It's Spazzkitty, the author who wants to wage a holy crusade against Peanut-Butter cups! (Chocolate and peanut butter TOGETHER? It's unnatural and WEIRD!) Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever, as this chapter did NOT WANT to be written. But I'm back on the bandwagon with the updates, and will try to keep the chapters coming. UPDATE FOR YOU JERKS WHO DON'T READ AUTHOR'S NOTES, BUT LIKE MY WRITING (NOTICIBLE ENOUGH FOR YOU?): I'm doing a collab with xcorkx that you should check out! It's a parody of Hercules with America as our dashing hero, and it's under her fics! So check it out if you've got the time! I don't own Hetalia- yaaaaay!
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Turning the World Right-Side Up
Chapter 3: The Sun and the Moon
Germany groaned as his eyes slowly flickered open. He was lying on a cot in the nurse's office, but the whole room was spinning. His head hurt like crazy, and he couldn't remember what happened. How had he gotten here?
"Ger-ch…Germany? Are you awake?" A timid voice piped up. Germany blinked his dazed blue eyes. The fuzziness slowly faded and he saw Feliciano perched on a chair near him. His heart gave a surprised leap.
"Italy? What are you doing here?"
"Hungary-chan said she found you unconscious in a classroom. So she asked me to stay here until you got up, 'cause I have a free period right now." Germany shook his head a little, which admittedly made it hurt even more, and what actually happened came back to him with shocking clarity. Hungary had been lunging at him, spitting out profanities and accusations, her trusty frying pan at the ready. As he had expertly dodged her blows, he had been trying to explain himself when he tripped over a stack of books. Hungary had finally managed to hit him with a frying pan- of course, it had been full-on his forehead. Apparently, she had knocked him unconscious and lied to Italy for her own nefarious purposes, whatever they were.
Germany was snapped out of his reverie when he heard a slight sniffle. He looked at Italy, only to flinch in shock. The freshman's face was paler than he had remembered, with faded streaks of tears on both of his ashen cheeks. His brown eyes were full of sadness, and Germany dimly felt himself brush his thumb across the other boy's cheekbones.
"Italy," he said gently. "What's wrong?"
"Germany, why don't you like me any more?" Italy said in a whisper.
"Of course still I like you!" he replied automatically.
"Then why did you break up with me?" He whimpered.
"I... I thought..." Germany stammered, his eyes dropping guiltily from Italy's.
"Look at me!" Feliciano suddenly erupted, his voice pleading. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to. Just don't ignore me. I can't take it."
Surprised, Germany lifted his eyes back to the sad brown ones staring at him. Without thinking, he mumbled, "I'm not good enough."
"What?"
"It's nothing," Germany said hastily, his face turning a light pink.
"Tell me," Italy said, a familiar whine beginning to creep into his voice. Germany was so relieved that he was beginning to sound like his old self that he absentmindedly repeated his statement.
"I'm not good enough for you, Italy. I don't deserve you," he said with a sigh. He looked up at Italy, only to see the brunette staring at him curiously with one head cocked to the side.
"Ve?" Was all he said, but Germany knew him well enough to be able to tell that he wanted him to explain.
"Italy, you're… you're incredible. You're like the sun. You're bright and comforting and warm. And you deserve someone better than I am, someone who can make you happy."
Italy blinked a few times in surprise. Distantly, he remembered something Gilbert had said when Germany and Italy has first started dating.
"You're dating my brother now?" Gilbert had said, nonchalantly spray-painting 'PRUSSIA WUZ HEER' on a locker. "So he remembers his past now then? Hopefully his childhood inferiority complex won't kick in."
"His what?" Italy asked curiously.
"Inferiority complex." Seeing Italy's blank look, he sighed. "It means, dumbass, that he thought he wasn't good enough for my dad. He had a horrible self-opinion because my dad, Germania, was somewhat of an ass. He was always telling Germany that he wasn't good enough, that he was weak and spineless, and that he was worthless. So I guess it's good that you're dating him now because you make him feel like he's important. You know?"
"Germany, you're such a dummy," Italy said after a pause.
"What?" The blonde looked at him, shock plain in his blue eyes. That clearly wasn't what he was expecting.
"You make me happy, Ludwig. If I'm the sun, then you must be the moon. You're calm and serious, and cool. And you kill spiders for me. The sun and the moon are opposites, but they live in the same sky, right?"
"They do, I suppose…" mumbled Ludwig distractedly, reaching out and clasping Feliciano's hands. The brunette smiled beautifully in response, and Germany almost beamed himself at how whole the other boy looked, so complete and pure and delighted.
"That's right! They do! And the earth needs both the moon and the sun, right? I guess that makes me the earth too, because I need my moon to exist. Otherwise, I can't go on. Right?" He smiled and squeezed Ludwig's hands.
"Right," Ludwig said, dazed. The full reality of what Feliciano was saying had finally sunk in. Feliciano was saying that he needed him. That he made him happy. Ludwig had never felt truly important before, and he wasn't sure how to react to the warm feeling bubbling up inside him. So he acted the only way that seemed to make sense to him at the time. He leaned forward and kissed the younger boy fully on the mouth. Italy gasped slightly in surprise, then clung to him as tightly as he could, as if afraid he was going to wake up and find the whole incident was a dream. And right outside the door, a girlish giggle was heard.
"We're freakin AWESOME!" cheered Hungary in a hushed voice, ducking back out of sight and slapping a high-five onto Seychelles's palm.
"Darn straight we are!" She said, grinning massively.
"How did you even get the nurse out of there?"
Seychelles giggled again, covering her mouth. "I told her Japan was bleeding heavily from the eyes earlier today. She's still convinced that he's lying about being fine and she literally won't leave him alone."
"Seriously? Hell hath no fury like Seychelles scorned! You, my friend, are an artist."
"I learned from the best!"
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Spain walked uncertainly down the hallway, looking for a certain foul-mouthed Italian. Something he had heard from Austria earlier made him feel uneasy, and he needed to see for himself if his ex-boyfriend had begun to smoke. Finally, he found him near the band lockers, with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a box of matches in his hand. Spain's blood turned to ice.
"LOVINO!" he barked, horrified, storming over and yanking the cigarette from between the other boy's lips.
"Asshole," Lovino acknowledged calmly. Spain felt a pang of sadness at the loathing in his tone. The Italian sighed, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the packet of cigarettes, his fingers selecting a new one. Spain grabbed both the cigarette and the package out of his hands and threw them out the window, similar to what Hungary had done the day before with his lighter. Lovi glowered at him.
"Chingate."
Spain winced. "You still pronounce Spanish perfectly, eh?"
"What does it matter to you?"
"Romano, don't do this to yourself."
"Don't do what?" He said innocently, looking out the window to see where his cigarettes landed.
"Give yourself lung cancer!" Antonio said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it should have been to anyone other than Lovino. The other boy just rolled his eyes.
"Maybe I want to die of lung cancer, but even if I do, it's none of your business. You owe me five bucks for a new pack of cigarettes."
"Cigarettes aren't five bucks! They're much less than that!"
"Maybe I want extra money for the damages to my psyche that a certain douchebag gave me after rudely dumping me," Lovino shot back. Without another word, he kicked Spain where it hurt and stomped off, bellowing "WHERE THE FUCK DID MY CIGARETTES LAND?"
Spain hit the floor in a crumpled heap. "I deserved that," he said quietly.
"Yes you did!" piped up Ivan cheerfully, skipping over Spain and purposely stepping on his hand with his massive steel-toed boots. Antonio hissed in pain, and Russia giggled innocently.
Causing pain was a tough job, but somebody had to do it.
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According to a website with Spanish swears, Chingate means 'Fuck you'. Sorry if it's not accurate, but I probably won't change it even if it's wrong. It's too much hassle to reupload the chapter.
