The Fangirl Chapter 5: Draw a Cirlce, There's a Slut!, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

SEK: Hola todos! Gracias por todos los comentarios, se hacían nuestras dias aqui. Lo siento que Uds. se estaban esperando por tanto tiempo, fue mi culpa por no leer este capítulo. :(

MW: SEK! Stop speaking unnecessary Spanish! It's intimidating our readers! We scared them enough as is with my mad French skills last chapter.

SEK: No se importa, ellos se pueden ir a traducir, pero mis hermanos Latinos necesitan saber mi amor! Les amo! (Y si te haces comments en espanol, te amo tanto mas ;)

MW: This is me, pretending that I understood any of that *naive white girl* . -_-
Anyways, thank you all for reviewing last chapter (Holy Saint Francis! 37 reviews!). We apologize for the long wait, but its summer vacation now and updates will hopefully be more consistent. But I highly doubt it since
1) I'm lazy
2) I'm experimenting with a new writing schedule

Hopefully it'll work out. Oh! And I almost forgot! Isn't the new picture feature cool? I made that image at the top myself! Ain't it purtty? *is proud*

Remember to review!

Resumen: Después de un momento con suiza, francia por fin tiene tiempo libre.

Advertencias: lenguaje fuerte, temas sexuales, yaoi, y yuri

Descargo de responsabilidad: No somos propietarios de Hetalia

~Chapter 5~

Draw a Circle, There's a Slut!

"Fransexual (n): The lack of sexual discrimination against man, woman, animal, and object. Originated in France."

-From "HETA", an American fanfiction by BFTLandMWandSEK

Cycle 2: Monday

I sighed and opened the door to my dorm. A thick sea of black filled the room, save for the areas dimly lit from the hallway. It was late. I was tired, hungry, and pissed as shit. Sadiq was not going to be happy once he found out what happened. . .

Slowly, I dragged my feet into the dark labyrinth of Seychelles's room. The door closed shut behind me, removing the main source of light. Stiffly, I opened the blinds to reveal the bright moon, giving Seychelles's dorm a slightly brighter feel. My head roared with my little incident only minutes earlier, making me dread the following week.

I flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"What the hell are you doing shooting randomly at people?" I demanded, shooting an angry glare at Switzerland.

"Piss off," he barked, pointing his gun at me. I involuntarily flinched. The King of the Hallways held a bright pink slip in front of my face. "Do you know what this is?"

The incident Sadiq and I had with him last cycle came to mind. "It's a truancy slip," I said. Why was he making such a big deal about that?

The blond curtly nodded. "Yes and it's for you." What? "You missed most of your class periods today. Due to this and your current record, Principle Pangaea has banned you from the school dance."

I rubbed my hands over my face. I wasn't able to get that kiss when I had the extra romantic event. How the hell was I supposed to do without it? I groaned and continued to massage my face. My hands smelled like the ever mysterious shea butter. Damn, I really wish I knew what that was right now; it's bugging me.

"But Sadiq isn't going to tell me until I get it," I thought angrily. The day someone explains to me what it is the day my life will be completed. And I wasn't going to get my drawing ability back until I get that out of this godforsaken body.

Weakly, I pulled out the nation's phone and held it in front of my face. There were a few text messages from Germany, Liechtenstein, and France. Burrowing my eyebrows, I skipped the German speaker's and read the Frenchie's.

R u alrght? u seemd off

I bit my lip. Once again, it was so tempting to just spill the whole story to him. France was (after all) Seychelles's father. He would want to help a stranger get out of her body. Using Sonic the Hedgehog like speed, I started to type out my life story. I was half way through explaining the jackass when I remembered Sadiq.

The waterfall of fear drenched me. Printed on my eyes was his frustrated glare staring at me as he raised his hand to hit me. True, the most he ever done to hit me was slap me across the face, but there was so much more.

The trepidation he induced when he held me out of that bloody window was always there. If he would do something like that, then who said he wouldn't turn to actually punching and kicking me.

"I sound like that girl from Dreamland," I thought grimly, deleting half the text. For those of you who don't read teen angst, it's a story about a teenage girl caught in an abusive relationship.

I know what you all are thinking: "Why is Sherry reading a book like that? That's not her type." I know it isn't. It was part of a collection of books my mom made me read upon entering high school.

Basically, she wanted to scare me out of getting caught in unhealthy situations (like drugs, rape, teen pregnancy). So she forced me to spend my summer reading all these mentally disturbing books. The only downside to this plan was the fact that she bought all of these books from Borders when they were having their closing sale. So what do they sell her? Faulty additions. I ended up reading about three-fourths of my abusive relationship book since the last quarter of the book was missing.

The point of that whole story: I have an idea on how people get caught in those kinds of relationships, but no idea how to get out.

"If I'm afraid to do things because of his wrath, then I'm being abused." The conclusion barely brought me ease. "So what can I do? Contact my local Turkish abuse hotline?" I wanted to bang my forehead on the floor.

I needed to stop making fun of abusive relationships before someone starts complaining.

The only way I was getting out of here was to get one of the guys to fall in love with me. The smartest and easiest direction would be England since he is, well, bisexual. But they very thought of it made me frown. I could just picture that smug look of Seychelles's face.

No, I was going to win it from France. I mean- it does make a lot more sense. That guy was a freaking fransexual! He was attracted to everything, including me. And besides, he wasn't a complete tsundere and deny whatever feelings he may have. I knew that the minute he had the slightest love for me, he'll be sucking my face off.

Determinedly, I smirked and resumed texting the man. This time, it wasn't of my life story, but me telling him that I really appreciated his concern. If I was right then he would be lying on his bed, lightly blushing at the thought of me.

Or he would be blushing at a picture England sent him.

Either one was cool with me.

Cycle 2: Wednesday

I sat at my usual seat, sketching my heart out. It was- once again -art and I was attempting to draw. Again. It had become a mild obsession of mine, constantly drawing and doodling. When I went to help England and France, I would be trying to create the perfect circle. Like every time before, I never did.

It even had reached the point where Germany was asking me about it. "Seychelles, you have been acting weird lately," he had told me during our breakfast. I had to shrug away the affectionate hand he placed over my forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling fine," I said, stabbing my pancakes violently. The maple syrup drenched remains reminded me of a horde of dead zombies. Don't ask, just go with it. "Why do you ask?"

My 'boyfriend' gave me an annoyed look. "You've been saying a lot of strange things lately," he said, taking another bite of his scrambled eggs.

I poured more of the delicious sugary liquid onto my food. God, I love this stuff. I could be considered Canadian if I wasn't- you know -born on the West coast (USA, FTW!). But hey, I bet a lot of Canadians act the same way I do. Grinning smugly, I asked, "Like what?"

A small sigh left his lips. Loudly, he placed his fork onto his plate and listed off his fingers: "You have been drawing a lot, you haven't been talking much to either me or Liechtenstein, you have been ignoring my texts, you- with no offense attended -smelloddly-"

I grinned. "Have you never smelled shea butter?" I admit, I might be over using it, but it just smells so good!

He ignored my comment and ranted on, "-Even suggested that I date Italy and my brother-"

"Hey, you were meant for each other."

Embarrassment and disgust blended together in the perfect visage. "Exactly." The blond stolidly looked at me, demanding answers. "This is not like you Seychelles," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I noticed across the cafeteria was Belarus, scowling at our straight display.

Bitch, get your own German anime bishie.

A heartbreaking glint danced in his ice blue eyes, reminding me of all those cheesy GermanyXReader inserts I read in my free time. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

In my defense, I was wholly prepared to give him the break up speech. The entire "we're just not getting anywhere" with the "it's not you, it's me" speech. But karma has a way of coming and biting me in the ass.

Now it's time for the "Guess the Next Sucky Event" Game! Did:

A) Sadiq appeared out of nowhere and confess his love to me

B) France slithered over and ask me out to the prom

C) The jackass revealed himself to be M. Night Shyamalan

D) Anti-Sex Advocate Pangaea yelled at us to get a room

The answer? None of them! No, I just did that so that you wouldn't be rolling your eyes when I told you that Hooker-Sherry returned. That's right, Seychelles's back in control!

Against my will, I found myself leaning up and lightly brushing my lips on Germany's. Deep inside of my mind, I was screaming for myself to stop. "Stop it Seychelles!" I yelled, mentally throwing every curse at her. "I don't want to fucking kiss him!"

"Deal with it," Seychelles's voice snapped. "It's my life and I wouldn't have you ruin it." If I had control of my body, I would have physically reeled back. Holy fucking shit! Since when was she able to talk to me like this?

"You can talk to me?" I demanded, thinking about scowling deeply. However, on the outside I was sweetly flirting, "There's nothing to be worried about, dear. I love you; you're the best thing that could have ever happened to me." Yuck, corny.

Slowly, like a fading picture, I started to feel my limbs again. The nation's voice grew softer in my head as her will started to disappear. "Only . . .when I . . . take . . ." She was gone before she could finish.

As I sat in the art room, scrapping another terrible drawing, I replayed those events in my head. Before I could take any of Seychelles's words back, Prussia had strode over to us, calling his younger brother heartless for eating Gilbird's cousins. Then school started and I had to depart for class.

"So Seychelles can talk to me when I turn into a hooker," I thought, moving my pencil across the white paper. "Why is that strangely fitting?"

My pencil moved shakingly across the paper, trying to create the shape in my head. Why couldn't the African's hands be as dexterous as mine when it comes to drawing? They may be small and really soft, but that does nothing for me.

Then again, the soft part was probably from my constant usage of shea butter enriched lotion. God, I love that stuff.

I didn't glance up when Estonia took the seat in front of me. "What are you doing Seychelles?" the nerd asked, gently placing his laptop in the table. There was a quizzical glint in his eyes. I ignored him. "Do you want any help?"

I gave him a 'you've got to be kidding me' look. What computer nerd had decent drawing abilities? "No."

"Well-" He laughed nervously, trying to salvage the situation. "Can you at least tell me what you're drawing?"

Before I could answer, someone came to my rescue. Nonchalantly, Sadiq shoved Estonia out of his chair and stole the spot for himself. I winced and checked to see if he was okay. "You're really sucking right now," my mentor said, taking my attention.

Immediately, I searched for a response. "I'm, um. . . "

I watched as his eyebrows furrowed together. For a second, I saw the image of my feet hanging three stories high in the air. I shuddered. "Step up your game," he ordered, the end bell sounding. "You only have until tomorrow." He rose, raising his hand into the air. I could not help but to flinch, half expecting him to hurt me. Instead, he just scratched his ear, unaware of my strange behavior.

Slowly, I calmed my quickened heart. My irrational side was getting out of hand. I needed to get out of there. "I know," I said hurriedly, gathering my stuff together. Everything was shoved carelessly into Seychelles's bag. I ran out, calling out my goodbye.

As I weaved my way through the labyrinth of students, I thought I heard him call my name.

It only made me run faster.

Technically, I should be in the cafeteria, eating lunch with the other straighties. But, like I've been doing everyday this week, I started to make my way to my dorm. There, I would go onto Seychelles's computer and look you YouTube videos. On what? Howcast videos on how to get a boyfriend and draw anime.

"Seychelles!" I paused, recognizing France's voice. As he strode towards me, I wondered why he would be looking for me. Besides the obvious answer of me being his daughter.

The gorgeous man smiled silkily as me, wrapping me into a fatherly hug. I stiffened. "Where are you going?" He asked, pressing his warm cheek against mine. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Play it cool Sherry. Be suave." I did my best to smile, saying, "I've been busy." Wow, that was actually a good reply. Well, there's one thing I did right.

France held me an arm's lengths away, giving me that fatherly concern my own father should be giving me. I mean, seriously? How many months can you spend in the Middle East just reporting things? Doesn't it ever occur to him that there are some people who miss him?

Ahem, sorry about that. That was a little off topic.

"What have you been doing?" he asked. Beautifully (because everything a French man does is sparkle worthy), he winked, adding, "I hope you and Germany haven't been going to the next base."

. . .

What?

Stunned, I barely listened to him as he ranted on. "I wouldn't be mad or upset if you two were. I just want to make sure you're using the right kind of protection." A rather thoughtful look painted his visage. "Truthfully, I prefer condoms, but some ladies that I know find them rather uncomfortable. I know that England thinks does. It might be better if you use the pill-"

And I'm going, "Slow down!" His voice fell dead, his eyes giving me a humored look. "We're not having sex," I explained, feeling the sweat drop down my forehead. "You're daughter is still a virgin." At least, I hope she is. I mean, the Seychelles I met didn't seem like the whorish type.

I think.

France chuckled. "Of course you're not."

Sighing, I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Right." I didn't believe him. "I'll be going now."

The father just didn't drop the subject. "Not just yet." he said, motioning for me to come back to him. Like a normal teenager, I dragged my feet back towards him. Placing his hands his hips, he said, "I want to know what's bugging you."

His concern left my jaw useless. The blond was worried about me? I was about to start blushing when I remembered the England incident last cycle. "Don't get excited yet. It could just be because he's your father."

I took a long breath. Then again, Dad never did anything like this for me (mostly since he was always gone). I made my resolve and told him the censored version of the truth. "I've been practicing how to draw," I said, voice on rocks.

His face was locked on neutral as he processed my situation and made a solution. "How about I teach you?" I raised an eyebrow. What? "After all, I am the country of art." Can't argue with that.

I couldn't help but to grin zealously. "Really?" I sounded like a child in a candy store.

That Frenchman nodded."Of course, my dear." He flashed an award winning smile. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he started to lead me away. "We can start now."

Willingly, I followed him down the halls, not minding his flowery presence. A remote corner of my head warning me to watch for wandering hands, however, his hands stayed outside the bathing suit area. That figures- he's my 'dad' after all.

We went to the perfect place to draw. It was full of inspiration and liquor.

This place was the bar.

During school hours, the place was rather empty. Bartender Pangaea greeted us cheerfully, drying a crystal glass with a blue striped rag. Like every time before, I noticed Italy drinking at the bar, sighing depressingly. Besides him, the place was mostly empty.

We took a seat at one of the many wood tables. "How well can you draw?" France asked, taking out a blank sheet of paper from his notebook. I took out my own and draw a lopsided stick figure. Butterflies committed kamikaze against the walls of my stomach. I was afraid that he would crack up laughing. If the blond did that, then there would be no stopping me from crying my heart out.

But he didn't.

Calmly, the elder nation nodded. "We need to go back to the basics," he said, turning to a new page. "Let's practice drawing straight lines."

For the first few minutes, I did nothing but draw lines across the paper. It was as if I was ironing wrinkled clothing- every time I ran the lead over the paper, my lines grew smoother. "You got it!" He declared happily, joyously clapping his hand together. He allowed me to enjoy the applause before slowly dying down. "Let's try something a little more complex," he suggested. "Like a circle."

I couldn't help myself.

"Draw a circle, there's the earth!" As I smiled triumphantly, he knitted his eyebrows in confusion. I know, every single Hetalia fangirl does it, but the moment was so perfect! How was I going to let that one slide? Face it; every one of us has done that at least once in our lives.

Back on topic, France shook his head, muttering something about his daughter being crazy. "Yes, like the earth," he said. Like a teacher, he tapped his finger on the paper. "Come now, give it a try."

Slowly, I made my best circle. How did it turn out, you may ask? Well, when the blond saw it, he smiled weakly. "That's the most unique curved line I've ever seen," he said, sounding a little hopeless.

In return, I lost hope. "I know, it sucks," I sighed, hunching my shoulders. This was like every time before: I would get so close just to drastically fail. "I'm never going to get this."

My father shook his head, quickly hushing me. "Don't say that," he said, taking my hands in his. He moved his chair closer to mine. There was no space between us. He was so close, I could smell the French cologne on is pale neck. "Here: let me help you."

He directed my hand and pencil over the paper, drawing an ever perfect circle. But I wasn't paying attention. Instead, I was focusing on the content look in his blue eyes. There was a certain glint to them, one he didn't have around England. One (or so it seemed) reserved especially for me. "There." He released my hand and looked at me. Our faces were close, really close. The tips of our noses were lightly brushing against each other. I was blushing, but he didn't seem to notice. "That's how you do it."

I'm going to warn you about something: I'm going to sound like a hopeless romantic. I'm going to seem like a Mary-Sue. I was going to do something really fluffy, yet incredibly stupid at the same time.

Because at the moment, it just felt right. I just wanted to kiss the Frenchman. I wanted to have his slobbering tongue inside of my mouth. Just as I started to lean my face closer to his, another really bad thing happened.

Guess who decided to show her face again?

"You are not going to kiss my father!" Against my will, Seychelles forced my body away from him. Basically, I fell out of the chair and painfully on to my ass. Freaking bitch! I was this close!

France jumped out of his chair and to my assistance. "Are you alright?" He asked, lifting my back to my feet. "What happened?"

Even though the cowardly bitch was no longer in control, I knew that I couldn't just tell him that his daughter possessed her own body. So I did the most logical thing: lie. "I sneezed," I said, sorely rubbing my buttocks. God, that freaking hurt. I was going to kill her later.

The blonde laughed just as the school bells tolled. Lunch was over- I lost my chance. "We'll try this again later," he said, packing his things. Another award winning smile appeared. "You did marvelous."

I busied myself with shoveling everything back into my own bag. I couldn't help but to blush again. "Well, I try."

"See ya!" Bartender Pangaea called out, waving us out of the bar. France and I merrily traveled up the stairs, conversing about the next time we could meet. We re-entered the world of school halls and bid each other goodbye. He had Math, I had science.

As I watched the nation walk the opposite way from me, mingling into the crowd of migrating students, I couldn't help but to feel lighter. That wasn't so bad- I might actually be able to do it this time.

Apparently, Sadiq thought so too. "That was perfect." I jumped, yelped, and hit the man behind me all in one move. Cold sweat drenched my back when I realized that it was Sadiq, clutching his nose tightly. "The hell, Seychelles!" He cursed, swearing in his native tongue. A few people glanced nervously at him before quickening their pace. "What was that for?"

"You scared me," I replied, trying to add an edge to my voice. It didn't work- it came out too soft. "What did you expect me to do?"

He rolled his eyes, slowly releasing his face. To my credit, his nose only looked bruised, not broken. "Be happy!" He snapped back. To my surprise, he didn't sound angry. In fact, there was an excited tone to his voice. It helped me relax. He wasn't mad at me; he was not going to hang me out a window. "You actually did a good job flirting with him," he said. "You had him blushing."

"Blushing?" I replayed the whole incident in my head. "I don't ever remember making him- wait! Were you watching me?"

"Of course I was. I do have a stake in this," The Turk nodded proudly, grabbing my arm. To my surprise, it was a little gentler than I remembered it being. "Let's go- we're going to be late for class."

As Sadiq dragged me to our class, I could not help but to feel confused. I actually did something right? And by doing something right, I was making Sadiq happy? A ball of joy condensed in my stomach. I did something right for once!

And he was proud of me for that, right?

Cycle 2: Thursday

Like before, Liechtenstein wanted to get ready with me. Unfortunately, since I was not allowed to actually go, I had to turn her away. The sad, melancholy look pretty much made me want to commit suicide. How could I live knowing that I did something like that to my girl crush?

I found it weird, just sitting in my dorm at eleven o'clock at night, in my white night gown, eating a bucket of Ben and Jerry's while watching Howl's Moving Castle. God, I love that movie. Christian Bail as Howl was the greatest thing to happen since sliced bread. But I was not able to fully enjoy it. There was this constant nagging at the corner of my mind, telling me that I should be at the prom, further seducing a certain blonde man.

Then again, it could just be because Sadiq gave me an earful when he discovered that I would not be able to attend. "Find a freaking way!" He had yelled, looking ready to strangle me. With that, I quickly lied and agreed. Still, he further harassed me about it until Poland called him away to get ready for the prom himself. Moments like those made me love the cross-dresser.

Even so, I was still here, doing nothing but making Seychelles fat off of delicious ice cream. God, I hate this! And I was so close too! If only-

"Yo! Seychelles!" My door burst open and in strut America and Denmark, my favorite idiotic blondes. Both of them were dressed in fancy, yet wrinkled suits. I could not help but to stare at them, mouth hung open with the spoon still inside. What?

The men looked around before slamming the door shut. "Can we use this place?" The Danish one asked, giving me accolade worthy puppy eyes. Oh man, he looked so cute. I even got that goofy awed look on my face to prove it. "America lost his key and we need a place to fuck." And there goes the cuteness.

"No!" I jumped to my feet, feeling pretty pissed off with them. "You are not having sex in my room," I said, marching over to the door. I threw it opened and pointed to the hall. "Now get out."

America looked ready to cry. "Aw, c'mon! Can't ya just let us use it for an hour or so?"

I pressed my lips and resisted the urge to smack them silly. "Hell. No."

Both of them groaned. I groaned as well. I should not have to tell two people that they couldn't use my place as a sex chamber. I mean, if anyone was going to have sex in here then it was going to be me (hey, I have to put all those lemon fan fictions to good use). Stomping my foot, I motioned at the door, telling to get their asses moving.

Neither of them left. In fact, America flopped himself onto my bed and claimed my ice cream whereas Denmark stole Sadiq's usual chair. "Why aren't you at the prom anyways?" the Nordic asked, picking at his ear. "Isn't that something girls like to do with their boyfriends?"

Again, I groaned and closed the door. There was no way I was going to force them out now. "I was banned from it," I explained, sitting crossed-legged on the floor. "And I told Germany to go enjoy it without me." I didn't mention the fact that I slyly suggested that he also hooked up with Italy for the night.

America took Texas off his face and held to up to the light, saying, "I still don't see what the problem is. Ya can just sneak in, can't ya?"

I shook my head. "No I can't."

"Why?"

I was I little ashamed to say it, but there was a stubbornly curious look in both of the men's eyes. "Switzerland." The very idea of having his A-K 47s at my face was not a very pleasing idea for me.

"I say go anyways." I gave Denmark a crazy look, giving him cause to explain, "We're supposed to be teenagers right now. So our bosses can't blame us for breaking some of the rules. That's just what teenagers do, right?"

"Hell yeah," his friend agreed, stick a mouth full of chocolate yumminess in his mouth. "We should be doing drugs and drinking illegally."

Their motions swayed me. They were right- that is what teens usually did (in the stereotypical sense anyways). I wasn't one to break the rules, but at that moment it didn't matter. I jumped to my feet, ecstatically saying, "You're right. I should go anyways." I ran to my closet and pulled out Seychelles's blue dress. "What time is it?"

Simultaneously, the nations pushed up their sleeves and looked at their watches. "It's five minutes until midnight." Shit to the freaking shit.

Using the speed of light, I ripped off my comfortably pajamas and threw the dress on over (I didn't care that I had two watchers- they were both slutty gays). I skipped the make-up and bid them a hasty goodbye. It wasn't until I was running down the hallway did it occurred to me that the two were now just going to use my dorm as a makeshift hotel room.

But there was no time to think about it, I had to get down to France and . . . and what? As I ran down the eerily dark hallways, I silently cursed my stupidity. What was I supposed to do then? Confess my love, kiss France, and pray that he returns my feelings. "Well do you have any better plans?" An annoyed part of me asked. When I didn't answer, it laughed at my face and told me to do it.

Well let's just hope that Hooker-Sherry doesn't come back and ruin everything again.

The next thing I knew, I painfully ran into someone. The ends of my dress ripped and a strike of pain shot through my chest. "What the-"

"I'm sorry, eh!" The person lifted me back onto my feet. Growling, I dusted my dress and looked my hindrance in the eye. He looked a lot like America, but there was something off about him. Something weaker . . . "I wasn't watching where I was going," the man said. "I was just looking for my brother, eh?"

I raised an eyebrow, repeating his words. "You're brother . . . you mean America?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah him. Have you seen him, eh?"

"No I haven't." Okay, what was I supposed to do, tell him that his brother was having an affair with a smoking hot Nordic. If I heard Jerry was doing that, I would- hold on. "Wait. Are you Canada?"

The greatest look of happiness known to man came upon the man's face. "Yes I am!" He softly exclaimed. "You remembered me!"

Iwillnotmakea'whojokeIwillnotmakea'who'jokeIwillnotmakea'who'jokeIwillnotmakea'who'joke-

"Who?" I know, sue me. The temptation was just too great.

Just as his face became downcast, I checked the nearest clock. That just happened to be outside the window to the bell tower. The clock face and illuminated a soft yellow, declaring the time clearly for me. I had barely thirty seconds left. I sighed. There was no point- I missed it.

"Never mind, I gotta go," I said, sounding obviously down. I started to head back to my room. "See ya-" I tripped over the skirts of my dress. I landed on my neck. The pain of my neck breaking was unbearable, causing me to cry out loudly. The bones essentially pierced something inside of me since I felt myself begin to bleed from the inside out.

For the longest thirty seconds of my life, I laid on the ground, coughing as I felt my lungs fill with blood. The red liquid would spill from my mouth with each breath. Canada joined me at my side, softly asking if I was alright. Idiot. . .

Weakly, I looked up and out the window. The second clock hand inched forward, pointing directly to heaven. At last, the midnight bells tolled. Suddenly, the colors around me softened. I lowered my head on the cold floor and felt my world spin.

I muttered a "shit" before feeling myself become lost in the blackness.

Cycle 2: The Void

"So you failed again." I gave Seychelles an unamused look as she gazed at me critically. I was back in the darkness, standing in front of the bane of my existence. It was exactly the way it was before: me in my pajamas and her in her blue dress. The African rolled her eye and folded her arms over her chest. "I can't believe you messed that one up."

I winced, feeling a headache come on. "I know I did," I hissed, thinking about the scolding Sadiq was going to give me. "Thank you for stating the obvious."

The girl didn't stop there. Instead, I watched as she paced in a circle, complaining loudly, "How could you have screwed that one up? I practically gave you England on a platter!"

"I wasn't going after England," I snapped, feeling myself heat up. "I was-"

"Going after my papa." Seychelles rubbed her temples as if she was also facing the serious head pains I was. "If you did the smart thing-"

I shouted exactly what was on my mind. "Who the hell are you to judge me?" Pissed as shit, I marched right up to her and pointed my white finger into her face. "You just throw yourself at every single guy you meet!"

Snarling, my finger was swatted away like a bothersome fly. She glared at me, eyes shaded with fierceness. "I am not a whore," she growled. "If you could see how stupid you are-"

I threw my arms into the air. "I'm the stupid one?" I cackled like an insane witch from those old nostalgia movies. "Well excuse me for not being educated in the ways of the slut." Before she could lash out at me again, I started my own pacing, rambling on to myself. "Because you're just fucking perfect. You know, I bet you're just enjoying yourself right now, laughing at everything mistake I make. Tell me, are you enjoying yourself?"

Unlike me, the nation started to chain down her temper. Giving a long, irritated breath, Seychelles said, "I'm not enjoying myself."

"Likely story."

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "I'm serious Sherry," she growled. Hearing her call me by my name eased my temper long enough for me to actually start paying close attention to her. The girl looked old, tired even- hopeless. For the first time, I noticed the way her shoulders slouched in defeat she added, "I didn't mean to bring this on. I . . . you probably don't want to hear it."

Monsters of guilt gnawed at my conscience. I was starting to feel regret at my words. They may be the truth, but the truth did hurt. Biting my lip, I slowly lowered myself onto the black ground. "Yeah, I do," I said softly, my legs criss-cross-apple-sauce. All my body's owner did was stare at me with an open mouth. "C'mon, you have an explanation and I want to hear it."

Seychelles continued to stare for a moment longer before regaining her composure. "I just grabbed the wrong laptop," she started, fixing her eyes to her shoes. "I was in a hurry to leave class and I grabbed the wrong laptop. It looked exactly like mine so I didn't even notice. It wasn't until after dinner when I was in my room did I realize it. I did the wrong thing and I started snooping through all the person's files. It was . . . strange. There was a file on everyone at the school. At first I thought it was Pangaea's, but then I saw my own. It stated that I wasn't popular with 'the fans'- that I had a whole fan base bent on hating me."

She sighed, her voice turning into a painful drawl, "I didn't understand what it meant. So on that same computer, I used this alternate version of Google and googled myself. It must had been an alternate universe's internet since I saw that me and everyone else at this school was part of this series called 'Axis Powers Hetalia'

At first, I was really curious- excited even. I just looked up more and more until . . . I saw people commenting on me, saying that I was a slut. Saying I was flat, unoriginal, an arrogant bi. . ." Seychelles trailed off, wiping a few silent tears from her eyes. In a votile yell, "They don't even know me, yet they're nick-picking at everything 'wrong' with me! I can't help to be this way! I . . ." Her voice turned into a loud sob.

I watched awkwardly as she buried her face in her hands, crying thickly. A small, unidentified feeling bubbled in my stomach. I felt as though I should say something, anything to her. But I could only open and close my mouth dumbly, trying to find my voice. "Seychelles, I. . ."

The nation looked up, calming herself. The whites of her eyes were as red as my hair. She loudly sniffled, gathering her story again. "I was mad. I was so mad. In a spout of anger, I just wished for one person- one measly person to just take it back. To just admit they were wrong."

I inched forward, actually getting into the story. "And?"

Seychelles looked shocked at my urging. Tongue tied, she stumbled over a few inaudible sounds before finally saying, "I shouldn't. He'll just. . . "

Really? You just told me most of your life story and you weren't even going to finish? Strongly, I ordered, "Tell me."

Sighing, she looked back at the ground, saying nervously, "I . . . I was then in this room. It was nothing but white- except for a window at a door. There's only black on the other side." I noticed the haunted, distraught look in her eyes. "I was the only one there, yet there was a voice, offering to make that wish come true at the price that I had to one day pay him back. I was so stupid, I just agreed without thinking. And that one hater I wished for just happened to be you."

She took a long breath. "And now I'm watching you try to be me. I guess I got my wish . . ." Full of regret; she took a seat on the ground, embracing her knees. Stressed was the only way I could describe her. I didn't know what to think. Should I feel sorry for her? Angry that she brought this on me? "I wish I never did it," she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear. "I wish I never took that laptop. Then maybe Turkey wouldn't be doing this."

I looked at her, confused. "Turkey?" I repeated, tilting my head. "What do you mean by that?"

The girl bit her lip. "I shouldn't," she muttered, shaking her head weakly. "You'll just-"

I was getting really annoyed with her conflicted feelings. Determinedly, I crawled on my knees to her. I roughly took a fist full of her dress collar and yanked her forward. It occurred to be that I was being as abusive as Sadiq, but I ignored the thought. "Tell me," I demanded, shaking her slightly.

She looked up at me, large eyes shining. When the words tumbled out of her mouth, I wished I never heard them. "I think Turkey was that voice," she told me. "I know he's in on this, but the only explanation I can think of is that he is that voice I heard."

Sadiq's . . . the jackass? I stared at the ground, processing her words. It made sense. Too much sense. Why else would he be harassing me about getting that kiss if he didn't have something to gain. Of course, that would mean that that something was Seychelles's debt, but I didn't know anything about his plan.

It was possible.

"I'm so stupid," I thought, simmering with frustration. "And to think that I trusted him." In my musing, I didn't realize that the girl before me was fading away until I was falling

and falling

. . .

MW: Well this was an okay chapter. The only scenes I really liked were the France and Seychelles ones, but I love them so much that I think this chapter was worth the wait.

SEK: Azul, por que no puedes hablar otro idioma? Se que estabas estudiando italiano, pero todovia no puedes hablar... Si podias, quizás tu poder hacer un AN in tu misma idioma!

MW: For the last time SEK, Spanish and other foreign languages will not be allowed in the AN.

BFTL: ちょっとSEKを見て！私は別の言語を話すよ！

MW: *facedesk*

SEK: Y como siempre, revise por favor!

Funfacts

"Fransexual" I will quote myself if I want.

"Dreamland" The story about the book being defected actually happened to me. To this day, I still have no idea whether the girl got out or not.

"We should be doing drugs and drinking illegally." Here at BFTLandMWandSEK, we do not embrace such activities. We do, however, find it hilarious.

Next Chapter: Cycle 3 starts and Sherry must deal with the idea of an evil Sadiq.

**REVIEW AND MAKE MY BORING SUMMER ENTERTAINING!**