**Sisko and Blue take over the Fangirl AN- Day 17**
SEK: I believe we were quite clear when we said that Ari was going to be returning later in the story. Not this chapter, but later.
BFTL: I think that since we're not Wolfie, no one believed us.
SEK: Either way, thank you for showing your support and reviewing. We're just over 80 reviews (already? Crap!) and the delicious taste of triple digit numbers is fresh in our mouths.
BFTL: Ew. . .
SEK: Shut-it. Anyways, enjoy this chapter of plot set up for the rest of the story!
BFTL: And review!
Chapter Summary: Sadiq's life just continues to suck as he tried to figure out how to deal with a heart broken girl
Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual References, Yaoi, Yuri, Brief OC X Canon
Disclaimer: We do not own Hetalia, Howl's Moving Castle, Titanic, and the Little Mermaid.
~Chapter 8~
Apparently, My Heart Will Go On
"The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting
Could it be that we have been this way before?
I know you don't think that I am trying.
I know you're wearing thin down to the core."
-From "Fall for You", An American song by Secondhand Serenade
Cycle 4: The Room
Turkey stared out the window at the door. Like every time before, there was only a void of black before him. He could only frown. It couldn't go on forever. If he could get the stupid door to open, he could escape and find the end. Then he could be free of the Voice forever. "That door is never going to open," it said suddenly, reading the man's thoughts.
Turkey could only frown more. He hated it when it did that. If it could read that thought, what prevented it from rummaging through his whole conscience? "How about you take a seat," it suggested, easing his attention away. "I can tell that we have a serious matter to talk about." Slowly, he backed away from the window and returned to the white chair. For some obscure reason, the Turk thought he saw a flash of red among the black.
He took his seat and looked up. Besides an irritated huff, the man made no other sound. The Voice did not say anything for a moment. For a minute, it was a battle for the dominant one. The air was tense as each associate tried to outdo the other. The problem was that if neither one of them let up, Turkey would be stuck in the Room forever. Growling, he continued to glare at the glossy white ceiling, barking, "Why did you do that?"
The Voice smirked, glad to have won the contest. "Whatever do you mean?" it asked, sounding rather humored.
He sighed. That was the problem with talking to the devil: he had to be blunt, even if it already knew what he meant. Like before, he made sure to spell out each syllable. "Iceland, no longer loves Sherry. Sherry, in ruins because of it."
"Well you did tell me to stop interfering with your contract-"
"That is not what I meant!" Turkey snapped, barely containing his yell. "You planned this all out from the beginning. You made sure that Sherry would fall in love with Iceland. Then you were just going to take him away from her."
The Voice laughed. "Why would I do something like that?" it asked.
The Turk pressed his lips together. Why would he do that? For the past cycle, Turkey had just been watching the girl sulk during the day and drink her sorrows away during the night. Many times, he had tried to talk her out of it, but she would just snap at him to leave her alone. "Get the hell away from me!" that girl had yelled most recently. "I want nothing to do with you, bastard!"
Turkey had restlessly laid next to Poland all that night, trying to figure out why the Voice would want her to be in such a state. It was around three in the morning when the answer had finally come to him.
He could not help but to smirk as he revealed his thoughts. "It's because you are afraid. You realized that that girl might actually have the guts to get those men to fall for her. And you can't have that. After all, my soul is just that precious to you." His smirk only grew wider. "Am I right . . ." And he called the Voice by its true name.
In a split second, the nation felt a cold hand around his throat. But it was just a touch, no actual pressure was added. Finding that he could still breathe, he looked at his reflection on the glossed walls. The physical form of the Voice stood behind him, holding a single hand around his neck. It stood tall and proud, like a gentleman who knew the power he possessed. In a low growl, it spat, "I've made some very simple rules for you, Sadiq. You are to never disobey me, you can never look at me, and you are to never call me by that name."
Turkey's smirk did not falter. "You're scared," he said again. "And you're a coward. Claiming to be all powerful, but never allowing me to actually look at you."
The Voice was silent for a long moment. Just as quickly as he struck, his hand disappeared. "You look at me every day," it told him, a tinge of melancholy in his low rumble. "Every day you look right into my eyes. But you've never seen me." It started pacing, not bothering to check to see if its captive was looking. The Voice didn't need to- it knew that Turkey would not look. "But you did not just come here to spite me. You want another deal."
The nation scowled, determined to look ahead. Finally, the point he wanted to make. "Yes. I want you to bring Iceland's memories back," he said.
The ominous figure shook its head. "I can do that, but it will come at a price. One you will not be able to pay."
He frowned, sensing the cost. Still, he had to ask, "What is it?"
He could feel the Voice smirk. "I will bring Iceland back on the condition that you remain here for the rest of the deal. No communications with the girl, no interactions with the real world. You'll have to trust that she will stick to her job." It placed a cold, dead hand on the brunette's head, saying, "Of course, you do not trust her to do that."
Turkey looked down. Sadly, the jackass was right. He didn't trust that girl to get that kiss without his constant pestering. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He didn't need Iceland anyways. He just knew that the Kid was smart and that he would be a great help- under his supervision, of course. "And you only want him back to make her happy," he reminded himself. "You'll have to find another way to do it."
The Voice stole his smirk from him. "I thought so." There was a mocking tone to its voice. It struck one of his long, irritated nerves.
It lit the fuse to a long growing bomb of hatred. "No, I refuse to give up without a fight." Turkey rose from his spot. For a moment, he stood still in place. Then, he suddenly turned and lashed out at the Voice's figure. Before he could even get a good look at it, he felt himself on the ground. His limbs were pinned there by an invisible force.
The Turk's eyes darted around, trying to find his object of hate. But it was gone. He banged his head on the floor feeling very much like the butterflies put on naturalist's displays. "Come back, you coward!" He yelled, trying to regain control of his arms. "Stop running away and fight me for once, jackass!"
"I prefer to fight people using my brain." The same force that held his limbs forced Turkey's honey colored eyes to look at the nearest wall. In the reflection, he saw the voice standing over him in its strong manner. He could feel it smirk when it added, "Not my brawn."
Chills ran through Turkey's body as the Voice placed a hand on his pants pocket. He felt himself shudder when his coldness seeped through his starched clothes. It smiled at the reaction and continued, "I also hate people who use brute force against the weak."
Despite the fear holding his body, the Turk grinded his teeth together. "There is nothing weak about you."
It made a displeased 'tsk' sound. "Sadiq, I really thought that we could make friends with each other, but obviously you need to learn a lesson." The nation's skin pricked when the Voice's hand reached into his pants pocket. From it, he pulled out the precious gold watch. Turkey was helpless as he watched it click the cover open, revealing the pure white clock face. The stray hand was pointing at the four.
"You are no longer on your fourth try," it declared. Its dark hand turned the top knob, moving the hand along. He was silent with fear as he watched his and that girl's number of attempts decrease. Five . . .Six . . .Seven . . .
The Voice dropped the watch onto Turkey's open hand. "Congratulations, you are now finishing your tenth try," it said, finding unspeakable pleasure in watching his victim squirm. "You now only have two tries left."
Turkey did his best to move his body, but not even his eyes would budge. The most he could manage was the tightening of his fist over the watch. "You can't do that," he growled, feeling more hatred for it than ever before.
It laughed. "Yes I can. This is my world and in this world, I am god."
There was a flash.
The next thing he knew, Turkey was lifting his head off the bar's counter. Groaning, he cracked a few bones, trying to regain some feeling. Bartender Pangaea merely glanced at him and offered a drink. "That would be great," he muttered, noticing that his pocket watch was still in his hands. "Make it a strong one."
As she prepared it, he turned the gold device in his hands. What this represented . . . he opened it to see that the stray hand was now pointing at the ten. And the cycle was going to end in a few minutes. . . He and Sherry did not have much time left. "Here ya go!" The woman said, sliding the tall glass over to him. She sounded a little too happy for his mood.
With a grunt, Turkey accepted it. He immediately took a long drink, feeling regret for his actions. He should not have lashed out so violently. He should have done what he always did: grimace and think of the times when he actually owned his own soul. "Why do those times have to be so distant?" He wondered, taking another drink. The alcohol that burned the back of his throat felt like a proper punishment for all the wrongs he committed. If only he could go back in time to change one of them.
Turkey sighed. He had to figure out a way to repair a teen's broken heart. There was no way she could do this with a damaged one. But how was he going to do it? Obviously, Ari was not going to apologize and set the world right. For the first time in a long time, the nation was at an absolute loss. He hadn't been in such a state since that day . . .
"There is one more thing I have to worry about," He thought, gulping the rest of the beverage (which was most of the glass) in one swing. "If I look at that jackass's face every day, then that means that he attends this school."
Cycle 4 (10?): The Void
The cycle passed without me noticing much. I admit, the most I did was just sulk and work my way through the motions necessary to be Seychelles. It wasn't just my heart that was hurting; I felt as though every ounce of my being was trampled by wildebeest like Mufasa was in The Lion King. The only problem was that I lived to tell the tale. Which I had to admit, if I were to die a death, I wanted it to be a Disney one. All Disney deaths were freaking dramatic and badass. So badass.
But don't get me wrong, I did try to break-up with the 'FrUk'. I did the very best I could. The problem was that both of the blonds just saw me as an over emotional teen who wouldn't tell her father why she was so blue. Add the fact that I didn't have a heart to break up with Germany again and you had the recipe for a failed cycle.
Unfortunately, Seychelles was not so empathetic. "Sherry, what is wrong with you?" she demanded, sounding more than a little crossed. "Why the hell are you sulking?"
I groaned. "I don't want to talk about it," I snapped, placing a hand on my forehead.
She rolled her eyes, saying, "This is about Iceland, isn't it?"
With pursed lips, "You wouldn't understand."
Seychelles did something very surprising. She gently approached me. Her soft hand cupped my pimple ridden cheek like a mother to her daughter. "I have to stand back and let some stranger break up with my boyfriend," she said. "I think that I could understand." For the first time ever, I felt as though she was right. Like, dead right.
Disney-dead right.
My eyes drifted to the floor. "It just hurts," I said. "I really love him."
You know what she did next? Instead of going along with the nice affectionate side of herself that no Seychelles Hater would have thought to see, she turned into her bitchy self. Placing her fist on her hips, she said, "Well I don't believe it."
My jaw dropped faster than the pounds on an anorexic actress. "What do you know about it?" I demanded, feeling my hatred for her increase. "What the hell do you-" She slammed her finger on my mouth, silencing me.
I was about to object ("You can't stop the truth!") when I saw the serious look on her face. The African was looking up at the sky with an attentive look. It was as if someone, a voice, was talking to her. I watched as Seychelles's visage turned to a martini mixture of shock, fear, and panic. "Oh no," she whispered, drawing her limbs closer to herself. "How did that happen?"
I knitted my eyebrows together. "What is it?" I asked, sensing the doomed atmosphere.
"Turkey did something stupid," she said. "And now we . . ." She trailed off, face growing thoughtful. "If that's what happened, then he can't be the bad guy."
My jaw dropped again. Oh no she didn't . . . "Wait, so you mean to tell me that Sadiq isn't the jackass and that I have been avoiding him for no reason?"
Seychelles raised her hands in defense. My world started to grow fuzzy as she defended, "Hey! I thought that it was true too! But since he . . ." Her voice faded away and I felt myself falling
and falling
and falling
and falling
a
n
d
. . .
. . .
Cycle 11: Monday
Let's just say that after that adventure in the void, I just said "hell with this" and spent my whole day at the bar. I didn't see Sadiq except for when I woke up. I did try to find out what he apparently 'did', but he was preoccupied with other thoughts. "She was probably just lying," I later reasoned. "I bet Seychelles just wanted to trip me up." Obviously, I am way too smart for that.
Right?
Anyways, from first period to last, I was in the bar, sipping away at whatever Bartender Pangaea gave me. "Why are you gettin' yourself drunk for, gal?" She had asked, giving me a shot glass of vodka. "Are ya havin' gal problems or somethin'?"
I shrugged, ready to just agree and get her away from me. But guess who decided to sit next to me? "Bartender Pangaea, Comrade Seychelles is straight." Russia slid himself onto the stool next to me. He actually didn't look at that scary. There was a soft smile on his childish face as he ordered a clone of my drink.
I gave him an irritated look, ready to make a run for it when someone stole the seat next to me. The Holy Roman Empire didn't smile, but rather gather me a bashfully kind look. "I bet that they're just as serious," he said, ordering a beer. Around us, other nations filled the bar, enjoying their after school down time. "Why don't you tell us?" he suggested. "Russia and I would love to hear it."
His partner nodded. "Da, I like to listen to other's pains."
His boyfriend gave him a look. "Russia, please don't freak Seychelles out," he asked. "Estonia is still scarred for life for what you did with that toilet."
The other pouted. "But it was so much fun!" I wanted to laugh. Even in a crack pairing, Russia will be Russia. Still, I resigned myself to the two men. I ordered a beer and started talking about my problems.
Turkey's eyes drifted between his watch and the girl at the bar. He sat at a table, alone, scowling to himself. She was getting majorly drunk. At this rate, she was going to have a hangover the next morning. He sighed to himself. Once Holy Rome and Russia left, he would have to try to get her thoughts off of Iceland. The only question was 'how'?
"Hey Hunny-poops!" Poland appeared at the nation's side, smiling happily. Turkey faked a smile when he kissed his cheek. How envious he was of his boyfriend's ability to always be so bubbly. "Is something, like, wrong?" he asked, green eyes peering at his curiously. "You're like totally moody."
The Turk smiled half heartedly. "I'm fine ," he said, stealthy hiding his watch. "Just a little stressed."
The blond placed his chin on his hands. "How so?" There was an adorable tilt in his head.
He felt himself truly smile. It was those cute little quirks that made him love the Pole so much. He had no idea what he would do without him. Patting the watch in his pocket, Turkey could not help but to smile. Poland would know what to do. "There is this girl in all my classes," he explained. He pointed a finger at Sherry. "That one right there. She's been having some love trouble and I feel as though I should help her."
Poland nodded eagerly. "Seychelles totally looks a bit down," he commented. "But yeah, I'm so cool with helping you, broski. Do you, like, know what kind of a problem it, like, is?"
"Broken heart."
There was a moment of silence as the nation considered their options. "Girls like talking about their problems and junk," he said. "Like, the only option is to, like, get her to talk to you."
Turkey nodded. "But how do I do that, sweetie?" He asked. "I barely know her."
He leaned into the brunette's strong shoulder. "The same way I totally got you to talk to me," he said. The memory was clear in the men's heads. After that day, Turkey was depressed about his situation. He would sulk in a moody atmosphere. That is, until Poland noticed and stepped up to the job of making him smile.
Thinking about it, Turkey could not help but to grin, asking, "You mean with a tub of ice cream and some sappy chick flicks?"
His boyfriend smirked. "Totally. I'll get the ice cream if you, like, get the movies."
The Turk smiled. If he was going to get the ice cream, he would either have to sneak off campus (which was strictly against their bosses' orders) or beg some from Cafeteria Lady Pangaea (which was highly unlikely). Just leave it to his boyfriend to choose the hardest job- all Turk had to do was beg the DVDs from America.
He kissed him softly on the lips. He has done it a million times before, yet each kiss made Turkey's heart bang loudly in his chest. He swore that everyone in the room could hear it. "You have yourself a deal," he said, forgetting the grave decisions on his shoulders.
However, they quickly returned once Poland left to do his job. Sitting alone at the table, Sadiq looked down guiltily. He pulled his watch back out and stared at it. The dim lights shone on the shiny gold surface. His sad reflection stared back at him. Turkey could never trust fully trust reflections anymore.
It was because of the Room. The endless, mind screwing effect always made him sick. That was probably why the Voice-
He jumped, nearly dropping the watch. Turkey felt his breathing hitched and his heart thumped loudly. It was not due to love, but utter fear. For a moment, he thought he saw the reflection Voice's dark figure standing behind him. It had smirked at him, threatening everything he cared about. But, checking behind himself, there was nothing there.
"I'm going crazy," he thought, rubbing his sweaty hands over his face. "That monster is driving me into insanity. But . . ." Turkey cautiously placed a hand over his cheek, the one Poland kissed. "Poland . . ."
He could see it. The Voice, further breaking his promise and attacking his love. His precious Poland. He couldn't let that happen. If he was going to fail, he had to at least protect the man. The one who saved him from himself.
He tossed the watch into the air and caught it easily. But that jackass could read his thoughts. If he just simply broke off all connections with Poland, the Voice would still know that he loved him. No, if Turkey was going to protect him, he was going to do it right.
An idea occurred to him. "That's crazy," the brunette thought. But as he waited longer and longer for his chance to talk to that girl, the idea continued to tickle him. "It might just be crazy enough to actually work," he found himself thinking. "But-" his gaze pierced her back. "-I'm going to need Sherry's help."
Well, considering the amount I drank earlier with the amount I drank during the story, I was pretty buzzed by the end. " . . . and then this slut tells me that it's not real," I slurred, slamming my empty glass on the counter. "Who the hell is she to think-" hiccup "-that I didn't love 'em?" I had to admit, I was feeling very tipsy. I was surprised that the amount of alcohol in my blood hadn't killed my liver yet.
Russia laughed and patted his hand on my back. Unfortunately, he did it too hard and gave me a huge bruise. "That is a very humorous story," he chirped happily. "You've obviously have been drinking too much, da?"
I scowled and pointing a swaying finger at him. "It is so true!" I barked, feeling my world spin. "You assholes are just stupid."
There was a small, nervous laugh next to me. "Seychelles, I think you've had enough to drink," Holy Rome said, reaching out for my glass of whiskey. Quickly, I took it back from him, glaring darkly. Or as darkly as a drunk person could.
"I can hold my liquor just fine!" I yelled, downing the whole glass in one gulp.
The German paled at the sight. He turned to the woman in charge. "Bartender Pangaea?" The plump lady looked at him. "Make sure there's a bucket nearby. At this rate, Seychelles is going to barf soon."
I curled my lip. "Asshole."
"Da, but unfortunately, Holy Rome and I must be going now," Russia said, already leaving his chair. "He and I and going to have a little fun tonight-" He smiled childishly. "-Da?"
I nodded. "I hope the sex is great."
Holy Rome turned the deepest shade of red known to man as his boyfriend laughed and placed a hand over his ass. "I'll be sure we do." he said merrily, skipping away with the blond in tow. I watched them go, chuckling with my hiccups. You know, neither of them weren't so bad once they had a few drinks with you.
Thinking that I was a going to be alone, I ordered a shot of moonshine. "Don't give it to her." I rolled my head, groaned, and banged my forehead on the counter when Sadiq took the seat next to me. From the wreckage came a sharp hiccup.
"What are you doing here?" I slurred. "You should be off kissing the 'Fruk'."
The Turk rolled his eyes. "No, you should be doing that," He snapped, rubbing his temples in frustration. The dim lighting didn't make him look less pissed off. Calmly, he turned around and called out for Estonia. "Can you go to England and get something to sober her up?" he asked, ignoring my growls.
Estonia gave me wary look. In his timid, nerdy fashion, he said, "I'll get her something strong." He left before I could turn around and yell at him to go screw himself.
"Stupid prick," I muttered, eyes locked on the wall of liquor bottles in front of me. They just yearned to be drunk. It only made the drunk me more pissed, yelling out to the whole bar, "Y'all a buncha pricks!"
Sadiq sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. A second later, he squeezed so tightly, I could feel him crushing the blood vessels. I cried out in pain and slumped into a ball. "Stop making a fool of yourself," He ordered, glaring at me. I slurred more obscenities. Another sigh escaped his lips, along with his muttering about my stupidity. "I just want to ask you one question."
"What?"
"What is your favorite chick flick?" He asked.
If I was sober, therefore being able to think properly, I would have questioned his motives. Like seriously, why would The Republic of Turkey being asking me something like that? But I wasn't sober, therefore, I couldn't think properly (don't drink and drive, kids). So I just gave him a blank look. "The Little Mermaid and Howl's Moving Castle."
He scowled at me. "Aren't those both cartoons?" he asked.
Again, I glared at him. "Both of the heroines get the freaking guy in the end," I said, repressing another bout of hiccups. "How are they not chick flicks?"
The brunette was forced to agree. "Fine then." He jumped off the stool, saying, "When Estonia gets back with the potion, make sure to take it. Then go back to your dorm, got it?"
"Are you going to be waiting there for me?" I asked.
"Yes, I am."
Lord, strike down my drunken self from where she sits. "Sounds kinky," I said smugly, winking like Hooker-Sherry.
Sadiq's faced turned a vivid shade of red. His bit his lip, trying to hold back his anger at me. I continued to smirk at him as he released a long, heavy breath. "You better not get drunk again, jackass," He hissed as he stormed away. I crackled when the bar's doors slammed angrily behind him.
"Vee, you really shouldn't treat him like that." The depressed Italy, sitting a few seats from me, gave me a sad, hollow look. His small white hands cradled a cold glass of beer. "Turkey was only trying to help."
I scowled and glared at the beverage that seemed more valuable than gold. How badly I wanted it. "Go jump off the clock tower or something," I growled, brushing him away. I was already brooding in self pity when he gave a half hearted agreement and left.
I didn't know how long I was waiting there. Bartender Pangaea would not allow me any more liquor, making me sulk and later feel the effects of a hangover. My head was reeling and the dim lighting seemed as bright as Chip Skylark's shiny teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut and laid my head down, trying to block out any more light. The bar slowly emptied, nations saying that they had sleep and homework to catch up on. At one point, I fell asleep, only to be woken by a downpour of cold water.
Life returned to my aching muscles. Cursing, I flew off my chair and onto the hardwood floors. "What the hell!" I yelled, feeling my world spin uncontrollably. I was seeing double Estonias looking at me curiously as triple Pangeaes held empty buckets. "What was that for?"
The blond smiled unsurely. "I was trying to wake you up," he said. "I have the potion Turkey wanted me to bring."
I searched my head for any trace of the incident. I could faintly see Sadiq turning red and demanding that I meet him at my room. "This is what it must be like to be drunk," I thought griming, feeling my headache worsen. I gave a wry smile, lying, "Uh, yeah, I remember that. It treats hangovers, right?"
He extended a small glass vial towards me, saying, "Yes. It-" I snatched it from him before he could finish whatever sentence he had. A second later, I was downing it all in one gulp.
If beer was bitter, than this stuff was sweet. Very sweet. Like I-took-all-the-sugar-in-the-world-and-concentrated-it-into-one-liquid-sweet. I gagged, but forced it to stay inside. At least it tasted better than Nyquill. Moments later, I felt my body loosen and my mind became clearer. Muscle pains dissolved like salt in water.
Five minutes later, I felt perfectly healthy. No, better than that. I felt like a fitness freak that just downed twelve bottles of five hour energy drinks. Climbing to my feet, I couldn't help but to exclaim, "Wow this stuff does work! Estonia, have you tried this?"
The Baltic State shook his head. "I never had the need," he said uncomfortably. I brushed it away and started marching to the exit. "Seychelles, where are you going?"
I turned half way and flashed him an accolade worthy smile. "I'm going back to my dorm, see ya!"
It must have been late. The moon was high in the sky and the halls were Wild West empty. A coat of darkness laid over them as I tried to navigate without the lights on. It was only by memory that I was able to find my way to the girl's dormitories.
When my small wood door was right before me, I paused and stared at it. My light was on and I could hear someone on the other side. They were sighing heavily. Well since Mr. Sadiq Adnan was the one person who sighed the most, I would say that it was him. Without knocking, I swung my door open.
Sadiq was sitting at his usual chair, observing his gold watch. His beautiful honey eyes met mine as he quickly clicked it shut and shoved it into his pocket. "Took you long enough," he stated nonchalantly. "What took you so long?"
Ignoring his question, I realized that there were a few changes to Seychelles's dorm. Right by the doorway was a stand with a big black TV on it. It was hooked to a DVD player, red light singling it's "on" status. On the desk was a large blue cooler. Unbelieving, I closed the door behind me and turned around slowly. "What is all this?" I asked, unable to do anything but smile.
The Turk smirked, knowing he did good. "This is called 'Getting back into the game night'. Complete with chick flicks-" He held up three movies: The Little Mermaid, Howl's Moving Castle, and Titanic. "-and-" From the cooler, then man lifted two gallon tubs of chocolate ice cream. "-a girl's best friend."
I couldn't help myself; I cracked up laughing. His prideful look never phased as I smacked my knee and clutched my side. "Sadiq, this is amazing!" I declared, unable to remove my smile. "How did you come up with this?"
"I had a little help," he said. He tossed me a spoon and a gallon, saying, "Now come on and eat up, jackass." I laughed again and flopped onto the bed.
I moved my pillows to the end of my bed and created a comfortable place to lie on my stomach. Meanwhile, Sadiq stuck in the first movie. Being done first, I had the opportunity to watch him. "His back is rather wide," I noted, peeling off the treat's cover. "Wide, but . . . smooth." I know, weird description, but it was late.
Red FBI warning screen appeared and he finally rested back on his chair. I frowned. I had down a lot of homework on there and I knew how uncomfortable it could get. Rolling my eyes, I scooted over on my bed. "Why don't you sit next to me?" I offered, patting the empty space. "It's really soft."
Sadiq stared at me for a moment with a puzzled expression. Just when I thought he was going to refuse, he muttered a 'thank you' and laid next to me. For a full hour and a half, he watched Howl (voice by Christian Bail) fall in love with Sophie, a girl cursed to be an old lady. I noticed at some points my mentor's lips drew into a deep frown.
It was only at the parts mentioning Howl's curse.
"I have to admit, that was a nice movie," he said, rolling off to change the DVDs. "Jappy is pretty good with his animation."
I nodded, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate goodness. "Yeah, he comes out with a lot of good animes." Sadiq smiled at me and shook his head. It was an unspoken agreement that one of theses animes was the universe he supposedly lived in. I noticed the next movie and asked, "Did you pick the Titanic?"
He nodded, feeding the movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio to the machine. "It's one of my favorites."
I choked on my food. "Really?" Why did I find that hard to believe?
"Yes." The brunette jumped back into his place and pressed play. "I remember seeing this when it first came out. At first, I was a little hesitant about watching one of America's movies, but this is one of the best ever made. The never ending romance between Jack and Rose is so awe inspiring. And even after Jack died, she still loved him. I've been watching it for over around a decade and I still cry at the end. "
"I would have never have guessed that about you," I said, giving a small shrug and trying not to laugh. The very idea of someone like the 'Ottoman Empire' liking a gushy romance was just hilarious. "I guess that just shows how little I really know you."
He nodded in agreement. "Yeah . . . Why do you like The Little Mermaid so much?"
My smile faded away. The reason was there, like a black dot among white. Sadiq copied my frown, realizing that he may have said something wrong. But if he was able to admit to loving a chick flick, then I could tell him why.
"One of my earliest memories was sitting on my Dad's lap and watching that movie with him," I said, seeing the memory behind my eyes. In a way, I could still feel my father's hands wrapped around my then small frame. "He would always sing the song with me and call me his 'little mermaid.' Every time King Triton came on screen, he would ask me who was the better father." I chuckled. "I would always say that it was him. One time, when he was gone for awhile, I was really mad at him. I was about eight. When Dad came back, I was ready to yell at him, but he had tickets to go see The Little Mermaid on stage. And I loved him once again. That is, until he left again."
Sadiq whistled, barely watching the opening scenes of the movie play out. "So I guess he was never home?" he asked.
I shook my head. "He's a traveling reporter," I told him. "He goes all around the world, reporting the latest 'catastrophe.'"
"You sound as though you really hate him."
"Well how can you love someone who's never there?"
The nation was forced to agree. At this point, the plot's exposition was nearing an end and the rising action was about to commence. "What about the rest of your family?" he asked. "What are they like?"
For a good part of the movie, I went into full explanation of the people I had to spend every day with. I complained about my mom's utter perfection and how it drove me insane. When I mentioned Larry and Jerry, Sadiq was a little shock to find out that homosexuality was not the norm, but he quickly became interested in their little dilemma. I even gave a small mention to Bella and her lack of flaws.
"But what if that is her flaw?" Sadiq asked, licking his spoon.
I raised an eyebrow. "How is perfection a flaw?"
"Have you ever thought about why she might be perfect?"
I let him dwell in the movie (the naked drawing scene was just about to commence) as I thought it over. There was one incident that stuck out in my mind. It was back in sixth grade, before she went Mary-Sue. The day was dark and rainy, adding a dramatic air.
I was walking to school when I found my blonde friend sitting on the curb, crying her eyes red. "What's wrong" I had asked, sticking her underneath my umbrella.
And she told me. For a while, he parents had been fighting. "They were doing it every time they saw each other," she sobbed, wiping the snot from her nose. A while ago, her parents decided to file for divorce. They told her not to tell anybody in fear of rumors starting. But . . . "Yesterday they were going over the custody agreements," she said. "And neither of them wanted me." My elementary school self was speechless. The only think I could think to do was hug her.
Bella was later sacked with her mom, who later turned out to be a lesbian. Her mom found another woman partner with her own daughter who was the same age as my younger brothers. Her father did have her visit him in New York frequently, but that was only after one thing. Her grades had suddenly become perfect, her hair became eternally smooth, and her athletics turned impeccable.
Suddenly, I saw her differently. Bella Moon was no longer my pain-in-the-neck friend. She was my unhealthy-obsession-with-perfection friend. "That sounds like a cheesy OC profile," I thought grimly. Still, I could not help but to feel bad for her. Bad and guilty.
For a while, I concentrated on the love story, fighting the depressing thoughts away. For a while, Sadiq and I were in a silent appreciation for the visuals before us. Jack complimented the way Rose looked, causing Sadiq to knit his brows. I raised one of my own, asking, "What's wrong?"
"I just realized something," he said, not quite believing it himself. He faced me and propped his chin on his hand, saying, "I have no idea how you really look."
My face flushed and I quickly buried it into my soft pillow. "What made you think of that?" I demanded, knowing the answer was the compliment. A romantic compliment. I didn't want to think about anything like that with Sadiq. I was in love with Ari for Pete's sake!
Unaware of my worry, he pointed a spoon a Kate Winslet, saying, "I was just thinking how you know how the only image I have of you is Seychelles. It bugs me."
I stared at him. It sounded innocent enough, but I was in a supermodel's body! My real one is dead ugly! I didn't want him to have that kind of an image of me. "It's not important," I said.
Titanic does strange things to a man. Like making him think that it would be a good idea to close the gap between us and wrap a strong arm around me. My blush only grew deeper when I smelled his sweet apple air. "Let me tell you one thing, Sherry," he said, actually sounding comforting. Holy crap, my abuser was not hanging me out a window for once. "I have millions of women living inside of me and - stop smiling like pervert." I wiped the smile off of my face. He glared at me for a moment longer before continuing, "Some of them think that they are beautiful while some of them think that they're ugly. But you want to know something? The ones who think that they're ugly are actually the most beautiful ones of all."
I was, how most fan fiction writers say, 'redder than a tomato'. Once again, I smothered the fluffiness into my face. "Is that so . . ."
Sadiq gave me an unamused look. "Would you stop blushing?" He demanded, only making my embarrassment worse. "I'm gay for God's sake. I have a-" His voice fell dead and a horrific look glinted in his eyes. "-a boyfriend."
I bit my lip. What was wrong with him? Did something happen between him and Poland? Whatever it was, this was 'getting back in the game night'; he should be happy. So, in order to get his mind off of his troubles, I did what I didn't want to do. "I'm a ginger," I said,
He gave me a shocked look. "A ginger?"
I nodded sadly, knowing what I had in store. "Let me guess, 'but gingers have no souls'."
He look unbelievably excited. "No. Rose's a ginger."
I stared at him, not quite sure I believed what he was saying. He liked gingers because of the Titanic? What? I smirked, saying, "You have to be the first person who ever thought that being a ginger was a good thing."
"It's just a hair color," he deadpanned. "It doesn't judge who you are as a person. But if you're a ginger, then you must be Celtic."
"Scottish-Irish actually, but I live in America."
"Where?"
"West coast."
"What color are your eyes?" For a while, he listened to me as I tried to clearly define my appearance to him. I ended up being more truthful than I originally intended: I told him about my thick middle and thighs. I ran a hand through Seychelles's hair when I mentioned my forever tangled and curly locks. "Is that everything?" he asked, once I was finished.
I paused, thinking it over. "I have C cup boobs."
A pillow was immediately slammed into my face. "I did not need to know that!" He exclaimed.
I placed my ice cream on the floor and smacked him with a pillow of my own. "Well you wanted to know everything about me!"
"Well not that!" He snatched my pillow from me, leaving me weaponless. "What about tickle spots?" he asked. "Where are you ticklish?"
I gave him a criticizing look, asking, "How is that not a personal question?"
Sadiq's amber eyes turned mischievous. "You have five seconds to tell me or else."
I returned his glint. "Or else what?"
"This." The next thing I knew, he was tackling me, moving his fingers up and down my sides. Not in the perverted way, in the 'I'm going to make you laugh way'. I screamed and laughed uncontrollably. I guess that was one sense I was similar to my mom: ticklish sides. After a minute, I kicked him away.
"What the hell?" I breathed, still laughing under my breath. What was up with Sadiq tonight? For once, he wasn't being such a stick in the mud. What in the world had changed for him?
Sadiq, meanwhile, was laughing triumphantly. "You have the same tickle spots as Greece," he gloated.
"What is your opinion of Greece?" I asked, bringing my ice cream off the floor. When his face softened, I regretted my words. What if it was an untalkable subject?
Still, he must have remembered all the storytelling I did earlier since he actually told me. "He's a pain in my ass," he said, frowning. "That jackass always thinks that he is so much better than I am, but-" His frown curved into a lonesome smile. "When he was younger and living with me, he wasn't half bad. Kind of cute even."
With that, our playful atmosphere was dead and we were back to watching the movie. The scenes dragged on, reaching the climax. Then the fateful "I will never let go" scene came. Let me tell you something, for the past twenty minutes, Sadiq has been mouthing out every freaking line in perfect timing. But as Rose slowly discovered Jack's limp body, his face grew solemn. And . . .
"Sadiq, are you crying?" I asked, not actually believing it myself. But sure enough, there were two small streams of tears trailing down his sculpted cheeks.
He looked at me, sniffling loudly. "Don't rub it in," he snapped, wiping his nose. "I do this every time."
I couldn't help but to laugh. "But you've seen this movie a million times! You have to be used to it by now!"
He only shook his head. "No it only makes it worse." I asked him why. The man ate a large spoonful of ice cream as he gathered his thoughts. "Well, it's true love," he explained, his eyes growing distantly thoughtful. "Jack and Rose sacrificed everything for each other and even when Rose left with nothing, she still loved him till the day she died. I just . . . it just brings me to tears."
I thought about what he meant. To him, that was what love was; sacrificing everything. It was very good reasoning, but what had I ever sacrificed for Ari? What did he sacrifice for me? I felt brave enough to ask my mentor a mentor worthy question. Picking nervously at my nails, I asked, "Sadiq, what do you think of me and Ari?"
When he didn't reply, I thought I had to go into more detail. But just as I opened my mouth, he spoke. "I think you are in love," he said.
My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't believe he just agreed with me. "Really?"
Then he finished his statement. "I believe that you are in love with the idea of being in love." Sadiq gave me a knowing look, lecturing, "I believe that you didn't love him until he said he loved you. And that's because you are a teenage girl. You would love a person just so that you can live in that fairytale romance. It's normal."
I was silent. The facial part of me wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that if it was all just a fantasy then why was I hurting so much? But a different part of me agreed with him. I really hadn't had feelings for him until he admitted to loving me, or worse, I could no longer string him along. I hugged myself. I felt dirty, like a skank.
Like a stupid slut that just threw herself at every single person she met.
Like Mia.
Oh God, Mia . . .
The romantic epic finally ended and we were on the last movie of the night: The Little Mermaid. So far, our meeting's purpose was being fulfilled: I was feeling much better. I actually felt confident enough to go get that 'FrUk' kiss. Even so, I bubbled with happiness as the Disney logo appeared.
For the first few minutes, I was perfectly okay. Sadiq made a few sly remarks of my immaturity, but I still quoted the movie like he did with the Titanic. Then King Triton came on screen.
"Who is the better father?" I heard my Dad asked. From a vintage memory, I could see him looking down at me with his smiling face and sparkling green eyes. "Me or Triton?"
Mini-Me stretched her small arms up to him, smiling brightly. "You are!" She squealed, giggling when he lifted her into him arms.
Laying next to Sadiq, I placed a hand on my chest. It hurt more than ever. Gary Sue was in the Middle East, reporting acts of terrorism. I was in an alternate universe, trying to be someone I was not. I had not seen him in a long time. At this rate, I was never going to see him again. I should be more concern about not kissing Mom or teasing Larry and Jerry. So why was I getting so worked up by a mere phantom?
Eventually, I was able to bring my attention back to the movie. It was just in enough time to sing "Part of Your World" loudly on the top of my lungs. My next door neighbor (who I knew for a fact to be Hungary) banged on the wall and yelled at me to shut up. Sadiq was rolling his eyes and lightly smacking the back of my head.
Then, one of my favorite villains of all time came on. On the screen, the fat octopus lady started tempting Ariel into signing her soul away. "I love Ursula," I said, voice drowned in awe. "She is just absolutely evil."
The Turk laughed half heartedly. "Yeah, making cheap bargains with people is the worse crime of all." He tried to sound sarcastic, but there was an off tone to him. Like a contrite one. It occurred to me that he had been holding something back all night.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked. I sounded a lot like an overly concerned mother.
He gnawed on the inside of his mouth, thinking to himself. "Actually Sherry, there was something I need your help with." This moment would always be marked in my memory as the first time Sadiq truly trusted me with something. The first time he openly depended on me. "There is something I need to do," he said. "But I'm afraid to do it alone."
Ten minutes later, the movie was on paused and we were meandering down the dark hallways (apparently we were not breaking the curfew, since there was none. Everyone attending the school was around a hundred years old so it really didn't matter). All I knew was that I had to accompany him somewhere. Multiple times, as our heels clicked loudly on the floors, I imagined where it could be. The bar? The clocktower? Where?
As our path took us to the boy's dormitory, I thought that maybe we were going to the Turk's dorm. I could imagine how it looked: a clear version of Seychelles except with random Turkish trinkets decorating the desk and walls.
The dormitory hallway was like the girl's: narrow and lined with door after door after door. Even in the dark, the nation seemed to know where he was going. At last, he stopped by one in particular. "Here we are," he said sully. For a long moment, we just stood there in a frightened silence. I waited for him to do something. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed mine tightly. "Can you introduce me?" He asked. "I can handle it from there; just tell them that I need their help."
I gave him a wide eyed look. I was grateful for the dark- he wouldn't be able to see the heat gathering in my cheeks. "Why is he so scared?" I wondered, seeing the silhouette of his down facing visage. "Who could these people possibly be?" I threw my courage to the sticking place and bravely knocked on the door.
Anyone want to guess who was on the other side?
"Seychelles, it's past midnight." I tried to keep my cool demeanor as England answered the door. In all truth, I did not see that one coming. I was more prepared to have seen Atila the Hun, not the silly Brit. But sure enough, said Brit was there. He had a fluffy maroon robe wrapped around his lanky frame. His sand-colored hair was messy and he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't seem to notice Sadiq. "What in the Lord's name is a matter?" he asked.
Just as I opened my mouth to play my role, another voice piped up. "My little bunny, did you just say that Seychelles is here?" France appeared at the door . . . wearing nothing. Absu-fricking-nothing. I averted my eyes, trying not to look at the Eiffel Tower. Apparently the rose of censorship did not appear automatically. Well at least they were having sex.
My 'Papa' gave me a concerned look, fully awake and checking me from head to toe. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, sounding a little panicked. "Did something happen?"
The spotlight shined on me. Gulping, I stepped to the side and motioned to my mentor. "England, Papa, this is Turkey," I introduced, trying not to sound awkward. "He wants to talk to you two about something."
England and France exchanged a quick 'oh shit' glance. Both the blonds cleared from the doorway. "Please come in," the green eyed one said. Their dorm was much like mine. The differences I saw were the fact that the window and bathroom had switched places. Pictures of the French scenery decorated the white walls. The bed was a mess and clothes were recklessly strewn across the room. I grinned pervertedly as England quickly cleaned it up.
Meanwhile, France tied a robe around his hairy body. "I have not talked to you in forever, Turkey," he said, pulling up a chair for them both. "I presume that you are doing well?"
Sadiq nodded respectfully. "I'm still not used to being treated like a student all the time," he said. I gawked at him. He sounded rather respectful, like Japan to, well, everyone on the face of this planet.
The other smirked. "None of us are." He leaned back, twirling a wavy lock around his finger. England, in lighting speed, straightened the bed sheets and invited me to sit next to him. I looked between him and Sadiq. He still looked terrified. Retaining a sense of purpose, I chose to sit on the floor next to him and place a hand on his penny loafer. A small motion that sent him comfort and England a curious look.
"But why are you here, Turkey?" The Brit asked. "If it's a student council matter, it could wait until the morning."
He shook his head. "No, it's . . . different." He looked down again. From my angle, I could see the difficulty in his eyes. He was so obviously fighting to spit the words out, but there was something holding him back. His fear made me afraid. Whatever it was, it was big. I found my hand moving from his shoe to Sadiq's hand. I squeezed it, reminding him that I was there. I knew that the 'FrUk' noticed, but I didn't care.
Sadiq looked up, gaining a kind of courage. "France, back during the 1400s, there were many gypsies living in your country, right?"
Seychelles's Papa nodded. "That is correct. Why do you ask?"
He took a long breath. "Did you learn any of their arts?" he asked. Where was he going with this?
The other was thinking the exact same thing. With hesitance, he listed them off: "Fortune telling, palm reading, tarot cards, dancing, hypnosis-"
"I need you to hypnotize me." The air grew heavy. We all gave him looks filled with confusion and shock. Why would he need to do that? I looked up at him, eyes begging to know why. But Sadiq only looked stubbornly at France. If he wanted to be hypnotized, he was going to get it. And we all knew it.
Still, England was the first to ask the reason. The Turk's grip tightened significantly as he sadly explained, "I need to be hypnotized into hating someone."
England raised a thick eyebrow. "Who?"
The answer no one saw coming. "I need to hate Poland."
My head was sent into a spin. All of us were too stunned to say anything. I was speechless, breaking my gaze and darting my eyes around the room. Why would he do that? I could find no reason for him to do something so drastic. Even I knew that Sadiq was madly in love with the Pole. "So why?"
"Poland is your boyfriend," France, the first to recover, said. "Why would you want to do that?"
"It's necessary." The couple tried to get him to tell them why, but that was the only reason he gave them. Meanwhile, I sat in stiff silence, unsure of what to think. The crack pairing was finally breaking up, so shouldn't I be happy instead of dreadful? "I'll pay you in any way I can," Sadiq said. "Just please, I beg of you, do this for me."
France bit his lip, thinking to himself. "By having this change made, is the better of the world being kept in the best interest?" he asked, sounding like a mature adult. A mature adult that was, for some reason, interested in the world's well-being. Eh, I wasn't going to question it.
"More than you know."
There was brief silence as he thought it over. At last, he agreed. "Fine. Let's just say that you owe me a favor. England, can you-"
"Can you use this watch?" Sadiq pulled out his sacred pocket watch. Realizing that he might have overstepped his boundaries, he quickly added, "That is, if it's suitable. You don't have too." I could feel the weight and significance of it. It was as if the Turk was silently telling that the jackass was the reason for this eccentric behavior.
The blond look at it for a moment. His blue eyes scrutinized it, checking it for any visible damages. He gently took it from him and clicked it open. The stray hand on its white face was now pointing at the eleven. "Turkey, this is a very beautiful watch," England piped, gazing at it from afar. "Where did you get it?"
Even I was curious to the answer he was going to give. I had always presumed that it was Poland, but who was I to know? Sadiq looked at it was a blank face and lied; "A friend gave it to me."
France clicked it shut and handed it back to him. "Unfortunately, the whole 'hypnosis with a pocket watch' trick is more of a myth than anything." Really? Damn, it would have been so symbolic if he used that watch. What it would symbolize, I had no idea, but it would have been kick ass.
My friend's honey eyes drifted downwards. "I see. My mistake." Gently but protectively, he snatched the pocket watch away and hid it in his pocket. "Let's get this over with."
Like a knight protecting his princess, I refused to release Sadiq's hand as the hypnosis took place. "This is very simple, but requires just a bit of trust," France said, promptly preparing him. "In this state, your conscience will be numbed and your mind will be an open book to read."
"Just don't ask me any personal questions," the other replied. "Do the deed and nothing else."
"That is perfectly understandable. Should Seychelles leave the room?"
I shot my 'Papa' an irritated glare. I would cement my ass to the carpet if I had to; I was not going to miss out on this. Luckily, Seychelles's ass was to be spared. "She'll make sure that you two don't do anything you shouldn't," The Turk said, squeezing my hand.
He was trembling.
I returned the pressure.
France and England exchanged one last look. The tsundere was begging his boyfriend to stop, but he didn't listen. The Frenchman sighed and held the watch up. "Here we go . . ." He scooted his chair closer. "Place your hands on mine," he instructed. His patient slowly released mine and did suit. My palm, though sweaty, felt immediately chilled. With no other option, I placed my hand back on his shoe.
"Look into my eyes and continue looking until I say something." With each command the nation faithfully did as he was told, no emotion on his face. The blue eyes of the hypnotizer were blazing in concentration, making sure he did everything right. "In a moment I am going to count to three. Press down on my hand and I'll be pressing up against your energy and simply follow my instructions instantly."
He took a deep breath. "One . . . two . . . three push, push, push". The hands, idiot, not whatever pervy thought we were both thinking. "I need you to push harder." That time, I had to giggle, causing England to shoot me an acid glare.
France ignored my distraction and placed his hands over Sadiq's eyes, as if shading him from the sun. Slowly, he caressed it downward, completely involved in the fluid movements. "Now as you continue to press down on my hand I want you to develop a feeling in your eyes like you're up much too late at night watching an old black and white movie," France drawled, sounding as gentle and informative as a therapist treading through the mind of a serial killer. "You should go to bed, but you're just so tired. You feel your eyes so droopy . . . and closing . . . and drowsy . . . and . . . sleep!"
In a blink of an eye, his hand was slipped away. Sadiq's eyes were closed shut as if asleep, but he was sitting upright as if he was awake. England and I stared at him, realizing that France had really done it- my mentor was in a trance.
But satisfaction was far from earned. France kept his professional atmosphere and continued with his job. "Turkey, you can hear my voice and only my voice," he ordered. "It is the only sound in your world. Only my voice." Sadiq didn't reply, just sat there.
The blonde took a long breath, preparing himself for the actual maneuver. I rubbed my hand over the penny loafers. It was more for my comfort than his. France said, "Turkey, you have known Poland for a very long time. He is a constant well of energy and joy and can never stop talking. That is why you hate him. His optimism drives you insane. The very thought of Poland makes your blood boil. Just mentioning him makes you angry. You would never hurt him, but you will always hate him with a burning passion. Understand?"
Like a mindless drone, my mentor responded, "Understand. I despise Poland."
"You have no memory of every feeling romantic towards him either. You only hate him. You have no memories of dating Poland or having him as your boyfriend. You hate Poland. Understand?"
"Understand."
France visibly shone with relief, allowing a small smile to stretch in his face. "Good. Now-"
"Why did you want to hate Poland?" England suddenly demanded. His eyebrows were furrowed together in concentration.
A flash of protectiveness struck me. "You can't ask him that!" I snapped quickly, rising to my feet. Anger pricked my skin and made my head spin. "He wouldn't tell you before, so-"
"Seychelles, calm down." France didn't move from his spot, only motioned for me to sit down again. "He can only hear my voice, no?" I felt my nerves ease away from the edge and I started to sit back down. "He didn't hear England asking him why he wanted this-"
"Poland was in danger." All of us froze. Sadiq was still in his trance, speaking without thinking. "I acted irrationally and the jackass might hurt him like he hurt me. I couldn't let that happen."
My glares switched between the two blonds. I was going to skin them alive and feed them to Hanatamago. France's eyes went wide with the realization of what he had done and he scrambled for a way to end it. England, however, only had his interest heighten. "And who is this jackass?" he asked, fully aware that he couldn't hear him.
The sweet, innocent look on his face drove me over the edge. "Bastard!" This time, when I jumped to my feet, I didn't hesitate to leap at him and slap him across the face. The Brit spend a split second in surprise before catching me unawares. He grabbed my arms and defensively held them away. I fought against him for a few moments before losing all the fuel my anger had to offer.
Plus, Sadiq was coming out of the trance. How, you may ask? France just stood and bitch slapped him across the face.
Seems legit to me.
The Turk groaned, rubbing his hand along his jaw. "What the hell . . ." he muttered, wincing at the red spot. His eyes traveled around us, trying to work out the puzzling scene before him. He was probably wondering why England was holding my arms while having a similar red, blotchy face. "What's going on?" he asked. "Where am I? What happened?"
My face fell. "What if he doesn't remember me?" I was terrified of the very thought of it. If he had no idea who I was, then I was alone in this strange world. I could only silently beg, "Please remember me."
"You were just hypnotized," France said, moving his chair back to his desk. "Temporary memory loss is normal after such an intense session."
Sadiq's mouth dropped. "What did you do?" he demanded, glancing over to England and I. His eyes met mine for a split second before returning to the Frenchman. Adjusting his robe, the blond explained to him his own request. He failed to mention our little mishap and Poland having used to be his boyfriend.
Sadiq only shook his head. "But why would I need hypnosis for that?" he demanded. "I already hate Poland with a passion." A vein in his forehead popped with irritation as he rambled, "God, that guy just annoys the daylights out of me. Always happily chirping his 'like's and 'totally's."
His hatred seemed so tangible, that I couldn't help but to be in total awe. I yanked my arms free from the Englishman and approached the Turk. "Well I made sure that those two idiots didn't ask you anything too personal," I said. A small voice in my head told me to test and see if he would believe me. After all, if he knew that I was Sherry Sue, he would have complete faith in me.
Or at least I would like to believe that.
"I'm sure, Seychelles-" Yup, he remembered me. There was a knowing glint in his eyes when he said the nation's name. "-that France and England would never attempt to do anything like that. Right?"
The two men grinned sheepishly. "Of course not," England said quickly. "I am a gentleman and no gentlemen goes against his word of honor." Ha, ha, lying bastard.
Sadiq rose to his feet. "Well I think I remember talking to you two about this," he said confidently. I noticed his hand lingering over the pocket the golden watch was in. "France, thank you. If you ever need a favor, just tell me when and I'll do it. But right now it's late and I think that we all need your sleep."
France nodded. "Yes. We have a lot of work in the morning. We have to get ready for the prom on Thursday, no?"
We both grimaced at the thought. Sadiq and I exchanged a few more 'thank you's and 'goodnight's before finally leaving the dorm. The minute we were in the dark hallway, the door shut behind us, we sighed and leaned against the wall. "That was exhausting," I complained, sliding to the floor. My legs felt dead with the lack of energy. It was in the very early morning hours and all I wanted to do was to sleep.
Sadiq cracked his neck. "I know." After a minute of regaining the feeling in his legs, he looked at me. The nighttime shadows shield his face from me, but I could sense the smile on it. "Come on Sherry, we need to go to sleep. You have to start getting that kiss tomorrow."
I groaned. If I wanted to, I could just sleep there on the nice, cold wood floors. But this was Mr. I-Like-To-Hang-People-Out-Of-Windows we were talking about. It was either that or a much worse fate.
Like Pilates.
Shiver.
I allowed Sadiq to pull me to my feet tired feet. "I'll walk you back to your room."
For a long time, we walked in a mutual silence. I was afraid to break it, but he seemed rather content in it. That was fine by me; I could start falling asleep as I walked. "Hey Sherry."
And there goes the peace and quiet. "What?"
"Thank you." I paused in my tracks. Sadiq continued a few paces before realizing that I had fallen behind. He stopped a few paces ahead of me and turned. We were in front of one of the grand windows. It framed a picture of a midnight world, the nearly full moon flooding in through the glass.
The white light gleamed on his dark face, showing me his quirked eyebrow. "Is something wrong?" he asked, hands smoothly in his pockets.
In my head, I debated the risks. What he said about the jackass was still nagging me. It seemed to perfectly correspond with what Seychelles said earlier. I wanted to ask him about it, but wouldn't he just push me away? "He never tells me anything," I thought grimly, taking a long breath. "But it wouldn't hurt to try."
Quelling my fears, I gathered the nerves to confront him. I tried to add a fierce spark in my voice and eyes. "Sadiq, you've been acting strange," I said, treading carefully. His eyebrow only rose higher. So far, so good. "Is something wrong?"
He stared at me blankly for a moment, registering my question. If he had any consideration in telling me, he ignored it. "Nothing's wrong, Sherry. Why do you ask? Was it the movies?"
I shook my head. "No, I get why you did that. I mean . . ." I trailed off.
The Turk's steps were as clear as day, though I didn't realize that he was moving until he was looming above me. I gulped and cowered into myself. He looked extremely intimidating. "Sherry, what is it?" he asked again, sounding calm, but deadly.
" . . . What did you do?" His eyes grew wide. I paused, unsure of whether I should push more. He hasn't hurt me yet, so why not? "You said that you screwed up and now the jackass-"
It didn't register that he was choking me until my back was slammed painfully into the glass windows. I tried to scream out, but my restricted airways wouldn't allow me. It hurt. The edges of my vision were turning fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate. Sadiq glared at me, unrelenting and unmerciful. "Who told you that?" he demanded, pulling me off the plane just to throw me back against it. "Damnit, who fucking told you?"
Clawing at his hand, he finally loosened enough for me to spit out a sound. " . . .Y-you. . . di . . .d." I held my eyes shut, afraid to look at him any longer. This was not a good idea. Damnit, what the hell gave me the stupid idea in the first place?
Suddenly, his hand was gone. I slid to the floor, coughing and regaining my breath. Sadiq was staring down at me, horrified at himself. He was panting as heavily as I was coughing. "The worst is over," I told myself, curling into a ball on the wood floors. "He wouldn't do it again." I had to admit, what he did next was bad, but at least it didn't nearly kill me.
Sadiq knelt and grabbed my shirt collar. He roughly lifted me, making sure that I was staring him straight in the eyes. "When did I tell you this?" he growled. I didn't answer, only held my eyes shut and cried salty tears. He shook me. "Answer me!"
"In your trance. When France asked you about your feelings on Poland, you started muttering about it." It was a lie, but at that point I just wanted him to stop. There was a few seconds where the only movement was from my tears.
Then his chest was in my face. Another ring of fear sung through my body. What the hell was he doing? Was he trying to suffocate me? It wasn't until he was chanting "I'm sorry" did I realize what was going on. He wasn't hurting me; he was hugging me.
"I'm sorry, I overreacted," he said, speaking into my mass of hair. "I wasn't thinking." For a minute, neither of us did anything but sit there. Sadiq must have been waiting for me to say something, but I never did. I only cried in self pity.
It seemed like forever before he started explaining himself. "To answer your question, yes, I did screw up. I got angry and I did something I shouldn't have and now that jackass is mad at me." He ran his hand through the ends of my hair, pressing his wry smile into my scalp. "I was worried about it hurting someone, but I can't remember who." The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.
"As part of my punishment, he took away most of our tries," he said. My attention was sparked. The serious weight of the situation paused my tears and made me look at him. The moon shadowed the guilty look on his face. "Sherry, we only have two more left."
I stopped breathing. My body started to tremble in fear. "What happens if we don't win?" I sniffled, looking up at him. Seychelles's brown eyes were large and pleading to know the answer.
Sadiq looked down at me, pressing his lips together. His eyes were tired, full of unthinkable pains and struggles. He sighed. "I don't want to think about it."
It was silent. Still sniffling, I wiped away the remains of my tears. The whites of my eyes were as red as blood. "Then we'll just have to win," I told him, putting on a mask of fake confidence. A forced smile grew on both of our faces. "Let's just show that jackass how much of an idiot he is."
His only response was a shallow laugh. Slowly, I rose to my tired feet, stretching out the kinks in my bones. Immediately, I was bombarded with the view to the dark outside. To me, its milieu seemed like a Disney movie set. The full moon, strictly kept landscape, lit up clock tower . . .
"Hold on." Two words stuck themselves into my head. "Idiot. . . clock tower . . . why is that important? Wasn't there- shit." I smacked my forehead, groaning.
"What's wrong?" Sadiq asked, frowning.
Like molasses in winter, I slowly ran my hand down the front of my face. "I told a depressed Italy to go jump off the clock tower." He looked at me, face palmed, and beckoned me to follow him.
Ten bush minutes later, we were coming upon the entrance of the tower. "Do you think he really did it?" I asked, trailing a step behind my mentor. For some reason, I didn't feel half as worried as I should have been. Maybe it was because I was so sleepy? Or because the Italian in question was just stupid?
Still, Sadiq shrugged. "I hope not. Finland would be rather upset."
I sighed. "Let me guess, another crack pairing?"
"It's not crack if they love each other," he huffed. "And besides, if Finland's upset then we get no Christmas presents."
With an eye roll, "And what? You wouldn't get any new Titanic merchandise?"
I winced when he smacked the back of my head. "I knew it was a bad idea to show you that movie," he grumbled, crossing his hands over his chest.
"And yet, you still did." He glared at my smug visage.
He started muttering about how much he hated me when his handsome face made sharp contact with the floor. I couldn't help myself; I broke into a fit of laughter. Lifting half of himself up, his eyes spoke of terrible crimes. "Stop laughing," he snapped.
I clutched my side. "Why?" I demanded, still laughing my ass off. "That was hilarious!"
"More than you fainting after being kissed?"
My voice instantly fell dead. He just had to go there, didn't he? I scowled at him, admitting defeat to his triumphant smirk. "Bastard," I muttered, dropping the subject. My mind struggled for something besides his gloating face to occupy itself with.
"What did you trip over anyways?" I asked, noticing for the first time that there was something at our feet. I bent and pushed his legs off of it. My hand wanted to make contact with my face. Again. "Turkey, I found Italy."
Sadiq flipped onto his butt and moved to get a better look. In the pallid moonlight, we could make out the Italian's auburn hair and single curl. He was curled up in a ball, snoring light 'vee's. The Turk rubbed his temple, fighting a headache, before nudging at the man. "Wake-up," he ordered, shaking his arm. The siesta continued.
It was one of those moments where my knowledge of the Hetalia universe actually came in handy. I leaned into his face and said, "Italy, wake-up before Germany makes you run laps."
"Not that!" The Italian jumped to life, shooting up faster than a mentos in a bottle of coke. His skull made hard contact with mine. Yelping, I fell back, holding the hurt area and moaning in pain. Italy dittoed.
Sadiq pointed at me and laughed.
I snapped for him to shut-up.
"Ow, that hurt!" Italy mewled, crying freely. He looked at us with teary eyes and started wailing. "I promise not to slack off again!" He cried, waving his hands this way and that. "I promise to do all the chores that I'm supposed to, just please don't tell Germany! He'll be mad!"
Sadiq and I exchanged unbelieving looks. His headache grew stronger whereas one of my own started. Taking a deep breath, the Turk grimaced. "We're not going to tell Ger-"
The brunette jumped over to me. "Seychelles, I tried to jump off the clock tower like you said," he chirped quickly, not even stopping to breathe. "But the door was locked so I just started walking and I guessed that I fell asleep while doing it. What time is it?" The oblivious look on his cute face told me that he had no idea that it was suicide.
I gave him a disturbed look. I had barely processed half the things he said. And by the confused look on Sadiq's, I'll say neither did he. Doing my best to hold my patience, I placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Just past midnight. Can you do me a favor and forget about the clock tower?" I asked. "For like, ever?"
Italy smiled. "Okey-Dokey!"
The Turk eased himself, sighing contently. He rose and made to walk away. I was about to follow him, but . . . "Italy, why were you so sad earlier?" I asked.
The garrulous one frowned and grew teary eyed. "My boyfriend left me for Greece!' He started wailing, crying a thick waterfall of tears. My mentor and I exchanged a look. He was telling me not to get involved, but I was telling him that I wanted to. But the Italian wasn't quite done yet. "What's worse, I really like someone else!"
I forced a smile. "How is that I bad thing?" I asked. "If you like someone else, then it would just be easier for you to move on."
Italy fiercely shook his head. You know, it feels weird using that adverb with him. There was nothing very fierce about him. Even when he was mad, he was as cheerful as a bubble. Heck, his 2P version was a sadistic, smiling, creep. "But he's a straightie!" He bawled, hugging his knees.
A false hope planted itself in my heart. "Is it Germany?" I asked eagerly, looking down at him with anticipation.
He shook his head. "No. Prussia."
I sighed. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sadiq motioning for me to get my butt moving. But I couldn't. Not now. I was strangely intrigued by the great fan fiction plot before me. Seriously, this felt like Larry and Jerry's problem, except without the incest and what not.
And hey, it was 'PruIta'. That was an uncommon pairing, but it wasn't crack!
Smiling, I extended a hand out to him. "How about Sadiq and I help you," I said happily.
Not a second later, my partner in crime was pulling me aside, looking pissed as shit. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, knitting his brows in frustration.
I shrugged. "Helping a poor soul."
"We have better thing to be concentrating on." he hissed. "Have you already forgotten that we are on a tight schedule here?" Actually I had. But I was not going to let him have the satisfaction of being right.
Like the perfect person I wished I was, I had a retort on hand. "Think of this as a hook-up strategy. As we fix Italy's love life, France and England would notice how much time I'm spending with him, get the wrong idea, and become jealous. Thus- if they want to keep me -they'll be forced to confess their love by the end of the prom."
Sadiq buried his face in his hands. "That's crazy," he muttered. "In what universe would that actually work?"
"The same one that has human personifications of countries," I smoothly responded. He still didn't look convinced. "Look, the very least, it'll trip the jackass up. He'll think that we'll be concentrating on the mission instead of doing something like this." At the mention of the enemy, Sadiq tensed significantly. Pointing the tips of my mouth into a smile, I pressed my hands together in prayer. "Please?
At last, he sighed. "Just get that damn kiss."
Grinning, I squealed and clasped both of his shoulders. I leaned in and . . . I quickly stopped myself. His displeased self didn't seem to notice what I just did; he was only giving me the stinkeye. Luckily, the dark lighting made it impossible to see the blush on my cheeks. "Sherry, what the hell were you thinking?" I mentally kicked myself. "You nearly just kissed him!"
Before things grew too awkward, I gave him a quick hug, said a fast 'thank you', and marched over to Italy. As I proudly announced our new involvement, a new bug was biting my mind.
On one hand, I was a slut with Ari.
On the other, I nearly just kissed a gay man.
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
BFTL: This chapter just feels off to me.
SEK: That's probably because this is the only chapter where Sherry and Sadiq actually talk like normal people. . . yeah . . . Ari's coming back next chapter . . .er, this chapter basically set up the rest of the story . . . we love you all!
BFTL: And review! How much longer can we do the- I suddenly remember what I was going to say!
SEK: Do tell the world.
BFTL: Wolf had to do a crap ton of research for this chapter. She had to look up how to hypnotize someone and what happened in the Titanic, because she is the only teenage girl to have never seen that movie. That is all. REVIEW!
FunFacts and Translations
"Like Mia" Reference to Love Sucks. There's an OC by that name that acts like a total slut. Go read it since apparently, I'm living on the edge by posting it illegally on this site :D
Next Chapter: Sherry plays match maker as she tried to restore the title character's love life.
**REVIEW FOR THE SAME REASON DOUG HID UNDER THE PORCH: BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME**