The Fanboy

by BFTLandMWandSEK

My sister is the one who liked Hetalia, not me. So why was I stuck in a world where all these crazy sex-driven perverts claimed to be countries? Why is it that the one guy meant to help me on my stupid quest is an obnoxious idiot? Did I also forget to mention that I'm in a girl's body? With boobs? I hate my life. –Satire look on APH fandom- COMPLETED.

10. Isn't This Supposed to Be a Happy Story?

MW: Oh my God—it is so hot outside! It's only one in the afternoon and my little weather thingy says that its already 102 out here. I hate California.

Anyways, I'm back from my trip! Well, I actually came back on the first of July (more or less) but I had to write this chapter while watching three new animes (Attack on Titan, Free!, and Dangan Roppa). Then I found this great LietPol fic and it all went downhill from there. I ended up not writing until, like, midnight each night and staying up till one in the morning to finish. Yeah, that's not good for my health. Did I also forget to mention that the moment I finished this chapter last night, my dog decided to poop on my rug AT ONE IN THE FREAKING MORNING?

I just—anyways, thank you all for reading. I hope y'all enjoy.

And before I forget, shout out to Shiralala, whose birthday was on the fourth! Happy Birthday!

Summary: Everyone who Larry depends of kind hates him, so surely things can't get any worse.

Warnings: Strong language, blood, death, and flashbacks.

Disclaimer: I really own nothing.

---

~Chapter 10~

Isn't This Supposed to Be a Happy Story?

"This is not what I intended.

I always swore to you I'd never fall apart.

You always thought that I was stronger.

I may have failed, but I have loved you from the start."

-From the song "Fall For You" by the American band Secondhand Serenade

---

The Room: Day 15

To Erwin, the Room seemed much, much smaller. Was it because he was more lonely, more worried than when Bud was with him? Perhaps the annoyance of his brother's carefree nature made the Room seem larger, more airy. Bud really did know how to lighten the mood. It was hard to believe that Bud could be intimidating with the clients when he had to. Erwin couldn't count the number of times his pressure caused that one of the contractees to pull out a cigarette and smoke his nerves away.

Erwin sighed and tugged on the collar of his pallid suit, wishing that he could open the single door out into the void. But doing so would bring Himaruya's wraith. After all, his father did tell him to never open that door until it was time. Erwin rubbed his hands on his face. Why did it even matter? Himaruya was going to kill him anyways. Not only was it his fault that the whole plan had to be modified, but now he can't even follow the greatest rule to being Himaruya's accomplice: make the client scared.

How could he have failed in something so simple? How is it that Larry Ebenezer Sue can swallow his fear and best him at his own game? How did that boy manage to stand his ground against him? How?

He ran his sweaty hand over his face. What was worse, he let Larry Sue see his face. Yes, it was before the contract but his identity was still known. If Larry ever saw him before it was time, the whole plan would fall into shambles. "I'm such an idiot," Erwin muttered, pulling at his hair. He might as well put a bullet in his head and end his life before Himaruya did.

A hand appeared on his shoulder. "My dear, dear Erwin- you are being far too hard on yourself." Erwin lifted his face and glanced behind him. There, standing tall and proud in his white suit was Himaruya himself. His breaths grew shallower as he watched his father give him a strained smirk. "After all, you are the master at finding a simple solution to complex problems."

Erwin shook his head. "Forgive me, but I have no idea what you mean by that," he said. Instinct told him to rise to his feet and stand in Himaruya's respect, but the hand on his shoulder pressed down on him, making it hard to even sit up straight.

"I think you know quite well what I mean by that," Himaruya replied. His smirk steadily grew more and more sincere until it was nearly a twisted grin.

Erwin shivered. He knew something. Himaruya knew something that Erwin didn't want him to. That was bad, very bad. The only reason Erwin would keep a secret from Himaruya was if he thought that it would be better in the long run for Bud's wellbeing. The only time he had to do that was when . . .

"But I don't," Erwin lied, keeping his face straight and hard. He clenched his fist, trying to hide his shaking hands. Sweat lined his forehead and made his dark hair stick to his skin. If Himaruya knew about that, then both he and Bud were damned.

"Oh, but you do." Without moving his hand from Erwin's shoulder, Himaruya moved to the front of the chair, looming over his son. His grin did not fade away as he regarded him with a mockful kind of pleasantry. "Let me give you a hint. His name is Aluino. Perhaps you remember now."

Erwin looked down, watching his hands as he picked at his nails. He could feel his perfect plan fall apart. No one but Bud was supposed to know what happened. But now the one person who should never have known did. For a moment, Erwin could do nothing but list off a long line of swears in his head. Then, very slowly, he nodded, whispering, "Yes. I remember now."

He could hear the laughter in Himaruya's voice. "Perhaps you would like to tell me?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could remember the day clearly. They had just made the second contract. It was an unexpected factor to the plan, but Himaruya insisted that it would be no big trouble. Erwin accepted it readily and Bud ate it up with excitement. Aluino was the only one to object.

Aluino was the middle child- Bud being the eldest and Erwin the baby of the so-called family. Aluino was usually very optimistic about the plan, but that day something changed within him and he threatened to defect.

"Kill your brother," Himaruya had ordered, showing for once the darkness in his cold blue eyes. "Wipe his existence from this world. I have no use for a broken tool." Bud appeared eager, ready to do the deed. But Erwin thought he saw something in the eldest's eyes. Erwin imagined—convinced himself -that he saw a conflicted man who did not want to betray his family. So Erwin did the only thing he could do.

"I showed Aluino mercy," Erwin confessed. His anxiety only proceeded to rise and he could feel the walls of the Room caving in on him. The dark haired man pressed his lips, quickly adding, "I assure you, Himaruya, that there stands no chance of him being able to do anything that will hurt the plan. Aluino is gone and he is gone for good."

He watched as the man placed a thoughtful finger on his chin. "Yes, I already knew that," he said lightly. Erwin's mouth dropped, but before he could speak, Himaruya quickly added, "I simply wanted to know if you were going to tell the truth."

"And you are not upset with me?" Erwin asked.

"If I was upset with this predicament, I would have tried harder to separate Aluino from the boy. But I did not, remember? I made sure that they met."

Erwin looked down, ignoring his glasses as they slipped down the bridge of his slender nose. He wasn't sure what he should say or even think. Himaruya knew that he had messed with the plan so early on, yet he never mentioned it. He did not scold him or made him rule the day he thought he could defy his father's wishes. He could not help but to wonder whether or not his father had ulterior motives . . . or if there was something else preventing him from getting mad at Erwin. Maybe Himaruya- dared Erwin even think of it? -loved him.

Himaruya smirked again, taking a few steps back. He made a sweeping motion with his hand, causing a second white chair to grow from the reflective floor. Unlike Erwin's, this white chair was plush and grand. He fell into it, crossing his legs and resting his arms on the armrests. He said, "But enough of old business- we really have better things to discuss. Midnight strikes today on the second clock."

Erwin wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he swallowed it in his throat. Finally, the criticizing eye was taken off of him. He placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, saying, "Yes, I am aware. Is there anything special that I should know about?"

"Actually, yes." Himaruya dropped his visage and drew his face. His pale fingers drummed on the armrest. "As to the plan, Bud will be taking care of Alfred. That will mean that you must be able to handle the client when he comes here. This is a very important job and you must not fail me."

"I assure you that I wouldn't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You really wouldn't? I hardly believe that." Erwin's heart plummeted to the ground as Himaruya rose to his feet. His chair disappeared and he started circling around his son's, saying, "You want to know why I believe that? Simple- you had the job of intimidating the boy and you failed miserably."

Erwin shook his head. "But Himaruya, I-"

Like a lion to his prey, Himaruya lunged forward. He clutched Erwin's shoulder from behind, painfully digging his nails into the other's flesh. Erwin could not help but to cry out, gasping for hair as he tried to raise his hands to defend his shoulders. Himaruya leaned in and in a tight growl, hissed, "You first failed me with Aluino, Erwin. You then dared to bring the boy here. If you know what is best for you, you will make sure to not mess up your job. Understand?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Erwin hastily nodded. "Yes! I understand, sir! I-"

Himaruya shoved him out of his seat. Erwin landed on his hands. His face inches from the floor. The reflection of his wide, frightened eyes gaped back at him. For a moment, his whole world was frozen as he took a single breath.

Silence.

Himaruya's heels clicked noisily on the floor, echoing around the lonesome chamber. "If you love me, then you will not fail." His white shoes appeared in Erwin's face. The very tip stepped on his reflection, breaking the spell. "Our original client shall be in here soon," he announced casually. "Tell him about how time is running out. Understand?"

Erwin numbly gulped. "Understand, sir," he whispered.

And, like that, Himaruya vanished, the tip of his foot disappearing and the reflection's frightened face returning.

Erwin, however, stayed like that on the floor. His arms felt weak and he was sure that he could not move his legs. Closing his eyes, he breathed out his fears.

The original client was coming. That would be an easy job. All he had to do was play his usual game. Dance around the subject, barely let slip the coveted information. The client would try to be tough, but he would eventually pull out a cigarette and smoke away his fear.

The stench of sweat and smoke would clog the Room.

And, to the client, the Room would be suffocating.

---

THE WAR: Day 15

I am the worse person who has ever existed. Step aside, Hitler- you have competition. The biggest asshole in the world is right here and he sure as hell is ready to take the beating for it.

But seriously, I really suck right now. Yes, I didn't necessarily attempt to bring about the mass genocide of a whole race, but I broke a girl's heart. A girl who spilled her whole life and soul to me and I tried to stab her Hell, I didn't even think about what Liechtenstein might've done. I simply ripped her heart of out her chest and stomped it into the mud. And to make the number one spot on my list of reasons why I suck, I used a knife as a weapon.

A freaking knife.

I banged my head on the dining room table, moaning into the wood. I could feel the ink in my opened journal smear across my forehead. The last time I ever felt so crappy was on the day Tamara broke up with me. At least back then it was all her fault, not mine.

I noticed that Agatha's presence long before she even spoke. It was impossible not to- she silently stood across from me for a few moments as she gnawed on her lip and picked at her nails. When I didn't flash my teeth and sneer at her like a rabid mutt, she quietly took a seat. Her orange locks were frizzing around her like a cloud of smoke, bouncing as she glanced shyly between me and her lap. I felt her place a soft, cold hand on mine. "Are you doing okay?" She asked kindly, her own voice twitching with melancholy.

I sighed and lifted my face. Agatha's eyes were in that stupid wide eyed state that Sherry always seemed to wear. It is there in the moments before she breaks into selfish tears. It painted her face when Mom gave us news about Dad. It was there when she cooed to Bella at the hospital. I did my best to shrug. "I'm doing fine," I said.

"You know, when people say that they're fine they usually aren't," Agatha said. She gave my hand a little squeeze. "Rule of thumb."

I could not help but to frown. "Well I really am fine," I reassured as I raised my chin and crossing my arms. I tried to ignore how warm my hand seemed to feel without hers. "You can leave me alone about it now."

"And now you're getting defensive-"

"Am not!" I snapped my mouth shut. Crap, I shrieked that way too quickly to quell her concern.

Agatha stuck her tongue out at me. "Are too!" She made a low 'tsk' sound as she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, I'll definitely say you're hiding something," she told me.

I ran my hands through my short locks. If there was one thing I never missed about Sherry it's the way she can be so freaking invasive. Couldn't she ever find it within herself to shut her trap and mind her own business like normal, sane people? "If I told you, I'm going to have to kill you," I said, sending her my best glare. "Tell me, do you really want me to do that?"

She pouted and propped her chin on her hand, saying, "Dying might actually be the best solution for me right now."

I blinked. I had to stick my finger in my ear and dig out a little bit of earwax because I'm sure that I did not hear that correctly. Did I just hear Agatha, the mirror image of my sister, say that she would not mind dying? There was no way that was possible. Sherry was like the neighborhood you grow up in. You spend every day in it, living and breathing. All around you in the city, new buildings and roads and shopping centers pop up like daisies. Your neighborhood, however, seemed immune. Sure the young couple down the street might decide to redo the landscaping, but that was minimal. Nothing ever changed.

Sherry never changed. Throughout my whole life, she has been the same person. Her favorite movie is The Little Mermaid, she gets obsessive over everything, and she's bitter towards Dad. Nothing in her chemistry would add up to making her want to die. But as I thought about it more, I thought that maybe I could be a bit wrong. The new landscaping on the young couple's lawn might be replacing the traditional grass with rocks or flowers. Such a simple change, yet the whole neighborhood is riddled with talk and gossip for a week. What if something caused Agatha to change her lawn to flowers? What can be so subtly serious that it could go straight over my head that I would miss it entirely?

I suddenly wanted to bang my head against something. Idiot! That was so obvious- why didn't it occur to me sooner? "Well, I've always been bad with this stuff," I thought as I rubbed my temple. Agatha was looking down at her lap again, letting her hair shield her face as I awkwardly cleared my thought, asking, "This is about love, isn't it?"

Through her curly orange curtain, I could see her blue eyes snap up at me. Again, they were in that wide eyed, puppy-dog state. She nodded meekly. "Yeah . . . I . . ." She closed her eyes and sighed. The girl placed her head on the desk, frustratedly groaning. "I just don't get it! One minute he's my best pal and the next he's acting as though he doesn't give a shit."

I resisted the urge to sigh again. No, I was going to be a good younger brother and show her that I unconditionally care. I was going to hide the fact that I wanted to dig out Turkey's eyes and sauté them on an open flame. Stupid doitsu- making my sister's alternate universe version sad.

.

.

.

I just said doitsu again, didn't I?

Shit.

I placed a gentle hand on Agatha's, smiling and rubbing circles into her palm with my thumb. "Turkey's a major jerk," I said sweetly. "He's letting the opinions of others cloud his judgments. Trust me when I say that making you sad is probably not his intentions, but it would probably be better for our mental health if you just gave up."

She lifted her face. "But I . . . but he's sweet."

"Well he's being an asshole." My back straightened as Alfred appeared at my side, swaggering a bit as he slid into the spot to my right. Well here's another guy I can add to my list of people who hate my guts. At least, this time, I don't have to worry about my stupidity being the cause. I retained that I had all the right to protect Gilbert and keep his identity a secret. It's not like a few more days are going to kill him. Alfred pushed his wired frames farther up the bridge of his nose as he said, "I know that you must think that he's the greatest thing since the potato, but believe me when I say that if the guy makes you feel like crap he's not worth it. Forget about being his friend now if you want peace."

"We didn't ask for your opinion!" I snapped quickly. Irritation boiled under my skin. Who the hell did he think he was to just go up and tell my sister to give up? She has all the rights to be attractive to a guy, even if it's some sort of jerk like Turkey.

Alfred crinkled his nose. "Well I didn't come here to offer it," he returned just as harshly. Folding his arms over his chest, the man gave Agatha a heavy look. "Do you know where the hell Netherlands is?" He asked. "It's his turn to sweep the deck."

I felt sorry for Agatha. Her gaze kept switching between the two of us, hopelessly trying to figure out whom to listen to. When Alfred's blue eyes bore at her, she raised her hands and squeaked, "He said that he was going to the sleeping chambers to check the time but when I went in to grab something he was dead asleep on his hammock."

He snapped his fingers. "Well go get him."

She squeaked again like an injured mouse before hopping from her seat and scurrying to the stairs. I didn't even wait until she was pounding down them to give my mentor a smart smack to the head. He swore and sent me a glare. "What the frack was that?" I demanded, going in for another hit.

Alfred grabbed my hand inches from his face. His upper lip twitched in anger, viciously revealing a few of his white teeth. "What the hell do you mean?"

I pressed my lips and sucked in a large breath of air- anything to keep me from blowing my cool. I leaned in until I could feel his breath on my face. Sending him a dark, dark glare, I growled, "You can be pissed at me. You can berate me. You can hit me for all I care, but I swear to God the moment you even think about taking out your anger on Sherry, I will personally murder you."

"Agatha is not your sibling."

"At least I have one, America."

I knew that I hit the wrong button the moment his real name left my mouth. His eyes widen in a pained way that made my heart bleed. Maybe yesterday I would have apologized profusely and kissed his feet. Not now. Not after what he said. Not after accusing me of wanting him dead. Not after refusing to listen to my side of the story.

That probably was a stupid decision on my part. Alfred was clenching his fist and with our close proximity, I wouldn't be surprised if he placed his hands around my neck and strangled the life out of me. In matter of fact, he was raising his hands to do just that when a soft cough was heard. Alfred and I pulled away, sending our glares back to Agatha.

She nervously waved at us, trying to make herself seem as small as possible. Widened eyes and shaking, she said, "I couldn't get Netherlands to wake up-"

Alfred suddenly rose from his seat, throwing his hands up into the air. "Fuck it- I'll go wake the bastard up myself then!" He yelled. We flinched as he marched to the stairs, shoving by Agatha as he went. I curled my lips and gave him the middle finger.

When the idiot was long gone, Agatha released the breath I never knew she was holding. "Crap- what is up with him today?" She asked, leaning over and placing her hands on her bent knees. "Really, he seemed okay moments ago."

I glared at the stairs to the crew's sleeping chambers. Doesn't he realize that the price of his soul might endanger Gilbert? Shouldn't he care that so many people are suffering because of his stupid mistake? I huffed and rose to my feet. "It's PMS, honey. Even guys get it."

She cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. "What's PMS?"

Oh no, I was not going to explain the female reproductive system to her. The last time I ever did that, I had an albino idiot attempt to make me my very own bra. There was no way in hell I was going to relive that embarrassment. I shook my head at her, telling her that I would tell her when she was older. Besides that, I didn't say anything else. I merely stuffed my hands in my pockets and stalked up the stairs to above deck.

According to the high position of the sun, it would be noon soon.

The crew seemed just the slightest bit sluggish today. It was like everyone was secretly recovering from a hangover, but were far too proud to take a break. No, they admirably bit their tongues and did their work under the intense, Atlantic sun. Technically I should be working with them, but I had yet to receive an assignment.

And it was the job of the first mate to give those out.

Belarus was at the bow of the ship, watching Estonia with hard eyes as he scrubbed vigorously at the deck. Like always, she did not look very happy. "Well this is going to be entertaining," I thought grudgingly as I slowly made my way to her. Belarus saw me, but she did her best to hide it. She crossed her arms over her chest and harshly demanded Estonia to pick up the pace. I sighed, shaking my head at her. "Hey, Belarus?"

"What?" I flinched. I expected her to be bitter, but I did not expect her to have such venom in her voice.

I swallowed and raised my chin higher. "I'm here to receive my tasks for the day," I said, cool and calm. Belarus blinked. I resisted a smile. She didn't expect me to say that. She thought that Lichtenstein was going to play the ignorance game with her. When she didn't reply, I took the opportunity to raise my eyebrows a little higher and place my fist on my hips. "Well?"

When the blond pressed her lips and bent down to the knife strapped to her upper thigh, I thoroughly thought that she was going to stab me until I was dead. My body instinctively shrank away when I saw the sun flashed in the silver metal. I know that Belarus noticed this and I'm sure that Estonia's humored smirk meant the same. Belarus flipped her knife until she was safely holding the blade and extending the hilt towards me. "Today, I want you to throw this knife into the center of the mast," she told me.

My phobia disappeared for a moment as I gave her a confused look. I asked, "You still want me to use this thing?" Even after everything I did?

"I want you to be safe." Her blue eyes narrowed and her thin lips formed a tight line. "Is there a problem with that?" She growled.

I quickly shook my head. "No, there's no problem!" I said. She held it out closer to me. It finally clicked in my head that I should take it before she decided to lodge it in my eye. I quickly took it from her, holding it dumbly in my hands. My reflection in the blade looked as equally stupid. "Actually, it's kind of endearing." When I looked up again, I saw the smallest of possible smiles gracing her cute face. In a way, Belarus looked a little like a porcelain doll.

Stella collected those. They sat in an orderly line on three long shelves in her room. Nutella made outfits for them and Stella would have me help her dress them up. Often times, as we sat on her bed and matched satin dresses with dolls, I would watch her affectionately stroke their fake hair and polish their white faces. "You know, all of them have names," she told me once, face drawn emotionlessly. "Everyone not only deserves a name, but they also deserve to be called by it." I never asked her what she meant by that.

I might never get the chance to.

I closed my eyes and shook the idea from my head. No Larry. Don't think like that. Stella's going to live- you have to believe in that! If she doesn't, then you'll never get to tell her that you love her. You'll never be able to find out if you were ever an insensitive jerk to her. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the mast and tried to mimic the stance Belarus showed me yesterday. And, aiming for the dead center, I threw the knife.

"Holy fuck!"

Gilbert barely had time to duck as the knife decided to veer dangerously to the left, fly past the mast, and nearly embedding itself into his face. A few crew members screamed as they abandoned their tasks to jumped out of the way. The knife's voyage eventually ended when it slipped through the open crack of the captain's quarter's door. Everyone could hear the clear thwack! and a surprised yelp.

All eyes shot to me as Russia banged the door open. He looked furiously angry, his eyes glowing as he held a white handkerchief to his cheek. The knife must have scrapped along his cheek. "Belarus, in here. Now!" He harshly ordered through his heavy pants.

I opened my mouth, ready to take credit for the destruction but Belarus held up a finger. "Stop You. It was my fault anyways," she said calmly. She flashed me a stern, but kind look. "You weren't putting your heart into it. When mastering a weapon, you have to give all of yourself to it. No thinking about other things or else accidents like this will happen. Understand?"

I gaped at her. So she wasn't mad at me? She wasn't going to hang me upside down until all of the blood rushed to my head? I was sure that shock was making it impossible to operate my mouth, so I clamped my mouth shut and nodded. The woman patted my shoulder one last time before running off to Russia, shouting, "Calm down, brother! It's just a flesh wound!"

We all watched Russia purse his lips as his sister proudly strutted past him and into his room. Without another word, he slammed the door shut.

It was like a teacher had left a class full of teenagers alone. In fact, that was the only way to describe it. Every member of the crew breathed a sigh of relief. They placed down their ropes and brooms and stretched their legs. A majority ran across deck to talk to others (like Turkey to Switzerland) while people like Greece curled up between the crates to sleep. I saw Estonia rise to his feet, stretching his arms and rolling his head. "Oh man, I thought that she would never leave," he said, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. He gave me a gentle smile. "I don't know about you Liechtenstein, but I'm going to get a drink from Ukraine."

I shrugged. Like I cared. "Well you go do-"

"Liechtenstein!" My eyes went wide and I quickly ducked to the ground before Gilbert could pounce. He flew in the air like a cat, arms wide and welcoming. He went right over me and, with nothing to hug, fell to onto his face.

I winced, hearing him moan and quietly complain. I tentatively crawled over to him. Gilbert was rocking on his back like a baby, cradling his chin in his hand. I sighed. "Sorry about that," I said. "But it didn't even you so I'm sure it doesn't hurt that bad-"

"Yes it does!"

"Stop being a drama queen!" I snapped, feeling my face flush with frustration. Estonia snickered, covering his mouth with his arm. "You you shut your mouth as well," I demanded, snapping my fingers in his face. He made a 'peep' noise and stood with an erect back. "Now go get your stupid drink already!"

Estonia muttered a quick "yes ma'am" before meekly hurrying off to do as I said. Good riddance. The sooner he was gone, the sooner I could talk freely to Gilbert.

Turning back to the albino, I dropped my annoyance and placed a gentle hand on his leg. "I'm sorry Gilbert," I said softly, causing him to stop his childish rocking. "I didn't mean to trip you and I sure as heck didn't mean to throw a knife at you."

In an instant, he was back to normal, springing upright and flashing a triumphant grin. "It's okay, Lar," He said, rubbing his hand in my hair. "Everyone can't be half as awesome as me." Of course, he broke into laughter again.

My glare had no effect on him. In fact, it seemed to only make his careless laugh stronger. "Stop laughing," I hissed, lightly smacking the back of his head. "Knives a freaking dangerous I could have killed you."

He winked. "But you didn't."

I winked. "But I could have."

Gilbert frowned. "Touché, Larry. Touché." Tucking his hands behind his head, he laid back on the ground. He looked up at the sky, watching the clouds pass over with bright red eyes. I felt like I should remind him that his cheeks were already red and peeling from burns. If he wanted to protect his porcelain white skin, he was going to have to stay out of the sun a bit more. "So why were you throwing knives in the first place?" He asked, not even bothering to look at me.

I shrugged, searching for the words to say. On one hand, I could reveal to him everything that I learned about myself and Belarus. On the other, I would have to betray Belarus's trust in me. "Oh, she just decided to teach it to me suddenly last night," I said, skipping all the revealing parts. I looked down at him. "Why?"

This time, it was his turn to shrug. "Oh, just wondering."

"Anything else you're 'just wondering' about?"

"Yeah, actually. Did you and Alfred get into a fight or something?" he asked quizzingly. "I know that my awesomeness prevents me from being the most observant of people, but I noticed that he didn't say hi to you this morning at breakfast."

I bit my lips. I couldn't tell Gilbert about our argument. If I did, I would have to explain to him the importance of his name and the vial. I knew that there was no way I was going to even think about telling him that until I at least knew why he was so important. But even now, I had no clue. Yes, Gilbert was an amazing guy in his own way. He's smart and kind and rather funny, but there is nothing about him that would make me believe that Erwin or Bud or Himaruya would be interested in him. If he wasn't a country, Gilbert sure as heck could be a jock at my school. For now, being silent was going to have to be the best answer.

"Alfred was just being a brat," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do me a favor and just ignore him until he gets his head out of his rear."

Gilbert smirked, saying, "Anything for you, Liech."

All sense of confidence in me disappeared. A hard lump of something gathered in my gut. It was so heavy that I could feel it sink lower and lower into my stomach until there was a never ending hole inside of me. I looked down at my lap and started to pick at the dirt under my nails. "My name's not Liechtenstein," I whispered.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" I turned back to the rest of the crew to see Switzerland running across deck, aiming his gun at the man climbing up to deck. My blood ran cold as I recognized the blond hair- Denmark.

I felt my insides grow hollow. How did he get here? He should still be locked up in his cell. Once more, what did he hope to achieve by coming out here in broad daylight? Everyone here hated him as much as I did. There was no way any of us was going to let him escape unscratched.

Then again, none of that seemed necessary. Denmark was limping. He was bent over, hobbling like an injured gorilla onto the deck. One hand was on the ground, helping his bent, long legs to move. The other was clutched over his breast. The man's lips were parted in heavy panting and the sunlight made the sweat on his forehead gleam. His empty, haunted blue eyes looked past the barrel of Switzerland's gun to one person: me. I could not help but to grip Gilbert's leg as I watched him try to make his way towards me. What did he want from me, from Liechtenstein?

Switzerland growled and jammed his gun closer to his face. "Don't you dare move," he barked as Turkey and Hong Kong rushed to his side for support. "I said, what the hell are you doing up here?"

Denmark shook his head, pushed the gun away, and shakingly rose to his feet. Eyes locked onto me like a lion to its prey, he summoned all of his strength to sprint towards me. Every few steps he lost his balance and he would sway dangerously to one side. Often times, he had to catch himself on the rail or another crewmate. Everyone was too shocked to stop him. I was too stunned to run away.

Somehow, Denmark was able to stay on his feet until he was a yard away. His legs then fell out beneath him and he started to fall. He reached out for support, but there was nothing within reach. He fell on his face with a grunt, his arm stretched out in front of him. I watched as something golden tumbled out of his hand- a pocket watch.

Denmark lifted his head a little, just enough to barely look at me as he moaned, "Liechtenstein, I . . . I need to talk to you-" Switzerland came up behind him, shouting as he cocked his gun. Denmark groaned. "Please, Liech . . . I . . . I don't have much time left."

It felt as though I was stabbed in the chest. My eyes drifted from the dying man to Switzerland. Then to Gilbert. I looked at the gaping crew. Everyone seemed to be telling me no, yet guilt was telling me yes. The memory of nearly stabbing Belarus was telling me to kneel down to him and listen to what he had to say. I started to crawl towards him.

"Stay back, Liechtenstein," Switzerland ordered, glaring at me with his piercing green eyes. "He's dangerous."

"For once, I'm going to have to agree with your brother on this one," Gilbert added, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. I turned my head and saw his deep red eyes. "Back down, Liech."

"I just need to ask-" Denmark coughed. His whole body shook and quivered as he hacked up a small squirt of blood. My eyes went wide as a small red stream started to drip down his chin and pool onto the wood deck. "Take . . . someone look at m-my watch," he asked, nudging it slightly with his hand. "W-what's the time?"

I looked around, waiting for someone to move.

No one did.

Everyone heard him, but no one was going to move to help the Red Coat.

Without thinking, I sprung forward and snatched the watch off of the ground. It was heavy, heavier than it looked. But now that it was in my hands, I could not help but to observe it more carefully. It's golden surface was polished to a shine, allowing me to see my reflection. Attached to the top was a fine gold chain, linking the mechanism to Denmark's wrist. It was long, so long that it was still limp even though I held the watch far away from its owner. I clicked the watch open to reveal a clean white clock face. The two black hour and minute hands read that it was nearly twelve noon. But there was a third hand. I nearly didn't see it at first- it was small and skinny, but it too was curiously pointed at the twelve as well.

I could simply tell just by looking at it how important this watch was. I could not help but to swallow before announcing in a clear voice, "It's nearly noon."

Denmark grimaced and shook his head. "No, it's m-midnight."

I tore my eyes from the watch face and gave him a confused look. "What do you mean-"

"Brother!" Suddenly, the Netherlands was pushing Switzerland aside, ignoring his shouts of protest as he knelt to the Dane's side. The man's hair was flat from sweat and his eyes were wide with fear. He placed his hands on Denmark's sides, checking for any vitals. "Are you alright?" he demanded frantically. "What's happening-"

Denmark forced his signature smile. "Hey . . . Neder. Time's just run. . ."

The Netherland's hands dropped dead to his sides. His mouth hung open as he slowly processed what that meant. Slowly, he started to shake his head. "No, that's impossible," he whispered, voice trembling like a drum. "It can't be the end yet."

"I-it's nearly midnight."

He shook his head harder, tears flooding down his face. "No! That's impossible!" He sobbed. The Netherlands lowered his head until his forehead was on the Dane's. Denmark closed his eyes and sighed contently as the Netherlands cried even harder. "I'm so sorry, Den. I should have tried harder. I should have-"

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I tore my eyes from the scene to see that Alfred was kneeling behind me, eyes glued on the two blonds. "Back up," he ordered softly, nudging me away. "Give them some space, Lar." I looked down and sighed before quickly obliging to his request.

"W-wait!" I paused, looking back at Denmark. The Netherlands was helping him sit up, allowing him to weakly extend his arm towards me. There was a film over his eyes, making his blue orbs seem dull. "Liech, I need . . . to ask-" He hacked, coughing up another thick wad of blood. I flinched, shrinking back. He wiped his arm over his mouth, smearing red over his pale skin. I saw the Netherlands hold him closer to his chest. Somehow he was able to clear his throat and steady his voice long enough to say, "I-i need permission, Liech."

I started to inch forward. "Permission to do what?" I asked.

Alfred, however, grabbed my arm. "Don't get too close," he ordered sternly. I was about to object to his restraint- demand that he let me find out what the heck Denmark was trying to ask me all this time -but the words died in my mouth. I could see that even in Alfred's eyes, there was fear. Looming and brooding fear shining behind his confident visage. He was terrified. The thing that was happening to Denmark- it was making him scared beyond all control. He must have been trying so hard to appear calm in front of me.

Denmark lifted his hand again. "Liech, I-" He coughed violently again before suddenly screaming with pain.

I winced, placing a hand over my ears. There was nothing more I would have wanted than to block out that tragic shrill. The Dane's hand flew to his chest, causing the Netherlands to cradle him closer and coo comforts into his ear. His ruckus caused the chain to the pocket watch to fly around violently.

As the crew gaze down at him with discomfort, I looked down at the watch again. All three of the hands were finally pointing up to the twelve. My eyes shot up to the suffering country. "It's midnight," I said, barely loud enough for everyone else to hear. Even though most of the people there had no idea what that meant, everyone shifted on their feet nervously and averted their gaze.

Then Denmark stopped screaming.

He stopped moving.

I stared at him.

He did not try to raise another hand towards me.

His chest was not moving.

Blood no longer spilled from his mouth.

The Netherlands delicately tilted his limp head towards his. The moment he released him, Denmark's head would roll to an unnatural angle. Tears reappeared again in his eyes as he quickly fixed his head into a natural position, whispering, "C'mon Mathias. Wake-up, you can't be gone now. We still have too much to do." Denmark did not move. Another sob pushed up through his throat. "Mathias!"

The blood in my veins turned into ice. No matter how much I internally screamed for me to look away, I could not even lift a finger. I wasn't breathing. Everything inside of me felt numb. Was Denmark really . . .

Alfred nudge me again. "C'mon, let's-"

"Alfred." He tore his eyes from me and looked at the source: the Netherlands.

Slowly, the Netherlands lifted his face in a narrow glare. His eyes were bloodshot, making the green in them glow with furry. Chills traveled up my spine as he growled, "This is going to be you, Alfred."

Alfred immediately fell back onto his hands and tried to scramble as far away from the man and his corpse as possible. In the process, his glasses fell off of the tip of his nose. One of the lenses cracked while the other shattered into tiny little pieces. His breaths quickened and grew heavy with labor. I could see the veins popping in his neck. He was gasping, his eyes wide with horror. Sweat trickled down his face.

"What's going on here?" Russia and Belarus pushed their way through their crew members, only balking when they saw Denmark and the Netherlands. Belarus's skin turned white while Russia's mouth made a small 'o'. "What happened?" the captain demanded, shooting the Dutchman a sharp look. "What is wrong with Denmark?"

The Netherlands bit his lip. For a second, I thought that he was going to hold back. But he somehow found his voice. It was cold, dark, and hard. It seemed deprived of all emotions. Endlessly empty. "He's dead."

I couldn't take it any longer. Without much thought, I jumped to my feet, pushed past Alfred and Gilbert and anyone else who might hinder me and ran to the stairs below deck. My heart pounded in my ears and I couldn't hear anything but my own panting. When my foot hit the last step, I paused and braced myself against the wall. My hand was over my chest. It hurt. Everything about me hurt. My head, my chest, my arms, my legs- everything. It was like there were thousands of needles piercing my skin all at once.

I groaned, running my hands through my hair. No, I was not going to cry. I was going to bite my lip and be strong. I was not going to fail Dad. I was-

Denmark wanted to asked me something. All of my breath left my lungs. This whole time, he wanted to ask me something. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart beat erratically against my skin. There was no such thing as individual heartbeats anymore. There was only one single tone ringing in my chest. Was this what happened to the heart when the heart monitor turned into an even line?

I slid down onto the floor, gulping for air like a fish.

What if Denmark's question could have saved him?

What if this whole time he was a time-bomb that only I knew how to deactivate?

Why hadn't I listened?

Why am I such a failure?

I screamed, banging my fist onto the wall behind me. I'm an idiot. I'm a fucking idiot. This was all my fault. Everything was my fault. I'm evil. I'm terrible. I'm selfish. I'm cruel. I shouldn't be alive. I should be the one dead. I should have gotten into that car accident. I shouldn't have encouraged Stella to act. I shouldn't even be alive. Why am I alive? Why should someone as worthless as me even exist? I should die. I need to die-

"Calm down, Larry! You're not breathing!"

I noticed for the first time that there was a sharp pain in my chest- starved lungs. I truthfully didn't care. I shook my head, causing the tears that brimmed around my eyes to finally fall. They slid down my cheeks like molasses and landed on my lap in large splats. "It's my fault, Liech!" I sobbed, turning around to bang my fist more easily on the wall. "It's my fucking fault!" I hit it again. "I always fucking mess up!" And again. "Fuck me!" And again. "Fucking kill me!"

"You're upset and thinking irrationally. None of us had any idea what Den-"

"Shut the fuck up!" This time, when I hit the wall, the skin on my knuckles split. Gasping, I shot my hand to my chest. Blood spilt between my fingers and traveled down my palm and arm. It was warm. It was sticky. Behind my eyes, I saw my thumb cut open and my brother looking guilty with the knife. I croaked, lowering my face into my hand. I tasted the bitter mixture of my tears and blood. Salt and metal. "I can't do anything right," I sobbed. "I'm never good enough, Liech. Why can't I ever be good enough? If I was good enough, he might be home more. He might actually want to be with me. Why can't I ever do anything right? Fucking . . ."

The word died in my mouth. Years of biting my lip and raising my chin was finally going to waste. I was holding back nothing now. I was no longer going to be strong.

I was never meant to be strong.

I didn't know how or why, but I felt myself lapse into a never ending land of darkness.

---

The Void: Day 15

It took me a minute to realize where I was. All around me was the black expanse of the Void. I was in my own body once again. My back was on the cold ground, a small comfort to revel in. My hand hurt. I had a splitting headache. I placed my hand on my forehead, feeling the sweat coat my fingers. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. I could not help but wonder what exactly happened.

Then, it all came crashing back.

I felt a new sob travel up my throat. "Oh shit," I groaned as a new wave of tears fought their way to my eyes. I could feel them travel down the sides of my face and become lost in my orange hair. I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my fist into my eyes. "I'm a fucking bastard."

"Don't say that." I felt a warm hand on the top of my head. Sniffling, I pulled my hand away and saw the smiling- comforting -visage of Liechtenstein. She was seated at my head, gently running her fingers through my hair. Her eyes shone with concern. I saw her smile drop into a frown as she saw the bloodshot whites of my eyes. "Please don't do this to yourself," she said softly.

I avoided her plead like fire. "Why did you bring me here?" I asked, sounding like a parent first waking up on Christmas morning. Except today wasn't a happy one. Today, Denmark was dead. Today, I could have saved him.

"You were hurting yourself, Larry," she said. Her voice was quiet, shaken with fright. "I tried to get you to calm down, but you yelled at me to shut up. So I . . ."

We were silent for a long moment. "I understand," I told her, sitting upright. I looked her in the eye for a long moment before wrapping my black jacket closer to my body. I felt cold. I felt like the thing that gave me my warmth had died. Why didn't I know the thing's name? I loved that thing.

She reached over and placed my aching hand in hers. Without my shield, her blue eyes could see everything about me perfectly. They could see how truly scared I was. How stupid I was. At first, I thought that she was going to be ashamed of me. I thought that she was going to brush me away and tell me to toughen up. But she didn't. Instead, she asked, "Remember what I told you the last time you were here?" I shook my head. I didn't feel like having to remember anything. "I told you that I knew that there was something bothering you and that if you ever needed anyone to talk to, I'm here to listen."

I blinked. "So?"

"Something is wrong Larry and I'm here to listen to you." I could not help but to bite my lip as I looked away. Her grip on my hand tightened as she pleaded, "Please Larry, talk to me. I promise that I wouldn't judge you."

For a second, I seriously considered giving her a smile and insisting that I was okay. I seriously considered putting back on my mask and being the strong one again. There only thing preventing me was how tired I felt. I was tired of being ignored. I was tired of being silent. I was tired of being independent and brave.

But most of all, I was tired of being strong.

"Where do I even start?" I asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

A small, relieved smile found its way back onto Liechtenstein's lips. "Start from the beginning," she said. "Talk about anything you need to. I'm here for you."

I nodded. Where to start? When did my problems first arise? "Well, I . . ." I paused. The words were choking in my throat. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Come on, Larry. Talking about your feelings shouldn't be so hard. You write characters who have feeling all the time, don't you? I pretended to be a character in my story. I held an imaginary pencil in my hand. I wrote out the words on the black ground, making them clear. Tangible. Suddenly, the block in my throat disappeared. "It started when Jerry nearly cut off my thumb."

---

Real World: Long Ago

The first thing I remembered was how hot it was. It was the Fourth of July and we were hosting a barbeque in our backyard.

Sherry and Bella swam in the pool, my sister showing off her new moves from her swimming practices. I had already learned to swim as well, but since Jerry was still too afraid of drowning, I decided to stay at the ledge with him. I remembered talking to him about the Legos: Star Wars video game, glancing back at Ella Moon and her husband. Their divorce was still years to come, but even then I could see the reserve way they treated each other. All pleasantries, no real merits.

Somehow, among the noise of our neighbors and friends having fun, Mom communicated to Jerry and I that she wanted to start grilling the meat. "Can you two be so kind as to fetch me the hamburgers?" She asked as she rose from her chair. Her beautiful yellow sundress seemed to make her perfect face glow.

Jerry and I were happy to do so. I ran with my twin into the house, chatting excitedly with him about Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. We found the pack of meat easily enough in the fridge, yet we did not bring it out to her immediately. "Why don't we open the package for her?" Jerry suggested eagerly.

I grinned. "Okay! I'll go get something to open it with."

The package was one of those kinds you get at the supermarket- the styrofoam plate covered with cheap plastic. The thing would have been easy enough to tear open myself, but I didn't want to. I wanted an excuse to use something sharp, dangerous. I returned to Jerry not with a pair of scissors, but with a giant butcher knife, the one that was in the wooden block on the counter.

He backed away, eyes trained on the silver blade. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" He asked. "Mom said to never use those without her permission."

"Don't be a scaredy-cat, Jer!" I teased. "We're big enough to use it. If you want, I'll hold the thing down and you can use it!" My twin hesitated for a moment longer before finally taking the knife. I grabbed the sides of the package. Part of me was worried that he would miss and hurt me, but it quickly went away when the plastic easily sliced open. I breathed a sigh of relief. That was simple enough. I really was just being a scardy-

I screamed, yanking my hand away. In his moment of triumph, Jerry forgot to stop moving the knife, thus cutting a deep gash in me. I quickly wrapped a hand over my left thumb, feeling the blood gather into my hands. There was so much blood. The warm liquid quickly filled my palm and started to seep between my fingers. I could vaguely hear Jerry cry as he begged me to forgive him. I didn't acknowledge him. Instead, I uncurled my hand and looked down at the wound. Through my blood, I could see the white of my bone.

I screamed.

Our noise attracted Mom. She rushed into the kitchen, assessing and mending the situation with the kind of swiftness that only a mother could possess. She called upon Ella to continue the party without her she was wrapped my finger in a white towel and drove me to the hospital. The doctors stitched up my thumb and told me that there was going to be a scar there for the rest of my life.

By the time we got out, it was already dusk and the fireworks were going to start soon. Mom bought me ice cream and we sat on the hood of the car as we watched the blazing lights explode in the sky from the store parking lot. "I told your father about this," she said as she licked her peanut butter scoop. "He's going to have a talk with you and your brother when he gets home."

Any normal child would have been terrified of being scolded by their father and I was no exception. I scared myself with the thought of Dad yelling at me for being a bad son. For a week I was plagued with the nightmare of how I would be punished: scoldings, spankings, groundings, imprisonments.

Initially, I was relieved when Dad didn't show up to on time for Sherry's big swim meet. I was going to be spared another day! When he came the next day, I stood my ground and braced myself for the scolding. I stood at the foyer, holding my brother's hand as he strolled through the front door. Dad quickly pecked Mom on the lips before rushing upstairs to my sister. He didn't even acknowledge me.

For the whole day I stayed in the shadows, waiting for the time he would bestow his wrath unto me. I knew that he was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to break into tears all by myself and beg for forgiveness. It wasn't until dinner when Dad pointed to my bandaged thumb as asked what happened did I realize that he completely forgot all about it. Dad could fret over my sister's swim meet but be oblivious to the near loss of my thumb.

At that moment I realized a simple truth, one I had secretly known all along- Sherry was more important than me.

I guess that there were other things that contributed to that idea- the following years were filled with a constant search for a way to get Dad's attention. I drew him a picture and flashed it in front of his face. He smiled and told me that maybe one day I could be as good an artist as Sherry. I asked him to go swimming with me. Dad said that he was too tired and sat to watch The Little Mermaid with my sister. Mom insisted that he did love me, but I didn't believe her. I just wanted his love, was that too much to ask for?

Once, when Dad was leaving for a trip to some part of the Middle East, he knelt to my height and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. With his gentle smile, he said something that would stick with me for the rest of my life: "Don't cry, bucko. You got to be the man of the family while I'm gone, all right? So no more tears. Be strong and take care of your sister, mother, and brother for me. Okay?"

From that moment onward, I sucked in my gut and did my best to be the man of the family. I picked up more chores around the house. I defended Jerry from our neighborhood bullies. I collected the newspaper from all the weird places it hid in the morning (one time I had to stand on a ladder and pry it off of Sherry's bedroom window because the paperboy somehow stapled it there). As I grew older, I found another way to connect to Dad. One day in the fifth grade, I opened up a notebook and wrote out a little story. Barely three pages and written in large blue cursive, it was simple and weak. But it was the first thing I ever wrote and it was the first time I realized how much I loved to write. I could write, just like Dad. I was one step closer to being like him.

But as I grew older, I grew further apart from my family. Just like every teenage boy, I no longer wanted to be babied by my mother. Jerry grew too quiet for my liking and I started to look for friends besides him. I still defended him from bullies, but not as often as I should have. I grew to loathe Sherry entirely. She was selfish, annoying, perverted, and arrogant. The very sound of her voice made my spine rigid with irritation. Most of all, I hated how she hated Dad. She had the unconditional love of an amazing man, yet she despised him for such a simple thing like following his dreams. He wanted to write, he wanted to be a reporter. She should stop being so selfish and support him in that. Why couldn't she see what a great thing she had before her? Why couldn't she understand how lucky she was to have his love?

I hated her.

Actually, I just wanted to hate her. Deep down, I still loved her. I still wanted to be her knight in shining armor. Even if she did get everything I always coveted, I still wanted to be a good brother for her. For Dad.

Still, I did not understand why Dad would still be gone for months at a time. Every day I asked myself what I was doing wrong. What else did I need to do to bring Dad home? Why couldn't I earn his love? What was I missing? Why did he hate me? Why did I always screw things up?

Why could I never do anything right?

Hell, I couldn't even be a good friend.

I was the one who first encouraged Stella to step into acting. That day at the movie theatre was the start of the falling dominos. As each one fell, the intricate picture became more and more clear, making me realize one single fact that I could no longer deny: I love her. I love Stella Hoshi with all my heart and soul and I never wanted her to leave me. Never.

Yet, in all of my stupidity, it nearly happened.

It all started on the day of her drama audition.

It was the start of the school year and the August air was hot and humid. Earlier that week, they announced on the morning announcements that there would be auditions for the winter musical: Chicago. For a week, I would spend my afternoons at the Moon/Hoshi household, helping Stella to practice her singing and dancing. At least I tried to. Bella did a lot of the coaching for me, so Nutella kept me occupied by making me help her make Japanese cuisine. "I didn't even know that you could sing like that," I told her once as I finished shaping another batch of sticky white rice into little balls.

Stella didn't even shrug, though I could see one in the way she shifted her eyes. "I was part of my old school's choir club," she told me. "We performed every year at the Founder's Festival."

When the big day came, I sat at the back of the auditorium, watching every girl and boy come on stage and belt out their songs. It was dark, but the stage was lit up and I could see every face perfectly. I sat in a velvet blue seat, trying to hold down my leg and suppress my jitters. Stella seemed pretty calm when I escorted her to the line, but I couldn't help but to be anxious. What if she didn't make it? What was I supposed to tell her? That I was right? That she didn't have what it took to be an actress?

"Is this seat taken?" I jumped. A girl with long blond hair stood at the aisle, pointing at the empty seat beside me. In the darkness, I could barely make out her green eyes and angular face. She looked down at my hopefully, flashing an unsure smile.

It took me a second to realize why she had a slight accent. Was she Tamara, the exchange student from Ukraine? I heard a few guys talking about her in the locker rooms after gym. From what I could tell, they weren't lying when they said that she was hot. Everything about her screamed Gossip Girl magazine. Quickly focusing my staring eyes back on the stage, I coughed into my fist. "Yeah sure. Go ahead."

Tamara eagerly flung herself into the seat, leaning into the armrest on my side of the chair. She peered at the stage curiously for a moment before whispering, "So what's going on in here anyways?"

"Drama auditions." Weird girl- why was she here if she didn't know what was going on?

She nodded again. Just when I thought that I was going to be able to concentrate on the girl butchering "All that Jazz", I felt her nudge my arm again. "Did you know that we have the same English class?" She asked.

Truthfully, I didn't. I sat in the back and focused my attention on my friends. That is, when I was awake. I had English first thing in the morning and frankly, I was asleep for most of it. Not that I cared, I was a natural writer. I knew all of that Jane Schaffer stuff already. I didn't need to stay awake. I did my best to appear cool and nonchalant as I shrugged my shoulders, saying, "Yeah. What about it?"

"You're pretty smart. When you were talking about Romeo and Juliet the other day, you mentioned a few ideas that I had never thought of before."

"And?"

"And I was wondering if you would like to tutor me in English." I snapped my head towards her, just to discover that her face was right in mine. She was inches away from me, so close that I could feel her breath. I could not help but to feel the sweat prick the back of my neck. Those big green eyes blinked at me with what I believed to be fascination as she explained, "English is obviously not my first language and I really have a hard time understanding a few of the things that we read in class, so I was hoping that maybe you could lend me a hand with comprehension and maybe with essay writing when the time comes?"

I was speechless. A hot girl wanted me to tutor her? Me of all people? For a moment, I thought about recommending the nerdy girl who sat in the corner of our class, but I decided against it. I mean, tutoring isn't that hard of a task, right? And for such a pretty lady too. I sighed and pulled out my phone. "When and where do you want to meet?" I asked.

Tamara looked as though she had to resist squealing. By the time we had a set day and time planned, it was already over. Stella had sung her song, given her quick bow, before rushing off stage. I had missed it. Even though I lied to Stella and told her that I saw the whole thing, I still felt guilty. For a whole week, I felt like ripping out my appendix and stomping it into the ground. How selfish could I be- missing out on such a critical moment all because of a girl? Stella was my friend and I had to be there for her! But when the cast list was posted and Stella rightfully earned the role of Velma, my guilt was forgotten and I started my tutoring sessions without any qualms.

How I actually came to date Tamara is something I really couldn't explain. One day I was walking with Tamara in the hallway, pointing to a certain quote in our literature book when a guy I knew smacked his notebook on the back of my head. "Calm down there, lovebirds!" He practically yelled. "I didn't know that you two were dating!"

I didn't object when Tamara told him to keep up with the news.

Just like that, Tamara the Ukrainian Exchange Student was my girlfriend.

Admittedly, Tamara was not a terrible girlfriend. She was sweet, funny, and an overall joy to be around. But looking back, I could see why the relationship simply wouldn't have worked. Our time spent together was either discussing the microcosm of Of Mice and Men or having a kissing session on her couch. There was nothing really personal about it. At that time, I didn't care. I had a girl I could make out with and have my hands all over. I didn't care.

At first, it seemed as though Stella didn't either. Even so, I always felt as though I couldn't talk to her about Tamara, so I never did. Whenever Stella and I talked, neither of us said the 'T word'. If I ran into Stella in the hall while I was holding Tamara's hand, Stella would pull a 180 and get far away from me. She engulfed herself in the new social life of our school's drama club. If I called her to ask if she wanted to play video games, she would say that she had rehearsals. If I suggested that we should go see a movie, she would say that she already saw it with her new thespian friends. We saw each other less and less until . . .

By the time February was rolling by, I wouldn't be able to count the number of times Stella texted me.

Because she never texted me at all.

On Valentine's Day eve, I finally had enough. It was the start of lunch and I finally located Stella in the hallway, reorganizing a few of the books in her locker. She looked perfectly at ease, her face as stoic as ever. Months of irritation boiled in my veins and I found myself marching straight up to her. I banged my hand on the locker next to her, causing her to jump in surprise. Stella placed a hand on her chest. "Larry! What's-"

I didn't give her time to finish. "What the frack, Stella?" I demanded, glaring at her from behind my glasses. "Why are you avoiding me?"

She didn't even blink. "I'm not avoiding-"

I banged my hand again. "Don't lie to me!" I yelled. "I've been trying to contact you since Christmas and you've been ignoring me!"

I watched as Stella pursed her lips. One of the rare times I get to see her show her emotions and it was anger. Anger directed at me. "And why didn't you just come up and talk to me during school then?" She demanded, taking her books from her locker. "Why didn't you come to my house after school? You know where I live."

"You know where I live too," I replied easily. "Why didn't you come and see me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Idiot, I'm not the one making a big deal about this, you are." Her insult never felt so fitting before. I wanted to bang my forehead against something. Why did I say that? I probably sounded like a desperate old sap. Stella gently closed her locker and swung her bag over her shoulder, saying, "The fact is that you're not concerned about me right now. I'm pretty much the last thing on your mind."

"So you're mad at me."

"I'm simply giving you and your girlfriend a little space." She raised her chin high, giving me a refine visage. She said, "We can talk when you have the time." And like that, she turned on her heels and stalked away.

For a moment, it felt as though my legs could not move. I watched her slim figure retreat down the hall until she turned a corner and was gone. I couldn't chase after her, even when I felt my legs defrost. I couldn't move towards her, if I did . . .

I heard the shouting and snares of the latest punk who took to tormenting Jerry. I rolled up my sleeves and ran to help him, shouting, "Piss off, asshole!"

Later that day, when I returned home, I found Mom sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of Jell-O. "Ella called today," she told me as she closed her fashion magazine. "She was wondering if you can tape Stella's production tomorrow night."

That was right- Chicago came out earlier that week. Bella (not Stella) gave Sherry (not me) enough tickets for the whole family. I hadn't seen it yet, though. I hadn't had the time. I dropped my backpack on the ground, asking, "Why can't she do it?" Neither of us paid Jerry any mind as he raced upstairs. I knew that he was probably going to cover up the bruise on his cheek with some of Sherry's make-up.

Mom shrugged. "I'm not sure, but you do own them after you broke their window."

"That was years ago," I said. "And that's always your reason for me to do favors for them."

She gave me her commanding glare. "Larry . . ."

"And tomorrow is also Valentine's day! I gotta take Tamara-"

"Oh just take her to the play with you," Mom said, waving her hand at me. I could not help but to glare at her when she said, "Tamara likes Chicago, right?" I think she did, but that didn't matter to me. I just knew that there was going to be no way in hell that I was going to take Tamara to see that show. But there was also no way in hell that I was going to get away with disobeying Mom. So I did what any reasonable man my age would do.

I listened to my mother.

After sending God a quick prayer (and rehearsing my speech a few times to Jerry), I pulled out my phone and called up Tamara. Like always, she answered on the third ring. "Hey Tamara, its Larry," I said, grinning unconsciously. Don't laugh- I was trying to sound happy and it was a force of habit. "I need to talk to you about something."

I could hear her hesitate. "What is it, Lar? We're still going to dinner tomorrow night, right?"

I bit my lip. When Jerry practiced it with me, he was quiet and polite. I was not prepared for this kind of reaction. "Well about that. . ."

Apparently, canceling plans for Valentine's day was just as much of a relationship indicator as making them. Asking a friend to play video games on the 14th of February was a sure sign that you liked them. Suddenly deciding that you could no longer go on a date to P.F. Chang's was a definite indicator that the relationship was damned to hell. Apparently, I was the only guy in existence who did not know about this.

By the end of the night, I was single once again.

I truthfully believe that I took the break-up pretty well. I was pretty upset that Tamara didn't trust me enough to just go with the flow, but it wasn't such a big loss. I could live without her. I do have to give Sherry big-sister credits, though. The minute she heard the news, she dragged me off of my laptop, shoved an ice cream carton into my hands, and insisted that we watched The Titanic together. She never told me why this would help or where she even got the idea from, but it worked. By the end, we were both silently weeping over Jack's death.

I didn't tell Stella that I was going to her show. I simply carried my camera into the theatre, gave them my ticket, and set up camp in the front. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. As I flipped through the playbill, I couldn't help but to hate myself. All because of a stupid girl, I didn't even see Stella's audition. How was I supposed to know how she would perform live? "They credited her wrong," I suddenly noted. Maybe I was just searching for something to get my mind off of things, but I was seriously bugged by how it stated that Velma Kelly was played by Sayaka Hoshi, not Stella Hoshi.

When the lights dimmed, I turned on the camera and waited for the orchestra to finish with the over tune music and for the action to start. When "All that Jazz" started playing and Stella came out in a 20s flapper dress, I was immediately mystified. There was my Stella: on stage and embellished with a devlish smile. I sat there in my seat, moving the camera where she went, but never taking my eyes off of her. She was amazing. Her movements were so fluid, so nature. She wasn't no longer Stella, but rather Velma Kelly. It was so strange- seeing her turn herself into a completely different person. Where did she get so much talent, such a stage presence?

Two and a half hours later, the production was over. I stood on my feet with the rest of the audience, clapping my hands as loudly as possible. I even cupped my mouth and cheered her name. Stella didn't seem to notice me. She continued to smile, bowing and waving a hand to the crowd. When the curtains closed again, I quickly packed up my stuff and hurried to the backstage.

Various students were there as well, mingling in the hallways as they chatted with their friends. It felt like eternity had passed over as I squeezed my way through the crowd in my searched for Stella. Eventually, I gave up and simply nudged the arm of one of the ensemble men. "Is Stella Hoshi in here?" I asked.

For a long moment, he did nothing but give me a confused look. "You mean Sayaka?" he asked. I nodded. Why was he using that name? "I think she left already. She really doesn't hang out much after, like, rehearsals and stuff."

I let him go after that, lost in thought. Stella lied to me. She really was trying to avoid me as much as possible for the past few months. She never did go see that movie with a bunch of drama friends. She had been sitting in an isolated corner, feeling like an outsider. I never felt like such a dick before in my life. I left her alone and I was too stupid to realize it. That night, as I waited for Sherry to drive by and pick me up, I knew what I had to do.

The next morning- Saturday -Stella woke up sluggishly and meandered down the hall to her kitchen. The first thing she saw was me, sitting at her table, forming rice balls in my hands. When the corners of her straight lips curled ever so slightly, I knew that things were going to be okay between us.

We probably would never completely go back to the way things were before Tamara, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter that Tamara started spreading rumors around the school about me having treated her badly and taking advantage of her. I realized that as long as I had Stella by my side, I would be happy.

When I was with Stella, I could forget about having to be strong for Dad. I could forget that there was an ugly scar on my thumb. When I was with Stella, I was Larry Ebenezer Sue.

I was me.

---

The Void: Day 15

" . . . and I've already screwed up so many times with Stella that I'm just afraid," I said. "I'm afraid that no matter what I do, I'm going to lose her to either Erwin or my stupidity. And that can't happen because . . ." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't let that happen because I love her. I feel as though I can't live without her. She's done so much for me and I know that I don't deserve her, yet I love her. But she'll never love a stupid idiot like me." I buried my face in my hands. "How could she ever come to love someone like me?"

Liechtenstein was silent for a long moment. She had been silent for my whole story, nodded and looking down at me thoughtfully. It only seemed right when she didn't answer me immediately. When she did, it was not what I expected to hear. "I understand. She's an amazing person and everything with your father has made you think that you're worthless."

"He's never home," I whispered. I felt as though I no longer had any control over my mouth. My mouth had a mind of its own and it demanded to spill every thought that ever breached my mind. "Maybe if I was better, he would want-"

She quickly cupped my cheek, hushing me. "Don't say that, Larry!" She cooed. "I'm sure that things are better between you and your dad than you think they are. He really loves you."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm a girl. We have special knowledge of these things."

I pried my eyes from her cute face and looked up at the black sky. Was there ever an end to this place? Was this void a room or an open expanse? If I stood and walked in a straight line, how long would it take me to reach a wall? A mile? Two? A thousand? Never? I closed my eyes again and engulfed myself in the darkness of my own head. "Dad wouldn't be proud of me right now," I muttered. "I killed a man."

A quick pain shot through my face.

I gasped, shooting my eyes open as I quickly sat up. I cradled my cheek in my hand. "Did you just slap me?" I demanded, cursing everything under the heavens on earth.

The girl didn't even try to play innocent. She said, "I did, but it's only because you're being an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot!" I yelled.

Liechtenstein irritably sighed. "If you would stop to use reason, Larry, then you would realize that countries can't die," she said hotly. I dropped my hand as my mouth hung open. Alfred did tell me something about that, didn't he? She continued to send me a scowl, adding, "When a country 'dies', they go into a coma-like state for a few hours before waking up again. When they do, they typically have the same personality and memories, though they made have a different quirk. Denmark's going to be okay, Larry."

I stared at the ground, slowly comprehending what she was telling me. "So . . . he's not dead?"

She nearly groaned. Wow, I must really be an idiot if Liechtenstein of all people is losing her patience with me. "Yes. He's not dead."

The smallest of smiles appeared on my face. That maybe me feel a little better. In fact, everything today was making me feel better. Simply being able to release everything that had been pent up in my chest for so long was making my spirits soar. I felt clean- lighter than a feather. I looked up at her and evenly met her green eyes for the first time in a long time. "Thank you, Liech."

She smiled back at me, just as she started to fade away. "You're welcome, Larry."

And with that, I was falling

and falling

and falling

and falling

a

n

d

. . .

---

THE WAR: Day Unknown

A soft sob lured me from my sleep- coaxing, unyielding.

The darkness slipped away from me and my eyes opened. I knew right away that I was in my hammock once again. I could tell that sometime time had passed- bright, morning light streamed in from the windows -but I was unsure of how much. For a moment, I forgot about everything that had happened and simply stared at the ceiling as I gently brushed my fingers through Sokka's coat. It was so peaceful down here- the way the boat rocked my hammock like a crib. It was sort of like a lullaby, beckoning me back into Dreamland.

A small sniffle met my ears.

I hummed, rubbing my eyes as I turned to the source. There, seated right by my bed, was Alfred. He was hunched over himself, his hands over his face as his chest shook with near-silent tears. His broken glasses, I noticed, were sitting harmlessly on his lap.

I didn't think. I lifted my hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Alfred?" He shook his head and brushed me away. I started to retract my hand, thinking about how that would have been what I would want. But that was the me who hid behind a mask. That was the me who kept everything locked up inside of a bottle of Coke until some jerk came around with Mentos. Then, when every exploded, it would be a sticky, ugly mess.

Determinedly, I placed my hand back on his shoulder. My voice was firmer when I asked again, "Alfred? Are you-" He wordlessly yanked his shoulder away. My anxiety grew, but I kept it at bay. I knew what I needed to say. I closed my eyes as I took a deep breath, saying, "I'm sorry, Alfred. I should have told you about Gilbert myself. I know that it was selfish of me, but I really think that-"

My mentor's glasses fell to the ground as he lunged forward. The words stopped dead in my mouth when he wrapped his arms around my neck. My whole body went rigid. Alfred buried his face in the crook of my neck and released a thick sob. "I'm scared," he cried, gripping my shirt in his hands. I could feel the tears on my skin and, by instinct, I wrapped my arm around him. "Holy fuck, Larry- I'm scared."

I nodded, feeling a new wave of tears well in my eyes. "I'm scared too," I whispered. "But look on the bright side, Denmark isn't dead. He'll live."

He shook his head. "No Larry, you don't understand," he said. Alfred pulled away as he looked up at me. Without his glasses his face appeared younger, like the kid he truly was. The whites of his eyes were red and a little snot dripped from his nose. He and I stared at each other for a long moment before he finally lowered his head again, staring at his lap. "All that with Denmark . . . all of it was a warning for me."

I knitted my eyebrows. "A warning?"

"Yeah." Dark specks appeared on his pants as a few more tears rained down from his eyes. "R-remember what Netherlands said right after Denmark . . ." Alfred pressed his lips and shook his thoughts out of his mind. "He said that I was going to be D-denmark." The blond snapped his head up at me and pounded a hand on his chest. "I'm going to die soon, Lar! Denmark had a watch just like mine! Netherlands was warning me that I was going to die soon unless we get the vial to Gilbert!"

"But why would they warn you?" I demanded. Alfred stared at me, taken back. I was being rude and insensitive (I know), but there was a puzzle piece that didn't fit the picture. "Don't get me wrong, Al- I know exactly what you mean," I quickly added, wiping the trail of tears off of my cheeks. "But I saw your argument with them a while ago- the one before I was captured by Belgium- and I'm sure that neither of them like you very much. So why would Netherlands find it necessary to stop mourning his best friend long enough to warn you? You saw how distraught he was . . ." My voice faded away the moment it hit me like a bullet.

I eased away from Alfred, letting my hands sit dumbly on my lap as my mouth stood wide open. Oh no. Alfred sniffled and waved his hand in front of my face. "Larry-"

"It makes sense now," I whispered.

"What does?" I quickly threw off my blankets, ignoring Sokka as it mewed in annoyance. Alfred gazed at me worriedly as I swung my legs over the side of my hammock, slipping my small and delicate feet back into my shiny black shoes. Alfred frowned, demanding "Larry, what is it?"

My head was on overboard. I shook out all of the extraneous thoughts as I reached over and plucked my cat into my arms. "Why didn't I think of this earlier?" I asked, rising to my feet. Alfred swore as I started to make my way across the room. "It should have been so obvious. . ."

Alfred jumped from his seat, swooped down to grab his glasses, and raced after me. His hand caught my shoulder before I was able to place the first foot on the staircase out of there. A low growl rumbled in his tone as I asked, "What's the hell are you talking about?"

I was going to tell him everything, I just didn't know whether or not my suspicion was correct or not. I wanted to keep it locked away inside until I was absolutely sure what I was talking about. But I saw the pleading looking in Alfred's eyes and I knew that I couldn't keep quiet about this any longer.

Strengthening my own resolve, I closed my eyes and turned to face him. I took a few deep breaths, forming in my head the words I wanted to speak, the concepts I wanted to convey. I opened them again. "I might be wrong about this, but I think that Netherlands and Denmark are Erwin and Bud," I said.

---

MW: Oh wow, I started proofreading this chapter at one and someone it's three-thirty right now. The heat must be making me sluggish. Like at one point, I had to sit out in the hallway because it was cooler out there than in my room. If only my beta wasn't away in Europe right now . . .

Anyways, you have no idea how long I've been wanting to write this chapter. I have finally succeeded in executing my Denmark twist, explaining Larry's character fully, and dropping that little plot twist. And to think we have, like, five more chapters left (five I have to complete before mid-August when school returns).

So I hope you all enjoyed and please give a sick girl some love!

Notes

"What's PMS?" No, Agatha is not ignorant to the ways to puberty. This is merely a modern term and, therefore, she has no idea what it means.

"one time I had to stand on a ladder and pry it off of Sherry's bedroom window because the paperboy somehow stapled it there" I vaguely mentioned this same story in the epilogue of FG.

Next Chapter: Is Netherlands and Bud truly Bud and Erwin? How will Larry and Alfred ever be able to prove or disprove it?

Thank you all for reading!