for it. The fighting got so bad that it provoked NATO involvement, with the organization bombing military targets in Belgrade (Serbia's capital). From then on Kosovo became a UN protectorate, and declared independence soon after that. Serbia still refuses to recognize the declaration, however, and many countries are still torn as whether or not to recognize Kosovo. He's about halfway there, though, with 80 something countries recognizing him as an independent state.

As for character devices… the six major republics in Yugoslavia kind of "consummated" their union back in 1918, and let me tell you, THE ORGY WAS SO AWESOME xD But it only happened once… pairings pretty much splintered off from that point: Bosnia/Herzegovina (though that's kind of forced because of their arranged marriage), Croatia/Slovenia, Serbia/Macedonia, Serbia/Montenegro (one of my OTP's; can you tell? ^_^). Serbia/Albania happened in the past (which is where Kosovo comes from… Serbia and Albania HATE each other now), same thing with Serbia/Hungary (and that's Vojvodina… they don't quite hate each other, but they're not on the best of relations). Albania/Macedonia is just some weird pairing in my mind; like, it could maybe work if you squint. It's probably more one sided than anything.

Annnnnd that's it. Review? :3