MW: Hello peeps, chapter ten is here and I am finally back! Due to the fact that Blue and SEK are worn out, I used some of our review money (110? FU-) to send them to Greenland. I hope they like the polar bears. But onwards with the AN.
This chapter is late due to the fact that school started and I have less time to write. Plus this chapter was just hard to write. Just knowing what happens in the next chapter makes this one feel boring. . .
And now for a spotlight. Any of you guys read "HETA"? Well if you have, you guys probably weren't satisfied with the ending. Well one fan by the name of Chikipye decided to write a sequel entitled "HETA Unleashed". Unlike me, she updates daily so go check it out! It's in my favorites!
And remember to continue to make me rich!
Chapter Summary: The prom rolls along and Ari, Seychelles, and Sadiq stumble upon a few twists.
Warnings: Just go look at what's been in the previous chapters, but add offensive Mormon jokes.
Disclaimer: I have yet to gain ownership of this anime. If I did, I would write a book.
~Chapter 10~
Descent into Mary-Sueism Part 2
"Sometimes no matter how many eyelashes or dandelion seeds you blow, no matter how much of your heart you tear out and slap on your sleeve, it just ain't gonna happen."
― Melissa Jensen, American Author
Cycle 11: Wednesday
"Iceland, I need your help." The cool nation gave me a blank look, still walking towards the cafeteria. It was lunchtime and I was in a panic. My clothes were wrinkled and my hair was messy- the obvious sign that I pulled an all nighter last night. Add the fact that I was also up late the night before that and I was freaking tired. My exhaustion was at the point where Starbucks coffee wouldn't be able to help me.
The silvered hair man sighed, hugging his puffin tighter. "What did you do?" he asked in a no-nonsense matter. "Accidentally dump Germany?"
I winced, thinking back to the cycle where I actually did that. And to think that it was the cause for him loving me. "No, Germany is hanging out with Taiwan right now," I reported, raising my chin high in the air. "And he's rather enjoying it." I quickly pulled out Seychelles's phone and showed him a picture the German had sent me. "See? They're studying together."
Ari shook his head. "You seem rather okay with Taiwan stealing your boyfriend," he remarked dryly. "But why do you need my help?"
Sheepishly, I scratched the back of my head. "Well you see here, I kind of agreed to help Liechtenstein hook up with England-"
"You what?" The man's mask fell and he was staring at me with complete shock. At first I thought he was mad at me. Wouldn't that be just dandy: Ari hating my guts when I still like him? But his mouth stretched into a wide grin. "Seychelles, you are a genius!"
I knitted my eyebrows. "I am?"
"Yes, you are!" Running a hand over his head, he explained, "In order for Liechtenstein to go after England, she would have to break up with Prussia, right? So now Prussia is single." I think this moment deserves a big round of applause. I did something smart without even knowing it! Oh man, am I awesome or what? I totally deserve one free internet. "But that still leaves the problem of turning him gay."
I rolled my eyes and huffed, "Bitch please, we'll just give him the Mormon treatment."
Ari gave me a blank stare. "The Mormon treatment?"
"Yeah, all we have to do is give him a special piece of advice and we'll be good."
At last, we finally entered the cafeteria. With Prussia and Liechtenstein broken up, the whole social order of it was out of hand. Where the straighties used to sit was occupied with Prussia and Poland- two people whose lovers broke up with them. Germany and Taiwan sat next to each other with some of the other Asian countries. But what really stuck out was the fact that France, England, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, and Italy were all seated at one table in the corner.
A small smile graced my face when I noted the girl's shy attempts of talking with the Brit. Every time her face grew red and her tongue failed her, England would smile gently and nudge her back into gear like a true gentleman.
The Icelandic boy and I got into line for our food, giving me the perfect time to tell him about the Book of Mormon (the Broadway show from the guys that made South Park. Not the actual book). "Well it's quite simple. When you're Mormon your feelings are like a light switch. You simply 'turn off' whatever you don't want to feel."
Ari rightfully rolled his eyes. "Seychelles, I highly doubt that will work."
"Yes it will. Here." He sighed as I motioned for him to watch. Using my body's slim hands, I gracefully played out the lyrics as I quoted them. "Imagine that your head is made of tiny boxes. Find the box that's gay and crush it!"
He jumped. "The hell, that's messed up."
I nodded, taking a tray of food for myself. "That's what makes it funny," I told him, smiling expectantly. He only rolled his eyes. We quickly got away from them and started looking for a place to sit. "Let's sit over there," I suggested, pointing to the sacred table of 'FrUk', Italy, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland.
Ari shrugged. "That's fine," he said. "It's just . . ." He trailed off, making one last scan of the room with his violet eyes. "Where is Pops?"
My heart dropped, once again reminded of the fact. I would like to claim that I put in some legitimate effort to search for him, but that would be a lie. After hanging out with Liech at the bar, I heeded Ari's advice and headed back to my dorm and did my homework. Then, for the first time in what felt like forever, I went onto DeviantArt. Shocking, right? I basically went on there to find some reader inserts. Why? I needed an explanation on how heterosexual pairings worked. It's just when you get so wrapped up in yaoi, you kind of forget some things. "I haven't seen him since yesterday," I said softly, remembering how I had to resort to Harry Potter ones (why mustn't Hetalia exist in the Hetalia universe?). "Do you think he's dead?"
"Pops is too stubborn to die," he told me smoothly, the table at hand. "It's more likely that he's just skipping class again."
"Who's skipping class again?" Switzerland asked, suddenly interested in my existence. No one seemed to mind the fact that his gun was right on the table. I gave him a shaky smile before sitting between his sister and England.
The Icelandic took the seat across from me, explaining to him our little Turkish problem. "Oh yeah, that asshole." The blond placed his fork on his plate and pressed his lips together. "When I found him yesterday, he was dead asleep on the floor. Bastard was mumbling something about Poland when he finally woke up." His distasteful visage strengthened when he said, "The jerk immediately shoved me away and ran off somewhere. I've been looking for him since, but with no luck."
The news put my conscience in the gutter. I really should have followed him yesterday, just to make sure he was going to be alright. "Why are you still looking for him?" France asked, swirling the wine in his hand. Where did he get that? They only serve alcohol in the bar.
"Because it's my responsibility," The Swiss growled. "Someone just can't make a scene like that without some kind of problem behind it."
The jackass flickered into the corner of my mind. I laughed nervously. "Yeah, problem. . ."
Italy took his face away from his pasta long enough to perk up significantly. "Seychelles! Iceland! What about my problems?" He asked, brown eyes gleaming with expectancy.
"I highly doubt they have pasta rehabs," England muttered dryly, calling a giggle from everyone but Switzerland and Ari.
The Icelandic nation looked between him, Liechtenstein, and her ex-boyfriend. "Right now really isn't the time to make a move," he stated, hinting for the oblivious one to shut up. "He really isn't going to be in the mood to date someone."
Italy pouted, whining, "But I wanted to go to the prom with Prussia!"
It was one of those 'oh shit' moments that require an ESPN style freeze, break down, and replay.
The moment the Italian uttered the words, Liechtenstein gave him a shocked look before covering her mouth with her hands. Ari promptly banged his head into his tray of food, knocking over his carton of milk. This caused Switzerland to curse and lift his gun high off the table. You know, to prevent damages. His elbow knocked right into England's face. The Brit, who had been rolling his eyes at the suggestive comment from his boyfriend, fell right into said man. France in turn knocked me out of my seat. Searching for something to grasp, I grabbed Ari's arm and ended up pulling him down with me.
In the end, it appeared as though the whole table was shocked at the fact that Ari and I were on the ground, lying on top of each other. His face was barely inches from mine. Blushing deeply, I tried not to think about the close proximity of his lips. I could just kiss them . . .
He blushed and jumped away. "I am so sorry Seychelles," he said quickly, ignoring the strange looks from the lunch room. "I, uh . . ." His eyes met with Germany, who was glaring at him. "I got to go." Ari grabbed his puffin and dashed out quicker than an Avengers fangirl to Chris Evans. Man, that guy had a nice ass.
Know what? I think I'm going to dedicate this part of my life to it.
This incident with Ari is dedicated to Chris Evans' (AKA: Captain Freaking America's) ass. That sexy booty that will be admired for generations to come.
Germany excused himself from Taiwan and started to go after him. "Don't get your panties in a bunch; It was an accident," Switzerland nonchalantly called. "Now sit down." It was after a grumble did the robust man did so, still glaring at the way Ari went.
France gave an impressed whistle. Massaging his lover's back, he said, "Thank you Switzerland. I highly doubt Iceland would have liked dealing with Germany."
"No, he wouldn't mind," I grumbled, picking myself off the ground. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Switzerland saving ice, but it would have been nice for someone to have helped me. "After all, he did do it last-"
"Seychelles, what are you going on about?" England asked, pressing a napkin to his nose. It wasn't because he was bleeding, more like it was him being overly dramatic.
Again, I laughed nervously. "Nothing!"
The table of my so-called friends gave me weird looks, as if they weren't sure of what to think. Slowly, as the cafeteria slowly resumed their normal conversations, my table eased back into their meals. I was stabbing my fish with my spork- actually, why the hell does a private school for freaking personified countries have sporks? Are they too cheap for normal forks and spoons? The hell, let's just hope I never have to eat soup at this place.
Or they decide to invent the sporkife- A spork, but with the edges serrated like a knife.
A certain scowl brought me out of my irrational anger. "That reminds me . . ." Switzerland placed his gun back at the table, green eyes piercing. "Principle Pangaea wanted me to tell you that you've been banned from the school prom."
I dropped my spork. "What? Why?"
"Due to the fact that you skipped all your classes Monday and your current record of ly-"
Papa France swooped in like a miraculous angel, wrapping an arm around the cheese maker's shoulders. "Aw Switzerland, lighten up," he cooed, giving me a sure wink. "It was just one day. Surely you can make an exception."
He sighed testily, giving him an irritated look. "France, this is my job," he said. "Principle Pangaea made it my responsibility to take care of the trouble students."
My 'Papa' pointed his face towards me. "Do you think that my Seychelles is troubled?" he asked innocently.
The blond pressed his lips together, trying to figure out a way to truthfully answer that without offending the school's vice president. Liechtenstein, however, came to my rescue like Spider Man to Mary Jane. "Just this once?" She pleaded, giving him that shining look in her beautiful eyes.
Girls, if you have brothers, you know what it's like to manipulate them. Heck, both of mine are younger and annoying, but they still care about me enough to punch out the face of whatever boyfriend I might never have. It was part of some instinctive reaction ever male sibling has. With this in mind, it came no surprise when Switzerland defeatedly sighed. "Alright, just this once. But-" In a flash, he was back to glaring with his gun pointed between my eyes. "If you even think about doing that again . . ."
I raised my hands in the air, saying, "I swear to God, I'll be the greatest student you've ever seen." I only relaxed when he curtly nodded in acceptance.
England pursed his lips, giving a criticizing glaze at the fire air. "Switzerland, is it really necessary to point that thing everywhere?" he demanded as said man lowered it. "I think it does more harm than good."
The Swiss man frowned. "It's the only way to get anything done at this stupid place."
France surely squeezed his arm, saying, "Well maybe if we practice more love this violence wouldn't be necessary."
I shook my head, smiling softly. There was no way they were going to get him to give up his precious firearms. His stereotype for it is just too great. A small nudge brought my attention back to Liechtenstein. A shy smile was on her face when she said, "Seychelles, what am I supposed to do about England? He's so in love with France and-"
"Let me handle it," I told her confidently. She nodded, letting me realize that I had no idea what I was going to do. There had to be a way to get him to take her to the prom, but how? "Well France and England's relationship has been on the rocks for a while, so it's possible to break them up," I thought, tapping my spork rhythmically. The problem with that it that then he'll be too upset to rightfully hook up with someone else. "But what if I didn't break them up?"
A plan formed in my mischievous little head. Resting my chin on my hand, I leaned into the table and smile. Winking at Liechtenstein, I said very loudly, "Oh Liech, you must be so lonely without Prussia around. If only you had a true gentleman to ask you to the prom."
The three arguing men stopped and looked at me. "You know Liechtenstein, I'll take you if you want," Switzerland deadpanned, causing his sister to look ready to facedesk. I think that this is the first time I've seen her like that.
Still, I stared at him. "I meant a non-related-true gentleman," I corrected, on the overdose of overly hinting something.
But guess what overly oblivious twat that all the pirate loving fangirls seem to love responded? "If you want, I'll take you to the prom," England offered, ignored the confused look of his boyfriend. "It is, after all, the duty of a gentleman." Well, thank you Mr. Obvious.
"What about me?" France demanded, patting his chest. "I thought we were going together."
Italy decided that his pasta could wait long enough to help support our argument. "It's just one night," he chirped happily. "It wouldn't hurt to do it just once."
France looked ready to boil over with anger. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He grimaced and cast away the red shade in his complexion. "Of course, you're perfectly right Italy, it is just one night," he said, trying to act nice instead of pissed off. "But it is to make the world happy and that is the basis of all love: happiness."
"Hey Switzerland." Said man turned to see Estonia tapping his shoulder politely. His laptop was tucked safely under his arm and his glasses sat on the crook of his nose. When the master of the hallways glared at him, he took it as the right away to talk. "I heard that you were looking for Turkey and I saw him in the 3rd floor bathrooms."
Immediately, I jumped to my feet. "I'll go fetch him," I said quickly, swinging my bag over my shoulder. My mentor had so much explaining to do.
My offer, however, caused a bunch of looks from the members of the table. Liechtenstein and Estonia were giving me confused looks, whereas France and England looked rather excited. Italy was smiling like an idiot and Switzerland was frowning. "That wouldn't be necessary," he said curtly, rising from his own spot. "I can perfectly handle it all by myself-"
England jumped to my rescue. "Well it was nice talking to you," he said, quick and ecstatic. "As I was saying Liechtenstein, I'll pick you up at nine . . ."
I smiled when the older brother's brows knitted when the girl blushed at the thought of her date. "On second thought Seychelles, can you do that for me?" he asked, taking his gun in hand. "I do believe that England and I need to set a few ground rules."
As the Brit paled, his boyfriend patted his back merrily. "I'll go with her," he said, grabbing his shoulder back. "Have fun, my little bunny!" He grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the cafeteria, hurrying to escape before the bloodshed. As I went, I saw Liechtenstein mouth a 'thank you' before trying to calm her threatening brother.
Well, that went better than I expected.
"I'm glad you haven't done that with me," I said, climbing the stairs with France. There was something off by the eagerness him and Brit showed to helping me, but I wasn't about to dwell on it. Ideally, it was because they showed some form of interest in me. That is, sexual interest.
Insert winky face here.
The gorgeous blond shrugged. "I know better than to stop love when it happens," he said, smiling his suggestive French smile. Wait, suggestive? Does that mean I actually seduced him? Hell yeah!
Smiling madly, I put myself in the mind set of Hooker-Sherry. If I was going to be a slut, how would I reply to him? It came to me like a recipe to Chef Emeril. "So, what are you going to do now that you aren't going to the prom with England?" I asked, copying his smile.
"Oh, I don't know." France sighed, looking up to the heavens. "I suppose that I could just go with myself." Holy crap, selfcest! I cannot begin to describe how much I love that! I once read this fic where an evil alternate universe version of England psychologically messed with normal England and IT WAS SO SEXY!
I get a fangasam just thinking about it.
That aside, I grinned and pushed the thought from my head. "How about we go together?" I asked. He gave me a surprised look, raising an eyebrow high in the air. "Just for this one night," I quickly added, silently ordering Seychelles not to screw this one up for me. "You know, since England and Liechtenstein are going." He still didn't seem convinced. "As father-daughter. We haven't really spent a lot of time together in a while. . ."
France laughed and engulfed me in a massive glomp. "Oh, you're so cute!" He squealed, rubbing his stubbly cheek against mine. "You want to spend time with your Papa- that is just so sweet! But-" He dropped me and looked me straight in the eye. "-Are you sure that there isn't someone else you want to go out with?"
I shook my head. "Don't worry, Germany is going with Taiwan."
"Is there anyone else?" He asked, an expectant hope in his tone. "Like, someone you really like?"
I paused. What was he implying? "What if he realized that I love Ari?" My heartbeat picked up. "Crap, not good, not good! Damn the freaking country of l'amour!" Putting on a beatific visage, I smiled. "There is no one else," I told him. He still didn't seem convinced. I guess I was going to have to play the guilt trip. "I just want to go with my Papa, is that so wrong?"
My 'Papa' at last sighed. "Fine I'll take you, dear." Fuck yes! Am I awesome or what? I might possibly be more awesome than Prussia. Actually, I am more awesome than he. And there isn't anything anyone can do about it.
At last, our feet touched the wood floors of the 3rd story. Gosh, that was one of the shortest, yet longest journeys of my life. Probably because I accomplish so much. Since I am, as we all know, awesome.
Alright, I'll shut-up about that now.
"Here's the one problem with Estonia's piece of information," France said, pressing his lips together with frustration. "There are two boys' bathrooms on this floor."
His mention of Sadiq brought a random question to me. "Hey Papa." He looked at me, once again with a raised eyebrow. "Remember when I was feeling dizzy and you and Turkey had a little talk?"
"Of course I do."
"What did you tell him?" I asked. "He was mad that you made a 'perverted' comment."
For once, France anxiously stumbled over his words. "I, er, well you see Seychelles, I . . ." At last, he regained his lost composer and coughed into his fist. "That is for him to tell you," he said firmly.
I sighed. You win some, you lose some. "Right. I'll check the bathrooms by the science room. You can have the ones by the Math section."
"That is fine by me." France smiled and ruffled my already messy head of hair. "I'll see both you and Turkey after school today, non?"
I pushed his hand away, grumbling, "Yeah, yeah; just go." I watched him go. The man didn't walk three feet before turning and blowing me a soft kiss. I rolled my eyes as he chuckled and continued down the hall.
Oh Sadiq, the sacrifices I make for you.
Adjusting my scarf (the freaking bruise was still there!), I made my way to my assigned bathrooms. The whole way there, I wondered what could be wrong with him. Was it because of the jackass? Was it a medical problem? "I really hope he's okay," I thought, seeing the door come into view. I gulped and quickened my pace to a gentle jog.
I could tell that there was someone inside before I even opened the door. The sound of running water could clearly be heard from the hall. I listened to it for a moment. Please let it be him. Disregarding all split gender rules, I pushed the door open.
The first thing anyone could see inside was the three porcelain sinks. The urinals and stalls were to the left, three lining one wall and three lining the other. Sadiq leaned over the middle sink, face blocked even in the mirror. My breath caught when I heard his soft muttering among his almost obsessive hand washing.
He was darkly muttering things like 'only messing with me' and 'it didn't mean it'. I froze at the doorway, mesmerized by the scene. "What was wrong with him?" I wondered as he started washing his face. "Did he finally crack?"
Sadiq ran his hands down his face and looked in the mirror. My reflection looked back at him. He jumped and turned to face me. "Holy shit Sherry!" He cursed, practically clutching his heart. The water on his hands soaked a circle on his hoodie. "What are you doing here?" he asked, breathing heavily. I noticed the dark circles beneath his distressed honey eyes.
I bit my lip. He looked- to put it bluntly -like shit. "I was looking for you," I said, slowly taking a step inside. "Sadiq, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong Sherry," he said quickly turning back to the sink. He reapplied a squirt of soap and resumed his hand washing ritual. "Everything's completely fine." Bullshit!
"You're a worse liar than me," I deadpanned, making sure that the door was firmly closed behind me. I started to approach him when my footsteps seemed to make him flinch. "Sadiq, you can tell me anything," I told him, inching closer to him. "Just tell me what's wrong."
He shook his head, saying, "I can't. You have better things to be focusing on."
"Sadiq . . ." I placed a hand on his back. In an instant, he was facing me, roughly holding my arm away. The wild, panicky look in his eyes made me squirm. That and his face was really close to mine, like our noses were nearly touching. A little closer and he could be Eskimo kissing me.
I held my breath, waiting for him to make a move. He stared with his crazed look, slowly registering who I was and what I was trying to do. His face eroded into a softer format as he realized that I meant him no harm. Gradually, the Turk started peeling his fingers off and backing away. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, trying to find the words to say.
After a few moments of just watching him ("What the hell was that?"), I put on my best, bright smile. "I got France to take me to the prom," I chirped half-heartedly, trying to get him to hope. "And he even started flirting with me."
Sadiq forced a grin on his face. It was so very obviously faked, but I did my best to seem convinced. "That's great, Sherry," he said, straightening out. "Very good. . ."
I took his hand in my own and gave it a hard squeeze. "We're getting out of here."
"Getting out . . ." He tried out the words for himself, checking to see if they were tangible. To me, it was a very real idea but to him it was only another mirage. Lowering his head, he repeated the phrase like a chant. "We're getting out. We're getting out. . ."
The air around the both of us was suffocating. I felt as though his traumatized awkwardness was stealing my breath away. I wanted to run away, escape from the morbid atmosphere. But I was afraid to leave him alone. It felt as though that his old self was going to be the key to getting out of here. I needed his normal, abusive self more than anything.
For some reason, I found myself reaching for his pocket. He took a step away from my hand, but he could not stop me from sticking my hand into his hoodie pocket. From it, I draw his metal canister. "Open up," I ordered, unscrewing the cap. He gave me a confused look when I held it up to him. "You can't taste anything in dreams," I told him, reminding him of his own words. "This is real."
The Turk took it from me and took a long drink. His eyes grew wide when the sweet apple flavor met his tongue. I was smiling as he greedily drank the whole thing, a small, real smile stretching on his face. When it was empty, he boyishly wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm sorry for that," he said smoothly, starting to sound like his old self. "I was having a. . . 'moment'."
I nodded, secretly wanting to shake my head. "Keep telling yourself that."
He glared at me. "Are you helping me or not?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp voice was welcoming to the ears.
I only shrugged. "I don't know. You are kind of a jerk . . ."
"Only to the jackasses who deserve it." The school bells chimed, singling the end of our lunch period. Cockily, the man heaved his bag over his shoulder and swung an arm around mine. "So as we make our way to Science Professor Pangaea's class, you can tell me exactly how you got France to flirt with you."
I smiled and swaggered with him to the hall. He'll tell me when he's ready.
Or, at least I hoped so.
Cycle 11: Thursday
"What if he doesn't like me, Seychelles?" Liechtenstein asked, looking at me uncertainly through the mirror. It was sometime before the prom and we friends were once again getting ready in my dorm. Our gorgeous dresses were around our small frames and we were placing the finishing touches on our hair. Mine was in the curled low pigtails with the vivid red ribbons tied around. The only significant difference in my outfit from previous times was the fact that I still had my wool scarf around my neck. When Liechtenstein asked me about it, I lied and told her that it merely added a nice touch.
"Stupid Sadiq and his anger management issues," I grumbled silently, placing a warm smile on my face. I had to give this girl the night of her life and I could not screw any of it up. This was going to be the last cycle and the timeline that was going to stay. I wanted to leave this place like a girl scout cookie stand at a supermarket: way better than I entered it.
"England's going to fall instantly in love with you," I told her excitedly, squeezing her small shoulders. "You're going to sing a cute little Disney song and getting married by midnight!"
She smiled, a slight roll in her eyes. "You're so weird," she muttered, rising to her feet. Once again, I had to stare at her terrible dress. Like seriously Hima-pops, what were you thinking when you designed that? The blonde slowly spun on her toes, causing her skirt to fly out around her. She looked over her own shoulder and into the floor mirror, taking a quick look over. "But I do hope you're right," she said, much softer. "I really want him to like me."
I bit my lip. Countless forum and website comments flooded to my brain. Yeah people, remember all those complaints you wrote on her character calling her weak, annoying, and just a Switzerland copycat?
Assholes.
"Freaking Prussia loved you," I deadpanned. "If you got him to do that, then I say you'll be okay." She laughed brightly, nearly covering the sound of someone knocking on my door.
I smiled at her and jumped off my bed. "Coming!" Naturally, our dates were standing on the other side. France and England were both wearing snazzy dress suits, white cuffs and everything. They both looked well put together, well except for France. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing his hairy chest to the world.
"Hello my beautiful daughter!" France cried, wrapping me into a large hug. He squeezed me tightly, cutting off all my air. "You look so beautiful tonight!" I wanted to push him away, but the idea of him being the key to my liberation made me grin and bear through it. I nearly didn't hear England when he greeted Liechtenstein.
"Good evening Liechtenstein," he greeted, inviting himself into my dorm. A glimmer danced in his eyes as he gently took her hand and kissed it. "Your dress looks becoming on you." My friend blushed deeply, at a loss of words.
France released me and gave his boyfriend (if they were even still together) a wink. "It would look better on the floor," he piped before breaking out into a fit of French laughter. I did not hesitate to slap him as England gave him a dark glare.
"Don't say that about a lady!" He snapped, scowling.
My 'papa' whimpered. "My little bunny, it was just a joke."
It took us a complete hour to walk out the door. They old married couple just could not stop affectionately arguing about the suitability of his comment. Then add the fact that Seychelles's father suddenly decided to do the "are you sure you want to go with me?" thing again and I was losing my patience.
It was a blessing when they finally kicked their butts into taking Liechtenstein and I to the ball room. I have mentioned many times before how this place looks like, but I will do just a quick little recap for those oblivious: marble floors, a gleaming dance floor, a hanging clock, and an overall statement of FREAKING HUGE.
I just can't get over how BIG this damn place is! Where the hell did they get the funding to even make a room this size? Maybe they could have used the money to- I don't know -educate the freaking nations on how to be straight? I can't even begin to describe how freaking helpful that would be!
Ahem. Excuse me for that, I got a little off topic here.
"Do you like the decorations?" France asked, my arm looped into the crook of his elbow. Like an actual couple. How cute. "England and I spent hours arguing over them."
I raised an eyebrow, pretending that I actually gave a fuck. "Who won? They look beautiful."
His sly smile grew wider as he said, "My dear, I obviously did. My little bunny doesn't have a single stylish bone in his body."
Said man shot us a glare. "I heard that, git," he growled, voice dripping in poison. The deadly look in his acid eyes added to the effect, making me wants to run into a dusty little corner and hide. His mood, however, did not last forever. His attention quickly returned to his date as he smiled warmly. "How about we dance, love?"
As Liechtenstein blushed and softly accepted, France frowned tightly and watched them go. His free hand was clenched in a tight fist as he suppressed every negative thought. Seeing it, I could not help but to giggle. "Papa, are you jealous?" I asked, a small taunt in my voice.
Oh 'FrUk', I still adore you with every ounce of my being.
"Jealous?" The blond repeated, raising a high eyebrow. "How can I be jealous?" he asked. "I know that England still loves me."
I mumbled, "But you might no longer love him . . ."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing!"
France sighed, muttering something about his daughter getting snarkier with each passing day. "It must be from spending so much time with England," he reasoned aloud, forgetting that I could still hear him. Nevertheless, he resumed his previous sly smile. Offering me a hand, he said, "Well Seychelles, since we are here, I say we giving the dance floor a little spin."
I returned his smile and accepted his hand. "I accept thy offer, brave knight."
"Brave knight?" Once again, his eyebrow rose off his forehead as he led me to the dance floor. He placed his hand one hand on my waist and held my hand to the side. "Am I really your 'knight'?"
Our feet started moving in a synchronized spin. Our dance music sounded like a bitter-sweet Adele ballad. Admittedly not the best music to waltz to, but still pretty damn good. It felt nice to be in someone's arms for once. No extraneous problems to worry about, it could just be me and my date. Looking up at him with bright brown eyes, I replied, "Of course you're my knight, silly. You saved me from so much."
"Like how?" The mischief in his voice made chills run down my back.
I guess all those Harry Potter reader inserts were really going to come in handy after all. "Kiss me and find out." What was that? That was the sound of me making an awesomely flirtatious comment without the help of Hooker-Sherry. What now?
But out of every ethnic stereotype out there, it had to be lost on the French one. "We'll save the kissing for some other time," he told me, playfully tapping my lips with his finger. Disappointment made my expression turn sour. So close, yet so far. "But seriously Seychelles, shouldn't there be anyone else to be your knight?"
Oh no, where was he going with this? "Why do you say that?"
"Naturally, I would presume that since Germany is your boyfriend, he would be your knight," he said simply. I had to resist the urge to smack my forehead. Shit, why didn't I think of that? "Or has something happen between you two?"
Was he questioning his rights to be with me? "He's with Taiwan right now," I explained hastily, praying he didn't back off. "You have nothing to fear."
France twirled and dipped me close to the ground. That smile I've been mentioning for the past hour or so returned as he said, "It's not Germany I fear. It's someone much different." His eyes flickered to the food tables. Still dipped, I followed them to where Ari and Sadiq were. They were both trying to nudge Italy to ask Prussia (currently talking with Spain) (hey, that's slightly canon) to dance with him.
The sight of the handsome Icelandic man made my face flush. He knew. Le holy crap, France knew that I loved Ari. Were the fanfictions Gods just trying to piss me off? Still I did my best to remedy the situation. "He's just a friend," I told him, gripping his shirt for support. "You have nothing to worry about."
He didn't seemed convinced. "Alright . . . Seychelles, why are you wearing that scarf?"
"What?"
"That scarf." At last, France brought me back to my feet. His white hands trailed along the wool fabric delicately. He gripped the end and started unwrapping it from around my neck. He asked, "Why are you wearing it?"
Anxiety surged through me when I realized what was going on. "Don't touch that-" But that was just another mistake. I grabbed his wrist and pull his hand away, which basically caused him to take it off quicker. His blue eyes went large when he saw the vivid red, yellow, purple, black, and green marks on my brown skin. Mouth hang gapped, his stunned finger traced it gently. I hissed.
"Seychelles, what happened?" he demanded, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Who hurt you like this?"
I was not going to rat Sadiq out for it. I swore to God, I was going to stand by him for once. So instead of doing the mature thing and pushing the blame on myself ("France, I like self-inflicted pain from self-strangulation. Kiss me to make me better"), I did the only rash thing a teenager could manage. "Germany gave it to me." That's right, push it on someone else. Bonus points if they're suicidal. But at the moment, I was not concerned about his angst. I was more amazed at how easily the next lie came: "He and I were having sex and you know how he's into that BSM stuff-"
France placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, instantly silencing me. The deathly protective fatherly glint in his eyes returned as he glared around the ballroom. "You can put the scarf back on now, dear," he growled, sounding ready to commit manslaughter. Without a second thought, I did so; glancing around to make sure no one noticed my bruises. "Excuse me, but I have to go have a little . . . talk with Germany now."
He stormed away, ready to kill the blond I falsely accused. At that moment, I was really hoping that this would be another incident where the French surrender to their German enemies only after two weeks of fighting.
That way- at least -I wouldn't have to clean up any blood.
Making sure my scarf was on nice and tight, I retreated to the countless tables of food. The aroma was so delicious smelling, it was hard not to comprehend how wonderful it was. I was about to bring a paper cup full of berry punch to my lips when I remembered the last time. Some asshole spiked it. "It's not as though I care," I thought, downing it all anyways. "I didn't get excessively drunk for nothing." At this rate, I was going to be an alcoholic by the time I'm eighteen.
"But what if he says no!" I glanced over to where Italy was fighting away Ari and Sadiq. They each had two hands on his arms and were trying to drag him towards the ever lonely Prussia. The cute brunette shook his head profusely, wailing, "I don't want to be denied by him! Please don't make me do it!"
"Italy, you have to," Ari grunted, sweat gathering along the edge of his brow. His face was red from the effort of trying to drag cement feet (I bet he really wishes he was stronger). "If you don't, then Prussia is never going to know how you feel!"
As his stubbornness continued, I glanced up at the clock on the wall. The thick, black hands made an acute angle, pointing to the twelve and eleven. I had an hour to get the kiss from France. The only problem with that was that he was with Germany and I had no idea where he was. Couldn't this be just a little bit easier? I mean, England and Liechtenstein were right there, swaying to the tune of Celine Dion.
Still, just looking at my Turkish mentor attempt to harshly reason with him reminded me of the fact that I sighed both of the men up for the task. If I just hadn't told Italy to jump off the bell tower . . .
"Italy. . ." I threw the empty cup aside and marched over to the man. Ari and Sadiq saw what was coming and quickly released his arms. The pasta eater had five seconds to wonder what was going on before a bitch slapped him into the food table. A loud crash! was heard as plates broke and the spiked punch spilled all over his fancy Italian dress suit.
"What the hell!" Sadiq gave me and shocked look. The expression on his face made me want to smile in triumph, but Denmark and America wolf whistling was enough for me to remain frowning. "Why the fuck did you do that?" He demanded, sounding ever so crossed with me.
"I'm just slapping some sense into him," I snapped evenly, totally not feeling guilty when Italy started to cry.
"Then could you have at least resisted bitch slapping him?" Ari asked. He bent onto his knees and lugged Italy's arm over his shoulder, saying, "I swear, those things kill brain cells more than anything."
Sadiq ran his hands over his face, muttering curses in his native tongue. "Seychelles, you cannot just go around hitting people-"
Is he really trying that argument with me? "But that's exactly what you do!"
He started to open his mouth, ready to snap an insult at me when Italy started to whimper noisily. His large, brown eyes were cast to his shoes as he sully muttered, "She didn't even look my way. All that, yet . . ."
All three of us grew dead silent and stared at him. He did not just . . .
"'She?'" Sadiq repeated, surprise and anger making the perfect martini in his voice. He looked at me, asking, "Please don't tell me he just said 'she.'"
Ari, on the other hand, was taking this like a police officer to a traumatized witness. His voice was strong, but soothing as he looked over the man he supported. "Italy, who is this she?" He asked. "What about Prus-" His free hand made immediate contact with his forehead. "Of course!" He groaned loudly, temporarily losing his sexy stocity. "By 'she' you mean- why didn't I see that before?"
Sadiq and I exchanged a look. The Icelander's genius mind was far, far ahead of us. Sighing, I said, "Sorry for being dumber than you, but what the hell is going on?"
"I was about to ask you four the exact same thing." Remember how I was going on earlier about the disappearance of France? Found him! And look he brought friends: a very cross school president and his very worried date. England had his hands at his hips as his vivid green eyes pierced through all of our worthless souls. "You guys, outside, now," he ordered.
Sadiq, Ari, and I exchanged 'oh shit' glances before shuffling with Italy into the hallway. But our journey was far from over. Away from the loud noise, the Brit motioned for us to follow him further down the halls, leaving the site of merry making behind. Both Liechtenstein and France gave us the guilty wary glances as we went.
It wrenched my weak heart.
On the other side of the school, the moon seemed to shine brighter. Its silver rays drifted through the large windows and pooled at our feet. Heels clicked and echoed with each step, bringing us closer and closer to our destination. That was the student council room.
"I am very disappointed in the four of you," England said as he unlocked the wood doors. The lock gave a satisfied click and our entrance to our doom swung open. Like the gentlemen he (cough) was, England proudly held it open as we, his boyfriend, and my friend walked inside.
I just once to say this now and get it over with: I am eternally screwed.
"Sit down." England closed the door shut and turned to see our butts in the seats of the table. France, meanwhile, flicked the light switch on, taking us out of the dark and into the bright world of fluorescent lights. Liechtenstein's hair seemed to glow as she sat on the opposite side of the table, picking nervously at her nails. Her green eyes constantly stole curious glances at us delinquents.
Thick eyebrows framed the eyes of the man who glared at us for an intimidating second, making sweat gather around my neck and inch down my back. "I am very disappointed in you all," he said darkly, pacing. "We put together an event to have fun at- fun our bosses wouldn't reject to and you guys are off hurting each other?"
"It's my fault," I said, quick and pleading. "It was me who hit Italy-"
"Which is exactly why I am so disappointed?" England placed a hand on the tabletop directly across from me. His other was at work massaging his temples. Much softer, he said, "Seychelles, why would you do such a thing? This is very unlike you." You know, he sounded like my father . . .
Sadiq scooted a little out of his chair, ready to jump to my defense when another voice spoke up. "Seychelles did it because I told her to." We all gave Ari 'wft' looks as his monotone face looked without contrite feelings at the president.
He, however, was taking it with the cool class that every British secret agent was known for. "Oh really?" He straightened and meandered to France. Together, they stood a little ways off to the side, wrapping sure arms around each other's waists. "How is that, Iceland?"
"I was going to have Pops here test out a theory, but Seychelles did it for him, saying that she didn't want him to get in trouble." Eyes were back on me. All I could do was nod slightly and pray that this fabrication my love had made was going to work.
France piped, "May I ask what this theory is?"
Ari allowed himself to smirk for a split second before resuming his normal visage. "It's very simple, really," he said, almost bored sounding. "The theory is that Italy does not like Prussia as we originally were intended to believe."
"You're helping him hook up with Prussia?" Who else but Liechtenstein demanded, mouth forming a small 'o'. Her accusing eyes were on me. "Seychelles, why didn't you tell me?"
I raised my hands in defense. She had that heartbroken face that just made me want to cry. "He wasn't your boyfriend anymore so I didn't think it mattered!" I lied again.
"Quiet!" Both she and I snapped our mouths shut. The Brit glared at us for a second longer before beckoning Ari to continue.
The Icelander's sly smirk returned again as he resumed his speech. "As I was saying, in order to prove or disprove the theory, Seychelles slapped Italy. When he was hit, Italy muttered something about 'she' not noticing." He paused, giving a dramatic effect to the big finale. "Italy, you're not in love with Prussia, but with Liechtenstein."
Every single person non-Nordic at the school chorused a loud "What?" Like seriously, if I was in the ballroom, everyone who wasn't from that area suddenly shouted that before resuming their normal lives. America and Denmark could vouch it for me.
Italy's eyes were the widest yet. "I'm not in love with her!" He shouted, panic seeping into his voice. "I-I'm gay like everyone else! I-"
"You were looking at her," Ari said, not breaking his cool.
"They why would I be so keen on Prussia?"
The ever intelligent one shrugged. "You tell me. Were you in the closet? Looking for Liechtenstein's attention? Did you confuse the object of your feelings since they are always so close together?"
While England, Sadiq, and I were still trying to process this turn of events, France swooped in with the compassion needed to save the day. Placing a hand on the Italian's shoulder, he soothingly smiled. "It's alright to be straight," he said gently, big brother pulses kicking in. "If you really love someone, then it shouldn't matter what everyone else says." His blue eyes flickered to the single German speaker of this room. "Liechtenstein, how about you do big brother France a favor and dance the rest of the night with Italy? That is, if you don't mind."
She looked down, red as an . . . . apple (no, I was not about to say 'tomato'. Pfft, I have way more creativity than that). "I don't know," she muttered, shyly looking at the brunette in question. "I guess I will, but only if Italy wants to."
Italy's eyes flickered between France, Ari, and her. He looked lost and confused. I kind of felt the need to ring up Germany so that he can knock some classic World War II sense into him. Evidently, he gulped and took the chance. "That would make me very happy."
I couldn't help it. I broke into an excited fit of applause. A stupid grin was on my face as I gave them a zealous thumbs-up. I didn't even care that this was crack; these two would be absolutely perfect for each other.
Maybe I was going crazy.
Well at least my response was better than Sadiq's- he was wiping tears from his eyes. Stupid Titanic loving idiot.
All in all, it seemed like a perfect happily ever after. Ari, Sadiq, the 'FrUk', and I watched as Italy and Liechtenstein walked back to the prom. They did not walk hand in hand like an actual couple- it was too early for that -but Italy was back to chirping like his canon self. It was a perfect ending for them. Now, all I had to do was end the craziness of the cycles.
Scratching the back of my head, I turned to France, smiling softly. "You did a real nice job there," I said, hoping that I was blushing like a love-sick idiot. But I couldn't feel the heat in my cheeks.
'Papa' grinned at me, wrapping his arm around his lover's slim waist. "It was nothing," he said. "Iceland did most of the work."
My love shrugged, saying, "I just reported what I saw."
"Which was absolutely genius."
I felt Sadiq nudge my arm, singling me to push it a little more. I have to get that kiss, now or never. "But still, you brought Italy out of the closet," I said, taking a step towards him. My Turkish mentor somehow managed to slyly ease England to Ari, engaging the two in a conversation about whatever. France didn't seem to notice, only concentrating on the fact that I was practically in his face as I said, "You deserve a thank you kiss." I puckered my lips.
"Now, now dear. My night of fixing relationships is not yet over." I took a step forward and straighten my lips into a frown. What? A devious smile painted the Frenchie's face as he leaned over and wrapped an around back around England. A single nodded- a silent conversation -brought a similar complexion on the other blond. "You see Seychelles, there is one more couple who needs to admit their feelings."
Sadiq and Ari appeared at my sides, watching the blonde with varying interest. Sadiq's face was straight, but his eyes shimmered with the same oncoming dread I felt. I want to hold one of their hands, but I didn't know which. Grab Sadiq's and he would surely kill me for it later. Grab Ari's, and he would freak out for thinking that he was straight. There was no way to win.
I opted it just stand there awkwardly with sweating palms.
England picked up where is boyfriend left off, smiling congenially as he said, "Yes. We've noticed that there are two of you here with an unspoken romance." Team Sue looked at each other, trying to figure out what they meant. Did they notice the way I talked or looked or thought about Ari? Were they going to bring out nonexistent relationship to light? "And Seychelles, I think that it's about time you two admit your feelings."
We were silent, waiting for the other to speak. Both of the boys looked nervous. Stupid males and their inability to deal with these things. Trying not to grumble, I asked, "Who am I supposed to admit my 'feelings' to?"
England and France exchanged a look, as if to say 'we raised an idiot'. The master of l'amour took over, winking and sparkling as he said, "To Turkey, silly."
.
.
.
I'm sorry, I think I just died there, what did he just say?
"To Turkey, silly"
Oh yeah, that.
Yup, I'm screwed. Like a Phillip's head.
"We noticed the way the two of you look at each other," England said, unaware of the fact that my brain was fucked and Sadiq's mouth was on the floor. Oh, and Ari was off in a corner snickering, muttering something about seeing this coming. Again, why do I love him? "It's quite obvious that there is something going on."
Sadiq and I exchanged a look. If what he was saying was true, then France and England turned our own game against us. And neither of us noticed? Well actually, the pieces were coming together in my mind and I realized that Sadiq had to have known. After All, what else could his 'perverted' conversation with France be about?
My mentor recovered and started massaging his temples. "Look, I understand what you two are trying to do," he growled, clenching his fist. "But I told you once, I will tell you again: I am not straight. I like men, I had a boyfriend, and I want another one. Seychelles and I are just friends."
France waved a finger at us, playfully shaking his head. "Tsk, tsk, you're very deep in the closet," he sang, still winking. "The sooner you admit your feelings the better."
"I have no feeling to 'admit'!" The Turk yelled, face red from either anger or embarrassment. Most likely both. He turned to me, saying, "Damnit, Seychelles give me a little support here!"
My head screamed for me to say something, anything to help our case here. But everything was happening too quickly. The only thing I could manage was to have my hands over my red face and try to hide my shame from the world. This was bad, real bad.
I didn't even need to see his face to know that my mentor was pissed. "Jackass, aren't you going to help me out here?" he demanded again, probably ready to hold me out another window. And just when we were getting along too-
I felt someone push me back to the student council room. My heels slid on the floor as I snapped into full consciousness. England was gently shoving me into the room as France was holding Sadiq's arms over his head and doing the same. He even had the infamous rape face on. Anxiety surged through me like a bolt of lightning. "What are you doing?" I yelled, bracing my arms at the doorway.
England placed all of his weight into my back, making my arms strain under the stress. "You gits are going in there and talking about your feelings," he grunted, trying to make me budge. "And neither of you are coming out until you do."
The Turkish Republic struggled under his captor's surprisingly strong grasp, yelling, "Jackass! We have no feelings to talk about! Kid! Give us a hand!"
Ari, the sometimes bane of my existence, threw his hands up in the air, saying, "Don't get me involved in this, Pops. This is your problem, not mine." That little. . .
I turned back to him, stunned by this cool, nonchalant ways. "Ari!" I yelled, forgetting that he didn't go by that name. I didn't even realize that I said it until his eyebrows were knitted in confusion. Oh shit, that screwed us badly. My concentration lost, my arms gave out and I fell into the room. A second later, France threw Sadiq on top of me and slammed the door shut.
For a moment, the only thing either of us could do was moan in pain. It was not pleasant to have a fully grown Turk fall on you and neither is landing on top of a teenage Seychellois. Sadiq, however, snapped out of his daze the moment he heard the door click shut. "Damnit," he growled, scrambling to his feet. His calloused hands were around the doorknob in an instant, trying to get the damn thing to open. A second later, he was ramming his shoulder into the wood, calling out curses to the blonds who trapped us here.
Neither of them responded, the walls were thick and we were alone.
I sat up, rubbing my head. My dress was ripped and my hair was coming undone. Hell, even the smell of my shea butter lotion was disappearing! And I, like, reapply that stuff once an hour. I was officially a total mess.
"Get up, Sherry!" Sadiq ordered, pulling off his dirtied suit jacket. He threw it to the side, not caring that he was standing in only his dress shirt. He seemed a lot buffer without it on. "I need you to help me get this door down," he said, ramming his shoulder into it again. A thud! was created from it. "We need to get that Godforsaken kiss before midnight! How much time do we even have left?"
I glanced at the clock by the bookshelf. "Ten minutes," I said dutifully. I took a breath, my sensible side showing. "Sadiq, just give up," I said exasperatedly, pulling the ribbons from my hair. "I was wrong about France, he wasn't flirting with me. He was only trying to set us up together."
He shook his head, putting all of his weight into his shoulder. "What about England?" he demanded desperately. "Does he-"
I wanted to groan. I felt as though we had switched roles- I had the brains and he was being the naive girl in the foreign body. Remind me to be nice to him in the future. Testily, I said, "If he was in on this then he wouldn't be in love with me either." Sadiq took a few steps back, ready to ram his shoulder again. "Would you just give up?" I demanded, feeling the need and want to cry. "It's not going to work. And we still have one cycle left. We could-" Like a bull to the color red, he ran straight into the door. The moment he made contact, a loud boom echoed around the room, blending with the sound of his gasping in pain. "Sadiq!"
He grasped his injured shoulder and slid to the ground. I quickly crawled over to him, feeling a new kind of worry over take me. It was similar to the one I had when Germany was going to jump, but this one was different. It wasn't so much guilt driven, but instinct. "Are you alright?" I asked, trying to shove the feeling away. Not knowing what to do, I placed a hand on his sweat soaked forehead, checking for a temperature (What? I have no medical training!). I scolded, "I told you stop it."
Sadiq closed his eyes, panting heavily. "I had to try," he breathed. "Too much is at risk. Too much. . ."
My hand drifted down his face and cupped his rather handsome cheeks. Damnit, all of the Hetalia boys have handsome cheeks, so stop rolling your eyes at me. "We still have one more cycle left," I told him. "We can try again then."
"But . . . the jackass . . ." I nearly didn't believe it, even though it was happening right in front of my eyes. Tears were welling up in his eyes and trailing down his cheeks. I gaped at him, not wanting to believe it was happening.
Sadiq was crying. Sadiq, my rock, the one thing keeping me partially sane in this lawless world, was breaking right in front of me. He brought his arm over his face and released a single sob. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, voice hitching. "Fuck, I . . ."
The puzzle started coming together in my head. Yesterday, when he was in the bathroom . . . the muttering . . . the jackass . . .
I placed my hand in his free one, trying to mimic the comforting circles I rubbed into his palm during the hypnosis session. "Sadiq, what did the jackass do?" I demanded, trying to find out what happened. "What did he do?"
But he only shook his head, saying something not knowing what to do. I rubbed harder. "I'm scared," he confessed, still not removing his arm. "Sherry, I'm fucking scared. This is all happening, because I-"
"This is not your fault!" I yelled fiercely. "This is the jackass's or have your forgotten?"
He shook his head. "You don't know a single thing about me," he said. "You have no idea what I have done."
Deep inside, I knew he was right. Besides the fact that he loves the Titanic, what do I truly know about him? He was just as mysterious as Batman. Yet, I didn't think he was guilty of anything. Why? I didn't know.
Correction, I did know; I was just too afraid to admit it. The fact was that I loved Sadiq. Not as a boyfriend or a guy-I-would-like-to-fuck, but as my . . . as my father. In a way, I was starting to see him as the person I always wanted Gary Sue to be: smart, caring (in his own way), compassionate, and there. Heck, Sadiq only had to be the latter and that was all I needed. But would telling him that make any difference? "What other choice do I have?"
Taking a deep breath, I placed both of my hands on his free one, saying, "I don't need to because . . . Sadiq, you're my dad and I love you."
The comforting result I was aiming for was far from achieved. In fact, it outright failed. In a strange panic state, he grabbed my shoulder fiercely, shaking his tear stained head. "Don't say things like that!" he yelled, sounding absolutely terrified. "Don't you fucking say that!"
I gave him an odd look. "Why shouldn't I when it's true?" I demanded. "Sadiq, I love you-"
"No! You don't!" Sadiq's eyes were wide, looking behind me for any kind of attack. "For the love of God, Sherry, take it back! You cannot love me!"
"But I do! I love you like a daughter loves her father-"
He head shaking continued. "No you don't! If it finds out that you . . ." He placed his head in his hands. "This is why it happened before," he said, tears returning. "This is why he reacted that way. This is why I had to cut off ties with Poland-" wait a second, how does he remember that? "-This is why all of this is happening, it-"
Sadiq screamed. It was short, but full of unbearable pain. I scooted a few inches back as his hands suddenly clutched his heart. Fear wrapped its cold arms around my shaking body. This was too much; I didn't even know what was going on anymore. "Sherry . . ." I looked back at him, just to see the tears gone and his teeth grinding together. "What time is it?" he asked as a small trail of blood started seeping from his mouth.
I glanced at the clock. It was less than a minute until midnight. This was the time I usually died. I jumped to my feet. That couldn't be right, I always died, not he! I ran to it. Maybe there was something wrong, maybe it was a few minutes ahead.
In a hurry, my elbow banged into the bookshelf.
I stopped and hugged the aching area. I wanted to cry too, but I knew that I shouldn't; it was nothing compared to the pain Sadiq must be feeling. The force of the knock, however, drew a new problem to the field. The thick, hardcover copy of Twilight fell from its alphabetized place on the shelf and smashed right into my skull.
Apparently, the force was enough to kill me since the last thing I heard was the ringing of the midnight bells.
Cycle 11: The Void
The black of the void was the first thing that greeted me when I came to. The second was the secure feeling of being inside my own skin. For a moment. I just allowed myself to lay on the hard, cold darkness and just drift into another oblivious sleep. But that could never last.
Sniffling met my ears soon enough.
Lazily, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Why was I so tired? I was always wide awake when I came here. Then again, most of the time Seychelles had been there to jump on me for being an idiot.
Speaking of which, where was she?
The answer was where the source of the sniffling was. Seychelles stood a few yards away, back to me, trembling as she tried to silently cry. I looked at her, confused to what was going on. She was crying, but why?
Gingerly, I stood and approached her. "Seychelles?" I called, now only a few feet away. I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Seychelles, is something wrong?" She pretended not to notice me, only bury her face closer to her hands. From under my hand, her trepidation felt like bombs hitting the countryside. My already fraying heart broke a little more. "Is it something I did?" I asked softly, already feeling a pit in my gut.
Seychelles sniffled again, this time turning to me. In a hoarse voice, she shot me a glare and asked, "Why are you so perfect?"
"Huh?"
Her eyes seemed to blaze with some unspoken grudge as she said, "Why are you so perfect, Sherry? Everything you do, you just seem to do perfectly!"
There must have been something wrong with my ears. I was not perfect- I was the polar opposite of it. Mom was perfect, Bella was a Mary-Sue, and I was not. I fiercely shook my head. "I don't understand what you mean; I'm not perfect!"
"Yes you are!" I stared at the tears trailing down her face. Distress and hopelessness painted her tired visage. "You're just so perfect,' she yelled, stepping back from me. "You do everything right! You got Iceland, you fixed Liechtenstein's relationship, Belarus wouldn't kill you-" Her voice rose in volume. "-You even have Turkey's love."
It hit me like a stray ball at a little league baseball game. This wasn't about everything I did to everyone she knew, this was about Sadiq and me. This was . . . jealousy. Crap, Seychelles was jealous of me. The words tumbled from my lips in a soft whisper, "Seychelles . . . you don't love Germany, don't you." She stared at me, silently daring me to say it. "You're in love with Sadiq."
"You have everything, Sherry," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "You have the affections of everyone who hates me: Denmark, Switzerland, America, Iceland, and Estonia. But I always liked Turkey. He's . . ." Her voice hitched with the overwhelming emotions.
I took a step forward, a comforting hand stretched towards her. "Seychelles. . ."
She swatted it away. "And now you have his love. I hate you."
The words stung more than I would like to admit. I winced just hearing them. Seychelles hated me like I hated her. To be frank, I always figured her to be an 'I like everyone' kind of person. But now . . .
"You know that I don't like him that way," I said, attempting to reason. "I see him as my father, and chances are he sees me as a daughter-"
"That's the problem." Seychelles got right into my face, her dark finger jabbed into my chest. "He'll never look at me without thinking of you. He'll never love me the way I like him." Deep inside, I knew she was right. Still I opened my mouth, ready to argue it out with her when she snapped, "Just go away, Sherry. Turkey's probably waiting for you."
I watched her storm away. Her blue dress seemed to whip around her and angrily as her red ribbons bounced. "I'm sorry," I said, just as her figure started to fade until I was falling
and falling
and falling
and falling
a
n
d
. . .
. . .
Cycle 12: Monday
The hip voice of Lady Gaga lured me from my sleep. My hands reached out from under the covers and hit the snooze button. Keeping my eyes shut, I adjusted my position and snuggled closer to the pillow of warmth. I wasn't sleepy, quite the opposite.
My head was reeling with what Seychelles told me. "She thinks I'm perfect," I thought, trying to sort through the mess in my head. "Seychelles thinks I'm perfect and she loves Sadiq. Holy crap, she loves Sadiq."
Ten minutes passed and Lady Gaga started singing again. I reached blindly for the alarm clock, ready to silence her again when a thought occurred to me. Where was Sadiq? The jerk should have tried to wake me by now- we were running behind schedule. Stiffly, I sat up and rubbed the sand from my eyes.
His usual chair was empty.
"Sadiq?" I called, eyes scanning the empty room. My heart beat against my rib cage. Where was he? "Sadiq?" I crawled to the edge of my bed with the intention of jumping off and checking the bathroom. But then I found him.
My mentor laid sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed and chest still.
The scream escaped me before I could stop it.
MW: Just wait, it'll take me another month to update. Pfft, I'm kidding. Hopefully. By the way, my birthday passed and I am now 16. Not to be greedy or anything, but presents would be awesome ;D
Anyways, thankies everyone for supporting this. Remember to review!
Funfacts
"Imagine that your head is made of tiny boxes…" From the song "Turn it Off" from the Book of Mormon. Be careful, it's addictive.
Next Chapter: Sadiq finally goes into his past to reveal how all of this is happening.
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