Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
"So, Vash. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, like the whole name thing, how we knew where to find you, how Roderich guessed you had a sister."
"…"
"Well, there's this Japanese comic, called Hetalia. In it, all the countries of the world interact and go through events and history, mostly World War two and such, and then… Ah, I'm not explaining this very well."
"No."
"So… In Hetalia, each country has a human form. Like, this human personifies the whole of this country. It shows each of these countries, able to speak and feel emotions and pain and stuff, going through certain events in history, and just interacting with each other. It's meant to be just kinda pointless and funny, just a comedy, so it's not completely accurate on all accounts."
"Hm."
"When I read it, I thought it was the coolest thing ever! Despite its weird, pointless basis, it's got a huge fanbase, which I'm proud to call myself a part of."
"Do you have a point?"
"Well, yeah. Um… I guess the most important thing about Hetalia, in this situation, is its characters. One for each country that takes part. Or in rare cases, there's two for a country, but that doesn't really matter. Each has a unique personality and appearance that reflects the stereotypes about the country they represent. And what I discovered after reading Hetalia is that these characters are actually real."
"Don't make me laugh."
"It's true. I know it's really hard to believe, but it's really true."
"What, that our countries have some sort of human personification walking around?"
"Erm… Well, no. I mean, in this world, the characters aren't actually countries like they are in Hetalia. They're just people, who have the same personality and physical appearance, along with having been born in the country they represented in Hetalia."
"I have no interest in being involved in your delusions."
"If you stick around here, you'll see it's true! If I wasn't sure at first, I definitely am now."
"What does this have to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with everything. You, me, your sister, Roderich – that's what we are. We're characters from Hetalia! I represent the country of Hungary, while your country is Switzerland. Roderich guessed that you had a sister because he knew of Switzerland's close, sibling bond with the country of Lichtenstein, and could guess her name using human names given by Hetalia's author and fans of the series."
"What? That's ridiculous."
"No, it makes sense, doesn't it? And every one of us who is a character from Hetalia possesses an abnormal, superhuman ability. Like my ability to always assume correctly."
"So you've been going around the world capturing people that look like the people from these books?"
"Well… yeah. Pretty much."
"Let's say I believe everything you've told me. Why are you doing this?"
"Because… Ah. Well. I guess that's not so easy to answer…"
Kiku stepped into the airport, feeling the familiar unsteadiness of his legs as he grew used to unmoving ground again. Plane rides always left him feeling a little dizzy. But this one had been relatively pleasant – no crying children or annoyingly talkative neighbors. Kiku slept most of the way, and read the rest.
One step outside the doors of the airport (he traveled light – all he had was what he brought on the plane as carryon, so he had no luggage to pick up) told him that he was officially in the middle of nowhere. The airport sprawled behind him, and ahead, roads lay in a tangle, constantly being traced by multicolored cars. But other than that, there was nothing. No city, no houses, no stores – just yellowish grass waving in the spring breeze.
Kiku sighed. A taxi, then.
Luckily, there was no shortage of available taxis at the airport. When one person hailed one, another came to take its place, knowing that it would be needed soon enough. Less than five minutes after realizing he would require a taxi, Kiku found himself climbing into one, buckling himself into the seat. It smelled new and fresh – a huge difference from the last time Kiku had ridden in a taxi in America. He tried not to remember that particular event too much.
The man at the wheel looked to be in his sixties, with a balding head and wrinkles forming around his eyes. His face didn't exactly have the "jolly old man" look to it, but he didn't look nasty or anything. Then, Kiku didn't judge books by their cover.
"Where to, young man?" the driver asked, adjusting his rearview mirror.
"Oh, just a second." Kiku dug in his pocket, taking out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. It had a picture of a manga style man with a broad grin and a couple strands of gravity defying hair sticking up in a small cowlick. He flipped the paper over, revealing an address scrawled on the back. He quickly read it aloud, looking up expectantly.
The driver was staring at him with narrowed eyes in the rearview mirror. "Now why would you want to go there?" he asked carefully.
Kiku looked surprised, giving a sheepish but hopefully reassuring smile, easily slipping into his default excuse. "I'm going to see a friend. We haven't seen each other in a while, since I live in another state, but…"
"Are you sure you know what kind of person your friend is?" The driver's tone was serious.
Kiku stared curiously. "Why would you say that?"
"The people who live in that place are bad news," the man said heavily. "Dropouts, thugs, druggies, gang members – that's where they all end up. You go in there, you're lucky to come back not shot through the heart, never mind with all of your possessions and money."
"Hm." Kiku pursed his lips. Was this really the kind of place Alfred lived in? Had they gotten the addresses wrong? Then again, he was supposed to be rather rambunctious, and who knew what his past was like. "Thank you for the warning, sir. But I believe I'll be alright."
"It's your life," the driver muttered. "I'm only going to drop you off at the top of the neighborhood, if you don't mind. The last guy who went in there got his window shattered and a huge dent in his roof."
"That's fine," Kiku agreed. He hoped the taxi driver was exaggerating.
Click.
"…she is described as being rather high-tech, with a humble and mature personality and a level head, though she will clearly state her views."
Click.
"A gift for everything you've done for me! This is a token of my feelings!"
Click.
Young, blond, with a strong admiration for her brother… Can sew pajamas. No specific notable skill sets, overall.
Roderich closed the tab, running a hand through his hair. The information he could find on Lili's character gave away few clues as to what her ability could be. Her only defining feature in Hetalia seemed to be that she was near obsessed with her brother, not that the overprotective sibling minded.
She is a rather adorable character. Maybe she can cute a person to death.
The Austrian groaned as the idiotic thought crossed his mind. Even so, he considered the idea: although "cuting" someone to death seemed unviable, the idea of her being incredibly, unnaturally lovable couldn't be completely ruled out. However, he noted, they had multiple people with similar powers of charm. For example, Francis, who could make anyone feeling physically attracted to him at will. It was unlikely that she would possess such an apparently common power.
So it was back to the drawing board. Roderich shut the laptop's lid, pushing his chair back from his desk and standing to stretch. The job of guessing at a person's ability always seemed to fall to him. It was a long, tedious, thankless job, but Elizabeta insisted that it was necessary, and he agreed with her reasoning. They were attempting to track people with potentially dangerous powers, or possibly some method of avoiding capture. It was good to have some sort of estimate of what they were up against.
Some powers could be assumed by studying the personality of a person's Hetalia counterpart, and finding a major detail about them that could be extended into an ability. Francis's parallel, the personification of the country France, was flirty, charming, and rather perverted. Thus, his ability to attract and seduce anyone he chose came as no surprise. Arthur also possessed hints to his power in his Hetalia character, England.
Vash had fallen into this category, it seemed. In Hetalia, Switzerland was a standoffish individual with a liking for guns. Vash, as his counterpart, was unable to miss his target when shooting.
Other people's abilities could be found or confirmed through a witness's experience. For better or for worse, Ivan's power was apparent as soon as they found him, since both his location and what he had done were splashed across internet headlines. Of course, although it made Roderich's job easier, such occasions left the Collection with a mess to clean up, usually. Luckily, such noticeable powers were rare.
Unfortunately, as far as Roderich could tell, Lili's power could not be easily assumed through either method. Her character Liechtenstein was a minor character, even if she was a fairly well known and loved one, with few obvious traits. On top of that, she and Vash had done a great job keeping off the map – there had been barely any information on their whereabouts to work with, much less anything they could do.
It would not be uncommon at all if her ability turned out to be one with no apparent connection to Liechtenstein. Elizabeta, for example, and her power of perfect assumption was not something that could be easily guessed. Her corresponding character, Hungary, could have been perhaps somewhat intuitive, but if so, it was far from obvious. Kiku and Tino's abilities also had no direct ties to their characters.
Roderich and Elizabeta had hoped to coax the answer out of Vash. But although he eventually revealed the specifics of his own ability, he had refused to disclose Lili's, even when they reasoned with him that it could mean they could find and rescue her faster. It could have been that he didn't know, but to Roderich, that seemed unlikely. It seemed more probable that it was just his distrust of them.
The Austrian man rubbed his temples, trying to relieve his headache. His eyes darted over to a large piano in the corner of the room, lingering longingly on its well polished wood and its shiny black and white keys. He wished he could play a frustrated tune, but Elizabeta had long since forbid such a method of stress relief. She said that if he was stressed, then she was probably just as stressed in the room next to his, and unlike him, his aggravated playing did nothing to help her anxiety.
Just as he was thinking about her, her voice rang through the thin wall between their offices. "Roderich!"
He sighed. He had known Elizabeta for long enough to tell the difference between her calls. There was the playful tone of "I want attention", the urgent tone of "this is something important", or low, lazy call that said "I want you to do something that is neither important nor productive in any way".
This particular occasion seemed to have the pitch of the most common request. That being, of course, the latter tone.
He didn't bother to move until she called a second time, a little louder. Then he sighed again, stepping to the door that adjoined their two rooms and opening it, glancing inside. "What is it?"
Elizabeta was slumped forward in her cushioned chair, her arms lying crossed on her desk and her chin resting on her forearms. Her bushy, light brown hair was splayed wildly across her back and the surface of the desk, a couple strands stretching in front of her mouth, quivering as she breathed. Her eyes flicked to him as he entered, but she made no other motion towards him.
Roderich leaned in the doorway, feeling his headache worsen. "Elizabeta. I got things to be doing right now."
"I want a back massage," Elizabeta groaned abruptly, shifting a little and closing her eyes. "I feel so tense…"
"We all feel tense," Roderich pointed out.
"Yeah, but I'm the tense-ist. Roderich, gimme a back massage."
"No," Roderich said firmly, and she moaned in disappointment. "I told you, Elizabeta, I have things I need to do."
"Can't you spare just a moment?" she whined.
Roderich gave her a reprimanding look, and she relented with a grumble.
After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "Tino and Berwald didn't check in yesterday like they were supposed to."
Ah, so that's why she's stressed. "Tino can be rather ditzy, and I have no idea what goes through Berwald's mind. It wouldn't be overly surprising if they forgot."
"You don't understand," Elizabeta mumbled. "Yesterday was supposed to be their collection."
Roderich pursed his lips, suddenly understanding why Elizabeta was so agitated. Although there were periodic check in dates for every mission, the most important one was on the date the person had estimated they'd come in contact with their target. Since said target could be unexpectedly dangerous, the calls were essential to making sure the job had been completed safely, or if there was some kind of complication.
The people they sent out were well aware of how important these calls were. Even if Roderich didn't have much faith in the person to remember the general check ins, missing this call was worrisome.
"Did you try calling them?" he asked.
"Of course." Elizabeta looked a little offended. "They didn't pick up, though." That wasn't excessively astonishing either. As much as Elizabeta and Roderich would like it not to be the case, their calls were for whatever reason rarely picked up. They guessed it was a combination of laziness, leaving their phones in inaccessible places, and not having cellular service. The lack of service usually didn't hinder calls in the other direction, since there were always payphones or something.
Because of this, Elizabeta and Roderich usually opted for just messaging the person so they could view it whenever. But in times like this, waiting for them to get around to messaging back might not be an option.
They fell quiet again, each mulling over the problem. "Well," Roderich said finally, "I think that we should wait just a little longer, in case they just missed it for some reason."
"But what if-"
"Kiku said that he should be completing his collection today, right? We'll wait until he returns, and if they haven't gotten in contact by then, we'll send him over. Alright?"
Elizabeta looked unsatisfied, but she huffed, "Fine. Alright."
First impressions of the location were not good, but not exactly bad, either.
Kiku had been dropped off in a rather quiet place. Or more like eerily silent. There was no one in the streets, in the yards, coming and going from the houses. No cars were parked in the driveways, and no items decorated the porches. A couple lights could be seen in the windows, but that was the only thing that showed evidence that anyone lived here.
The Japanese man rubbed his forehead, frowning. He had the sudden premonition that this was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd hoped.
As the day turned to night, the sun sinking behind the surrounding buildings, he walked down the streets, which slowly faded from abandoned to occupied. It started with just a few eyes staring distrustfully from the shadows, then small groups plodding down the roads, then raucous, obviously intoxicated crowds. Kiku carefully avoided everyone, trying not to meet anyone's eye. His posture was straight and purposeful, neither cowering nor stiff. He was neither a threat nor a potential victim.
He withdrew the picture and address from his pocket, staring at the house number and street name, then glancing around. Many house numbers were obscured by one thing or another, and most signs were painted over with a layer of graffiti. Frustration welled within the Japanese man – of course, things just had to be as hard as possible for him, didn't they?
In his moment of distraction, someone approached him, who he only noticed when the person snatched the paper out of his hands. A potentially fatal mistake, he realized as his guard immediately went up. But luckily the hoodlum in front of him didn't seem as though he meant immediate harm.
"What's this?" he sneered, his breath stinking of alcohol and smoke. "You can't find addresses here, pal."
So I've found, Kiku thought, but his face didn't change.
"Who the hell are you looking for? No one ever seems to come here from the outside…" The drunk casually flipped the paper over, glancing at the back side – and froze, his face paling. "Hey," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Maybe I'm just drunk off my ass, but this looks an awful lot like…" He shot an urgent look at Kiku. "Who is it you're here for?"
"Alfred F. Jones," the Japanese man told him in a cautious, even voice.
The man looked even more distraught. "And what business do you have with him?"
Kiku felt a jolt of nervousness, deciding to stick with his usual response. "He's a friend – I'm here to visit."
That turned out to be the wrong answer.
The hoodlum's hand moved towards his side, and Kiku immediately sprung away – just in time too, because seconds later, a well worn handgun was in the man's hand and he'd fired off a shot into the space where Kiku had been. The bullet hit a wall a little ways away with a sharp crack, and a nearby group of drunken delinquents booed loudly, but began to move away in well practiced reaction, off to search for a slightly safer street to haunt.
Kiku's hand twitched towards his own side, where he usually kept his trusty katana. However, he realized with disappointment, airports usually did not take well to someone bringing full sized, well sharpened swords through security, so he'd elected not to bring it. He was hardly defenseless – he had mastered a variety of martial arts. But he still would have preferred his sword.
The man rounded on him again, holding the gun in front of him with shaking hands, his eyes wide with fear. "Any friend of that son of a bitch," he yelled hysterically, "deserves to go to hell!" He fired again, but his aim was off, and he missed by quite a bit.
Kiku dropped into a fighting stance, his feet spread apart and his hands slightly raised. He stared down his opponent – the man seemed beyond any reason now.
"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" a new voice sounded, the tone bright and cocky, not quite fitting the atmosphere. The hoodlum stiffened, a startled yelp ripping from his mouth as he spun to shoot at the newcomer. But before his finger could pull the trigger, a fist slammed into his head, and he went down.
Kiku watched the scene in apprehension, tensing as he watched his previous attacker collapse. Behind him, a new man stepped out of the shadows, chuckling.
He was tall, far taller than Kiku, and much bulkier as well. His tight fitting shirt showed off the hard muscles of his chest and stomach, and his arms, revealed by his short sleeves, were equally well built, biceps flexing beneath pale skin. But despite his manly body, his face was nearly childish: above a clean shaven chin was a grinning mouth, full of perfect white teeth. Higher on his face were tale cerulean eyes, sparkling with mischief and enjoyment. The top of his head was covered by wheat blonde hair, mostly straight except for a single tuft which stuck up comically from the rest.
Kiku nearly gasped in recognition. It was him, without a doubt: this man's face almost perfectly matched the image on the small paper, which the hoodlum had allowed to fall to the ground. It was promptly trampled by the approaching person, but Kiku didn't care about it anymore.
"Sorry about that," the man laughed, nudging Kiku's assaulter's head with the tip of his black combat boot. "People around here really don't have any manners," he mused, then turned his smile on Kiku, striding up to him. The Japanese man almost flinched away, but if the approaching male had noticed the wince, he didn't show it. Instead, he thrust his hand into Kiku's face, palm up. "Yo! My name's Alfred F. Jones. You can just call me the Hero if you like," he added boldly.
Kiku hesitantly grasped the proffered hand, shaking it firmly and allowing himself to ease up a bit. If he understood Alfred's personality well enough, he wouldn't just randomly attack him. "Honda Kiku," he introduced himself.
"Honda? That's a cool name. Like…" Alfred paused thoughtfully. "A car."
"Oh, no," Kiku corrected quickly. "Call me Kiku."
"Huh? Why? You don't like your first name? I thought it was cool! Being a car and all."
"No, it's not that," the Japanese man clarified embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, in Japan we have our surnames before our given names. I knew that it wasn't the same in America, but I wasn't thinking…"
Afred stared at him for a moment, processing, then burst into raucous laughter. "That's fine, then! So, Kiku," he began, "what-"
He was cut off a by loud growl, issuing from the American's stomach. There was an awkward second of silence, but it was quickly broken by more laughter from Alfred.
"That's right!" he exclaimed loudly. "I was just going to eat dinner. Wanna join me, Kiku?"
Kiku almost politely declined – he wouldn't usually accept such an offer from someone he'd only just met. But before he could reject the proposal, he realized that this was, in fact, the very person he was looking for, and that dinner was a perfect opportunity to speak with him.
So Kiku replied, "Thank you, I would very much enjoy that." The American grinned enthusiastically at the response.
"Well, then, what're we waiting for?"
The forest was a big, scary place.
Lili had never really noticed before. But then, before, she was with her big brother, and nothing really seemed so scary with him around.
Now as she woke up sitting on a tree branch, the forest was no longer the excitement or the safety that it had been with him. The multitude of waving leaves seemed more like the bars of her cage, a cage that she dare not break free of.
When Vash hadn't returned from his supply run three days ago, Lili had done what he had always told her to do: she dutifully packed up all of their few belongings and ran, as far from the nearby town as she could. Since then, she'd been sleeping in trees by night and moving by day. She had no clue where she was going – Vash had never told her to find another town, or a person, or anything. How could he? They had no family or friends outside of each other. They could only trust themselves.
So Lili was on her own.
She had come to the realization, at some point, that her brother probably wasn't going to just appear somewhere, and everything would go back to normal. It'd be near impossible for him to find her in this vast forest, even if he was capable of going out looking for her. And with that understanding had came determination.
The girl shimmied down the trunk of the tree, dead leaves crackling under her feet as she reached the ground. Her fingers reached behind her back, checking that all of the pockets of her backpack were shut, then sliding reassuringly down the smooth barrel of the gun strapped to the bag. That and the knife in her boot was her only protection if someone came for her. Although she couldn't shoot as well as Vash, he trained her well, and she hoped she'd be able to put up a bit of a fight.
As she began her trek again, she did not think about the hopelessness of her situation. She did not worry for her lost brother, or for herself. Her mind was set only on her resolve – she would be just as good at surviving as her brother ever was. She would live, and if Vash was to be found, then she would find him, no matter what.
An unnatural rustling from above was enough to bring her steady pace to a halt. Her hand grabbed for her gun, and she cast her eyes upwards, squinting against the sunlight shining through the trees. Nothing seemed out of place, but it was easy to hide in the branches. She would know.
She didn't have to wait long for the source of the sound show itself. There was a squeak accompanied by a crack, and someone tumbled out of the leaves above, screaming all the way. Lili quickly backed up, wincing as the figure hit the ground with a particularly loud shriek.
"Ow! Bliksems!" it – or rather she – yelled, and the body flailed a little bit before going still, breathing hard. "Damn," she groaned. "I never thought I could die from falling…"
Lili pulled her gun from its straps, leveling it on the woman in front of her and flicking the safety off.
The woman lay still for a couple second, then with a pained "Hup" she pushed herself into sitting position, carefully running her hands over herself. She winced when her fingers slid over a few parts, but looked satisfied when she had finished her check. She whistled, looking upwards to where she had fallen from. "Wow, I came down from all the way up there and am only sorta banged up! I'm a lucky one, I guess," she laughed to herself.
Lili must have made a sound, because suddenly the woman stiffened, and whipped her head around. "Woah!" she gasped, defensively putting her hands up. "Ah, no need for the gun…"
"What do you want?" Lili inquired, making sure her voice was hard and stern, like her brother's. She kept her gun aimed at the woman's forehead.
"Nothing bad, I swear!" the woman insisted nervously. "I was just sleeping up in that tree, and then I woke up when you came along, and I was kinda curious, so I got on a different branch to get a better look at you, but it was a bad branch, so…" Her rambling explanation came to a halt, and she laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, I just… fell?"
Lili looked the woman over. She didn't seem like she was lying: her forest green eyes were wide and honest, and her smile, although nervous, seemed genuine. What would brother do? the young girl wondered briefly. It wasn't that hard to imagine. Vash could never trust anyone. He would keep the gun trained on the woman until she was out of sight, then flee in another direction, always checking to make sure she wasn't following.
But Lili wasn't Vash, and when she looked at the woman, she decided to trust her. So she lowered the gun, although she left the safety off.
The woman sighed in relief. "Ah, I'm really sorry for startling you…" She paused, a thoughtful look coming across her face. "Why's a young girl like you out in the woods all on your own? 'Specially with a dangerous weapon like that." She nodded to the gun.
Lili tensed. Even if she trusted the woman enough to lower her weapon, there was no way she could tell anyone about that.
"Woah, hey, calm down!" the woman soothed, noticing the change. She waited until Lili had relaxed a bit before asking, "Are there bad people after you?"
Lili bit her lip, thinking for a second, then nodded. "They took my brother…"
"Oh, you poor thing! And you've just been running since then?"
She nodded again.
The woman smiled kindly. "What's your name?"
"Lili," the girl replied unthinkingly, then scolded herself. She shouldn't give away information so easily.
"Lili," the woman repeated. "Well, Lili, how about I help you escape?"
"Escape?"
"Yeah. I have a method of transportation that's a lot faster than just walking through the woods. You could come with me to Berlin – that's where I'm headed to. In fact, I'm meeting someone there that could probably help you find your brother."
"Really?" Lili gasped, astounded by her luck. Then she frowned doubtfully. "Berlin? That's in Germany. Isn't it pretty far…"
"Don't worry. I can make the trip in under a week." The woman's expression was mischievous. "Wanna see how?"
Lili nodded, intrigued.
"Alright. It'll just be our secret, right?" The woman stood, brushing herself off, and closed her eyes.
And out of her back grew two long, thickly feathered wings.
Lovino groaned, pulling his sheets up over his head to block the light, rolling over to hide his head in his pillow. His mind was still flooded with sleep, and he could think of nothing more than retreating back into the realm of slumber. If this damn sunlight would stop shining in my eyes… he thought blearily.
Inevitably, his mind began to clear – and with that came the remembrance that he didn't actually have a bed anymore. And the pillow he slept on smelled terribly unfamiliar (not bad but different).
He sat bolt upright in bed, yanking his covers down in panic. Shit! Where the hell am I?
The room he found himself in was small, the walls a plain, boring white. The floor around the bed was cluttered in a homey sort of way, objects stacked and pushed against walls so that they wouldn't be stepped on. There was a window and three doors, two identical, one skinnier – Lovino guessed that the skinny one was a closet.
He rubbed at his temples, swearing under his breath. What did I do last night? Fuck, I don't even remember… Waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom was naturally suspicious – who knows what could have happened.
A crash from outside the room and a startled yelp, distinctly human, made Lovino jump, clutching the sheets back to himself as though he was planning on hiding under them. He watched the door for a full minute, only allowing himself to move once no more sounds reached his ears and no one burst into the room. He slid carefully out of bed, noting that he was still in his street clothes – not that he had any other outfits. But it would have been beyond concerning if he'd woken up in someone else's clothing. Although he did notice that his shoes had been removed – luckily, he found them laid out at the end of the bed.
A door selected at random opened without a sound as he turned the handle and pushed. He peeked carefully through the doorway, and froze at the sight that met his eyes.
Beyond the door was what seemed like a kitchen and living room combination, equipped with counters, cupboards, a stove, a table, a sofa, a television, and a bookcase, among other things. Although the relatively small space seemed rather cluttered, it wasn't as though it was a troublesome mess – in fact, the only thing that seemed like it was out of place was the bookshelf, which was pushed away from the wall behind it at a large angle, leaving a large space.
But what made Lovino stiffen in surprise and fear was that there was man standing in front of the stove, humming quietly under his breath, concentrating on a large, steaming black pan.
The man was taller than Lovino, and well muscled, with smooth skin colored by an attractive Spanish tan. His short, curly hair was a shade like milk chocolate, wild bangs falling into deep jade eyes. A smile curled upon his elegant lips, and he bounced a little as he cooked, as if dancing along to a song only he could here.
He looks disturbingly happy, Lovino noted with disgust.
He contemplated what course of action he could take. The man obviously hadn't noticed him yet. He could probably close the door and sneak back into the bedroom. Hopefully the window opened, and he could get out through there. I'm a fucking genius, he thought smugly.
Then his stomach gave a loud growl. He tensed, watching the man carefully, but the idiot just kept humming and dancing and cooking. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief, taking a second to scold his traitorous stomach before beginning his silent retreat back through the door. But just before he could completely disappear back into the bedroom, something caught his eye.
Dammit. Tomatoes.
Four of the plump, perfectly red beauties were set tantalizing in the middle of the kitchen table. Just the sight of them was enough to make Lovino's mouth water. When was the last time I had an honest to goodness tomato? he wondered wistfully to himself. If he could just grab one of those tomatoes, he could take care of his hunger and his craving all at once… Tomatoes are so much better than shitty stolen bread…
Realizing where his mind was going, he shook himself, growling quietly. He didn't have time for tomatoes! He had to escape!
He could almost feel the tomatoes calling him. Eat me Lovino! We're ripe and tasty and delicious! You know you want it…
Well, he thought, glancing back towards the man as his resolve crumbled, that bastard looks like an oblivious idiot. He probably won't notice if I'm really quiet. I'll just sneak over there and grab one… Yeah, that'll work…
Pushing the door open a little wider, Lovino began to creep across the room, his eyes darting nervously between the tomatoes and the man. His footfalls were silent against the hard wood floor, and he was practically holding his breath. The man hummed on, ignorant as predicted.
As it turned out, there was one other thing out of place in the room besides the angled bookshelf, which was a rather large, hardcovered book lying on the floor. It was hardly anything less than obvious – but in Lovino's focus on the man and the tomatoes, he didn't notice it until his foot collided with it. He stumbled, cursed, glared, and then froze, glancing up.
The man was staring at him in surprise.
"Shit," Lovino said casually.
Another chapter come and gone! I'm not completely sure how much I like how I did this one... but eh.
Thank you to everyone who bothered to read this! I feel like this story was probably not such a great fanfiction to start out with - it doesn't really focus on romance and a specific pairing, which is what a lot of people look for when it comes to fanfiction, nor does it focus on a small set of characters. I sorta enjoy stories like this, but it's always very difficult to find good ones, so I don't usually go looking. I'll leave it up to you guys whether this is one of the fabled "good ones"...
Slightly because of the fact that it will probably be more successful, and mostly because I really wanna write this story, I'm hoping to start on a Spamano FanFic. So, um... look forward to it, I guess?
~Whisperwing~