Disclaimer: I don't own APH or Twilight, nor any of the clothing lines or department stores mentioned in this fic. If I did, you'd know C:
A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH, EVERYBODY FOLLOWING THIS STORY. YOU GUYS MAKE INDUCE A BUBBLY FEELING IN MY STOMACH AND A GIDDY SMILE ON MY FACE WITH EVERY REVIEW, FAVORITE AND ALERT. :')
PHEW, NEARLY 6000 WORDS.
Oh, and the prizefic from last chapter - I'm working on it! OTL so much homework...not really, I'm just a lazy bitch. And, would you believe it - the hundredth reviewer was Kale Henderson - who, if you remember, requested this fic in the first place. :'DDD
...and actually, I'm kind of afraid that - while it does save my life writing this story - there's a fanmade Twilight timeline on the Twilight lexicon page. -twitch- but I'm not really following it, it's only good to tell me the events because I can't remember. FLASHLIGHT'S TIMELINE: JANUARY 14th, ROMANO MOVES TO FORKS. This chapter has a timeskip from his date with Russia, on the 26th, to FEBRUARY 10th. I totally just made those dates up, don't bother looking on a calendar because they're whatever I wrote them as, even though they probably don't correspond properly...those dates are chosen because I have to have the Twilight events wrapped up before March 17, which is Romano's birthday.
Romano's got horrible language, there's like an F-bomb every paragraph here; and also, this chapter's a bit more racy than earlier ones. No penis jokes yet, but that's because Prussia hasn't been formally introduced.
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 5 - let's have a toast to far-fetched explanations!
February 10th dawned bright and beautiful.
Ffft, yeah right. Bright and beautiful, in this gloomy town? It was ugly as hell. Maybe a tree-hugging child of northwest America would think that the cloud-masked sunrise was lovely, but then they'd also find a wonderful pastime in cleaning up the beach.
To me - a born and raised Phoenix native - the grey sky and ice encrusted on my window were anything but lovely. It was so cold that I had the choice between nine blankets, which would totally do nothing for my skin, or wearing something to sleep in. So I'd gone shopping for pajamas which I knew I'd shed within ten minutes of getting into bed - not that way, you dirty lech - and managed to cut the number of blankets required down to three. Then I didn't like closing the window and was used to the sound of a fan all year round, so I'd had to pad to the closet and pull down another comforter one freezing morning; but otherwise, I was getting used to the abysmal weather.
Kind of.
But three blankets or five, I fucking hate Sundays.
I think it's that horrid feeling in the pit of my stomach I get whenever I remember that I have school the next day, but after living in Forks, I wasn't sure if it was the horror of facing another boring week or of facing Antonio.
...actually, the fear of Tonio's godawful love confessions paled in comparison to his Hungarian sister's adeptness with any nearby blunt object.
It had been a few weeks since I last saw Commie Jr. Antonio had returned to school and been too friendly for me not to be suspicious; he'd even offered to sit with me at lunch, but I'd flipped him off and gone to sit with Lieve. He'd laughed and kept asking every day for the past three weeks, even though I turned him down every fucking day.
He was more annoying than door-to-door salesmen were, dammit.
Otherwise, school was same old. Mr Z liked me, I knew, more than his other students because I actually did my work; Miss Braginskaya, though, had grown a bit distant from me, and I wondered whether Commie Jr had spoken to her lately. The principal reminded me of my late grandpa.
My cell phone rang right about then. I didn't recognise the number, but I answered anyway, praying to God that it wasn't Antonio or Liz - or worse, Commie Jr with another date in mind. Never mind that I had his number on my phone; knowing him, he probably changed the number every day for no reason other than to surprise people. Like they answer and all of a sudden, bam, it's the creepy Russian.
...oh, God. Did I honestly just think of that outing as a date?
I thought of screeching a question to Ludwig as to where the bleach was - so I could wash out my mind, see - when I noticed my phone still ringing.
"Hello?" I was not shaking as I answered!
"Hi, could I speak to Lovino please?" asked a sweet, cheerful voice I remembered to be the Seychellois - was that even the right term for someone from the Seychelles? - girl, one of the several Lieve had introduced me to after that first day. Madison? No, Madeline, that was it.*
What? It's not like we sat together at lunch or anything. I still only really talked to Lieve and her brothers outside of class, and I had at least one of them in all of my classes but 6th Biology.
"This is Lovino," I said with a smile, flopping back onto my bed because I wanted to, not because my knees had been shaking so much that they gave out!
"Hey! It's Maddy from school. You know, Lieve and I are planning to go to the Port Angeles mall today, and we need some fashion advice. Lieve says you've got it, so would you like to come? She would have called you, but she forgot to charge her phone and it's dead..." I could hear Lieve's sheepish laugh from the other side of the line.
"Oh, sure," I agreed, rolling over to look at my clock. "What time?"
"Hmm, we can come pick you up at 6, if that's okay? We can go shop and get dinner there before driving back."
"Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you at six, then."
"Kay!" I hung up and stood, stretching and wandering downstairs in a t-shirt and pajama pants to make breakfast. The clock read 12:34, so I thought pizza might be good. Ludwig wasn't home, but because I'm so nice I decided to make him some pizza too. I mean, I wouldn't exactly be home to make him dinner, you know?
Shut up, it's not me going soft on my old man!
Five thirty rolled around, and I got up from the couch to go get ready. Within twenty minutes, I'd showered and done all that stuff, and my head was hurting because of a random-ass migraine - not because I slipped in the shower, dammit!
Whatever. I thought it was probably time to write Ludwig a note. So, dressed in skinny jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater, I pulled down the notepad from the freakishly high shelf that Ludwig tended to set it back on, out of habit of being a giant - seriously, he was like. 5'11" or some ungodly shit - and living on his own.
HELLO, POTATO BASTARD, I wrote, I'M GOING OUT TO PORT ANGELES WITH A FEW FRIENDS. EXPECT ME BACK AT LIKE 10 OR SOMETHING. THERE'S HOMEMADE PIZZA IN THE OVEN, JUST PUT IT IN THE TOASTER OR SOMETHING WHEN YOU'RE HUNGRY. I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU LIKE YOUR DAMN PIZZA! LOVINO.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. I grabbed my wallet and house keys off the table, and slipped them into my pocket as I opened the front door. Lieve and Maddy stood there, both looking cute and smiling widely.
"Thanks so much for agreeing to come!" said Lieve.
"Yeah, the dance is so close and we haven't even gotten our dresses yet," sighed Maddy. I laughed.
Huh? What do you mean, 'What dance?'
Oh. Right, I totally forgot to tell you. Sadie's was coming up.
It was really only February and the dance was real far - or so I thought, because there was quite the gap between February 10th and March 4th. But apparently in Forks, time ran faster because for the past week, everyone had been running around all hectic-like, girls finding their crushes and asking to go to the dance together and - in most cases - getting crushed, if you'll forgive the expression, by rejection. I got to say, something about this too-green alien world made watching heartbroken girls into a form of entertainment.
Oh, boo hoo, I'm a douchebag. Sucks for you.
I'd been asked like five times already by girls who all blended into one horrifying blob of overexposed bust and plowed-on makeup, but I really didn't want to go; I'm a badass dancer, yeah, but who cared about school dances? There probably wouldn't be a party the day of the dance, which was a fucking drag as parties were the life of the night, not some prissy-ass Sadie Hawkins dance.
But whatever. Apparently, nobody else in Forks agreed with me, and all the juniors and seniors and promiscuous little freshies had gone and bought dresses already, from the crappy stores littering Forks like driftwood on a beach. It's not even like it was a loss of good clothes; these stores only had boring shit, after all, and it would seem that Forks girls were easy to please in the fashion department. Thank heavens for Lieve and Maddy, both of whom sympathised with my thought process.
Because, seriously, if the only fashion solace I had was from the Five Freaks of Forks, I would have died a month ago.
The town of Port Angeles isn't too far from Forks - about sixty miles or so on the 101. Of course, since it was the freeway, it's not like I kept to the speed limit. As a result, I'd reached the shopping center within the hour and the two girls with me had nearly started crying in fear. When we stopped, though, they cackled madly and said I had to drive home, too. A few minutes later, the three of us were searching for a nice store. It wasn't so much a mall as just several cobbled streets with cute little stores lining them. There were very few designer labels, but still lots of elegant and pretty designs on the mannequins lining the windows.
After the distressing reality that was the Forks mall, this was an oasis in a desert of people totally missing in the fashion department.
An hour and a half later, it was getting dark and we'd had no luck. One of the stores caught Lieve's eye, and we stepped inside, striding straight to the dress section. These ones were much nicer, of a good material, not too gaudy, and not too boring for the prices. Maddy was leaning more towards blue dresses, while Lieve liked soft, light colors.
And I'm not gay for shopping with girls, dammit! It's not like I was flicking my wrist and batting my eyelids and saying in a ridiculously high voice, "Oh, that's gorgeous!" or giggling with them at dresses that looked horrid. I sat there calmly, thank you, and just assisted them in choosing clothes. I'm not even exaggerating, dammit, I swear it!
Che. You assholes.
So I was against the window and suggesting that Lieve maybe try something light pink when suddenly Maddy bounded over, carrying this lovely white dress and grinning madly. Lieve stared at her, then me, and then snickered.
"Eh...am I missing something?" I asked, brow furrowed.
"Yeah! You're just sitting there," Lieve said through another snicker.
"Won't you try some on?" Maddy pressured.
I blanched. "Oh, no, nonono. I've had quite enough of crossdressing."
"Oh, you've worn dresses before?" asked the Belgian. "When?"
"When I was little, and my mom was designing dresses for kids," I said offhandedly, leaning against the window again.
Then all of a sudden Lieve hurled the dress at me. I shrieked as it hit my face. "Try it on, anyway!" she ordered, a dark look appearing on her face when I seemed about to argue.
No, I did not whimper in fear, because I'm a man and men don't whimper, dammit!
I stood, scowling, and pulled my shirt off in front of the window to yank the dress over my head.
"Have you no shame, child?" said someone else in the store. I held up a hand, middle finger raised, because I was currently tugging the dress over my head and couldn't see who'd said it. There was a collection of gasps and a little kid asking, "Mommy, what does that mean?"
Oh no, I'm corrupting the poor children!
Go cry me a fucking river, bitch.
I pulled my pants off too, for good measure, and both the girls with me cooed at how I looked.
Which, naturally, started a torrent of other dresses being flung at me. And you must remember, I was by the window, so people were stopping to watch me crossdress; I tried to move, but the two girls blockaded me in.
Why are girls so scary?
Forty minutes or so after that depressing episode, I decided that I might as well explore the town. Bidding the two girls goodbye and a promise to meet up at the restaurant, I changed out of the pink dress I currently wore and back into my jeans.
I gotta say, I didn't realize how cold my vital regions were until I had pants back on.
Outside was windy and cold, and I wished I'd brought a jacket. I'd have to settle for stuffing my hands in my jean pockets. There weren't too many people walking around alone - my cell read 9:20, after all. Just a few couples hurrying to a movie, groups of friends piling out of various stores and cafés, and the occasional straggler. I blew on my hands again to warm them up and shivered. It wasn't that cold, really, maybe just forty or fifty degrees Fahrenheit, but even after a week I wasn't used to the miserable weather in Washington.
My life had taken a turn for the worse, I feared: I'd gone from sunburnt to frostbitten.
I didn't notice the people following me until I found myself at an alley and wondering where it led, before seeing two people at the other end.
I was not afraid, dammit!
Obviously, the knot in my stomach was worry for - for whether the police'd catch me after I busted these guys' heads. Duh.
I shrugged it down and turned, planning to walk back the way I'd came, when a few more guys stepped out and blocked my way. I scowled and asked them to move.
No, dammit, it wasn't scowling to cover my shaking! Can't you assholes have any faith in me?
"Oh, don't be like that!" said another guy as I tried to push by them.
"You looked mighty cute today, trying on dresses," one drawled. I flipped him off, to catcalls and snickers; there were five people around me, all tall and American-looking. Another one gripped my shoulder and I winced, trying to slap his hand off; it didn't work, and the other four closed in. One grabbed my ass and the other stroked over my cheek with rough fingers.
And then it started raining.
Duh.
I mean, how else could that water have gotten on my face?
"Aw, darling's crying!" one snickered.
"I am not!" I spat, kicking one leg up and striking him in the stomach. He groaned and hunched over and one of them punched me on the jaw.
"Ooh, feisty!"
Too hyped with adrenaline, I just opened my mouth to command - not beg, dammit! - for them to get their nasty little hands off me, but one wrapped a hand around my mouth. I bit his palm and he hissed, slapping me across the face again. I let out a dry sob - er, a growl. Yeah, a growl.
Well, I don't have to explain myself to you, because right about then a car screeched around the corner, a gleaming graphite-grey car that I think was a Mercedes, I didn't really see. It circled and the guys scattered, jumping away from me and pushing me to my knees.
A-and, when the driver door flung open and Antonio stepped out, that was not insane, strange relief bubbling like hot water in my stomach! It was obviously happiness that I wouldn't be arrested for five counts of murder. Duh.
"Get in the car," he said in a cheerful tone, and I felt my eye twitch at how he could sound the same no matter what the occasion.
...and then I saw Antonio's face, and froze in place.
The guys around me all blanched at the completely murderous look on his tanned face. It wasn't even the kind of homicidal expression on hardened killers; it was more...well, I've described his normal expression and attitude, right? Well, this was almost the same, except...
Except his eyes were narrowed and dull, cold and furious. Except his teeth were clenched so tightly in a violent smile that it looked like he'd break right through his jaw from sheer pressure. Except that he was gripping the side of his car so tightly that the metal was crunching under his hand.
"W-whoa, man!" one of the guys said, raising his hands. "W-we didn't mean -"
"Yes, you did," said Antonio lightly, striding slowly over to them. They all backed off more, looking about to run, and he said, "I don't think running would be a good option. I'll just chase you all until you can't run any more, and I'll tear you limb from limb. Of course, it would be much easier for me to just run you all over now and get it over with, but that'd make a mess, and I'm not in the mood to peel spattered guts and crushed bone off the street tonight. I wonder how painful it must be to get dropped in a trash compactor? Maybe sliced open with scalpels until you bled out so much that you finally died?"
I could hear his threats - all uttered in that velvety, bright tone - perfectly from where I sat, and knew he must still be grinning.
And I was not trembling, okay?
One of the guys chanced a lash at Antonio. He caught the wrist and twisted it, turning the guy around and pulling out a howl of pain as I heard bone snap.
"Get the fuck out of here. If I catch you again, you'll find out just how painful I can make your last moments, hmm?"
They scampered.
Antonio stood there for a few more moments, shaking, before he turned and beamed brightly at me.
My jaw dropped as he bounded over, humming cheerfully and extending a hand for me. The...person he'd been just a second earlier was gone, completely wiped from his face, and he'd reverted to normal stupidity.
Or maybe not. After he'd shut the passenger door, he gripped the steering wheel so tightly that a chunk broke off.
A fucking chunk of the Mercedes' steering wheel, crunched under his hands like a spare scrap of paper or an empty soda can.
I swallowed.
He absently threw the chunk behind him - it clattered against the window with a crack - and turned to me, reaching out to touch my face. I didn't push him off, because he looked like he needed some comfort. I'm so nice.
It wasn't because I was afraid that shrugging him off would mean that I would find a chunk of my exquisite face missing too. Because I'm, like, never afraid.
"Please talk to me," he asked with a strained smile, not even watching where he was going but still driving perfectly. "I might go back and kill those men, and that wouldn't be good."
"What do you want me to say?" I snapped, looking away. "How did you even know where I was?"
"Ah!" he laughed a bit sheepishly. "Well, about that, I've been...um...stalking you."
I stared at him blankly. "...I'm going to pretend that's not weird. But - but why were you stalking me?"
We were at a light and he stopped, tapping long fingers on what remained of the steering wheel; he glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, and I flushed under the scrutiny.
Antonio heaved a sigh. "I don't know," he finally said, smiling again. "But I'm glad I did. Listening to what those creeps were thinking..."
I arched a brow. "Thinking? You psychic or something?"
"Actually, the term is tel - tele - telepathic!" he beamed. I scoffed.
"Yeah, and Liz can see the future," I rolled my eyes.
"She can, actually!"
...oh. Right.
I groaned. "Do I want to ask how?"
"Uh, well, actually," he said, fidgeting a little, "I'm not supposed to tell you."
"Whatever." I was not pouting!
"I can't read your mind, you know," he said a few moments later. I looked at him, surprised, but we'd already pulled into the parking lot...of the restaurant...I was supposed to...eat at...with Lieve and Maddy.
Aw, fuck.
I got out of the car, hoping they wouldn't be too mad. On the contrary, they were standing and laughing by the entrance with white Styrofoam boxes in their arms; when I stepped over, they smiled apologetically and said they'd waited but then gotten too hungry and eaten. I just felt my stomach rumble and laughed to cover the sound.
Right when I think Lieve was going to offer to stay with me to eat, Antonio appeared, beaming brightly. She cut off, about to speak, and smiled instead. "Ohh! Well, we'll see you two tomorrow!" said Maddy, nudging Lieve. The two girls shot a generic 'Nice to see you' at Antonio and walked off, giggling a bit.
"So, shall we eat?" smiled the Spaniard next to me. I shrugged and followed him inside.
What? NO, I was not blushing!
And obviously, the only reason I tripped was because a stupid kid ran in the way, not because Antonio draped his jacket over my shoulders. Duhhhh.
In the restaurant, I flipped directly to the pasta section and ordered the first thing I noticed, along with an iced tea. Antonio didn't get anything, just beaming at me after the waitress left. I felt a little annoyed when I noticed her eyes lingering on Antonio - not because I was possessive, psh, nooo, but because she should have been staring at me, goddammit!
Antonio crossed his fingers and set his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his intertwined digits and staring at me with deep gold eyes.
"Whoa, man, did you get contacts?" I blurted out, a bit surprised by the bright color.
He shook his head and popped the P in, "Nope!"
"Eh. Are you really psychic?"
"Oh, yeah. Wanna hear some of our surrounding thoughts?"
I nodded.
What? It wasn't every day you talked to a psychic. Or a telepath, even though Antonio couldn't pronounce the damn word.
"Hmm...let's see!" he beamed, using his eyes to point at various people. "Sex...money...sex...sleeping...sex - wow, Lovi, these people are so perverted! They kind of remind me of Francis! Alcohol, more sex, sex, sex, and... his cats."
My eye twitched.
"I can read the minds of everyone in this room," he continued before pausing dramatically. "Except you."
"Me." I stated tonelessly.
"Yep. Dunno why, maybe something different with your mind?"
Mom had always said that I acted as though I were on a frequency different from everybody else's. I never really cared, but apparently it got me a free 'KEEP STALKERS OUT OF YOUR MIND' card.
The waitress returned with my plate and said something to Antonio, probably a pick-up line, as I dug in. He smiled and waved her away, then whispered (quite dramatically, if I might add) across the table: "Sex."
I snorted and choked on my pasta. When I looked up again, eyes watering, it was to a stupid grin on Antonio's face.
I hid my own smile with a mouthful of fettucine.
We drove home a little later. Antonio refused to let me pay for my dinner, and I shrugged, not too bothered.
In the car, he faced me all of a sudden and said, "I don't like rules, but I really like you. Lovi, I'm a vampire!"
I rolled my eyes again.
"No, really! Want me to stop and kill someone so you can see?"
"Er...no."
He pouted. "I can't think of anything else to prove it with...oh! You saw me break the steering wheel; I can pick up a car and throw it somewhere! Would my massive strength make you believe me?"
"...no."
"Umm...I wish there was sunlight, I could really show you."
"Uhh, I don't really know how you guys see confessions, but I'm not so keen for you to prove your worth by burning to a crisp."
He frowned. "We don't burn. We sparkle."
"...I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
"Hee, Lovi says that often!"
"Don't call me that, dammit!"
"But really, I am a vampire," he said seriously.
I sighed. "Okay, say that for a moment I believe you. Does that mean the rest of your family are vampires too? And does it explain your freakishly handsome face?"
I mentally slapped myself as Antonio got this weird look, eyes sparkling and him looking about to cry with joy.
"Lovi thinks I'm handsome?"
He leaned over and hugged me, somehow driving with his feet.
"Okay, okay, get off!" I sputter - er, demanded, whacking him and wincing at how hard his skin was.
"But, yeah, Liz and Gil and Nat and all them are vampires too," he answered a few minutes later to my inquiry. "And I guess it answers your second question, too. I don't remember how I looked before I got turned."
"How long have you been a vampire?"
The Spaniard smiled. "That's a long story for another day. Now, let's just get you home!"
I grumbled.
When we got off the freeway forty minutes later, my eyes were significantly more weary, and I stifled a yawn behind the sleeve of Antonio's dark jacket. It smelled of tomato, and I sniffed it a little more before realizing that the guy was watching me with this - this - this totally endearing smile. I flushed.
Another few minutes and he stopped the Merc in front of my house, somehow getting out and dashing around the car to open my door before I'd even undone my seatbelt. He smiled cheerfully at me and I returned a scowl, climbing out and pointedly ignoring his offered hand. At the door, before I pulled out my house key, he tapped my shoulder.
"What, Antonio?" I growled, turning to face him.
Then I gasped because my lips were suddenly very, very cold, and something hard and velvety - oh, you filthy-minded pervert, not that! - was pressed against them.
I blinked in surprise for a moment before realizing that, yes, Antonio was kissing me.
"Fuck!" I gasped, jumping away. He grabbed my arm so I couldn't run, not to keep me from falling through the door's window, dammit!
Antonio was smiling. "Say my name again?" he pleaded, eyes wide and hopeful.
I looked away. Mom tried this on me all the time, I should be able to resist!
"Please?" Oh, fuck, he was suddenly using this sultry tone.
"Dammit, Antonio!" I hissed, wrenching my wrist from his grip and turning to unlock the door. I got the key in, and he reached around me, lightly grasping my chin and turning my face towards him. Before I could scre - er, shout for him to get off, he'd pressed our lips together again gently, his eyes closed. Then he swiped his tongue across my lower lip and pulled away, looking extremely giddy and making me want to slap him.
"Sleep well, mi querido tomate!" he called, somehow back by his car door and too far for me to sock him. I flipped him off, grumbling sourly, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Ludwig peered around from the den, a frown on his face - probably because I was so late - but he didn't say anything as I dropped my keys on the table and took off my shoes, stomping upstairs.
I heard Antonio's car accelerate away as I neared my window.
Five minutes and a hasty shower later, I flopped onto my bed, totally exhausted for reasons I could not fathom. It's not like I'm old, I'm not even eighteen till this March and -
Oh, fuck, it's already February...
Whatever. Shut the fuck up, I'm still not as old as Ludwig, so there!
...wait, then, doesn't that make Antonio's kissing me illegal? He said he didn't remember what he'd looked like when he'd gotten turned, so that must mean that he was old as sin.
God. I don't feel like thinking about it.
Settling instead for snuggling into bed, I reached out to turn off my light, curling my arm under my pillow and closing my eyes.
A month after moving to Forks, I'd discovered a lot of stuff about the damn place. Their tomatoes were always fresh and the amount of rain was great for the small garden I'd begun raising; the video store had lots of good movies and horror flicks; most of the town was pitifully lacking in clothing sense - to name a few. The score now stood, Phoenix: 401, Forks: -283. It was a wonderful improvement from what it'd been on my first school day, but still not as good as Phoenix' homesick-making qualities. All I knew were trivial stuff and the sort of interesting gossip Lieve had told me over the course of twenty or thirty school lunch breaks.
But about Antonio, man. He was as complex as a history book. It'd be fun to ask him about that stuff, hopefully - because I had to admit that, while it was scary as fuck, the small glimpse into something not idiotic and obsessed with me (though that wasn't half bad either, I thought with a smirk) had been really interesting.
No, it wasn't hot! Can't you fuckers let a guy tell a story without asking ridiculous questions?
In fact, there wasn't much I knew about him. I could recall my knowledge of the Spaniard on my hands, and have fingers to spare. Like that he tended to stare at my ass.
No, really. While I might be able to count the things I had learned about his personality, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to do the same if you asked me how many times daily I caught him looking longingly at my rear end.
But really. Of three things I was absolutely certain.
One, Antonio was a vampire. A queer, sparkly vampire, but a vampire nonetheless. Probably one that wanted to kill me and drink my blood.
Two, he was just as psychotic as Commie Jr, but did a much, much better job of hiding it. His intense show of intenseness really was completely unexpected, to the point that it was scarier than if it had been from a seasoned murderer. Even later, thinking about it sent shivers coursing through my body like electric currents across wire cables. And no, it's because I'm scared of becoming his next dinner, not that I'm attracted to him or anything!
And three, he was flaming - and, in a twist of fate perhaps more disturbing than his vampirism or his apparent insanity, flaming for me.
A/N: Well, there we go. Thanks to Lily Winterwood for being such a sweetheart! I LOVE YOU DARLING :D
Oh, and this chapter question is - "I don't remember how I looked before I got turned." According to Spain, this was a long time ago, so guess what? This time you guys get to do a bit of research (or take a lucky guess, I don't care) and tell me which - out of the other countries in the KB family (Austria, Belarus, France, Hungary, Prussia, Spain, UK) - was older than Spain. Yay, research time! The criteria is, "Which area in Europe became an independent state, or ascended a throne, before Spain?" There's only one country older than Antonio according to this standard, so you might have to check some shit up. As usual, winner gets a oneshot of any fandom, genre, rating, and pairing (EXCEPT UK/CHIBIMERICA) that they want.
Thanks for reading!
Notes:
*Madeline - over on Facebook RP, my favorite Seychelles RPer has the name Madeline Desmerais as her character name.