New Story based off of Tyler Perry's "Why Did I Get Married?" film which I absolutely love. For those who have seen it, I have tweaked the Hetalia characters personalities to fit those of the characters in the film just slightly but I will do my best to keep them in-character as possible. Can you guess who is who? A cookie for anyone who can! :D I will add my own little blase to this so it won't be entirely identical to the movie. Forgive me if I fail. This chapter may lag to you but this is just to get things started. Please let me know if you want me to continue.
Fair warning to you all: there is gender-bending. Lovino and Arthur are now women. This is for the sake of the story flowing at a much smoother rate and if you have issues with the gender-bending... LEAVE. I don't want to hear any crap about how they should have remained as men. I don't care. Your flames will only inspire me to continue writing.
Happy reading~
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or "Why Did I Get Married?"
Warnings: None just gender-bending.
Chapter One
It was a cool winter morning and the brown crisp leaves of the once lush trees were scattered about the college campus, fleeing in the direction the breeze carried them. The students heading to and from class wandered the campus with nothing but the warmth of a building in mind.
"Are there any questions for Dr. Edelstein?" the English professor asked the class. "Yes, Rachel."
"Dr. Edelstein, I was reading your book "Why Did I Get Married,"and I was just wondering if you and your friends still go on that vacation?" Rachel asked.
The teacher laughed lightly if not nervously, "I'm sorry, Rachel. Dr. Edelstein is here to talk about her new book, "The Power of an Educated Mind."Anyone have any questions pertaining to that book?"
The class remained still save for the few that glanced around to see who would raise their hands.
Elizabeta Edelstein chuckled, tucked a piece of her chestnut wavy hair behind her ear, and smiled, "Well, yes. "Why Did I Get Married?" was my last book, and I am extremely honored to say that it has been nominated this year for the "Psychology Digest" award."
Applause erupted and Elizabeta murmured a "thank you" and smiled kindly.
"Oh! Silly me! To answer your question, Miss Rachel, yes. We still get together to go on that vacation. I'm actually leaving right after the lecture to meet my friends. Let's do a quick headcount here: how many of you have not read "Why Did I Get Married?"
Elizabeta studied the class as a few hesitant students raised their hands.
"All right. Um, well, the book is based on a study I did with my friends, with their consent, of course. And this is something we do annually, and what it is—basically—there are four couples and we take a week-long vacation to anywhere in the world that we choose. And while we're on that vacation, we ask ourselves: why did I get married?"
The young men and women occupying the room listened intently as the Hungarian psychologist continued.
"We do exercises to strengthen our relationships; we do all sorts of things. We do whatever it is to support each other. We force our spouses, while on this vacation, to discuss whatever it is that needs to be discussed."
"That's got to be hard, especially for the men," a male student sitting in the back commented and earned some laughter from his colleagues.
"It's actually a test of our wills. Take Antonio and Lovina, for instance. They know how to communicate all too well," Elizabeta smiled.
The iced roads were spotted with very few cars heading in the same direction as the mentioned couple as most weren't willing to take the risk of driving in the snowy weather.
"Antonio, maybe we shouldn't have left Chiara at home. She's just barely getting over that damn cold," Lovina Carriedo, a strong and very independent Italian woman, commented. She watched the scenery blur by with inquisitive forest eyes.
"Lovi, I keep telling you that she's fine," her husband, Antonio, reassured her for what seemed to be the hundredth time that hour.
"How do you know?" Lovina raised an eyebrow.
"I'm a pediatrician. You know, I do have a medical degree," Antonio chuckled.
"Oh. Yeah. And you're the same pediatrician who told her it was all right for her to play football on the coldest day of the fucking year," Lovino scoffed.
"Si, si, but didn't we argue about this already?" Antonio smiled, glancing at his wife.
"Who's arguing?" Lovina had a playful gleam in her eyes. "It's a debate."
"Ah, a debate? Oh, okay," Antonio laughed.
The trill of a cellphone shattered their "debate" and Antonio couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Hello," Lovina put the phone to her ear.
"That's going to cause a debate," Antonio said.
Lovina whispered to him, "It's Trina, I've got to get this."
"Trina's always calling," the Spaniard mumbled in absolute annoyance. Antonio had patience sent from heaven itself but his everlasting tolerance was wearing very thin, very fast.
"Did you get the information on the case?" Lovina asked. "Great. Could you do me a huge favor and email it to me and I'll check it when we get to the cabin."
"Lovi, we're on vacation," Antonio sighed only to be waved off by the Italian. "We've been in this truck for hours and you've been on the phone the entire time. Can you get off the phone and spend some time with me? Is that too much to ask?"
"Yeah, I'll see you when I get back, Trina," Lovina hung up and placed the phone in her lap. "Antonio, you have some control issues. And here I thought I was bad."
"Control issues?" Antonio snorted. "Lovina, don't start."
"I just thought I'd get a little work done since we've been in this car for so damn long—"
"The reason we've been in here for hours is because I'm trying to spend some time with my wife since we don't have time at home. When was the last time we spent this much time together?" Antonio explained, more agitation leaking in his tone.
"We both work 12-hour days, you should know that," Lovina huffed.
"No, you work 12 hours a day. I'm home by five," Antonio said.
"Well, so am I… most days."
"Yeah but you've got phone calls and emails coming in all the time. You're doing these drive-by meetings with our daughter," Antonio grumbled in frustration.
Lovina's eyes narrowed, "Hey, I am a good mother. I can't believe you just fucking said that."
Antonio pinched the bridge of his noise, "Lovina, I'm not saying that you're not a good mother. I'm just saying that your priorities are a little mixed up, that's all."
Lovina wasn't having it and started browsing through her phone again, shaking her head at Antonio's words and muttering something in Italian. Antonio stared at her in disbelief.
"Lovi, we're talking and you're picking up the phone? Are you listening?"
"I hear you," Lovina said.
"Yeah, I get that, but are you listening? There's a difference," Antonio replied. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, sure, but he certainly did know when he was being ignored. And right now, Lovina would be avoiding him like the plague if she had the option.
Lovina exaggeratedly dropped the phone in her lap, shooting Antonio a dark look and gave a sneer, "It's just you and me this weekend, okay? Just the two of us. Happy?"
Antonio stared at the road ahead of him, not letting his aggravation get the best of him. "This ought to be an interesting week."
"You know, Dr. Edelstein, I was very concerned about the Ivan and Matthew characters. Are they still engaged or…?" Rachel wondered.
"I prefer not to discuss my friends, but yes. They are still engaged," Elizabeta nodded.
"Yes, but are they happy?"
"Well…" Elizabeta trailed off.
A plane roared overhead as a certain couple and their friend were boarding one of the many aircrafts still grounded.
"I appreciate you letting me tag along on your vacation, you two. Thank you," the shortest of the three men said.
"I-I just couldn't leave you at home. All that stress from your job isn't healthy," Matthew Williams, a shy and feeble young man from Canada, smiled politely at his friend, Yao Wang. "You could really use a vacation."
"You said it," Yao nodded in agreement, scooting into the row he was assigned. He then noticed that Ivan had been assigned the seat next to him. "W-Wait, Matthew, why don't you sit over here by your husband?"
"No, no, no," Ivan was stuffing the carry-on luggage into the compartments overhead. "You sit right there, all right? We've assigned seats for a reason, da?"
Yao, of course, looked fairly hesitant but sat when Matthew reassured the lithe Chinese man that it was all right that he sat next to the Russian. Matthew had been appointed the next row up but stopped upon seeing that there was someone already in his seat. The Canadian glanced at his ticket to make sure he had the right seat and row and his face scrunched up in confusion when he saw that it was exactly right.
"Is there an issue, sir?" a flight attendant questioned.
"Um, yes. I have the right seat but…" Matthew held out his ticket to the attendant who took it gingerly.
She scanned it with careful coffee eyes and gave it back as soon as she discovered the problem. Her eyes were sympathetic now as she could practically read the kindness and genuine confusion in Matthew's eyes. She'd hate to break this to him. "Sir, it appears that your ticket is for a flight that is scheduled for a different date."
"What?" Matthew treads over the ticket again.
"It's a common mistake most people make and we don't catch it all the time. I'm sorry sir, but we have a very full flight and I'm going to have to ask you to deplane please."
Matthew looked over his shoulder at the duo, his violet eyes a palette of different expressions.
"Don't even think about looking back here," Ivan scorned.
"Ivan, stop it," Yao reprimanded and turned to Matthew. "Here, Matthew, I'll give up my seat and I just won't go, okay?"
"No, no, no, what good is that going to do? Then I'll be uncomfortable. Besides, if he booked the wrong flight, he booked the wrong flight. It's not our problem," Ivan shrugged.
Matthew couldn't stop the words from reaching his heart and tearing it shreds and he struggled to not show it on his usually gentle expression.
"How about this?" Ivan opened the overhead compartment and reached into his carry-on bag, pulling out some cash. "You can take the bus. Oh! Drive. That's it. Drive. You'll get all the solitude you want if you do that."
The Russian began counting the bills for gas money and the disbelieving look on Matthew's face was enough to make even the most stoic of hearts melt with empathy.
"So I'll just see you up there, da?" Ivan smiled all too sweetly for Matthew's liking.
"Ivan—" Yao was about to scold the man again.
"What? He's a grown man. He'll be fine," Ivan seemed to have relaxed more now as Matthew was grabbing his things.
"I-I'll see you both up there," Matthew attempted a smile but it wasn't even close to reaching his eyes. The young Canadian trudged down the aisle, cheeks burning with humiliation.
Ivan sent him a feigned sweet smile, "I love you."
Matthew didn't even respond.
"Yes, Clara?" the teacher pointed to said student.
"I find it hard to believe that an educated woman such as you could have a friend like Amelia," Clara had an amused smile on her face, remembering reading that part in the book.
Elizabeta laughed, "Well, one of the greatest things about going to college is that you get to meet very interesting people from all around the world, such as my friends who are spread out from different countries. And Amelia—she's amazingly intelligent. She studied chemistry, and when she couldn't get a job in corporate America, she went a different direction. She started her own hair care line—Lady Amy It's a wonderful product. I use it myself."
"But what about her husband, Francis? Wasn't he having trouble staying employed?"
"Yes but they seemed to have worked something out—sort of."
The train barreled down the tracks, the horn roaring loudly in its wake. The grove of evergreen trees hugged the railroad and spread out as far as the land could see and the locomotive cut through the foliage and the mountainous regions ahead.
"I am absolutely sick of dealing with your ex-wife," Amelia Bonnefoy, a young Englishwoman with long blonde hair tied in two neat pigtails, seethed at the thought of the ghastly woman. She readjusted the glasses on her face, feeling a headache coming on.
"Do you mind?" a very lavishly dressed man seated behind them interjected.
"Excuse us," Francis, her husband, sighed.
Amelia glowered over her shoulder, "Excuse me, was anyone talking to you? I've never met so many rude people before. Just barging into conversations whenever they want to."
"You're very bold, aren't you?" the man raised an eyebrow.
"No, you're just annoying and again, being rude. I was having a conversation with my husband, not with you," Amelia snapped, her eyes burning like green fire.
"She's drunk," Francis commented.
"Yeah I can tell," the man crossed his arms. "Probably a 40."
"Can you not embarrass me for once? Please?" Francis murmured to his wife.
"You are an embarrassment, all right? And I was just fine until we dropped your son off at Michelle's house," Amelia shot back.
"She's his mother. What do you want me to do?" Francis shrugged.
"Be a man and tell her to stop talking to me like she doesn't have any sort of sense otherwise I will do something about it. I'm going to be very honest with you, Francis. If she looks at me one more time like she has a problem then there will be one."
The other passengers of the train began to stare and Francis felt his cheeks heat up.
"She wasn't even looking at you," the Frenchman attempted to get through to his stubborn wife.
"How would you know? You weren't looking at her face. You're too busy staring at her ass," Amelia's anger was beginning to simmer to a boiling point. She acted as a well brought up girl should—most days. So she had a bit of a jealousy issue. Doesn't everybody?
"What about you and your husband?" Rachel continued.
Elizabeta now had a solid poker face but her voice seeped in suspicion. "What about us?"
"I know you've been through a lot in such a short amount of time and I'm terribly sorry for your loss but how is your marriage holding up?"
The Hungarian doctor inhaled smoothly at the mention of their latest tragedy and moved towards the podium placed at the front of the room, staring at her hands to gather her thoughts. Preparing to answer the question, she looked up and the gentlest of smiles caressed her features.
"Well, um, you can ask my husband yourself," she motioned towards the back of the room where a young, elegant man with brunette hair and mauve eyes illuminated by glasses was standing there. Roderich Edelstein was his name and everything about him emanated order and stability, just as an architect such as himself preferred. He had entered the room so smoothly no one had even noticed his presence. All eyes turned to him and he didn't even flinch.
He cleared his throat before speaking, "We're going to be late for our flight. That's how we're doing."
"There you have it," Elizabeta's smile seemed rather forced. "Thank you."
The class once again applauded the doctor for her presentation as she glided towards her husband. Roderich placed her coat over her shoulders and exited the classroom with her.