A/N: Chapter 2~ Not much to say here, hope you enjoy!

Netherlands= Lars

Belgium= Bel


The bus was noisy. He didn't think it'd be too noisy when he'd first taken his seat, but as soon as he stopped looking at Emil from out the window, Mathias was chatting mindlessly with the Prussian who was referred to as Gilbert in the seat across from them. Lukas sighed and looked at the other men surrounding.

There were two brothers, one American and one British man in the seat in front of Lukas who were arguing over something. He thought he heard another voice, someone saying how he was their brother from some place called 'Canada', but Lukas didn't understand what they were talking about. The British man turned to look at Mathias, who was talking rather loudly, but instead caught Lukas' eye. The first thing that Lukas noticed about him was that his eyebrows were very thick. "Oh, hello there. Sorry, I don't mean to bother you or anything, but that man sitting next to you. Would you mind asking him to tone down his voice a bit?" The man asked politely. Lukas simply nodded and prodded Mathias in the back. "Den. You need to be a bit quieter." He said, being ignored by the Dane, and the Brit smiled. "Ah, that's an interesting accent. Are you from… Finland?" He asked, though it hurt Lukas to think about his friend that he had to leave behind. Lukas shook his head. "I'm from Norway. I'm Lukas. This is Mathias. He's from Denmark." He said quietly.

"Oh, I see. I'm Arthur, from England. This is my younger brother, Alfred. He's from America." Arthur introduced them, and Alfred turned. "'Sup." He said simply. He turned and joined in Mathias' conversation. (Which was now on the subject of beer.) There was another boy there; he introduced himself as Matthew, and that he was from a country that Lukas had never heard of before called 'Canada'. It was hard to focus on him because he was nearly invisible and spoke quietly and dully.

"Oi, you! With the hair clip!" chirped a scratchy voice in the seat across from Lukas and Mathias. Lukas turned to see the Prussian that Mathias was chatting to earlier. "You look pretty cute. What's your name?" He asked with a thick German accent. "That's Lukas. He's my best friend~" Mathias answered for him. Lukas scowled. "Ja. Just don't call me 'cute', okay?" He replied. The Prussian smiled. "My name's Gilbert. Bet you already knew that, though. This is my bruder, West. Say hi, West." Gilbert said, turning to the blonde man next to him. The tall man turned, and his icy blue eyes pierced Lukas' dull ones. "I'm Ludwig. Hallo." He said simply, and turned to stare out the window again. Lukas nodded curtly as Gilbert smiled. Mathias turned, and looked out the window. His smile faltered.

"We're here."

"Everyone off the bus!"


Emil woke on Lukas' floor. The fairytale was next to him, opened to the last page where the boy was reunited with the girl and where they live happily ever after. He sighed and put it back on the shelf. His sight lingered to his desk, where a single letter was. It was that letter.

'Dear Mr. Lukas Bondevik and Mr. Mathias Densen…'

Emil scowled. He wanted to rip up the paper. He wanted to throw it into the fireplace. He wanted to submerge it in water. He hated that letter. Hated whoever wrote it. Hated whoever decided that it was a good idea to take away his brother from him. But he didn't know if Lukas still needed it, so he decided to put it back and hate silently.

He looked one last time at Lukas' room, and closed the door behind him as he walked out. He next went into Mathias' not as neat room. Compared to Lukas' blue furnishings, Mathias' was mostly black with some red. Clothes, papers, and other things were scattered around the floor. His bed was unmade and the blinds were always closed. (Mathias didn't like the idea of their creepy neighbor Natalia staring at him.) The Dane only had a few books; he was never really interested in reading as much as Lukas was. Mathias' favorite book however, was one of a young mermaid. Emil couldn't find it; nothing was where it was supposed to be. Emil sighed and returned to his room. He was greeted with his beloved photograph of him and his brother. He groaned.

It was dark. Lukas' whole body hurt as heaved himself into the soldier's quarters. Training was long and brutal. They had been forced to run 30 long laps, carry another on their shoulders, (Lukas was forced to carry Gilbert, the annoying Prussian) and perform push-ups in record time. If they messed up or complained, they were forced to do it again. Mathias had to carry Alfred, the American, at least 7 times. A few unfortunate souls were still outside in the dark, carrying each other and performing push-ups. Mathias was one of them. He complained a lot. Luckily, Lukas saw him finish his last push-up and be dismissed. Lukas waited at the door for him. "You'd better learn to stop complaining soon." He said. Mathias groaned. "Shut up. I saw you nearly slap the guy. You had to run again." He replied. Lukas sighed. "Whatever. Let's get food. I'm starving." Lukas said, and headed for the cafeteria.

The cafeteria food was best described as tasting like crap. Lukas and Mathias both decided that they'd rather eat dirt. Both slinked over to the dorms. Mathias and Lukas were being separated. Mathias flashed Lukas a sad look. "Well, see you tomorrow Norgie." He said, giving him a quick hug before turning in the direction opposite of Lukas. Lukas turned and walked to his assigned room. There were three cheap looking beds, one desk, and a dim light. There was another man lying on one bed already, reading a small book. He had spiky hair and a scar on his forehead. The man lowered his book and looked at Lukas. "Hey. I'm Lars. You are…?" Said Lars. "I'm Lukas. Do you know who else is in here with us?" He asked. Lars shook his head, and silently pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He offered one to Lukas, which he refused, and lit it. The room was quickly filled with smoke as Lukas coughed. The door slammed open.

"YOU PUT OUT THAT DAMN CIGARETTE RIGHT NOW LARS OR YOU'LL SCRUB ALL THE FLOORS FOR A MONTH, DO YOU HEAR ME?" Said an angry voice.

Lars and Lukas quickly stood up straight and saluted. "Sir, yes sir!" They said in unison, and Lars quickly put out his cigarette and the door slammed shut. Lukas let out a breath as he located the bed with his bag on it. He sat down and put his chin on his hands. Lars grunted and sat on his own bed. "That's bull. If I can't smoke, why didn't they confiscate them instead of leaving them there to torture me?" He muttered to no one in particular. Lukas sighed again. He grabbed the sleepwear that was on a chair next to him and changed while Lars wasn't looking. Both sat in an awkward silence, waiting for the next person to join them in their room.

They didn't have to wait long. The polite British man that Lukas had met on the bus walked into the room, as Lukas sighed in relief that it wasn't a pervert or a large scary man like the Ludwig man he met on the bus. "Oh, hello again. It looks like we're rooming together then. I'm Arthur, from England. May I ask your name?" He asked Lars. "Lars. From the Netherlands." He grunted. "Ah, I see. So we're all from Europe then? Splendid." He said, and sat down on his bed. Lukas pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper from his bag and sat down at the desk. The nosy Brit looked over his shoulder. "What're you writing, may I ask?" He asked. Lukas put his pen down. "I'm writing a letter to my brother. He's eight. I had to leave him when I was drafted. He's with a few of my friends." He said. Lars turned. "I have a sister. Her name is Bel. She's sixteen. I had to leave her, too." He added, and decided that it was time for him to sleep. "Ah, I see. You must miss him already. My brother and I were both drafted, so I didn't have to leave anyone. I'm terribly sorry." Arthur said, and decided to sleep as well. "G'night then, fellows. We've a long day ahead of us." Arthur said. "Yippee." Lars replied, as Lukas continued writing his letter.

"LIGHTS OUT, NOW."

Lukas quickly shut off the lamp and wrote his letter in darkness.