MW: *leans back in chair, smoking cigarette* Dude, I love this chapter.

SEK: Wolf, you're underage. You shouldn't be smoking.

MW: Meh, fine. *extinguishes*

BFTL: Guys! Look at the review count! It's nearly at 50!

MW: Really? Dude, this calls for some beer!

SEK: No, you're underage!

MW: Gr, fine.

Anyways, thank you everyone for your support and such. In this AN, however, I would like to take the opportunity to appreciate a reviewer. He calls himself Pimp with a chainsaw. He's special because he figured out the reason I put the crack pairings in the story! *applause*

He wrote: "[The crack pairings helped] Sherry find out that not everything in her favorite series can't [be] the way she wants, including not all of her OTPs are not there… Most of the pairings don't make any sense, but [she] still needs to accept it as it is."

Now, the reason I'm bringing this up is because I want to bring something to everyone's attention: this story is a microcosm. That's a fancy word meaning that everything in this story represents something in the Hetalia fandom. Not everything for my little symbolism has been revealed yet, but start thinking about it peeps.

Anyways, remember to drop in a precious review!

Chapter Summary: Sherry befriends a certain side character which leads to a surprising turn of event.

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual References, Yaoi, Talk of Suicide, and OCxCannon

Disclaimer: I own Sherry and that is it! I wish I owned Sadiq, but I'm not that lucky.

~Chapter 6~

Descent into Mary Sueism Part 1

"Korra and I are perfect for each other. She's strong, I'm strong. She's fun, I'm fun. She's beautiful, I'm gorgeous!"

-Bolin from the Legend of Korra, an American TV show

Cycle 3: Monday

The ear killing sound of Lady Gaga's music reached my ears. Groaning, I sat up and hit the alarm clock. "Sadiq's the jackass," I immediately thought, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Already, my head was throbbing from a developing headache. "Holy crap, he's working against me."

"Good morning Sherry." My eyes shot open and I saw the very bastard I was thinking about sitting in his usual spot. He looked like he always did, except his pink tie was replaced with sparkling pink bangles. I felt a shower of cold sweat drop down my back. What was I supposed to say?

"Say nothing," a slightly reasonable side of me said. "Don't let him know that you figured it out." My lips pressed together and I stared at him with wide eyes. Say nothing; I could do that.

Sadiq waited for a moment longer, expecting a reply. When I didn't, he slowly raised an eyebrow. "Right . . ." Even his voice sounded confused. Clapping his hands together, he tried brightening his composure, saying, "Well I was right. You're plan to be yourself didn't work. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Sherry, you are not going to say anything. Not a word. Be as silent as Ariel.

When I- once again -didn't say anything, the Turk wiped the smirk off his face and coughed. "Of course you knew that," he muttered. Again, I mimicked Snake-Eyes (Oh man, I love G.I. Joe ). "I didn't see you at the prom last time," he said, attempting control over the situation. "Did you run into any trouble?" Silent as Egypt. "Did you die early?" Never going to speak.

Sadiq stared at me for a long moment. My shoulders tensed. I expected him to punch me or start screaming at me to speak. But he didn't. I watched as the man stood and moved to the spot right by my bed.

He bent onto one knee and placed a sure hand on my leg. As the sun's morning rays grew stronger, he looked down at the floor, thinking to himself. When he finally spoke, it was not what I expected. "Sherry . . . did something happen?" He slowly asked, refusing to meet my eyes. "Did anyone hurt you? Say anything to you?"

By now, I was dying to tell him about my conversation with Seychelles. I just didn't know how to deal with the information she gave. Sadiq would- he would tell me that she was lying and that I shouldn't even bother with her. "But isn't that what the bad guy does?" I thought, pressing my lips until they were red. "Manipulate the hero into thinking those kinds of things?" He-he, he'll kind of be like Loki to Thor then. God, I love that movie.

He continued, "You can tell me anything, Sherry. I trust you and I want you to trust me-" And now this was just getting awkward. "-So please, is there anything you need to tell me?"

At the point, it would be cruel to leave him hanging. Like that 'Hang in there' cat. That poor feline, forever idolized for hanging on a string of rope. Gathering my words, I did my best to sound firm. "I'm fine. I-" Crap! Sherry, think of a lie! "-Just feel bad for not . . . um, breaking the 'FrUk' up?" I had the worst poker face.

If the Turk heard the question in my words, he didn't let on. Instead, he nodded, rising to his feet. "Alright then, I was just a little worried." From his pocket, he drew forth that cursed pocket watch. Whatever was on his mind distracted him from properly shielding its face from me.

Like every Victorian watch, the face was a creamy white. The numbers were written in a thick black cursive. The clock hands told the time to the minute. But I noticed an extra hand. It didn't move, only pointing straight at the three. "What the hell is that for?" I wondered.

"I want you to eat breakfast this time around," he told me, clicking it shut. "And please, try to take this seriously. I want this to be the last time we have to go through this, okay?"

With just enough sass, I threw my blankets off and slid out of the bed. "If you want me to get my ass moving, then get yours out of here," I snapped, strutting to my closet. Don't let on that you know. "I'm not about to have breakfast in my pajamas."

My obvious change in demeanor was reassuring. Sadiq smirked, taking his sweet time to reach my door. "Alright, just get yourself down there." He opened the door and took a single step out. "Oh, and Sherry?" He turned to me, giving me a very serious voice.

In an equally serious manner, he said, "This time, break-up with Germany. He's dragging you down." Sweat dropped down my back. Oh no. I opened my mouth, ready to object, when he cut me off. "And if you don't, I'll hang you out the window."

He fully walked out. "Get it done today, Sherry." Then the door was closed firmly behind him.

I stared at where he used to be. Not the window again . . .

Ignoring his previous order, I flopped back onto the bed, buried my face into my pillow, and screamed.

Cycle 3: Monday

"And you're consulting me about this why?" I hugged my books closer to my chest, doing my best to keep up with the Baltic. It was just after Language Arts and I was supposed to be heading off to the student council room. So far, my day has been going pretty well. I was able to eat breakfast, I attended all of my classes, and I made no new enemies. The only problem has been Germany.

I see him everywhere now. Every time I do, I could feel Sadiq's amber eyes demanding that I break off ties with him. The problem? I kept on chickening out. Every time I would boldly approach him, read: to break his heart, I would freeze up. It wasn't the return of Hooker-Sherry (thank the heavens!), but me being a priss.

Just take a break from reading this, Google his hard, constipated face, and stare at it. Would you have the guts to tear out that man's heart and stomp on it?

If you do, then you are obviously suicidal. Go get yourself some help.

Like a therapist or something.

Because if I know one thing it's that suicide is just bad for your health.

Anyways, this was why I came to consult the most socially awkward person I knew: Estonia. Giving him a light smile, I explained, "Because you are a nerd and nerds always know more about these kinds of things than most popular people do."

The blond, avidly playing an intense game of Angry Birds, didn't even bother looking at you. "That's one screwed up train of thought, Seychelles," he said, rolling his eyes. In return, I rolled my eyes at him. Wow, really? "But if you want my advice, I think that you should tell him the truth."

Finally, some progress! Even if it's going to do me no good. I mean, it's not as if I could just say 'hey, I'm a fangirl possessing your girlfriend's body so I'm going to break up with you'. I might as well add a 'and while you're at it, go hook up with Italy and make those other fangirls shut up'. Yes, because that worked so well the last time.

"Do you have any suggestions what I should say?" I asked, grinding my teeth together.

Estonia sighed and flicked another bird at those stupid pigs. Die pigs! Die! "Tell him something sappy," he suggested, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "Like 'it's not you, it's me' or 'we're not going anywhere.' You can even say, 'I'm tired of derping around like-'"

"Wait!" I paused in my steps, clogging the whole hallway in the process. Students cursed at me and walked around, telling me that I was an idiotic bitch (that Seychelles is). The nation stopped and glanced back at me. In a serious manner, I asked, "Did you just use the word 'derp' as a verb?"

Again, he sighed. "Yes, I did. Is there a problem?"

I bit my lip and walked a few steps closer. I ripped his hands from his phone and held them in mine. I bent onto one knee and said, "Estonia, I officially love you. Will you marry me?"

Something about my display was repulsive. Mimicking barfing, he ripped his hands away, calling me a freak. I couldn't help but to laugh to the point of rolfing. By the time I had some dignity back, he was gone and I was late. Like always.

I hurried down the wood halls to the student council room. Like last cycle, I banged my fist loudly on the door, announcing my presence to the whole world. "Give us a minute!" England called out. I stood there patiently, smirking to the sound of them scrambling away from each other.

Oh, the yaoi.

"You can come in now!" Still grinning, I opened the door to the same scene as always: the two men with ruffled clothes, sitting on opposite ends of the table, sorting through their stacks of paper.

A small voice in my head told me to be cautious. "If you see the same scene over and over again, you're going to go crazy," it warned. I gave my usual greeting and took my usual chair. I didn't believe it- this wasn't freaking HetaOni.

You know, I used to love the name 'Steve'. It was to the point where I wanted my child to be named that. Then- of course -the Italy fangirls had to name the gray bastard that. "Which is absolutely splendid," I thought sarcastically. "Now they'll tell me that my child can't marry Liam Neeson."

Long story on that, but I need to return to the plot.

"How has your day been, Seychelles?" England asked, as he evened a stack of white papers.

I smiled and scanned over my own. They were the same as always. "It's been fine," I replied absently. What the hell was I going to do about Germany . . .

France smiled and scribbled something on a yellow notepad. "Has Germany asked you to the prom yet?" he asked, smiling for whatever reason. I really didn't want to know why- him being France was enough of a warning for me. "It would be a shame if that dress of yours went to waste."

I laughed nervously, unconsciously drawing circles on the papers. If the Germany situation wasn't there then I would be obsession over my lack of artistic mastery. "Well about that . . ." Okay, this may not be such a bad thing. These two were masters at romance- their help would be a blessing from the fan fiction gods.

Carefully, I placed my pen down. "I actually intend in breaking up with him today," I said, grimacing at the very thought.

France and England exchanged stunned glances. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. All conversation was between the glints in their green and blue eyes. At last, both of the men rose and took the two seats surrounding me.

"Coming out as straight is a very hard thing to do," England gently said, rubbing his hand on my back. I felt a blush creep up my face. "To date another straight person is as equally challenging. But to break up is a difficult quagmire."

France nodded in agreement, adding, "My little bunny and I-"

"Don't call me that," England snapped, turning a deep shade of red.

"-Fully support you in your decision. But do your papa a favor and let him off easily."

I leaned into the Frenchman's shoulder. He smelled like cologne roses. It made me want to gag. "But I don't know how to do that," I said.

The man slyly smiled and offered his two cents. "Just tell him that what you two had was great when it lasted," He said. "But your heart must go on to other lovers."

His boyfriend rolled his eyes and smacked him behind the head. "Stupid git, this isn't a Celine Dion song!" He groaned, furrowing his iconic eyebrows. Switching his demeanor to that of a warming parent, he suggested, "You should just tell him the truth. Germany is a mature man and will not take it badly. But if he does, just remember to be the better man- woman."

I slowly nodded. That was two completely different messages. Which one was I supposed to use? Suddenly, France was pushing me out of my chair and to the door. "My dear, you shouldn't waste any more time. Go tell him now!" He ordered, shoving me into the hall.

A surge of panic pricked up my skin. Oh shit. I dug my heels into the wood and braced my arms on the door frame. "No!" I screamed, trying (and failing) to stop him. Even with all of my efforts, my heels still slid out of the room and into the hall. "You can't make me! England! Help!"

"You're on your own with this one," was the Brit's simple reply. Fucking bastard, he made this seem like a bloody tea party.

Somehow, France summoned the power to push me out the door and into the hall. I stumbled onto my knees, cursing every foul word I knew. The door was closed shut behind me before I could even move.

It's official: I hate blondes. I wish every blond on this planet would just die.

There goes half the Hetalia cast.

Frustrated, I banged my fist on the door, yelling, "Damnit France! Let me in before I-"

"Seychelles?" Shit. Lord save me. Like a deer in headlights, my eyes shot to the German running down the halls to meet me. My immediate impulse was to run for my life.

"Stay where you are," I ordered myself. "Sadiq's going to kill you if you don't." And besides, if I run I might end up in another M rated classroom. That was not going to be pleasant- unless if it's another yaoi scene. Mmm, yummy.

Germany dashed up to me, worry in his face. "Seychelles, are you alright?" he asked, cupping my shoulders with his large hands. "Why are you screaming out here?"

I could imagine France and England pressing their ears at the door and snickering at me. I scowled, silently ordering them to stop and go have sex or something. Coughing softly, I shrugged the man's hands away. "Nothing's wrong," I told him. "But I do need to talk to you."

He sensed the serious tone in my voice. His eternal frown deepened and he shifted his feet. "What is it, dear?"

I winced. This was going to be harder than I thought and I already believed that this was going to kill me! Damnit, I am not Bella! I cannot just smile, be perfect, and flounce my way through this.

Looking down, I gave a long sigh. I remembered last cycle where Hooker-Sherry prevented me from doing this last time. "Seychelles, you need to let me do this," I thought, praying that she heard me. "When this is all over, you can hook-up with him again, but now I need to get Germany away." Of course, there was no response.

"Seychelles?" The blond's voice drew me back to the real world. His icy blue eyes seem to ask me 'what's wrong? Why are you acting strange?'

I closed my eyes. Here we go. "We've been together for a very long time," I said, taking long breaths. "We've had a lot of great times as well, but my heart has just moved on."

"'Moved on?'" He repeated, giving me a blank look. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Um. . ." Stupid Hetalia fan cannon and making his oblivious to love! Damn you "GerIta" writers, this is entirely your fault! "Um, my feelings for you have just changed." Another blank look. I tried to be nice, but it looks as though I'm going to have to be blunt. "I'm breaking up with you, Germany."

It was like that moment in The Legend of Korra (if you guys haven't seen any of the latest episodes yet, then skip over this little reference filled paragraph) when Korra hooks up with Mako. You could literally see Bolin's heart being ripped out, thrown onto the floor, and stomped into the pitiful tears of obsessed fangirls. Except this wasn't half as funny.

No, instead Germany's face fell into a pit of despair. "What?" His voice sounded so small. "You . . . found someone new?"

"Uh, no." Over ten years of school experience left me and I added, "But don't be surprised if I find a new boyfriend soon-"

"I knew it!" Germany took a large step behind me, giving me a horrified look. "You only dated me out of pity! You never loved me!" This was breaching uncharted lands. I had no idea what he was talking about."

"I knew I should have broken up by text," I thought darkly. Some strange part of me wanted me to at least make Seychelles seem less than a bitch than she actually was. Awkwardly grinning, I tried my best to salvage the situation, saying, "No, I did love you. But-"

"Then what did I do wrong?" He demanded.

"You did nothing wrong. It's not you-"

"Then who is it?"

I wanted to groan. "It's me, damn it! I can't be with you anymore!"

Germany roughly grabbed my shoulder. There was a crazed look on his face. It scared me. He shook me, loudly demanding, "Why? Damnit Seychelles! Why can't you be with me?" His grip on my shoulders tightened into a blood pausing pressure. Wincing, I felt one of his hands move to the back of my neck. That was where Sadiq always grabbed me to hang (or threaten to hang) me out the window.

A flash of uncontrollable fear shot through me. "Help!" I screamed, struggling under his ever strong grasp. France and England were just in the other room - they should be able to hear me. "Help me!"

The problem was that someone else did.

"Hey! Stop it!" A man called. The next thing I knew, I was being ripped away from Germany and cast aside. I landed hard on my butt and yelped. What the hell? I looked up and saw my savior.

For some reason, the great fan fictions gods sent Iceland to my rescue. If there was a single word I could use to describe this guy, it would be 'cool'. Like seriously, the combination of his silver hair and blue eyes made him resemble snow in a Gauken Hetalia uniform.

Germany glared at him, spitting, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I could ask the same thing to you," the other replied smoothly, his signature puffin tucked safely under his arm. I didn't know much about him- I wasn't a big fan of the Nordic 5. My lack of fangirl knowledge scared me. "Why are you hurting your girlfriend?" he continued. "Germany, this isn't like you."

"I could say the same to you," the other snapped. "Butting your head into other people's business isn't your thing." My wide eyes shot between the two men. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Intervene? Let them fight it off?

Iceland scowled. "I heard screams for help. That is all. Now get out before I tell Russia about this."

Actually, I think Bella mentioned this guy to me before in one of her big rants. She used to be in love with the Nordics and cosplayed as Finland. I remembered her telling me that Iceland and Russia helped each other out financially at one point of time. All I can really say about it is that it was enough for the two to be shipped together.

But Russia was dating Holy Rome, so I guess here they were only friends.

I watched as Germany's eyes flickered between me and Iceland. I crawled back a few feet, trying to make myself as small as possible. At last, his eyes rested on me. "I still love you, Seychelles and I want to know the truth." He closed his eyes and took a long breath. "I'll be waiting for you." He started to walk away, brushing by my spot on the floor. In a voice only loud enough for me to hear, he added, "Or, at least, I'll try to."

Iceland glared at him as he went, pressing his lips into a tight line. All I could do was watch his retreating figure. What did that message mean? Either way, I just prayed that I wouldn't have to do that again. I just wanted the worst to be over.

"I thought he'd never leave," Iceland said suddenly, regaining his monotone type cool. He turned half way towards me, fully taking in my presence for the first time. He gasped a single "wow." His blue eyes looked larger than normal and a small tint of color flushed his face. "Um. . ."

Rolling my eyes, I ignored him and tried rising to my feet. "Weirdo," I thought, wincing at the ache in my butt. I think my tailbone was bruised.

My Nordic rescuer sprang to life. He took my hand and pulled me onto my feet. "Are you alright, Seychelles?" he asked glancing over my body.

I brushed him away. "I'm fine-"

"What happened?" I stared at him. Was it just me, or did he asked that quickly? Like I'm-greatly-concerned-for-your-safety quickly?

"I was breaking up with him," I explained awkwardly, adjusting the strap to my bag.

Iceland's face came to life. "You actually broke up with him?" he repeated, sounding too happy for my comfort.

My brain scrambled to find a somewhat decent comeback. "Well, um-"

BOOM~!

Iceland wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pushed me to the ground. Even with my hands covering my ears, I could feel the bullet as it passed by my head. "Get away from her!" Switzerland ordered from the far end of the hallway, reloading his gun.

We looked up and gave him a crazy look. "Why?" My continued savior demanded, tightening his hold around me. Seriously, what was up with this guy and saving my sorry ass today?

The blond marched over to us, saying, "I heard her-" the barrel of his gun was pointed at me. "-screaming for help. Now step away from her before I blast your brains out!" Barely a foot away, he grabbed the Icelandic's collar and pried him away from me.

Dangling a few feet in the air, Iceland dropped his puffin and raised his hands in defeat. He nervously defended himself "Switzerland, I mean Seychelles no harm. This is all one big-" The metal barrel was jammed under his chin.

"Not another word from you." The other growled, cocking his gun.

By now, I was pretty much done with this bullshit. Knitting my eyebrows, I rose to my feet. Sounding as angry as I could, I said, "Iceland didn't do anything-"

"Get your cheese smelling hands off of him, jackass!" For once that day, I was thankful for Sadiq's sudden appearance. From the opposite direction, my mentor stormed down the halls, looking ready to commit triple homicide.

Iceland smiled grimly. "Hey there Pops," he said. "It's been a while." He nodded in acknowledgement.

His enemy frowned and only held his captive higher. "Get out of here, Turkey," He snapped. "This isn't your problem."

Sadiq's scowl only grew deeper. "The kid didn't do anything," he repeated, a low growl in his voice. "So drop him, jackass."

Switzerland pressed his lips together for a long moment before dropping him. Iceland landed on his feet, immediately taking his puffin back into his protective grip. The blond man continued to glare at the Turk, threatening, "Don't get too cocky yet, Turkey. The moment you screw up, I'm going to be waiting there with a smile and a beating of a lifetime."

"That is, if you can catch me." I nodded in appreciation. Damn, Sadiq had some good comebacks. I wish I could come up with some witty things like that.

The Swiss man swung the gun's strap over his shoulder with an anger swish~! He left almost determinedly, giving him the bird as he went. When he turned the corner, I gave both of the remaining men a sheepish grin. "Thanks for that. I just-"

The Arabian ignored me and focused his attention on addressing his fellow nation. "Iceland!" He practically squealed, wrapping the man in a bear hug. His nature reminded me of one old friend greeting another. This is exactly how Iceland responded. He returned the man-hug and patted the other's back, greeting him as "Pops". I sat the dumbly, trying to figure out what was going on.

This wasn't a crack pairing- I knew that. This . . . this was cannon bromance. Remember in one of the Christmas strips how all of the nations were disappearing? Remember the two main characters for that mini-adventure? That's right: Sadiq and Iceland.

"How have you been doing, kid?" My mentor asked, breaking away from their man embrace. You know, with all the hugging these two were doing, I might be tempted to ship them.

Might.

Iceland gave a small smile and held his puffin closer to his chest. "I've been fine, though what on earth made you decide to talk to Switzerland?" The Turk's amber eyes shot to me. His friend's blue ones copied him. "Pops, you're a friend of Seychelles?" he asked, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. "I didn't-"

"We're not friends," I said quickly, giving him a serious look. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the approving nod of the Turk. Woot, I did that right! Score one for me! "Just acquaintances."

He immediately perked up. "Really? That's-" He coughed, dropping the zealous look on his face. Trying to act suave, he corrected, "That's, um, surprising." I peered at him. What in the world made him change so suddenly?

That was when I noticed Sadiq's narrowed eyes. They observed the Icelandic boy carefully, piercing his way through the other's mask. Did I miss something? Why was he suddenly acting so hostile? Iceland didn't do anything wrong . . .

"Right." My mentor looked away and out the hall window. The sun was sinking below the horizon, tinting the sky an orange hue. The bells of the clock tower tolled, singling an hour until dinner. If tonight was like all the other Mondays, then it was taco night. Yummy, tacos. "I'll see you both later," the brunette said, running his hands through his hair. His pink bangles jingled with him.

I took it as my cue to get my butt moving. "I gotta start my homework, so I'll-"

"I'll walk you to your dorm," Iceland volunteered, taking my arm and leading me down the halls. He still sounded like his bored self, but there was a feel of- what is it? -eagerness to him.

I was forced to agree. As I was led away, I could not help but to glance behind me. Sadiq's worried eyes were concentrating on his watch.

Cycle 3: Tuesday

I yawned and inched forward in the morning breakfast line. It was nice to be up, but it still felt too early. After being stuck on a static walk with Iceland, I stayed in for the rest of the night doing homework and watching Howl's Moving Castle. Damn History Teacher Pangaea and assigning a paper on the War of Jenkin's ear.

Said woman (though here she took the title of 'Cafeteria Lady') placed a plate of pancakes on my tray. Under my breath, I thanked her and continued to sing the world's greatest song: "We want your trousers- your breeches, your chaps. No, you can't get these pants from shopping at Gap. Their service sucks . . ."

Yes, "Leather Pants". What? It was an amazing song! In matter of fact, I love all of LittleKuriboh's Lady Gaga parodies. If you haven't watched them yet, then you have no right to call yourself a nerd.

After pouring a crap ton of maple syrup on my meal, I scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. My already few options were cut tenfold. My usual spot with the other straighties was out of the question. Germany was still mad at me and I highly doubted that his brother and his girlfriend would be very welcoming. Sadiq would not let me sit with him and Poland. He would just tell me to sit by France and England whom weren't even up yet (late next sex, eh?). There was no way in hell I was going to resign myself to sitting next to Estonia.

Swallowing, I resigned myself to sit at an empty table. I was an outcast, shunned by society like the cowboys of the west. Like a wolf, I will live off the land and the products of my own strengths. I was aloof, defiant - a loner.

I claimed my seat and chowed down on my food, still singing the lyrics softly. "Me and Bakura, we will have our revenge. Him and me will take your leather pants . . ." You know, moments like these made me wish that I could talk to Liechtenstein or Bella.

If the big deal I gave about my loner status wasn't a hint enough, I would just have to state this clearly: I hate going outside the crowd. I'm sorry if you guys thought that I was some sort of individual, but I need people to surround me. I will be a total weeabo weirdo only if I have people to do it with me.

"We need to talk." I paused and looked up. Prussia stood across from me, inviting himself to sit. For once, he looked and sounded serious.

It made me hesitate for a moment. "That's seat's taken," I said, cutting away at my meal.

"By who? Waldo?" Prussia rolled his eyes at me. Damn, that was another witty comeback. I need to start writing these down so that I can use them later and claim them as my own. The albino stared at me for a long moment, demanding my attention. "What the hell do you think you're doing Seychelles?" he demanded.

I swallowed and mimicked his look. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, staring into his crimson eyes. They looked so cool. I wish I was a hot albino.

He drummed his fingers on the table, frowning to himself. "You know exactly what the awesome me means," he replied hotly. "You breaking up with Germany. What the hell were you thinking?"

No, not this again. Glancing around him, I saw Sadiq observing from his table. His head was resting on his palm and he was only half listening to Poland ramble on about something unknown. My eyes pleaded for him to come save me. When he only shook his head, I was forced to reply, "I was thinking that I was no longer happy in that relationship. I have a right-"

Prussia loudly banged his hands on the table. "He was talking about jumping off the bell tower again!" he yelled, practically inviting the whole school to eavesdrop on us. "Do you really want that?"

"Jump off the bell tower again?" I wondered, staring with large eyes. What in the world was he talking about? Why would anyone want to do that? Unless. . . It hit me like a blue shell on Mario Kart. "Holy crap, Germany's suicidal."

My mouth refused to work. I tried forming some sort of excuse, but my words were muddled. Seychelles was dating a depressed guy? What the hell? I can't handle that! What the fu-

My stunned silence came off as defiance. Angrily, Prussia grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me forward. I was forced to stand and lean over the table to even face him. Not to sound sexual, but my boobs were right in my pancakes. Yeah, that was a pleasant image to have. Unless you were into echii animes. In that case, glorify the strange fan service I was giving you.

All around me, chairs were screeching with people rising to their feet. They knew a fight when they saw one. As I looked at the man in fear, I noticed Sadiq discreetly making his way towards us. It was not in the least bit comforting.

"Make this better, Seychelles," the Prussian growled, looking dead frightening. "I don't want my brother to talk about taking his life anymore. Do you even understand how un-awesome that is? I swear, if you don't-"

Someone grabbed my attacker's arm. It was Iceland, readily coming to my defense again. There was a slight snarl in his stoic face as he glared at him. "Let her go," he growled deeply. I could not help but to stare at him. Again? Why was this guy always saving me now?

Prussia smirked and released me. I lost my balance and fell straight on top of the table and pancakes. Great, now I had maple syrup in my bra. Feeling a slight ache in my chest and neck, I groaned and looked back at the men.

They were still glaring at each other, looking ready to beat each other senseless. Everyone was watching them now- even Germany and Liechtenstein. The girl's sad eyes met mine for a second, showing me nothing but disappointment. It felt like a sword had impaled my heart.

"This has nothing to do with you, Nordic," Prussia said cockily, glaring at him.

Iceland stubbornly shook his head. "You were hurting an innocent woman," he replied, looking smaller without his puffin. I wonder where the poor animal was now. "This has everything to do with me."

He stared at him for a long moment. Stiffly, I peeled myself off and sat on the table. "Do you really want to challenge the awesome me?" The elder country asked, cracking his knuckles.

Iceland took a second to size the man up. He was smaller and less muscular than him. If he were to win this fight, he would need brains. Not to say that he was stupid or anything, but this guy didn't have what it would take. Still, the silver haired man started rolling up his sleeves. "Of course I will," was his acceptance.

"Don't you dare start fighting in here!" Cafeteria Lady Pangaea shouted, marching her way to the fight. Like a flash mob, a crowd of students suddenly circled us. I noticed America and Denmark were holding the fat lady back, pushing her back to her counter. Oh shit. Switzerland wasn't here either- there was no one to stop the brawl.

Let's just say that the fight did not last long. I watched with growing dread as the men exchanged a few jabs, both dodging them equally. Iceland was surprisingly agile, moving out of the line of fire easily. But his strength did not match the brute force the albino had.

The second Prussia brought his fist down onto the Nordic's back, it was over for him. He cried out and fell to his knees, coughing harshly. I sat the table dumbly, too stupid to do anything about this. I really should have at least told them to stop. But I didn't.

I fucking hate myself.

Nonchalantly, Prussia reached down and grabbed the other's collar. He raised him into the air, saying, "You should have minded your own business; this was about me and my awesome brother and no one else." He raised his fist, ready to bash his face in.

The next thing I knew, Iceland was ripped from his grip and tossed to the side. In amazement, everyone watched as Sadiq smoothly lifted Prussia over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground. "Leave the kid alone," he snarled, freaking axe kicking him in the stomach.

I slammed my hands over my ears when I heard his victim howl. "Stop it!" I shouted, jumping off the table and throwing myself into the middle of the fight. Hell, I was not about to let the bad guy have his way with the side character. Yeah, Prussia did hurt me, but he was doing it for his suicidal brother! That had to count for something.

I made to grab his raised arm, when someone took my own. I paused and saw Iceland holding my hand, shaking his head gently. "Let Pops handle this," he told me. The sound of the Turk ramming his fist into the other's face made me shut my eyes close.

"Can we go?" I asked, trying to block out the noise. Still, I heard the nations whooping for Sadiq to kick Prussia's ass. I could even hear Poland's flamboyant encouragement, warning him to be careful. It was sickening.

I felt Iceland curl his fingers into mine. "Of course." I let him me through the crowd. Like Moses and the red sea, he navigated his way between the students, muttering apologies as he went. There close proximity only made me feel more nauseous. It felt like a eternity had passed when we were finally out.

For a few moments, I took slow, long breaths. My head was throbbing and I felt winded. "Are you feeling alright?" the silver haired man asked. Concerned, he placed the back of his hand over my forehead. "You feel a little warm."

I stared at him. Seriously, what the hell was up with his constant concern for me! Can't he just leave me alone? "I'm fine," I spat, swatting his hand away. His blue eyes went wide as he slowly released me.

The school bells tolled and I took my opportunity to escape.

Cycle 3: Tuesday

I sighed and took a bite out of my sandwich. From the top of the bell tower, I watched nations converge outside and socialized with each other in the quuad. I was actually fine with being up so high as long as my feet weren't over the edge. Like at that moment, they were criss-crossed-applesauce and I was a safe five feet from the open air. Any closer and I would panic.

I could really go through everything shitty that has gone on in my day so far, but after spending another period doing nothing but attempt to draw, I really didn't want to.

So instead, I'm just going to give you the lovely class scroll:

History: Turned in my fail paper and got berated by History Teacher Pangaea for having a maple syrup covered shirt. Sadiq showed his face. He didn't acknowledge me.

Math: Failed again at sine and cosine. Then I had to learn what tangent was. People once again commented on my Canadian spoiled outfit.

PE: We had to run. And Lichtenstein wouldn't talk to me. I had the chance to change my shirt, but the sweet substance was still at my boobs..

Art: Once again faced with my anti-drawing dilemma. Sadiq and Poland were too busy flirting with each other to even notice me, so I was stuck talking to Estonia again.

"I freaking hate this," I thought, taking another large bite. You know, when I wasn't being forcibly tied to the pillars, it wasn't so bad up here. The breeze felt nice and it was secluded. Plus Sadiq nor Iceland wouldn't think to look for me up here. God, I just really wish that those two would leave me alone.

But I still had to think about how I was going to get France and England in my little hands. There had to be something so incredibly romantic that both of them would turn straight. I took another sip from my water bottle. What if I just flashed them . . .

"Sherry." I jumped and turned to see Mr.-I-Like-To-Abuse-My-Associates standing in front of the trap door. My heart was thumping loudly against my chest. How the hell was he so quiet?

I watched the man look around, running his hand along the monstrous bells. "How did he find me here?" I wondered as he slowly meandered his way to me. There was a cool, appreciative look on his face. "Does he have some sort of tracker on me?"

"What are you doing up here?" he finally asked, taking a seat next to me. Subconsciously, I scooted a few inches away from him. If he noticed, he chose to ignore it. "I would think that you hated heights."

I nibbled at my food, trying to think of a good response. It was not as though I could flat out tell him that I was avoiding him. It occurred to me that I could tell him that he was the reason for my heights phobia, but I decided against it. That would just make him anger. Unfortunately, that left me with no no choice but to mumble, "I was, um . . ." Whatever, I'll just change the subject. "How did you find me?"

He sighed and leaned back a bit. His green hood fell off his head, revealing his curly brown hair. And that single, defiant curl that would make his hormones go nuts. I wonder what he'll do if I tugged on it . . . "I followed you here," he explained. My mouth dropped. Saywhat? He gave me a confused look, saying, "What? You haven't noticed yet? Wow, that's . . ." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"So what are you doing up here?" he asked again. I opened my mouth. "And do not change the subject again." I closed it. Damn him.

Looking down to the corners of my eyes, I shrugged. "I don't know, I-" I paused, remembering something. "Sadiq, why didn't you tell me that Germany is suicidal?" I asked, growing a little fierce and changing the subject anyways.

He shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."

"Yes it is!" I scowled and inched closer to him. Angrily, I jammed my finger into his chest, saying, "That kind of thing is extremely important!"

He raised his volume to mimic mine. "It was an unnecessary distraction! You would have felt guilty-"

"Well I feel guilty now-"

"-and I need you to concentrate at the mission on hand-"

"-You just fail-"

"If you would listen to anything I tell you-"

"You don't listen to anything I say either!"

"That's because you refuse to accept my help!"

"And hanging me out a window is helpful?"

He angrily pressed his lips together. "Seychelles, I . . ." This time, I waited for him to reply. For five seconds, he did nothing but glared at me. Then he released a thick, heavy breath.

And he kissed me.

.

.

.

Before all you anti-OC fangirls start flipping out on me, I need to defend my place here. When I said he kissed me, it was kind of an over exaggeration. What he did was actually much worse (I think I contradicted myself there).

What he did was that he cupped my cheeks with my hands and drew himself forward. The thumb farthest from the trap door slipped itself in front of my lips and he kissed it. In much simpler terms: a stage kiss.

My eyes were wide open and his were closed. My ridged body wouldn't move and my system was on overload. What were the exact words going through my head? Well, I'm glad you asked. "Holy fucking shit, what the hell was happening? What the hell is he doing? Why is he doing it? Oh my God, does this mean I'm a fucking Mary Sue? Fuck! God, this is so much shittyer than when Germany did it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

At last he pulled away, a soft, fake smile on his lips. His eyes flickered to the trap door, revealing a terrible truth. Iceland was standing at the base of the door, looking stunned and horrified. In his hand, he limply held a bouquet of roses. For a long moment, Sadiq and I just stared at him. He just stared back.

Remember that moment in Legend of Korra I mentioned earlier when Bolin had his heart ripped in half? I'm going to bring it up again since IT HAPPENED AGAIN! You could literally see the tears slowly fall from his eyes. I could hear his heart shatter into itty bitty little pieces. Without a single word, the Nordic turned on his heels and ran down the stairs.

His roses were trampled in the process.

"What the hell!" I screamed, slapping Sadiq across the face. The man rolled his eyes and allowed me to make contact. His lack of response only made me feel more frustrated. I yanked my hand away and stood, demanding, "Why the hell did you do that, you bastard!"

"Because it was necessary." Sadiq made a disgusted face and spat on the floor. "Damn, I feel like such a straightie" he complained. "I got to go fuck Poland or-"

I stomped my foot. "You broke his heart!" I yelled. Hastily I glanced at those poor roses. Those were meant for me. Oh God, ten bucks he was going to ask me out or something. Fucking. . . "Damn it! I hate you!" I ran after Iceland, scooping up his flowers as I went.

Quicker than the speed of light, I ran down the stairs, calling out his name. I was not going to break his heart. I was not going to be Larry, breaking Jerry's heart with his homophobia. I was not going to be Dad.

"Iceland!" At last, just as my foot touched the bottom step, I found him. He was sulking in the corner, hugging his puffin to his chest, silently crying. I slowed to a stop and stared at him. Okay, what do I do now?

Biting my lip, I held out the dead roses for him. "I got your flowers," I said softly, trying not to sound guilty. Damn Sadiq, causing all of this. "They're really pretty-"

"Since when was Pops straight?" Iceland asked suddenly, a small sob in his voice.

I dropped my shoulders. "Turkey's not straight-"

"Then why was he kissing you?" The Nordic's voice was at a full fledge yell. I watched as he determinedly wiped away the tears. His blue eyes cut right through me when he asked, "How long has this been going on?"

I shook my head, saying, "Nothing's been going on between us, and it's just-" I stopped dead in my tracks. I could tell him about everything. I could gain an ally. I didn't have to be alone in this.

Iceland pushed forward. "It's just what?"

Taking a long breath, I eased myself on to the bottom step. I carefully patted the spot next to me, inviting him to join me. For a moment, he looked ready to deny, but instead the man stiffly accepted it. I stared at the ground, taking long breaths. "I'm not Seychelles."

He gave me a confused look. "What?"

Slowly, I told him the whole story- everything from my mission with France and England to my visits with Seychelles. I left out her theory about Sadiq; I didn't not want o ruin his image of 'Pops'. Multiple times, I thought that said man was going to come marching down the stairs and break the party up. But he never did. For the longest time, it was just me and him.

When I finally finished, Iceland was silent. "Do you believe me?" I asked. My heart was wild with fear. What if he thought I was crazy? What if I screwed this one up?

Taking my hand in his, he nodded, absorbing it all in. "We're the personifications of geographical locations," he told me. "What is there not to believe?"

Cycle 3: The Room

Turkey testily drummed his fingers in his knee. Why now of all times? This was the worst time to talk to that monster. That stupid girl was upset and was bound to do something incredibly stupid. He needed to be there to make sure she doesn't screw everything up. "And we were so close last time," he mourned silently, feeling stiff in his starched clothes.

The room was as it always was: the same glossy white and single chair. There was, however, one small difference. At the eternally locked door, the window was open. He had checked out there earlier to see nothing but a void of black. A perfect juxtaposition to this strange white world.

"My, my, Turkey- Aren't we just a little bit desperate?" He looked up, growling under his breath. He could just hear the smirk on the Voice's face (if it even had one). "Kissing your colleague?" It said, chuckling lightly. "Turkey, I might be a little bit jealous."

He clenched his fist into a tight ball. "He's only trying to screw me up," he told himself, grinding his teeth together. Taking a long, painful breath, the Turk growled, "Cut the crap, jackass. What the hell did you do?"

"Do?" The Voice flat out laughed. "There are so many things I've done. You'll have to be more specific."

Turkey stared stubbornly at the glossy white walls. He was determined not to lose his temper. "Iceland, straight." he said, spelling out each syllable. "Attracted to Sherry. You did it."

"How do you know that?" It asked. "Iceland might have always felt that way-"

He found himself yelling, "I know the kid! He's into bestiality and loves China's panda! He told me himself!" He sat there in his chair, panting lightly. Great, he was already yelling. Damn that godforsaken jackass.

The Voice laughed again. It was deep and echoed around the room like thunder. "Then you should have no fear," it replied. "Your partner will stay on task-"

"No, she won't." Turkey stood and paced around the chair. He concentrated his gaze downward. His glossed reflection stared back up at him. "She's a teenage girl," he explained. "He's a teenage boy that's showing interest in her. The moment she realizes it, she's going to just throw herself at him."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Sadiq-"

"Don't call me that, jackass!" The brunette was back to yelling. He stopped his pacing and banged his fist against the wall. The sharp thud traveled effortlessly across the empty chamber. "I expect you to keep to your promise," he yelled. "You can't-"

"But you broke your promise, didn't you?" He fell silent. The Voice sounded strong and final, as if it was losing its own patience. "Isn't that why we're here, Turkey? Because you couldn't keep your promise?" The Turk didn't make a noise. He stood stock still. His fist, still on the wall, clenched tighter. "Our deal had stated that in return for bringing him back to life-"

"I will serve you forever." Turkey finished, looking down at his reflection. For a moment, he seemed defeated. For a moment. "But-" He looked up at the ceiling. His amber eyes were blazing with unspoken defiance. "-I refuse to live the rest of my life as your slave."

The Voice easily replied, "I know you do. That's why, Turkey, I would like to offer you a proposal."

"I know better than to make another deal with the devil."

"This is no official deal. There will be no contract signing this time, just trust between two mutual associates."

Turkey scowled. Getting messed up with this guy was how this whole mess started. He didn't want to get himself tangled up even more. But he would be a fool not to accept this free card. Reluctantly, he returned to his seat, saying, and "I'm listening."

If the Voice found any pleasure in this, it didn't let it show. "It's very simple. You just stand back and let this young love take its course. And in return, I'll—"

"You will tell me what you're name is," The nation said quickly. Furrowing his eyebrows, he glared up at the ceiling. "Take it or leave it."

For once, the Voice had to think it over. All the while, Turkey sat in that cursed chair, picking at his white strached clothes. He really hated it here. He really hated everything that was going on in his real life. That is, if his existence was to be considered real.

When the Voice gave its answer, it was not what he expected. "Deal."

MW: *looks around innocently* Um . . . yeah . . .

SEK: Aren't you going to explain yourself Wolf?

MW: No, I'm too afraid of the fangirl's wraith. The only comment I'm going to make is that I wish I had a picture of that kiss. Please don't kill me!

Funfacts

-"LittleKuriboh" I'm surprised it took me this long to finally reference him.

-"Germany's suicidal" I mean no offense to anyone who really is.

-I ship TurkeyXIceland. One day, I shall write it. Not today, but hopefully soon!

Next Chapter: Part 2 and Iceland and Sherry's relationship blossoms.

**IF YOU ARE MAD AT ME, THEN YOU SHOULD REVIEW AND TELL ME.

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY IN LOVE WITH ME, THEN YOU SHOULD REVIEW AND TELL ME.

IF YOU THINK I'M OVER REACTING, THEN YOU SHOULD REVIEW AND TELL ME

IF YOU THINK THIS IS ANNOYING, THEN YOU SHOULD REVIEW AND TELL ME**