MW: And here we go, the very last chapter. So What is my excuse this time for a very belated installment? Well I got sick again, school sucks, I suck (but not for free), and my ability to be productive is waning. Nonetheless, it is here. And I am SO NOT GOING TO CRY, ALRIGHT. NO CRYING. LIKE REMEMBER HOW SO MANY OF YOUR NICE REVIEWS MADE ME WANT TO CRY BY SAYING THAT I WAS OVERWORKING MYSELF AND I NEEDED REST MAN YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME *sobs*
Ahem, I'll talk more in the second AN when I think of things.
Thank you so much everyone for the 183 reviews, especially PurpleDiamondDevil, HimekoUchia, elizabeta H. Austria, Natusyuki, JesslaBleh, I LOVE ENGLAND Fanfics, Abby-Flourite, Flyingmintbunny32, Anactolica, Hammsters, Megan, PurpleLuna98, Defenestration (Guest), Angelic Fluffle, dismallyOriented (Guest), Rufescent, and KatStorm.
Thank you so very much! I hope you all enjoy the last chapter!
Chapter Summary: Everything is over or is it?
Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, yaoi/yuri, and some blood and violence.
Disclaimer: Trust me, you don't want me owning Hetalia.
~Epilogue~
For Now, We're Okay
"Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday.
I know my kingdom awaits and they've forgiven my mistakes.
I'm coming home, I'm coming home.
Tell the World I'm coming home."
-From the American song "Coming Home" by Diddy
THE WAR: Day 19
When she first opened her eyes, she could hardly believe it. There was color- gray above her and brown wood on her back. No black. The air was cool, smelling thickly of salt and water. She smiled to herself, closing her eyes and enjoying the rocking of the boat. It felt nice to be back in her own body again. She didn't mind the pain in her joints or the buzzing in her head. She was back.
She really did make it out of that mess alive.
"Liechtenstein, are you awake?"
She lazily cracked an eye open, looking to the side to see the Netherlands sitting on the ground with his back against the rail. He was rubbing his neck, looking around curiously at the gray world they lived in. "I'm up," Liechtenstein said, slowly sitting up. She winced, feeling the bones of her spine creak with protest. "We're back on the Oberon, aren't we?"
He nodded. "Yeah, we are."
They sat in silence for a moment, appreciating the facts. They were both alive and in complete ownership of their souls and bodies. That boy was safely going back to his own world, waiting with patience for them to meet together once again. They may have lost Denmark along the way, but Liechtenstein knew that they would save him soon. "In a way, it's really not over yet," she thought, leaning back into her hands. It felt like years ago when she was first forced to comply with Alfred and Roderich's terms. "Will it ever be over-"
Her eyes went wide. "Netherlands?"
He raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning sound.
She slowly turned to face him, the hairs on the back of her neck sticking up. "We're on the Red Coat ship, aren't we?" she asked. He nodded. "Weren't we supposed to seal off entrance to below deck?"
The Netherlands was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment. Then it hit him. "Oh shit!" He jumped to him feet, adjusting his scarf as he reached over and grabbed her by the arm. "C'mon," he urged, pulling her towards where he believed the entrance to be. "Hopefully, it wouldn't be too-"
"Alright, enough of this nonsense." The sound of England's voice made them skid to a halt. They looked up and around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Liechtenstein was positive she heard Prussia softly swear to himself. "Come out, come out wherever you are, Brown Coats. I know you're there so pull off the weather spell before I force you to."
There was a shuffle and the vague sound of Turkey promising reinforcements. Feet softly patted the ground before slowly fading away. Then, it was quiet once again. England sighed. "I guess we have to do it the hard way then." Feet scratched the wood floor as he took a deep breath. Then, in a loud voice, he chanted something strange and unfamiliar.
Liechtenstein expected a bright, blinding light to consume the air and blind her. It had to be showy since, after all, it was magic. Magic was glitter and enchanting spells that turned men into frogs. England's spell, however, yielded quite different results. The moment his chanting trailed away ominously, the fog started to clear. Slowly but surely, Liechtenstein was able to make out the outlines of familiar shapes- nations whom she had to fight against.
She saw Belarus and Prussia standing next to each other, the albino looking panicked while the woman looked strangely calm. "That's no fair, England," she said, slowly drawing her knives from the hidden folds of her skirt. She sounded hard, cold. "Why is it that you can sneak up on us in an invisible ship, but I can't use the fog to my advantage?"
England stood a few yards away, his grand form slowly becoming visible. He cracked his neck as he smirked pretentiously. The sky around him faded to blue and the sunlight made his red coat radiant. He swaggered across the deck, finely drawing his sword from its sheath. "That's because, unlike you, I know how to use my powers well."
Belarus sighed. She glanced around, pinning her eyes between Liechtenstein and the little boys England called America and Canada. "Where's your first mate?"
He shrugged. "Below deck, making sure that your crew mates do not attempt to escape." He stopped half way between where he once stood- where a few members of his crew stood in reserved silence -and his female opponent. "But I highly doubt that you care."
"No, I do." His smirk fell off his face and Belarus was more than happy to wear it for him. "I have someone down there who is more than capable of taking France down."
"It's Turkey, isn't it?"
"Took you that long to figure it out?"
England discerned her for a moment longer before shaking his head. "I can't believe that you're discussing this with me on my ship," he said.
Belarus and Prussia threw each other a look, exchanging a mutual and knowing smile. Belarus took a step forward, flicking her hair behind her ear. "That's the thing. I have a girl who bets that I can change that. I bet you that I can make this ship mine within the hour."
If England saw any threat in her words, Liechtenstein didn't see it. He raised his chin a little higher, giving a high huff. "I would like to see you try."
On cue, Turkey came running up the stairs, looking triumphant as he carried a beaten up France over his shoulders. While the Netherlands gave a delightful yell, Liechtenstein had to place her hands over her mouth. She was far from being okay with the black and purple bruises on France's face. Permeating a few steps behind Turkey was a flow of half-beaten, limping Brown Coasts. Liechtenstein saw that even though the majority of them were awake (the occasional few were being hauled on in another nation's arms), they were in no position to fight.
Some reinforcements they were.
England chuckled, trying not to smile at the pathetic throng. "Okay, so you defeated my boyfriend. So what? None of your crew are capable of fighting mine."
"I don't need them to fight," Belarus said smoothly. She stepped into the circle, looking proud and confident. "I am their leader and, unlike you, I refuse to hide behind them."
He frowned thickly. "Are you challenging me to a duel?" He asked. Belarus did not answer, only continued to give stare at him evenly. He dared to chuckle. "You must be joking. You're not even their actual leader- you have no right to challenge me."
"I say she does." All heads snapped to the Brown Coats, darting around in confusion until finally resting on a single man. Held up by Switzerland, he was nearly unrecognizable without his grand coat and air, but the single sight of his light- dirty -hair told enough. "My sister has to be one hell of a leader to be able to hold you up with such a small crew," Russia said. A childish smile painted his lips, though there was an obvious pain in them. "Da?"
"He must have regenerated," Liechtenstein realized, watching England's face pale considerably. "And that there must be his difference- I've never heard Russia say 'da' before."
Belarus released the lightest, most relieved of smiles. She seemed a bit more confident now, able to strike England with a sure glare. England scowled. "That changes nothing," he said.
"What if I challenge you to a duel?" Russia asked. The Brit's eyebrow quirked as his grin grew wider. "And the rules of THE WAR state that if a captain is challenged, then he can't turn it down, da? And didn't we all agree that the person who wears the coat is the captain?"
It was silent for a long moment. Everyone drank in the sight of Belarus in her brother's dwarfing coat, realizing what it meant. According to the rules, she was the captain. England- prideful England -was going to have to fight her. And, in the minds of the Red Coats, he was going to have to win. England shrugged, saying, "Fair enough, but don't cry when I kick your bloody arse, love."
She raised her knives, smirking. "Only if you promise me the same thing, love."
Liechtenstein chuckled quietly, earning an approving look from Belarus. Liechtenstein liked the look in the captain's eyes- the way hope swam on the surface. If everyone knew that calling her a freak would have stolen that glint away, Liechtenstein was sure that no one would have done it.
Then again, the disapproving look in England's said more than enough. He raised his sword, pushing his foot back as he went into a fighting stance. They stared at each other for a long moment, daring the other to start the fight.
Belarus was the first one to move.
Silent as a fox, she ran towards England, her two silver blades drawn high into the air. England placed his sword in front of his face, bending his knees with anticipation. He waited for her to come closer, closer and closer until—
Belarus suddenly went to the floor, ducking beneath the sword and sliding between England's legs. She rolled onto her back and snapped her knives into full view. This time, she threw one of them, looking frustrated when England whipped around and deflected it with his sword.
Trying to take advantage of the situation, England stabbed the sword into the ground, the razor sharp edge barely missing an evading Belarus. Liechtenstein wanted to bite her nails, to chew away her fear and frustration. What if that weapon really did slay Belarus? What would Liechtenstein do once one of her closest friends died? It was nerve wrecking to watch them repeat the cycle over and over again—to watch Belarus squirm on the ground as the floor gained more and more sword holes.
Finally, Belarus kicked her leg up. Her dark blue skirt fell back, revealing her white bloomers, but she could care less. She was finally able to stop England's sword by embedding the greedy blade into the heel of her boot. England has a moment to realize why his weapon wasn't moving when she made her next move. Belarus threw her other knife, the blade nicking the side of his cheek. A long red gash appeared on his white skin, little dark droplets of blood tinkling down his face.
England took a step back—pulling his sword out in the process –and placed a hand over his cheek. He dabbed a little blood and looked down at his now red fingers. The shock read clearly on his face. He ground his teeth, growling as he fisted his hand. Barely seconds later, he was swinging his sword again, repelling another thrown knife that Belarus had kept hidden.
He lowered his sword again, expecting to see some sort of reinforcement who could give him a hand, but none of the Red Coats stepped forward. None of the Brown Coats made a move to help her either. It seemed like everyone's visage was strangely cool and neutral. What England did see, however, was Belarus running towards him again.
He placed his sword towards the ground, anticipating a repeat of her previous move. Instead, she jumped over it and straight into him. The sword was knocked out of England's hand as they fell to the ground, quickly becoming a tangled mess of limbs. They rolled on the ground, their weapons falling out of their hands and skidding across the wood deck. England tried to push Belarus off of him, but she was too quick and too sly.
She pinned his legs with her knees, using one hand to keep his arms down and another to sock his face. Liechtenstein was unsure of how many times she struck him, but the painful grunts were easy to come and the blood quick to spill. Liechtenstein pressed her lips and took a step back. She felt sick to her stomach, but she was not going to show it.
After an eternity of those chilling noises, Belarus's arms suddenly went dead.
Every one stared at her, curiosity prickling their skin.
No one was sure why she suddenly stopped until a soft sniffle could be heard.
"Is that America?" Liechtenstein wondered, glancing around the deck. She remembered how the child—not Alfred—always acted strong, though there would always be a time when England frustrated him to the point where he would stubbornly hide away to sniffle tears. Liechtenstein was always the one who found him afterwards. She would always seat him on her lap and run her slim fingers through his hair, hushing him. But little America was nowhere to be seen. He must have been somewhere below deck, comforting Canada.
"You won, Belarus," England sneered. "Take my coat and end this war already."
"I refuse." Belarus lowered her own face, bringing her hands to her eyes and suppressing her cries. A pang of pity rang through Liechtenstein's body when she saw the trepidation surging in Belarus's.
England's eyebrows shot up as he gave her a wide-eyed look. "The bloody hell is that supposed to mean? Do you want more people to die?"
"No."
"Then why-"
"Because I've been the omega my whole life." Belarus suddenly stood, taking her coat with her. She stood straddled leg to the surround crowded, gliding her eyes over each one. "Doesn't anyone here realized what has happened?" She demanded loudly. "We've let a simple game tear us apart. There was a time when none of us would even consider dreaming of hurting each other and now so many of us have died and come back because of a pathetic little 'war.' Am I the only one disturbed by this?"
She looked around, obviously expecting an answer. Her audience exchanged glances, most taking a step back from her. Blasphemy- those were her words.
Poland, however, stepped forward. "I'm totally disturbed," he said casually
Ukraine took a deep breath and mimicked him. Proud, unshed tears were welling in her eyes. "So am I."
Liechtenstein raised her hand. "And me."
"Me too," France shouted from his perch on Turkey, trying to crank his head towards the scene. Turkey, however, tightened his grip on him.
Belarus nodded. They were the only ones to speak up and, to be frank, she hadn't been expecting anything else. "It shouldn't matter who wins or who loses this war," She said. "What matters is that it ends once and for all." Belarus ripped off her brother's coat, pulling her arms out of the sleeves before tossing it to England. "Here. You win."
England pulled it off his face, sitting up to properly glare at her. "I don't need your pity."
Belarus turned on her heels and marched to her crew. "I don't pity you. I'm only doing what's right." Prussia stopped her before she could reach her sibling. His red eyes and burnt cheeks said enough. "I've been an omega my whole life," she told him, patting him on the back. She started to walk again. "At this point, I know that being the alpha is not something I want." When she reached her brother, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
Everyone was quiet for a long moment. "What the hell was that?" the Netherlands muttered, barely loud enough for Liechtenstein to hear. "We went through all that for her just to give up?"
Liechtenstein shook her head. "I think it's sweet of her," she said calmly, placing her hands behind her back like a docile student. "It really shows how good of a person she is."
Before he could reply, a sharp whistle pierced through the air.
"Hey Belarus!" The moment Belarus turned around, a ball of red cloth was tossed into her arms. "Here," England said, smiling as he stood in his puffy white shirt and black slacks. "We both win."
She looked down at it, her blue eyes wide with confusion. "What's this?" She asked, ignoring Russia when he smiled softly and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Why-"
England looked away, his cheeks flushing with red. He stuttered over his words for a few moments, moving his hands constantly as he tried to find a place to keep them. After twisting them in front of himself and stuffing them in his pockets, he evidently settled with pulling them into tight fists. "It's my coat," he said quickly, refusing to meet her eye.
Her brows knitted together. "You're coat? But why-"
"You're my equal, right? So you deserve to win this war with me."
Belarus was silent for a long moment. She picked at the frayed red threads on the edges, frowning to herself. "I'm your equal . . ." Liechtenstein saw the smallest of smiles stretch across her lips. "Equals. . . yeah, I can deal with that."
"So is this stupid war over now?" France yelled, lifting his face up for the world to see. His loud voice caused Turkey to wince, softly complaining about watching his volume when he was so close to his ear. "Because I do not know much about you guys, but I want to celebrate now!"
Seychelles clapped her hands, giving an excited squeal from across the deck. "We should!" She said, her wide smile inciting the surrounding nations to get giddy. "We can have music and dancing-"
"I can help with the food," Ukraine offered, raising her hand high into the air. She smiled and turned to the man standing beside her: Hong Kong. He curtly nodded, the smallest of smirks itching its way onto his mouth.
Everyone shrugged away their worries about tomorrow, letting themselves become elated over the idea of a party. People like Prussia and the newly revived Holy Rome offered to gather the beer while England and France formally shook Russia and Belarus's hands. A formal peace treaty. Liechtenstein and the Netherlands lingered behind, the former smiling softly to herself. It was nice to see her friends and family no longer at each other's neck.
She felt a nudged at her shoulder. "Hey Liech." She followed the Netherlands's finger, pointing to the elevated deck above the captain's quarters. Spain stood at the rail, somberly observing the crowd below him. He sighed unhappily and twisted his fingers stressfully. Liechtenstein didn't need to be told twice. She trailed behind the Netherlands as she followed him up the steps and to the rail. They took separate sides of the man- the Dutchman to Spain's left and Liechtenstein on his right.
The Netherlands placed his arms on the rail, giving Spain a side looking. "It's over," he told him bluntly, ignoring the far off look in Spain's eyes. "THE WAR, I mean."
Spain nodded. "I know."
Liechtenstein strained a smile placing her hand on his forearm. "I know that you miss him already, Spain, but you don't give yourself enough credit," she said. "It's because of you that Netherlands and I are still here today. You did so much for us, how can we ever-"
"I know that." She closed her mouth, pressing her lips as she looked away from Spain. Her eyes drifted back down to the crowd. Prussia and Holy Rome found the beers and were passing them out jollily. She wondered why Prussia hadn't tried to talk to her yet, but then remembered that he had no idea that the boy and the Netherlands were attacked and brought to the Void. He probably believed that Larry was still her.
She sighed. So much for that, if only-
"What in the world?" The two men immediately focused their attention on her, trying to figure out what her surprised- scared -eyes were looking at. There, in the midst of the crowd, was a little boy. It was the same head of gold corn colored hair that Lichtenstein was used to, but accompanying it was a head of wild blond locks. America supported Denmark on his shoulder, letting the adult lean into him as he talked ecstatically about something irrelevant. To her shock, Denmark was awake and alive. He smiled with ease as he limped with the child across deck until finally resting by the mast. From there the two continued talking, gesticulating grandly and laughing occasionally.
"Why is Denmark . . ." Liechtenstein looked at Spain and the Netherlands and forgot her words. The Netherlands green eyes had gone wide. Sweat brimmed on his forehead, dripping down his forehead slowly. His nails dug into the rail, so hard that his knuckles turned white. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to create a coherent word.
At last, he swallowed and looked at Spain. "Why is he with Alfred?" he demanded, his voice shaking inside of his throat. "I thought that maybe, perhaps, that-"
Spain sighed again, shaking his head. "That's not the Mathias that you once loved, Lars," he said, extending a hand to the blond. "Remember: the true creator has claimed possession of his soul. What you see there is an animated shell. Himaruya's in control of it, not Mathias."
"That's why America's with him, isn't it?" Liechtenstein asked. "Didn't he say that he was going to watch over Mathias?"
"Yes he did." He cracked the smallest of smiles. "Very observant of you, Liech."
The Netherlands placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn to face him. The shock was finally gone from his face, only replaced by a hard exterior. "How do we stop him?" he asked seriously. His eyes were narrowed into the most hateful glare Liechtenstein had ever seen.
The brunette shook his head, placing his hand on his. "We have to wait, Lars. The true creator has a plan, but it will not be for a few centuries and you promised me that you would go along with it. So please . . . let it go."
He was silent for a long moment before closing his eyes and releasing a long breath. "You're right," he said reluctantly. "I have to wait. I gotta . . . there'll be more of a chance of me saving him if I have strong allies on my side." Liechtenstein felt as though that last part was more for himself than for them. "But what do we do until then?"
Spain shrugged and turned back to the view. "Wait. Get lonely. Become anxious. Wait some more. Well, for us at least." The easy going, bright smile he was known for returned to his face at last, beaming gloriously down at Liechtenstein. "You have quite the love triangle to sort out, don't you?"
Liechtenstein laughed nervously, trying her best not to groan. "I'll figure it out," she told them. "I just have to explain to them what the situation was."
He winked. "At least Russia's off your back. Look."
Russia sat with his sister on the ground, occasionally exchanging a happy word but mostly focusing his concentration on another man. "Holy Rome?" the Netherlands asked as he flicked a cigarette out of his pocket. He watched the German offer him a drink, laughing at some unheard joke. "Who would have thought?"
Liechtenstein smiled, leaning in a bit more into the rail. "They'll be good for each other," she said truthfully. "Really, the only thing I have to worry about is Belarus. If I don't do it right, then I might lose her as a friend."
"You'll think of a way." The Netherlands quickly lit his cig, throwing the burnt match to the side. "I mean, you consider her a friend, right?"
"Well of course I do. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because she's Larry's friend." They looked at Spain. He had his hands folded over his chest, dejectedly looking off to the side. His voice was small, but bitter in a sad, sad way.
Pity struck a chord and the girl placed a comforting hand back onto his arm. She squeezed it, rubbing circles with her thumb into his shirt. "You'll meet him again," she told him. "You said so yourself, right?"
Before he could reply, the Netherlands laughed. He slapped his hand onto Spain's back, saying, "Hey! At least you'll have to wait as long as I do to get him back, right?"
She scowled. "Would you at least try to be a bit more sensitive?"
A forced laugh left Spain's lips. "It's fine, Liechtenstein. Lars was just trying to lift the mood, right?" The blond only shrugged, a wisp of gray smoke swirling in the air around him. "I'll be fine, though. Waiting is just a game and it's one I can easily win."
She smiled and turned back to the crowd. "Yeah, win." She watched the people in the party below her as they made good of their time away from their bosses. They drank beers and laughed at the jokes played on them. It was strange to think that so much had taken place in such little time.
The Netherlands had lost his friend and nearly his life.
Denmark had sacrificed himself for him.
Belarus and Russia were proven to be good.
Alfred and Roderich were proven to be evil.
Liechtenstein sacrificed herself for Prussia.
And Prussia- that single, amazing, awesome man -was the key to it all. It floored her to think that she would not know until much later the full effect of having five percent of Himaruya's soul in his body would be, but she could wait. At least she had an answer, unlike certain people.
Liechtenstein spotted Turkey on the edges of the celebration, hunched over himself as he downed a glass of beer. His dark aura had returned. He was still full of grief. He would never know that the girl he mourned was not who he thought she was. She could try explaining it to him, but to what avail? He wouldn't believe her.
"Will anyone be okay after this?" Liechtenstein wondered. She knew that even if the Netherlands seemed calm and together, he was screaming on the inside. He wanted to save his friend just as much as Turkey wanted to have saved Agatha. Even Liechtenstein could feel a weight on her shoulders. It was a small one- that was for sure -but it made her feel empty. It reminded her that her body was nothing more than just an empty shell that anyone could possess. She was scared. She had no true ownership of herself.
Some of the pain was alleviated when Switzerland placed an arm around Turkey's shoulder and whispered comforts into his ear.
Liechtenstein smiled to herself. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. Yes, she would be on the tips of her feet until the true creator's final attack comes into play, but until then she would just have to wait. She would simply have to stand back and watch Himaruya, known as Estonia, associate himself with everyone she knew and loved. She could barely stand the thought.
She wanted to kill him- that monster.
"Hey Liechtenstein?" She looked up at Spain. He was wringing his fingers again, biting his lips in worry. "Can you sing that song Larry wrote?" He asked. "I mean, if you remember it."
She remembered it alright. She looked at Spain and the Netherlands one last time. When the moment comes when she can finally enact revenge on the monster that took her body and threatened her love, she would have them to help her. Spain, the Netherlands, and Larry. Her three men. Somehow, it made her feel less empty.
Liechtenstein cleared her throat and began.
"Across the velvet sea,
Against the setting sun . . "
Her voice caused Prussia's ears to perk. He turned around to see her, grinning stupidly. There was a look in his eyes, one begging to know who he was looking at: Larry or Liechtenstein. Something new, some glint in her eyes, made him drop everything and run to her. He wrapped his arms around her, swearing and kissing the top of his "precious Liech's" head.
At that moment, it was okay.
Everything was okay.
The Real World: Wednesday
"Really Bella, everything is going to be okay." I felt something beneath my head move. "The doctor said that she just needs a few stiches." She sounded pretty calm, didn't she? "Stop worrying." She must really be experienced with situations like these. "Bel?"
Slowly- very slowly -my eyes flickered open. Bright, fluorescent light flooded my vision, leaving me trapped in a world of white. I groaned, sitting up as I pressed my hands into my face. There was a dull ache in my temples, like the remains of a week old injury. Where did I get it? How did I-
"Oh hey, you're awake." I lazily turned my head towards the speaking, taking a moment to recognize the mane orange hair that framed a round face.
I screamed.
What was Agatha doing here at the hospital? She was with Himaruya and Alfred right now, enjoying their victory. Why was she here? I jumped away from her, trying to get as far away as possible. And to think that I had my head on her of all people's shoulder. . . "Get away from me," I yelled, sending her a deathly glare.
Everyone in the plain waiting room gave me weird looks, especially the crying woman with the bleeding mascara.
Agatha stared at me. Her thin brows were scrunched together, creating creases on her blemished face. "What the hell, Lar?" She demanded, jumping out of her seat. Bella, looking far less distraught than from what I remembered, switched her wide-eyed gaze between her and me. "Is something wrong?"
It took me a second to realize it. If Bella was here, then that means that I was in the real world once again. And if this was the real world, then that means that I fucked up real bad. I blinked a few times, taking in the scene completely- a half full waiting room of a white walled, marble floored hospital, the single shelter from the plummeting rain outside. The pungent scent of bleach soaked the air, making it hard to breathe.
Everyone was staring, wondering what was wrong.
Sherry, my sister, was wondering what was wrong.
That is, if this wasn't one of Himaruya's schemes again.
My eyes darted widely around the room before landing on her purse. "Sherry, do you have anything I can eat?" I asked.
Her face turned red. "You scare me half to death and the only thing you can do is ask for some food?" She shrieked, her voice high and shrill.
I looked her in the eye. "I was having a bad dream," I seriously said.
That shut her up. Sherry's face dropped and, for a moment, she could only abhor me in silence. I could see the fear painted across her face. She opened and closed her mouth like a suffocating fish before finally shutting it again. She looked at me with that adult look in her eyes. "I have some apple juice," she said.
Everything else in the world was forgotten as she fished the small plastic bottle out of her purse. She tossed it to me, watching intently as I unscrewed the lid. I took a long swing of it, letting the sweet juices fill my mouth. I could taste it. I smiled to myself. "So everything's real," I muttered.
"What was that?"
I quickly forced a grin and handed her back her drink. "I said it tastes like it's real," I lied. "You know, organic?"
Sherry stared at me for a moment longer before shaking her head. "Weirdo." Adjusting her skirt and jean jacket, she lowered herself back into her seat and placed her hand on Bella's back. "How are you feeling now, Bel?" she asked affectionately.
Bella's lips formed a strained smile. Hiding some of her face in her limp locks, she shrugged lightly. "I feel better, though-" She turned to my sister with pleading eyes. "-Are you sure that she'll only need a few stitches?"
Sherry nodded. "That's what the doc said." She placed her hands on her hips and curled her upper lip. Lowering her voice a few octaves, she said, "'Sayaka Hoshi has a few lesions on her head and body. Most of them are superficial, but they will still require stitches. We'll have to keep her here a few days due to her concussion-'"
"So Stella's alive?" I asked, inching closer to her.
Sherry looked as me as if I was an idiot. "Uh, yeah dumbass. Didn't you get the memo?"
I scowled. My cheeks flared with heat. "Shut up, doitsu," I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest. "For your information, I was asleep just . . ." I trailed off. Sherry was staring at me again. It was the same stare from before, one I was quickly realizing, was of growing horror. I pressed my lips. Why was she upset?
I watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Larry, do you know what that means?"
I scrunched my brows. "You mean 'doitsu?'" She nodded. "It's an insult, right?"
"It's Japanese for 'Germany', idiot."
Well that explained nothing. Why would a country be an insult? If they were referring to its people or politics, that would be racism, wouldn't it? I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "I didn't know that," I said quickly. "Sorry."
It was her time to sigh. "No it's fine. I shouldn't have snapped at you." She settled herself into her seat. She sat in a sort of silence for a moment before shaking her head and returning to her job of comforting Bella.
For the first time, I could feel the sheer weight of the situation on my shoulders. I was home. I was no longer in Hetalia. I placed a hand on my face, smiling at the feel of my cheeks and nose. I had my own body back. I was Larry Sue once again. Stella was alive.
I closed my eyes. Stella was alive.
I looked up at the receptionist desk, seeing a lovely lady at the computer.
But Mathias was lost.
"Miss Isabella Moon?" I returned to reality to see a nurse standing at the apex of the room, holding a clipboard in his hand. He was dressed in uncomfortable looking blue scrubs. I felt bad for him.
Bella gulped, slowly rising to her feet. She held my sister's hand, pulling her with her to the nurse. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I just escaped a near-death experience and there was no way in hell I was going to be left alone. I trotted after them, lingering behind Sherry as they listened to the nurse. "We finally got all of the stitches in, so you can come visit Sayaka if you want," he said. "She's still asleep, though we suspect that she'll wake up soon."
The largest, most sincere smile I had ever seen appeared on Bella's face. "We'd love to see her right now," she said, beaming.
The nurse smiled at her, probably just realizing how beautiful the girl truly was, before leading us down the hall.
Like all hospitals, it smelled of fake cleanliness. The sheer pungency of the white halls made me want to barf. It took us far too long to reach the room. Stella shared it with three other patients. Even though each bed was sealed off by a mustard colored curtain, I could tell that Stella was sharing a room with a bunch of heart attack victims. The nurse led us inside, pausing at the middle curtain. He placed the clip board somewhere behind the screen before leaving us be.
The beeping of heart monitor machines filled the air.
We stood in silence, unsure of who should go in first. I wanted to see Stella right there and then- make sure that Alfred or Roderich or Himaruya didn't hurt her -but I knew that me and my paranoia were the last priority. The first one was family.
I placed a hand on Bella's shoulder and smiled. "Go ahead," I said. "Go see how she is." The blond smiled at me, saying soft thanks before she ducked behind the curtain. Even though Stella was asleep, we could hear Bella whispering reassurances to her, promising the world and more.
Sherry leaned against the wall and gave me a suspicious look. "Hey Larry?" I hummed in reply, raising an eyebrow when she averted her eyes. Sherry was quiet for a long moment before she, at last, released a long breath. "I need to ask you something," she said heavily. "What was your dream about just now? The nightmare, I mean."
My heart forgot how to beat and, for a second, I could feel myself panicking. Did she know about Himaruya? How could she- she's never been in the Hetalia world! I trained my eyes to the ground and shook my head. I said, "It's not worth mentioning. I just . . . Stella . . ."
She made an 'ah' in understanding. "You dreamed that she was dead, didn't you?" I nodded. Sherry kicked off the wall. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close to her neck. Her skin smelled like shea butter, but her mane of curly hair was some sort of fruit I couldn't quite pin. "That really sucks," she said, brushing her hands through my hair. "I'm sorry."
I shook my head again. "No, it's fine."
"Larry? Sherry?" I grinned as I pulled away, more than happy to see my mom at the doorway. She was perfectly dry- a feat in this weather -in her skinny blue jeans and gray blouse. Jerry lingered a bit behind her, looking shyly between her and the nurse trying to hold her back.
"I'm sorry Miss, but we can't let in too many visitors into the room at once," the nurse was saying as he tried to pull my mom back.
She only whipped her hot orange locks back. "Oh pish-posh. There's enough room for everyone." Sherry and I could not help but to giggle as she marched inside, her brown boots clicking on the fake-marble floors. "Sherry, Larry- are you two okay?" She asked, cupping my cheeks and hugging Sherry. "Where's Bella and Stella?"
"We're here." Bella appeared from behind the curtain, looking a bit more sullen than before. But she still forced herself to smile, showing off her perfect white pearls of teeth. "Thanks for coming, Mary. I'm sure you were busy."
Mom waved her off. "Nonsense. You and your sister are like my third and fourth daughters," she said, a small huff in her voice. Her face relaxed a little, a few lines of crow's feet appearing around her eyes. "How's your sister?" she asked. "Is she going to be okay?"
The sorrow was plain her Bella's eyes when she bowed her head and nodded. "They said that she'll be okay."
The woman who raised me understood immediately. "But it still hurts." She looked at her sympathetically, placing a hand on the small of her back. "It'll be alright, sweetie. Why don't we go get some fresh air in the hallway?" Mom led her out, finding a way to kindly mention how Bella looked like shit and offered to drive her home for a shower. That was just the kind of person my mother was.
Sherry hesitated for a moment, looking ready to ask me another question, before finally following after her. Jerry seemed ready to come inside and give me some twin comfort, but I shook my head. I'll be fine. I spent one hundred and fifty-nine days without him already. I didn't need him or some delusion of Dad to be strong.
Alone in the room (well, besides the invalid), I felt myself shrink. Stella was behind that curtain, right? What if walking in on her caused something bad to happen? Would something bad happen to her if I didn't? I pushed the idea out of my head and puffed out my chest.
That didn't matter right now. I had to go in there, no matter what.
Without a second thought, I swished the curtain open and strutted in.
She looked peaceful. Her face was the most relaxed I have ever seen it. There was no forced stoicism contorting her features, no forced neutrality. She looked calm, the dearest I have ever seen her. I stood at the side of her wire bed, noting all of the stains the hospital gave her.
Her visibly paler skin seemed to blend into the white bandages that covered the stitches on her face and arms. A tube slithered out from her nostrils, climbing back to some unknown machine. An IV popped out from her arms as well and, to make matters worse, she was connected to a heart rate machine the beeped every few seconds.
It made me feel better.
Every beep meant that she was more and more alive.
No one hurt her.
I wasn't sure what I should do from there. Did visitors typically just stare at their beloved one until they woke up or do they whisper sweet nothings into their ears? Would anything even help? I closed my eyes.
And breathed.
I took her warm hand in mine and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm sorry, Stella," I said unevenly. "This is going to be one of those times when someone's going to say that they didn't know what they had until it's gone and, well, I didn't know that I had you until you were nearly gone and I'm so sorry, Sayaka-"
"Larry?"
At first, I thought that I was imagining it. My head was creating little whispers to mess with me. But then I felt her hand move in mine until she lightly squeezed back. Her eyes cracked open and I saw her smile tiredly. I brightened. "Sayaka! You're awake!"
She nodded. "Mhmmm. I'm really tired though," she said. She sounded weak, like she was just barely hanging onto the steep edge of consciousness.
I knelt by her side, holding her hand tight and close to my face as I nodded incessantly. "You go right back to sleep then," I told her strongly. "You're fine now so you can go dream about being safe, alright?"
She strained a smile. Why did she only show emotion in rare occasions like this and why did it have to taste so sweet? "I will," she said. "It's just . . . you called me Sayaka."
"I did?" When she nodded again weakly, I bowed my head. "Look, I recently realized something. You never liked it when I called you Stella, isn't that right? I feel really bad about it so I'll call you by your real name for now on, but only if you want me too," I added quickly. Some strange part of me thought that perhaps I was not worthy to call her that.
A heart monitor beeped steadily. "You can call me Sayaka," she said, leaning back further into her puffy white pillow. She closed her eyes. "I always wanted you to call me that." Her breathing slowed a bit and she fell asleep with a content visage.
I smirked, slipping my hand out of her as I rose to my feet. This time, her peaceful state didn't bring about my anxiety. In fact, it quelled some of my wrecked nerves. My uneasy state was still there, the knowledge that Himaruya was still out there, but it didn't matter right now. I was simply glad that she was okay.
And, for the moment, that was more than enough.
I placed my hand on her head, brushing some of her black locks out of her face. Her skin was cool, but it wasn't the cold that made Alfred frightening. There was a soul within her, softly glowing in the embers. Alfred—he had nothing inside of him. He was just a shell of a child who maybe, at one point of time, loved his brother.
Without much thought, I leaned down and lightly kissed Sayaka's lips.
The heart monitor went crazy.
The next thing I knew, an army of nurses were ripping me away, shouting strange medical terms to each other. I thought I heard one of them scolding me as he dragged me away by my arm, but I was too confused to listen. What just happened? Why did the monitor suddenly go off? My own heart started to beat erratically as I started to resist the nurse's hold. Himaruya was finally acting out his revenge. I lost, I lost, I lost, I lost.
A nurse in purple moved out of the way and I was finally able to clearly see Sayaka. She was awake and blushing, a hand over her lips as she tried to explain that nothing was wrong.
It took me a second to figure it out. Nothing was wrong? She wasn't hurt? That means that Sayaka didn't fell back to sleep. She was awake.
And I kissed her.
Red swelled in my cheeks as a wave of panic flashed through me. Shit, she's going to be so mad at me. I kissed her without permission- without even asking her out on a date yet! She probably thought that I was some sort of pervert-
"You're boyfriend just kissed you?" The nurse stopped pulling on me as the doctor (or I presume so- she's the one wearing the white coat after all) gave Sayaka a skeptical look.
Sayaka nodded, still looking sleepy but much more attentive than before. "That's right." She looked at me, giving me the smallest of mischievous smiles. "My boyfriend just kissed me." I couldn't help but to grin stupidly. I thought I was going to cry. We only had to exchange looks to say our confessions. She was more than happy to finally call me that. I was more than happy to take up that title.
They finally dragged me out, pushing me towards Mom as they explained to both her and Bella why the monitor suddenly went crazy. Bella slapped me, sending me a dark glare as she yelled at me for being an invasive, insensitive jerk. She only stopped because a passing nurse told her that she was upsetting the maternity ward. Mom simply gave me a disapproving look, shaking her head as she told me basically the same thing. While Jerry suddenly grew more quiet, Sherry laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder and loudly congratulated me. "I always knew you had it in you, asshole."
The same passing nurse from the maternity ward came back and told my sister that she was upsetting the newborns.
At that point, Mom was on the edge of her patience. She told the three of us to go home and let her stay with Bella and Sayaka.
We three children of Sues went back to Sherry's red buggie, pulling the hoods over our head as we marched through the rain. I wanted to take mine off- rip away my black jacket and dance around in rain that I knew wasn't a dream -but then my siblings would call me crazy and I didn't want to give Sherry the upper hand.
The car ride home was pretty silent. Sherry had her radio going, jamming away to some Adele song. I barely paid it any heed. I only looked out the window, switching between smiling broadly and frowning deeply.
Smiling because Sayaka loves me like I love her and she's safe.
Frowning because it's not over yet.
Like every other fifteen year old, the first thing I did after finally coming home from a life threatening situation was get on my laptop.
Lying on the couch, I tried to return to my story. Harrison was relaxing in a tavern, about to talk to a girl I have yet to write. It felt wrong though. I reread the previous hundred something pages, frowning at the words. Harrison was supposed to be a normal guy who got stuck in an abnormal situation, yet he was treating all of the horrors before him with a cool demeanor.
If I knew one thing, keeping your cool is something nearly impossible to do.
I dragged the file to the recycling bin.
While I was at it, I deleted my hate blog.
I didn't want to run it anymore.
I was suddenly struck with nothing to do. I sort of felt like laying back and turning on some episodes of Avatar, but then Sherry would tease me and that would suck. When Jerry came by and offered me one of his sugar cookies, I got an idea.
Maybe it was the image of Jerry stacking the dishes- including the knives -into the dishwasher that made me think back to the Romanov and the people there. I remembered all of the good times and all of bad ones, the images circling around and around my head. Sherry told me once that Hetalia was a comedy. From what I saw, everything from Belarus's sorrow to Gilbert's sacrifice, I hardly thought that was the case. The matter refused to leave me alone, forcing me to open a new browser window.
Finding the first episode of Hetalia English dubbed was easy enough. There were plenty of illegal uploads on the world wide web. I stuck my headphones into my ears and waited for the video to buffer. It was a shocking thing to realize- I had never watched a single episode of this. It seemed silly to me now- to judge something without even knowing what it was about.
"DUDE I THINK THE WORLD CONFERENCE CAN NOW CONVENE, SOLVING ALL OF TODAY'S PROBLEMS BY TALKING EXCESSIVELY-"
I screamed, kicking my laptop off of my lap and onto the other end of the couch. I ripped out my headphones, ridding myself of his voice as I surveyed the room panicky.
Then, for a split second, I saw nothing but white.
Reflective white.
I was sitting at the table again, watching an evil grinned man pour himself a cup of tea.
I stared at my reflection.
I looked hallowed eyed, like I hadn't slept soundly for days.
Something grabbed my shoulders and I lashed out again, trying to get him away from me.
"Ooof- Larry!"
The vision disappeared as quickly as it came. I was back in my living room, sitting on the brown couch, starring at my brother. His hands were wet with dish water, the one on my shoulder creating a wet spot on my shirt. The other was cradling his chin, his eyes resisting the urge to well up. My stomach dropped. "What was that?" he asked softly, wincing at the pain. "You just screamed and sat there for a few minutes and I couldn't get you to snap out of it."
I glared at the laptop for a second before shaking my head. "It's nothing," I said. "Sorry about hitting you." Jerry stared at me for a moment, unsure of what to say. He tried to get me to tell him the details, but I refused.
I was not just about to explain to him that, for a moment, I thought Alfred was standing right next to me, yelling in his usual attitude.
The week followed in a surreal haze. Part of me believed that Agatha had her siren's arms wrapped around my neck and was feeding lies into my ear. Another part thought that home was so perfectly tranquil that it could be nothing other than a fallacy.
The first night, I slept peacefully- entrapped in an exhausted, sleepless dream. And then the second passed without troubles. And third. Fifth.
A week later, things started to unravel.
Jerry woke me up in the middle of the night, shaking my shoulders frantically. The dark veil of the night and my bad vision made it difficult to see the concern in his large blue eyes. "Wake up," he hissed, sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
I blinked, groaning as I pushed him away. "What the frack are you doing?" I asked, taking my glasses off of the bed stand. The blurry green numbers on the alarm clock became clear and the time revealed itself to be a little past two. "The frack- do you know how early it is, Jer?"
He gulped. "You were thrashing." I scrunched my brows, giving him a questioning sound. Jerry looked away, focusing his attention at his bed across from mine. "I think you kicked the wall because I heard a loud thud and when I was awake you were kicking and punching the air and muttering things."
I suddenly felt a small pain in my foot- a small but noticeable one. I pulled it closer to myself.
I could barely remember my dream, yet there were feral parts that still shone vividly behind my eyes. I could see a proud Alfred observe the casualties of the countries' war. In my dream, I could feel a sticky warm substance on my hands that, when pressed to my face, smelt of blood.
Stressed, I did the exact same thing only to find that damned odor remained.
Cold, metallic blood.
"You were muttering a lot," Jerry added. He inched a little from the bed, knowing me well enough to give me adequate room to breathe. "Something about a guy named Mathias." He was silent for a long moment. "Who's Mathias?"
I looked up at him, my gut filled to the brim with emptiness. I could see Mathias behind my eyes- fears of some unruly fate gnawing on his flesh. Maggots were eating his skin, leaving him painted in red muscle. He was staring at me with vacant eyes, asking why I hadn't saved him. Why did I save someone who didn't want to be saved?
I realized that Jerry was staring at me. I sighed, rubbing my stained fingers into my temples. "It's nothing," I told him. "Go back to bed."
Jerry stared at me for a moment longer before obediently doing what he was told. He didn't break eye contact as he crawled back beneath his covers. For the first hour or so, he watched me as I stayed awake, sitting on my bed and losing myself in thought. By the time he rolled over on his side and fell asleep, my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could see the dark shapes of our desk and dresser. Books and such were scattered around the floor and a few video games posters were tacked to the wall.
I grabbed my laptop bag and silently crept through the crack at the door. The hallway was dark, save for the yellow light seeping out from beneath a door further down the hall.
Figures that she would still be awake.
I softly knocked as I opened the door, taking a delicate look inside. The plain white walls of her room seemed almost yellow from her desk light. The color splashed around everything from her purple bed sheets to the drawings on the wall. Sherry sat at her desk, hunched over her work in her pajamas. A few crumpled up balls of paper littered the ground around her, signifying how long she had been awake. It must be another sleepless night. "Sherry?" I whispered.
She paused for a second, frozen like a deer in headlights, before slowly turning. She visibly relaxed when she saw me, a relieved smile turning up her mouth. "Oh, it's just you, Lar," she said, conspicuously picked a pair of glasses off of her desk and placed them into her desk drawer. She turned the key, locking it away, when she looked at me again. Her smile suddenly disappeared and her face was painted with worry. "Can't sleep, huh?"
I nodded. "Bad dream."
That worried and haunted look I saw at the hospital returned and, for a moment, I saw her right hand shaking. Her left hand held it down and she forced herself to be natural. "About what?" she asked calmly. It was obviously faked.
I considered telling her about Mathias and the whole ordeal, but I decided against it. Logic said that she would never believe me- even if instincts said to trust her. "Maggots"
Sherry was silent for a long moment, obviously debating her options. I thought that she had gone deaf until she finally gestured to her bed. "Alright. Just don't be noisy." A wave of relief crashed over me. Of course she would say yes. I jumped onto the matress, crossing my legs like an Indian as I pulled my laptop of out my bag and turned it on.
A sigh left me as I waited for the system to boot up completely. I was lucky that it still worked at all, considering all of the abuse it went through throughout the years. A thick strip of duct tape was the only thing hiding the huge crack on the front lid. Relaxed, I leaned back against the wall. Paper crackled beneath me.
I turned around and saw that the whole wall behind me was filled with paper sketches. I remembered Sherry starting this a long time ago, a strange collection that was never to be complete, though I just now recognized who she drew. I placed my laptop aside and pulled myself onto my knees to get a better view.
In thin lines of gray, I saw Liechtenstein and Gilbert together in modern clothes, wearing bright smiles. I saw England and France working at a desk, Holy Rome and Russia at a bar. I saw Belarus and Belgium dancing together in prom dresses, one more happy than the other. It took me awhile, but I found Antonio in a picture with Japan, smiling like the idiot he was. I couldn't find a single picture of Lars.
I felt sick when I saw a few pictures of Alfred and Mathias together, arm in arm, laughing like idiots. I wanted to tear it off the wall, but I resisted. I instead focused on all the images of Turkey. I didn't know why Sherry liked drawing him so much, but he was in every other picture with all sorts of people with all sorts of faces. In a few, he was tense and humble and in others, he was jolly and strong.
I lightly placed my fingers on the sketches. They were all so life-like, exact replicas of the people that I met and saw. I paused. My fingers lingered over a specific sketch, one I was surprised I didn't see earlier. It was another one of Turkey, except this time he was standing at a window with his back erect and looking down at a pocket watch in his hands. My mind painted it gold and I saw, for a moment, Lars and Mathias's watches.
I could hear my heart in my ears. Where did she . . .
"What are you doing, Lar?" I jumped. Sherry was sitting at her desk still, though she was turned to face me. Her eyebrow was raised condescendingly and her tight face drawn into a frown.
I looked away, focusing my eyes onto her stupid purple sheets. "I was just looking," I said. "What are these, Sherry?"
"Sketches," she said tiredly. I could see the dark bags under her eyes. Were they from lack of sleep or something else? "Why?"
I bit my lip. I knew that I shouldn't, but I wanted one. I wanted a picture of my friends to carry around with me. I wanted to have a reminder of what I was going to be returning to someday, even if it was tomorrow or twenty years from now. "I was wondering if you could draw me one," I said. I sounded weak, almost pitiful.
Her brow quirked as she seemingly backed away. "W-why would you want one?"
I thought about lying to her. I thought about what would happen if I suddenly told her to forget about it. But in the end, I only closed my eyes and shrugged. "I just don't want to forget."
We were silent for a long moment. The air was heavy between us, like we were suffocating in salt water. I could feel Sherry stare at me, as if deciding how she would respond. I heard her rise from her seat and the bed dipped from her weight. I opened my eyes and saw her taking her notepad onto her lap, armed with a newly sharpened pencil. "Who do you want me to draw?" she asked.
I couldn't help but to smile. I quickly spewed a fallacy about wanting this picture of a book, but she brushed me off. "Shut up Lar and just admit already that you're a fan of Hetalia." Even when I kept to my story about books and inspiration, she only waved a hand and told me to hurry up. I noticed how sad the whole idea made her.
Like she knew everything I went through.
What if Himaruya's lore was true? What if Sherry really was the idiot girl who was there before me?
I pushed those thoughts out of my head. Himaruya was trying to catch me off guard- I had to remember that. There is no way she actually went into Hetalia like I did. That would mean that she went through what I did and that was unbearable to even consider. I wouldn't want to wish such a horror upon anyone else.
Yet, as I pointed to people asked Sherry to draw them, avidly describing those she didn't have, I knew that I wouldn't have traded those days for anything. Beneath all of the horrors of war and death, there were also the carefree days on deck with Gilbert. Even though Alfred betrayed me, he and I had some great times.
I would never remember everything about those one hundred and fifty-nine days on board of the Romanov, but I would never forget the nineteen days I do. In a way, I could still feel Liechtenstein in the back of my mind, telling me to keep my head cool and carry on. If she was here now, I think that she would tell me that I did change. I felt like some high and mighty stool I once sat on was gone at last and I was finally seeing the world from ground level. It didn't matter if people didn't agree with me all of the time. I just had to respect those who think differently than I did.
The sad part was that I once thought that I was doing it before.
Now I know that I never did unto others what I would want unto myself.
But as the sun slowly rose and Sherry slowly created the faces of my friends- Liechtenstein, Gilbert, Antonio, Lars, Mathias, Belarus, and Russia -I was aware of what had to come next. I could not fall back to my normal routine if I wanted to. I would have to prepare for the coming war. I was not going to go in blind like I did last time.
For three years, I would train. I would work out as much as I could, run for miles every morning, build the endurance I would need. I taught myself how to throw knives again and, whenever it was allowed, carried around a knife for safety. When I asked Mom to sign me up for martial arts classes, she knew that something was wrong. She tried to bargain with me, try to get me to fess up why I was suddenly so paranoid.
She thought that perhaps I was worried that I would lose Sayaka- that sweet and understanding girl who never questioned me when sudden surges of panic from the thought meeting Alfred or killing Himaruya or possibly losing her again caused me wrap her into my arms and cry into the crook of her neck.
I knew that Mom would believe me if I told her that these new habits of mine were simply from a new outlook in life.
I knew that it was truly because of the picture of the people I would meet again framed at my desk.
I never knew that when those three years were up, things would become much worse than what I would ever have thought possible.
I never would have known how sorry I would be.
After THE WAR: Day 19
His feet were soundless on the deck. He silently walked towards the back of the deck, none of the celebrating nations noticing him. He was proud of the way they were able to end all of that nonsense without much bloodshed, but it could have been cleaner. He clutched his notebook closer to his side. "Calm down," his partner said. "Everything was solved in the end, wasn't it?"
The man shook his head. "Yes, but the original history had none of this war nonsense to start with," he said.
"You can't dwell on the past."
He paused at the rail, leaning his arms on the metal bars. "You would not be able to stop me from doing so," he said, looking out at the rippling waters. The crescent moon left a lovely shimmer of white on the surface. "When he does nothing but change what I've created, what can you do but remember what you once had?"
"You'll get it back soon."
"Or so I pray."
Heels clicked behind him. "Boss." At the sound of the voice, the man turned around and saw Antonio kneel, a hand on the ground and his head bowed. "I saw you walking around, Boss," he said, firm like a subordinating officer. "I thought that perhaps you needed something."
The man smiled kindly at him. "I'm fine, Antonio, though I must thank you for your work," he said. "Without you, none of this would have been able to end the way it should have."
Antonio nodded weakly. "Even though it's still a loss on our part . . ."
"Depends on your views. 'One man's garbage is another man's treasure', is it not? In a way, what you view as our defeat is really our blessing. But don't you know why we think that anyways, Antonio?"
Again, the brunette could only nod. "I know the plan, but . . ." He raised his head. His green eyes seemed to glow in the night, shining even more brilliantly than the ocean around him. His lower lip trembled as he tried to hold his ground. "He's just a kid, boss," he said. "So was his sister. They were both kids when you sent them here. They aren't necessarily the most virtuous or mature of people, so why them? Why out of the millions of people on this planet were they the ones dragged into this plan?"
"We wouldn't have brought them here if we had a choice, but we didn't."
The man nodded in curt agreement before adding, "And they both played their parts well, so I see no point in complaining. You're letting your personal views fog your judgment, Antonio."
Antonio stared at him for a trembling moment longer before finally releasing a long sigh. "I understand," he muttered as he lowered his head again. They were silent for another long moment before he sighed again. "Forgive me for asking, Boss, but what are we going to do now?"
Cruel as it was, the man could not help but to smirk, saying, "It'll be more correct to ask what you'll be doing next."
Antonio raised an eyebrow. He rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off of his slacks as he gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean by that?"
"What I mean is that we must separate for a while."
"It would be safer for you and for the plan if we severed all communication with each other until it is ready to commence," said the man's partner.
The brunette's mouth dropped. He sputtered over his words, biting his tongue every now and then. "B-but that's not for centuries!" He yelled, forgetting that his friends were barely twenty feet away. "Who's going to watch Alfred? Roderich? Eduard? Mathias?"
"You will."
"Not by myself!" Antonio dared to march towards him, reaching a hand out to touch him. "Please, I can't do this by myself. I only now just figured out what I want in the world and you can't really just abandon me-"
His hand touched the man and, the next thing Antonio knew, there was only open air before him and the moonlit water below.
~End of The Fanboy~
MW: You know, it was getting really happy there. Then the plot had to come in. So there we have it, the end of FB and the set up for the last installment. Not sure when that will come up, but I'm aiming for early November. If I don't do it then, I'll have to wait until after my play.
Anyways, symbolism cheat sheet will come out the day before the release. Expect a oneshot and some El Verdugo until that happens. Maybe even NeverMore or Sagacity. Wow, I am overloaded with stories . . .
Please remember to review!
Notes:
"From the American song "Coming Home" by Diddy" I know, cliché but when I was editing this for the last time, this song came up while Sherry and Larry were in her room and it really just fit. The original quote was from British writer, Philip Pullman: "You cannot change what you are, only what you do."
~Acknowledgements~
Like before, thank you to SEK for proofreading especially when her grades are on the line. They always are. Thanks to Blue for putting up with me when writing late at night made me sleepy and cranky the next day. Scratch that, thank you everyone I know for putting up with me.
Let's also say thanks to some of my internet friends: Frosty, Alex, Sparrow, and many others who do not have convenient nicknames and who, in fact, have no idea that we're friends.
And most importantly, many thanks to the readers for reviewing, watching, and favoring, even when my updates were extremely late and inconsistent. You guys are the best. See you in the last installment!
Next Chapter: Symbolism cheat sheet.
Thank you so much everyone for reading for sticking around! Please tell me what you think!