Rachele: What is this? I don't even-
DO NOT OWN HETALIA
"From this day forth, Prussia and Germany will be split up between the World's Super Powers. Germany will be given to the United States, and Prussia will be given to the Soviet Union."
I felt my blood run cold, as I examined the face of everyone in the room. England – who had spoken the dreaded words – looked bored out of his skull. France looked uncomfortable – which I relished greatly – at the thought of his once friend being given to Russia. China looked as though this was the most boring day of his life. America looked rather smug. Canada looked pale, and stricken, and worried. At least someone cared. Germany – mein bruder, I thought nastily – was too busy with his Italian Bit- Boyfriend. Yeah. That's what I meant. And Russia looked out of his mind with joy. I swear on Gott and Old Fritz or whoever you worship, that he had that creepy smile of his on full blast. He'd never looked happier in his whole life.
Oh, Shit. I just realized. Russia doesn't know I'm a girl. "Derʹmo, derʹmo, derʹmo, derʹmo, derʹmo (1)," I cursed in Russian, as I often did when I was nervous. It was a terrible habit, especially with a Russian in earshot. I caught him looking at me strangely. I bet he wondered why I was mumbling in Russian.
Oh, DOUBLE Shit. Russia definitely doesn't know I'm in love with him. Why? I don't know. I just am. Stop interrogating me dammit! I banged my head on the table repeatedly a few times before sitting up and pulling out one of the pocket journals I always have with me, and began writing in it. I had resigned to fate. There was no point in resisting yet. Key word being: 'yet'.
Sighing, I finished what I'd been writing and shoved it in my pocket and laid my head down. I felt suddenly tired and sick, and I fell asleep. I had the feeling this would not be awesome.
Rachele: Yes, Prussia is a woman. Deal with it or go away. Yes, Prussia is cursing is Russian. That will be explained later.
(1)- Shit