MW: One would think that because the narrative has two different points of view, it would be much easier to write. Wrong. There is so much that I want to tell on both Larry and Sherry's sides of things, that I now have to become more selective of which scenes to tell and when. Don't forget that I also have to stick in the comedic bits.
But enough of that. I apologize for the belated chapter. I had been aiming for a chapter in December, but finals and the holidays came up. And I may or may not have five ongoing stories right now (you should all read them). Also, my beta is out of town, so if there is any mistakes in this, please feel free to tell me. I'm terrible at going through my own work.
Like always, I would like to thank our very special group of reviewers. Give a big round of applause to AK, Guest, Ayumi Kudou, Prulicious, TotallyRandomAuthor, Reilie, JesslaBleh, Abby-Flourite, Hammsters, HimekoUchia, Blood-Stained BallGowns, Dalasport, Zhe awesome, Kitkat12choco12, XxxImNotOkayxxX, FrostyTheBookLover, I3AnnieHenson (loving the name), Guest, I love the Sues, KaiShin lover, Gigi, KatStorm, SadlyNotYou, andUltimateOtakuGirl100.
And before I sign out for this AN, special shout out to Kitkat12choco12. I am so sorry that I was not able to get the chapter out on your birthday, but I still give you my best wishes. Happy birthday, dear!
Chapter Summary: Our heroes breech the inside of the police station to find their mother burning on the ceiling. Wait, that's Supernatural. Never mind.
Warnings: Strong language, some violence, mild yaoi.
Disclaimer: Oops, I still do not own Hetalia.
~Chapter 2~
It's Catching Fire Except We're Not Killing People, But At Least There's Jenifer Lawrence
"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken."
― Jane Austen, British Author
The Fangirl: December 25th
I barely had enough time to scream before the heat burst around us. I felt it seer against my skin, intense but never enough to actually leave a burn.
Shouts shook the air. Debri fell like rain onto Sadiq's solid back, enticing grunts of pain from his throat.
I cough, tasting the smoke in the air. The small rocks on the icy pavement dug into my cheeks and fought their way into my mouth. Sadiq had his hand in my hair, keeping me still in place. Delicately, like a puppet with broken strings, I moved my shaking arms into a sturdier position and pushed myself up. Sadiq, however, bore into me and my skinny arms crumpled beneath me. I tasted the ground again. I groaned, trying to peel my face away. "What the hell was that?" I asked.
Sadiq did not move. He remained poised in a half-squat, the fire from the building that just freaking blew up glowing red in his eyes and casting shadows on his face. He barely seemed to mind me, holding me in place as he gritted his teeth. "Damnit."
I pressed my lips and pushed him away, sitting up at last. I stared at the building fire. We had barely missed the explosion- a red brick building was permeating the hot fingers of fire and the black billows of smoke that accompanied it. I gaped at the damage, awed. "What the hell was that?" I breathed quietly, barely loud enough for myself to hear. A soft ring was banging around inside of my ears, making it hard to hear anything besides my heart beat."
"The police station." Sadiq lowered his face and swore. He carefully reached into his pocket, pulling out the golden pocket watch. Sadiq stared at the lovely yellow for a moment before clutching it tightly. "Fuck. Estonia is part of the police force."
I gasped, pulling his jacket closer around my shoulders. "What? What are you saying?"
Sadiq stuck it back into his pocket and jumped to his feet. "I'm going in there," he said, all business as he brushed the powdery snow off his pants. "I need you to stay out of trouble while I'm gone. Don't talk to anyone."
Look- I'm not crazy. I knew better than to jump right into a burning building where I'll probably burn to death. But there was no way in hell I could leave Sadiq alone to venture into Estonia's territory. It screamed trap while flailing arms and streaking across an international soccer field. If I didn't know better, I would say that he wanted to run into Himaruya.
So being the good person I was, I ignored the growing pain in my back and scrambled to my feet. "I'm coming with you," I said.
"No you're not." He gave me a hard look, the stern kind I was used to getting from him. He stalked up to me, grabbing the back collar of my dress, like a dog to the scruff of his pups' necks. He pulled me up to my feet, his honey-colored eyes colder than the snow at his feet. "No offense, but it's a burning building, Sherry. You're not the first person I would choose to follow me inside."
"If I come, I'll make a lot of fire jokes," I jested, batting my eyelids. "Who would be better than getting that? Poland?"
He grimaced. "No, it'll crash his style. I was thinking more in the lines of-" He turned to the crowd, sticking his free hand into his mouth. A quick whistle shot through the air. "Hey! Switzy! Wanna go inside a burning building with me?"
My mouth dropped open. "Switzerland?" I repeated in disbelief. "You would take your ex over me?"
"I would take a sleep walking Greece over you."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "You owe me for not telling me what shea butter is."
Sadiq groaned, releasing me at last. "Jesus Christ, Sherry. It's been how long and you just didn't google the damn thing?"
I didn't have a chance to reply (if I did, I would have explained how simply googling the damn thing would have taken away all of the magic); Switzerland finally kicked his butt into jogging towards us. He looked the way he always did with strictly cropped blond hair and an equally stern face. The tip of his sharp nose was a bright red. "Turkey, my sister just ran into there," Switzerland said, burying his hands into the pockets of his green coat. "You have five seconds to tell me what's wrong because I need to kill that idiot Spain."
I gave him an odd look. "Spain?"
His green eyes suddenly rested on me, noticing me at last. "Yes, Seychelles. Spain," he said. I grimaced. Oh yeah, I was going to have to start going by that now, wasn't I? "She was just following him and now I need to run in there and kick his ass for dragging her into this mess."
"What a coincidence," Sadiq said, brightening considerably as he wrapped an arm around Switzerland's shoulders. "I need to go in there myself!"
I raised my hand. "And so do I!"
Switzerland opened his mouth to reply, but my mentor immediately stepped in front of him and blocked me from view. "No she isn't."
"Am to!" I piped, trying to crane my neck around his body. "I can make a Supernatural joke and it would be relevant for once!"
Switzerland rolled his eyes. "I don't care who's going, just let me go fetch my sister." With that, he started at a run towards the building. Sadiq turned to me, motioning for me to stay put before following. I frowned. He treated me as though I was some sort of mutt.
I huffed and started to run after them, calling, "Hey, wait for-" I trailed off, pausing mid-stride. The orange licks of flames were intensifying by the second, stray streaks stretching out from the windows and wall cracks of the burning building. I pressed my lips and gulped. "On second thought-" I stepped back as the men jumped through the smoking doorway. "-I'll stay here and keep watch."
Now don't get pissy with me- I was not going to be rash and jump into a fiery hellfire. I mean, it wasn't like I was running away from a monster that would eat the protagonist's mother. If he was still alive, Himaruya would not attack him yet. The bastard brought me back for a reason and I doubted that anything significant would happen without me. And besides, I would probably burn myself in there and I didn't want to give Seychelles another reason to hate me.
I rubbed the back on my neck. I wondered how she was doing. I could imagine her in the Void, stalking around aimlessly until the opportunity showed itself for her to jump back into her skin and be Hooker Sherry. A wry smile stretched across my face. What was fifteen year old me thinking- Hooker Sherry? What an awful name.
"Hey, dudette!"
An immediate smile stretched across my face as I turned to face America. He was just as tall as I remembered, a goofy smile stretched onto his face as he looked down at me through the lens of his glasses. He had his hands buried in his iconic leather jacket, one that looked particularly warm. "Hey there America," I greeted happily, mimicking his visage. "What up?"
He shrugged. "Nothing much. Haven't talked to you in a long time though."
I chuckled. Okay, Sherry. Play the part, be Seychelles. You did it once (and failed terribly) and you can do it again. "Yeah, it's been quite a while." I scratched the top of my head. "How long has it been for you exactly?" I asked.
America placed a finger on his chin, thinking. "Oh man, let's see . . . it's been, like, nearly two for me, but time's kind of a screwy shit so it's gotta be six years for you, right?"
The color drained from my face. Did I hear that right? I stood a small step back, shaking my head. "What-"
"Then again, time is, like, a really weird thing, man. Like someone people say its set in place and then movies are like 'no, it's completely subjective' and Dr. Who's all time wobbly stuff and I don't even know what the hell goes on in that show anymore. Not that I even watch it anymore. I mean, it's kind of racist since there hasn't been an ethic doctor yet, which also makes it sexist because, dude, Jennifer Lawrence would make an awesome, lesbian Doctor . . ."
While he rambled aimlessly, I opened and closed my mouth like a suffocating fish, sorting out his previous and relevant words. Very slowly, the pieces were coming together in my head. America the Stupid (and, apparently, extremely liberal) was not safe. I had to run, get out of there and back to safety.
I had to find Sadiq.
I stepped back, this time with the intent to turn on my heel and run for it.
America snatched my wrist, sending a wince of pain up my am. I yelped, my instincts immediately calling for me to yank my arm free, but his grip was cold iron and I could barely twitch without causing myself pain. America drew back my attention with a humored laugh, an ugly smirk on his face. "Hold on, Sherry." He chuckled. "I'm not done yet."
I screamed, but before any of the surrounding civilians could notice, America slapped a hand over my mouth.
His hand was freezing.
He held back my voice, hushing me like a child. I tried to scratch and hit him, but none of my blows seemed to even entice the smallest of blinks. I gave up, resigning myself to come up with a new plan. Maybe if I stalled long enough, Sadiq would come outside and rescue me.
But what if he was having problems himself?
America removed his hand, only to replace it with a single finger. Every inch of his orange tinted, white skin was crawling with that disgusting smugness. I growled and tried to bite his finger clean off. He pulled his finger away, laughing as my teeth clamped down upon nothing.
"C'mon, Sherry. Don't be like that," he said. "I just want to ask you something." America leaned in until I could feel his cold breath along the ridge of my ear. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend that he wasn't here, but fear had me blindingly aware of his every movement. My chest flamed with the anxious desire to push him aside, but his voice, barely louder than a whispered, reigned me into place. "I'm looking for something: a pair of glasses. You might've heard of them. They're rectangular, good quality, pretty hard to break. They used to belong to my dad, Himaruya. Heard of them?"
My legs were weak, shaking. All of the heat radiating off of the building was lost on me as a new flush of cold rushed through my veins. I glanced around nervously, hoping that someone in the crowd would notice this asshole. But their eyes were elsewhere and whatever looks we received were quickly dismissed. I felt the panic sprout in my skin . . .
But I was not fifteen anymore.
I closed my eyes and breathed. I was older now, and with age meant wisdom. I could find a way out of this situation if I really tried, I just had to find it. "Well, Sherry?' America asked again, the impatience edging his voice. "What do you have to say to that? I know that Sadiqgave them to you. All you just have to do is tell me where they are and we'll send you home no problem."
"Really?" I opened my eyes and looked at him, up and down. I saw my opportunity.
A few summers ago, my friend, Bella, dragged me to a Woman's Rape Prevention Class at a local martial arts studio. For two days a week for seven weeks we had to stand in a hot room, with no air conditioning, with a group of six thirteen year olds. All of us were sweating in heavy canvas pants as we wrestled and hit each other while our feet stuck to the blue mat beneath us. I broke my nose while I was there. Bella underestimated her strength and my ability to block and accidentally collided her fist with my nostrils, but that is a different story. The main point was that even though I barely paid attention to the class, I learned one very important rule: when in doubt, aim for the balls.
A devious grin appeared on my face, despite all of my efforts to remain stoic. I said, "There's just one problem about that." I kicked my leg up and in between his legs.
America hollered, releasing his grip in order to clutch his groin.
I couldn't help it: I did a little victory dance, tugging my sleeves and moving my arms like a rapper. "Ha! Women's Rape Prevent class pulls through again! In your face!" America glared up at me, the danger in his eyes accentuated by his red face and messy bangs. I knew a murder sentence when I saw one and, like Sensei told me, once I hit the perpetrator, I "ran like hell."
So I turned my heels and made a mad dash for it, America's pants on the back of my neck.
Seychelles was a fast runner, as fast as I remembered her being. Even in the snow, the scenery zipped past me in a blur of lights and colors. I was able to keep a good distance between us, but I still dove into a crowd of people who were rushing towards the fire. I yanked their shoulders aside, swearing as I glanced to see if America was still behind me.
He was, but he was having a better time navigating our little detour than I was.
I swore and broke free, starting my way back to Seychelles's apartment building. I could probably run into any of the store along the way and be granted sanctuary, but I didn't know for sure if they were safe. I needed to go to a place where I knew I had allies. My feet slid on the ground as I made the final last turn. I somehow balanced myself in time and quickly sped through the glass doors.
My wet feet glided on the marble floors easily, letting me float my way across the room. The attendant at the desk gave me an odd look, scrunching his eyebrows before pretending he didn't see anything. I was starting to like this guy. I reached the elevators as the doors dinged and slid open, revealing Ari.
I smiled in relief, flinging myself unshamefully at him. "Ari!"
His eyes went wide before he stiffly caught my frantic hug. "Sherry, what's wrong?" He asked. "Why are you running-"
America burst through the door then, dusted in snow that melted from the heat of his anger.
I gulped and pointed. "He's with Himaruya."
Ari knew what to do. He hit the elevator button with his elbow and quickly dragged me through the doors before they were fully opened. Ari shoved me to the wall, putting me in aside as he jammed his finger into the right buttons. All the while, America ran towards us, huffing loudly.
Terror struck me as Ari swore loudly, cursing the entirety of his country as he pounded the 'close door' button. "C'mon, work!" He glanced up, America barely five feet away. "Fuck it!" Ari kicked it.
The doors started to slide shut.
I watched America's eyes broke from their narrow glare into wide in shock before he made one last sprint to the door. He was barely able to slip his hand through the closing crack, causing the doors to ding and slide apart again. Ari scowled and punched the hand away, causing Alfred to yelp and stumble back.
Ari banged his hand into the button again and the doors finally closed, taking us out of danger at last.
He sighed, leaning over and placing his hands on his knees, panting. "Oh God- and to think I was just about to go look for you," he said. He glanced at me as I leaned against the wall, finally feeling my erratic heart calm. "What was that about?" He wiped his silvery bangs out of his eyes. "Where's Pops?"
"America's apparently Himaruya's son and he wants the glasses back," I explained quickly. My temples were pounding. "And Sadiq . . ." I balked, a new strong of fear wrapping around me. My nerves shook my body, making my hands unsteady as I placed them on the sides of my head. "I . . . shit . . ." Sadiq- I left him behind, didn't I? I left him in the fire (literally) while there was still a high chance that Himaruya would reveal himself.
My Icelandic friend refused to break his cool composure, instead looking stoic as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "What happened?" he asked sternly. "What did you do?"
I shook my head. I had to tell my hands not to hit him. "I left him behind, Ari," I said, the pain evident in my voice. Tears threatened to breach the brim of my eyes, but I didn't want to lose my head. I already acted rashly today and look where it got me- having an emotional episode of regret, in an elevator, with the most emotionless person I knew. "We need to go back and get him, before-"
To my surprise, Ari shook his head. "Think this through, Sherry," he ordered solemnly. "Everything can be a trap and we have to consider this to be one as well. I'll say that it's pretty likely that America's still in the lobby and is waiting for his chance to face us once again."
"But we can't just leave Sadiq behind!" I shouted.
"Yes, we can." A ding! echoed on the walls and the doors slid open, revealing the residential hallway my mentor had escorted me down not an hour earlier. Ari took my hands in his, coaxing me to my feet. "Sadiq is a lot stronger than you think," he told me, walking backwards as he guided me back to Seychelles's apartment. "Whatever's out there- a fire or America or Himaruya -he can take care of himself. We just have to trust him until then."
I glanced back at the elevator, wanting to rush back in and bang my hand on the down bottom, but I knew that he was right. Sadiq was strong, the strongest person I knew. He could defend himself from whatever's going on. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Alright."
"Okay." Ari dropped my hands. "Let's go back to the apartment and you can explain to me and France and England exactly what happened out there."
I frowned, sadly letting him call the moves. I didn't remember Ari ever being so bossy, but back then, Ari wasn't knee deep in the mess. Back then, he didn't have to be my rock. I allowed him to lead me away, praying that Sadiq would come back alright.
The Fanboy: December 25th
"You know, running into a burning building is not the smartest thing to do," Antonio said, jogging at a quick rate right next to me.
I shrugged as I continued running, heading straight towards the fire. The hands of logic twisted my stomach like a rag, demanding harshly that I listened to it. I knew nothing of the physics of how police stations burned. I was going in there blind, risking third degree burns and ash-filled lungs. I was toying with death.
Still, I was eager.
Not about the whole possibly dying part, of course. But I wanted to run in there and yank Lars away before he did anything irrational, anything that he would later regret. I didn't want anyone else to screw things up beyond repair. Heaven knows I've already fracked up with Jerry and everything . . .
Antonio grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to a stop. He turned me towards him and pushed a wet white cloth into my hands. "Here." I looked between it and him with a raised brow. "Hold it over your mouth and nose," he said, a light smile gracing his face. "It'll keep out the ash. Also, take off your bag. You don't want it to get burned."
I nodded. He was forcing that smile, that much I could tell. He didn't want me to run in there. But I had to redeem myself somehow. I didn't want to feel like I was a douchebag. "Thank you." I tried to look hopeful, but the twist in my gut made me want to barf. I slipped my backpack off my shoulder and tossed it into a nearby alley way. "C'mon," I said. "The fire's only getting worse."
Again, Antonio was forced to chase after me.
The police station was made of red brick and white concrete with a small set of stairs leading up to glass doors. A few members of the crowd dared to stray a few paces close to the first step, but the majority remained a safe distance away, worriedly whispering to each other. We threaded our way through them, the heat growing more intense with each hurried step. I felt like the Gingerbread Man, except I was running to the oven, not away.
I knew that if I let myself think about it too much, I was going to find myself with cowardly feet stuck on the first step. Taking a deep breath, I cleansed my head of all sensible thoughts before kicking the glass front door into pieces. The shouts of the people behind me, begging me to stay put, barely registered in my head. They were the mere echoes that accompanied Antonio and I into the hellfire.
The heat was intense.
It was disorienting, making my head spin in extreme vertigo. Smoke filled my lungs and all I could do was placed my hands on my knees and cough. I felt awful. I thought I felt my skin blistering, but when I scratched my nails on my arms, I felt nothing out of place. My large eyes skimmed the room, slowly registering the sight. The fire seemed to be mostly on the second floor, though little strands of the orange had infected the front walls. Inside, at what appeared to be a reception desk, was mostly just smoke and ash.
Antonio placed a hand on my back. "You have to breathe, Larry," he told me, uncurling my hand, the one with the cloth in it, and pressing it to my mouth. The damp coolness quelled some of my nerves and some of the air returned to me. "If you don't breathe, you will die." He held me like that for a long second, letting me breathe in and out. None of the air in the world was enough.
For a naive second, I couldn't figure out why I couldn't move, why I was quivering in a strange sort of paralysis. But the second it dawned on me, I could feel it looming over me like a haunting ghost.
I was dead terrified.
I squeezed my eyes shut, convincing myself that the tears were from the stinging smoke. A loud voice in my head screamed that I was going to die here. Not in the police station, but here in Hetalia. Everything from THE WAR was playing like an old movie behind my eyes, reminding me of the battles I ran away from, the people I had to hurt, the people I helplessly watched be hurt and betrayed.
I hated to say it, but I wanted my knives.
In the three years of everyday life where I had to pretend that Hetalia never happened, they became my comfort. I was still afraid of them; a finger brushed over the handle still sent a seizing thrill up my arm. But Belarus had told me that my fear made me in control of them. When I feared them, I was guaranteed protection for the people I love. Whenever I felt threatened or uncertain, I always knew that they were the one evil that I could bend to my will. And I wanted that now. I wanted to be in control of my situation, but with this fire entrapping me in probably the dumbest decision of my life, I only found myself falling more and more into disorder.
Antonio rubbed a circle into my back. His hand was tense. "Larry, we have to get moving," he urged. "If we don't hurry, we're going to be baked to death."
That was right- I had this idiot with me. I had to keep myself together, at least until we're out of danger. I will drop the strong facade when we're safe and sound, but right now I will pull my strings taut and go for it.
I wiped my hand down my face, straightening as I pressed the cloth on top of my mouth. "Sorry," I said, sounding softer than what I would have liked. I didn't want to appear weak. I looked around the room, seeing the fire start its spread to the floor. I flinched, but ordered myself to be strong. "Where's Lars?"
"Hey!" Two men jumped through the doorway and flames, their feet crunching the glass beneath them into dust. One of the men was more recognizable than the other. The first one was immediately recognizable with his cropped, corn colored hair. "Liechtenstein!" Switzerland shouted, running towards me. I went rigid, holding my tongue as I tried not to swear. Out of everyone in the stupid universe, it had to be him. Knowing him, he's going to butt his head into places it didn't need to go and make things more complicated than they were already.
The floor above him, however, creaked dangerously. Antonio and I had a moment to realize what was happening before the wood rafters above Switzerland split into two. Scaffolds and long chunks of wood came crashing down in a thunderous rain. I crossed my arms over my face as the debris kicked up the ash and dust. When I was sure that it was clear, I removed my cloth, coughed, and peered at the scene.
Switzerland's companion had pulled him back at the last second. It was a quick move, but not quick enough. I saw them both on the floor, face down and on their stomachs. But the dark haired companion was slowly picking himself up while Switzerland laid unmoving, a leg caught beneath one particularly heavy looking rafter.
It wasn't until the companion ran a hand over his face and hair did I recognize the face. "Holy shit," Turkey swore, scrambling to sit upright on the ground. He coughed, pressing his black sleeve into his face. "Switzy, are you-" Turkey picked up his hand and let it go.
It fell to the ground limply.
Turkey didn't waste any time. Coughing again, this time with much more difficulty, he placed two fingers at the nape of Switzerland's throat. My own frenzied heart did not calm until the relief shown in his eyes. "Shit, Vash- can you stop dying on me?" Turkey demanded, shaking as he picked himself off the ground. "It wasn't funny the first time, so why would it be now?"
Antonio grabbed my arm and nudged me back a little. I looked up at him, expecting him to be fully concentrated on me, but his green eyes were steadily on the man. "Get Switzerland out of here, Turkey," he ordered. For once he was authoritative, his eyes set in command, as if he regarded the Turk as someone of lower status.
Despite the centuries I've been away, he responded the way I thought he would. Turkey He rolled his eyes, kicking away the wood and bending down to toss them as well. "What the hell did you think I was going to do, jackass?" He bent down, slipping his fingers beneath the rafter. "Look, you two better give me a hand with-"
A loud boom! interrupted him. It was short, loud, and all too familiar. I hissed, placing my hands over my ears. "A gunshot?" I shouted, trying not to wheeze in the smoke. "Who's firing a gun?"
Antonio silently nudged my arm and pointed up stairs. I understood- Lars was the only one who could be irrational enough to be involved. We had to stop stalling. We had to stop him before he did anything irreversible.
With a grimace, Antonio waved goodbye to Turkey before dragging me past the reception desk, which had started to burn, and up the flight of stairs. Turkey's infuriated screams demanded us to come back and help. Contrite pains ached in my chest, but I put them aside. I'll send Turkey an apology card later. For now, it was just us and these smoke congested stairs.
It truly was lucky that countries did not die, nonetheless, get hurt easily. I'm sure that if I had been in any other body besides Liechtenstein's, I would have long ago died of smoke inhalation alone. The short strip up left me serious winded, the burning sensation spreading quickly to my lungs, but I was mostly okay.
My eyes burned. I vacantly noticed Antonio coughing and banging into the walls before we broke into the next room.
Fire was everywhere. It painted the walls in a glowing splatter, spreading like a virus to the floor. Here, all of the furniture was up in flames and only a small sphere by us was intact. Lars stood tall against the flames, a black silhouette against the light. His normally flicked-up blond hair stuck to his forehead, drenched in sweat. His worn jeans and brown jacket were singed at a few unlucky spots. His arm was held taut in front of him, a gun steady in his hands. Staring at him from the other end of the barrel was a familiar set of red eyes.
I placed an arm over my mouth as I coughed loudly, drawing attention to myself. The two men looked towards us, one with relief and the other with nonchalance. "Liech! Spain!" Gilbert cried out from his spot on the ground. A large bruise, black in the lighting, stained his pallid cheek, matching his dirtied police uniform.
I banged a fist on my chest, trying to clear my throat. "What in the world are you doing?" I finally choked out. I gave Lars a look that told him I thought he was crazy. "Why the hell is this place on fire?"
Lars face remained unchanged. His brows were a straight line over his eyes, his face drawn up in a too serious image. "It wasn't mean," he spat plainly. "I was trying to talk to that idiot there when the bomb went off."
Antonio groaned. "Then why do you have that gun?" he demanded, gesturing towards it wildly.
He did not even twitch, but a lick of annoyance lingered in his tone as he explained, "You know that I always have one on me, Spain, or have you forgotten?"
"Then why did you fire it off?"
"Because he's lying to me," he replied.
Gilbert raised his hands, shaking his head fiercely. "I swear, I have no idea what in the world Himaruya is doing right now!"
Lars snapped back towards him, falling into a knightly kneel as he grabbed the brown collar of Gilbert's shirt and jammed a gun beneath his chin. "Shut the fuck up! You have some of him in you, remember?" He shouted, gritting his teeth frustration. "It's been four centuries and you expect me to believe that Himaruya hasn't done anything yet?"
Before Gilbert could even think of nodding, Antonio leaped forward. He grabbed the gun, wrenching it free from Lars's hand. The Dutchman fell over in the process, barely missing the rim of the flames. Antonio panted, unloading the cartridge like he was programed to. "I said to wait until my word to do anything," Antonio told him, his eyes never straying from the scowling man. "Even if it takes centuries, you have to wait."
Lars flashed his teeth wolfishly, shouting, "And what about Matthias? Am I to just leave him a mindless zombie like that any longer?"
"Well I wouldn't necessarily call me mindless." I turned around, gasping at the man at the doorway. He towered over all else in the room, his blond hair sticking out at every odd so place. The perfectly large and mischievous grin that stretched across his face made my blood boil in anger. He had all of the marking of the Matthias I once knew, yet he seemed completely different.
He felt completely different.
"Long time, no see, huh?" he asked casually. Casual, but fully aware of the power he held. "How is everyone doing? I hope the bomb wasn't too inconvenient, but it was the only way to get us all in the positions we needed to be." We were all silent, but not from lack of words. I could feel the weight of our unspoken peace mingling in the smoke above us. We all thought that the other was going to speak.
Matthias eyes flitted between the four of us before finally resting on me. "Hey there, Larry-boy." He grinned, his words prompting a gasp of realization from Gilbert and Lars. "How are you doing? Enjoying your time here so far?"
I frowned, raising my chin a little. "What are you doing here?" I hissed threateningly as I narrowed my eyes into a sharp glare. "Did Himaruya send you to do his dirty work for him?"
He shrugged, brushing my words aside. "He would have if he wasn't dead. That's kind of why we're here, ya know? To bring him back to life." I bit my lip, feeling my face burn. Of course, Himaruya told me that he was going to be dead, didn't he? How could I have forgotten such an important detail? "But I'm here to tell you offer you something that's very important."
I hesitated. I glanced behind, looking at Antonio. He was holding a trembling Lars back, a human to a feral dog. His eyes told me that I was in control. I had to be the speaker in the group. As much as I wanted to ask him for his advice, I knew he was right. Gilbert was no longer reliable and Lars was blinded by emotion. I was the thread that held our patch work team together. I had to be the leader, just this once.
"And what would happen if I refused?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "What would you do then?"
Matthias shrugged. "Tell you anyways."
If he was going to tell me, then it was bound to be some piece of information that would either screw with my head or help me in the end. Either way, I might get an idea how I got here in the first place. I coughed, remembering that I still had to press the cloth into my mouth. "Fine. What is it?"
His face lit up in glee. Blue eyes sparkling in the flames, he stretched out his arms in a grand gesture. "I'm here to tell you that there's a game we want to play with you," he announced. "And it's kind of a cool one too. There's other people here, people who signed contracts with us. Find them and you just might figure out your answer."
I squeezed my fist, forcing myself to frown. So they knew that I was confused and now they were going to use it against me. Frack, they knew me too well . . .
But not well enough. From the oddly content grin on Matthias's face, I knew that he had no idea how badly he slipped up.
He said that there were "people" who signed contracts.
As in more than one.
If there were other people here, then my whole situation was just taken into a whole new realm of complications. Not only did I have to figure out who these people were, but I had to determine if they were going to be working in their own self-interest or against the resurrection of Himaruya. What if it was someone whom I treasured, like Sakaya or Jerry?
I would have to think about it later, when my head was not clouded by the smoke. I asked, "What would happen if I didn't find them first?"
He laughed. "That's the best part of the game- you don't know! We might do nothing or we might do everything to them. It all really comes down if you want to take the risk."
I started to say something, but I stopped myself. Again, they knew me and my tendencies all too well. I was not going to be willing the risk of losing someone important out of silly pride, even if it was for the greater good. I fell right into their trap: I would have to take attention off of their plan in order to focus on this game.
After a few stifling moments, the blond looked down at an imaginary clock on his wrist. "And that's just about my cue to get out of here." He glanced up and gave me a congenial wave. "It was nice talking to you, Larry-boy. See you soon."
I was not going to make a move to stop him as he retreated down the stairs. I was perfectly okay with letting him leave before ushering Lars, Gilbert, and Antonio down the steps and out of this hellhole. Lars, however, did not think like me. His arms held back by the Spaniard, he sent me a spiteful glare. "What the hell are you doing?" he spat brutally. "Go after him."
I shook my head, running the fingers of my free hand through my hair. "We are in the middle of a burning building- the last thing I want to do is get into the middle of a long winded battle of soul ownerships."
"But it was Matthias-"
"I know-" I bit back the rest of my words, cursing my sudden loss of temper. The past few centuries for Lars had been spent in long wait to rescue his friend. I knew that he had to be feeling frustrated with my lack of initiative. I took a long breath, feeling myself calm. "I know, Lars," I said, tense. "But we need to take care of ourselves first, before-"
A loud boom crashed behind me. Despite the rising heat, I felt my blood run cold. I turned around, paling when I saw that the stairwell had caved in. "Oh fuck," I breathed before breaking into a sudden fit of coughing.
"That was the stairwell, wasn't it?" Gilbert asked, rising to his feet. His ever increasing anxiety spread even to me, making me feel even more jumpy. I was suddenly all too aware of the enclosing fire that encircled us. "Holy shit, how are we going to get out of here?"
We looked at Antonio. The Spaniard tried to look innocent, but the terribly hollow look in my eyes made him drop his infantine smile. Face set, he released Lars. "I have an idea," he told us evenly. "But I don't know if it'll even work." I felt the air return to my lungs, making me loosen my stiff posture. Thank goodness.
Without looking, Antonio snapped his fingers and held his hand towards Lars. "Hand me the gun cartridge," he ordered quickly. Lars finally smartened up, taking it off the ground and shoving it into his hand. Antonio shoved it back into the gun, quickly flicking a couple switches before aiming to the ceiling. He fired a few rounds, the thunder of the barrel killing my ears.
I didn't hear the creak at first. I did not even know that it was happening until Antonio grabbed Lars and Gilbert and quickly dragged them towards me. Then, where they once stood, a wood beam from above came crashing down. Antonio released Gilbert and grabbed my hand. "Hurry!"
He ran, jumping onto the beam with Lars and I following. His back stooping for speed, Antonio sped us as fast as he could down the beam, taking us towards the wall at the other end of the wood. Gilbert's feet nipped at my heels, making me nearly trip into the flames. Antonio pulled me back, pushing me in front of him. The fire started to breach the beam, threatening to block our path of escape.
The wall was suddenly upon us, along with a window.
Antonio pushed me into it, yelling, "Jump!"
I crashed through, feeling the glass shatter around me. For a moment, I felt nothing but the insanely cool air engulf me. I crashed through another window.
The cry of the window as it shattered filled my ear. I hit the floor, yelping as I bounced a foot before rolling away. Not a second later, I heard Lars grunt as he hit the floor, followed by Antonio and Gilbert. For a moment, I did nothing but lay on the ground, coughing up the remaining smoke out my lungs. I hardly believed it. I was alive. Somehow, Antonio's insane plan managed to get all four of us out alive. I chuckled, burying my face into the carpet below me. I was so happy to be alive.
Antonio laughed, drawing my attention back to reality. Reluctantly, I forced myself to sit up. The three men all sat near the edge of the broken glass, each checking to see if they were all right. Gilbert picked at his clothes, patting out the fire that dared to start on his uniform sleeve. Lars's attention was absorbed solely on a shard of glass that stuck of his palm. He tentatively tried to pull it out, but a single brush made him hiss in pain. Antonio stretched out his arms, rolling his neck with a content sigh. "That wasn't so bad," he said, cracking a large smile.
It dropped, however, when he saw me. He asked, "What about you? Are you okay?"
I shrugged, feeling a few aches in pretty much every inch of my body. "I've been better, but I'll be fine."
Although concern still lay hidden beneath the surface, he seemed to relax. The fire sent a red glow- the only light around- through the window, outlining his body in an immaculate glare. He forced himself to grin carelessly, opening his mouth to talk.
Before he could say anything, a door from the far end of the room swung open. "What is this?" A man asked aloud, his soft feet hitting the carpet quickly.
Fluorescent lights above us flickered on, revealing out crash site to be nothing more than a public library. Rows of looming books shelves slithered throughout the room, some decorated with posters, all filled to the brim with books. I looked around, in awe of the size. I never been in one so huge before
It took me a second to recognize him, but slowly, I started to remember who this man in the traditional blue robes was: Japan. I would be the first to admit that my relation with the raven-haired man was vague at most. He and I were on the Romanov together, but I never found the need to really talk to him. He was quiet and helpful, though his dark brown eyes hinted at being more observant than he let on.
Japan stopped a few feet from us, his face enduringly passive, very much like Sayaka's. "What happened?" he asked, his monotone voice treading the edges of worry. His eyes quickly went from me to the fire to the other men until finally resting on Antonio. "Spain-chan, what-"
Antonio rose to his feet, brushing the soot off of his pants. "Japan! What a pleasure it is to see you here!" I looked at him, confused. Why was he speaking quickly, like he was trying to hide behind his own voice?
Japan's mien barely changed. He glanced between the Spaniard and the rest of us, portraying no emotions in his brown void for eyes. At least Sayaka allowed her eyes to tell me what her face refused to show. "Spain-chan, I am the librarian," he said gently. "Of course I would be here-"
Antonio laughed again. "That is completely right! How could I have forgotten?" Antonio looked down at me and gave a little jerk of the head, a small indication for Lars and I to stand. We did so, Lars trying not to laugh in the process. What was so funny about this? Grinning like a mad man, Antonio grabbed both of our wrists, saying, "Japan, I have something to confess. I'm going to have to end our relationship here-"
My mouth dropped to the floor. "What?"
"-But it's for the best. In the meantime, Prussia here would be more than happy to fill the now empty void in your heart where I once was-"
Gilbert's shrieked, "What?"
"Until then-" Antonio winked before making a mad dash for the exit, pulling Lars and I behind him. "Adios!"
It took me until we were down a flight of stairs, down another row of book shelves, and back out onto the street for me to realize what any of that shenanigans meant. I glared at his broad back, feeling my anger rise. "Antonio . . ."
Said man slowed in his tracks, tensing. He turned to me, a forced smile on his face. "Larry, I can explain-"
"Did you just break up with your boyfriend?" I demanded. I was loud, louder than what I intended. The remaining crowd who observed the burning the police station, now fully collapsed into itself, gave me odd glances, but I cared less. Antonio pulled a douchebag move and he was not going to get away without a scolding. "How can you even think about doing such a thing? If you're going to break up with someone, at least make it a more personal ordeal. And what about beforehand? Were you flirting with me while still dating him? Were you cheating on Japan?"
Antonio stopped wincing, his look softening into that of sheer adoration. "Aw, so you really do care."
I punched him.
Lars burst into a new bout of laughter, whooping as Antonio stumbled away with a red cheek. "Oh man, this is hilarious," Lars said. His mirth, however, faded away, mutating back into his usual scowl. Glaring at the crowd behind me, he quickly pulled the shard out of his palm and flicked it into the snow. "Let's continue this somewhere more private."
I gave him an odd look. "Why?"
"It's the twenty-first century and people are still stuck up about straighties," he said. "And you kind of just shouted that a male was flirting with you."
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I held it back. "Yeah, I remember. But I'm a guy, so there shouldn't be a problem." I crossed my arms over my chest.
I paled, realizing my fault. I was in Liechtenstein's- a girl's -body, not my own. Nobody should know about this. Everybody thinks I'm her.
I swore beneath my breath, feeling my face burn. Well, I really fracked this one up. Liechtenstein also was not going to be happy when she found out that I filled her lungs with ash, or that I even decided to go inside a burning building in the first place. Heck, it looks like I was trying to wreck her body.
"The two of you can spend the night at my place," Antonio offered. "I have plenty of room."
I saw no reason to disagree. That was why I packed my bag in the first place.
Wait, my bag.
I quickly ran back to the alley way I tossed it down, happy to find it sitting safely on a fluffy pack of snow. After double checking that all of my stuff was still inside (and unhappily discovering that all my clothes were wet), I closed the blue flap and trotted back to the men.
Being the only one with no knowledge of the town's layout, I had to rely on them to lead our little jaunt down the white streets. With the fire department finally arriving on scene, it was a little difficult to navigate through the crowd, but we were eventually able to break free and continue our stroll down the line of little stores and boutiques.
Lars and Antonio talked about the town gossip the whole trip, their voices becoming a soft white noise for my mind. I drifted from thought to thought, toying with a small day dream before casting it aside. It was only after we spotted Turkey carrying an unconscious Switzerland into a fancy apartment building did I finally found a memory I did not want to let go: Sayaka.
For a year after I first returned from Hetalia, my brain was caught in a confused jumble of incoherencies. My real, normal life had resumed and I was caught with trying to figure out how any of that wonderful fantasy ever happened. It occurred to me one day that the definition of reality I had previously accepted no longer applied to the world.
I was scared.
Many times, I spontaneously called Sayaka with seemingly odd questions with seemingly obvious answers. "Sayaka, what are the chances of the existence of mermaids?" I asked one time. "What about magic? Or the Greek gods?"
I must have sounded crazy, but every time, without fail, Sayaka explained the rules of the real world. Maybe mermaids did exist, but they were afraid of humans. In some ways, I could consider science to be a form of magic. Greek mythology shared many similarities with many monotheistic religions, so they might be.
One day, I offhandedly mentioned that cats were the best animals around. I talked about our old cat Berry as if it was still alive, confusing stories about it for stories about Antonio's cat form, Sokka.
My next birthday, Sayaka pulled me into a pet store and asked me what kind of cat I wanted.
We adopted an old one, one with white fur and brown spots. The woman helping us out told us that it was going to be euthanized soon and I felt a little pity for it. I named it Sokka Junior and promptly set to work getting the grumpy thing to like me. Maybe it had a bad owner in the past since every time I remotely tried to touch it the stubborn gal hissed and clawed my hand. One year and many cuts later, Sokka Jr. grew to tolerate me and even allowed me to hold it every once in a while.
That was what Sayaka did for me, in a way. My clawing was my constant questions and her persistence is what sanded the rough edges and turned me back into a normal human being. She was fun and loving and beautiful. She really was too good for me.
"We're here." I climbed out of my thoughts, finding myself standing in front of a modestly sized building on a street corner. In the darker lighting of the night, I was barely able to tell that the walls were made of whiteboards the same color as the docks by the ocean. The room behind the long, cut-out windows was dark, but the string of red and green Christmas lights that wrapped around the sign above the door illuminated the cafe's name: Spain's Cafe.
"You sure have a way with names," I said dryly.
I was ignored.
Antonio guided us around the corner, to a side door. "Do you mind taking off your shoes before going inside?" he asked, unlocking the door. "I hate having the vacuum." I grudgingly did so, trying not to complain when my socks met the cold pavement.
The side door did not take us inside of the cafe. Instead, it lead to a staircase which ended with another door. Antonio kicked off his shoes and took us up it, not noticing Lars and I shiver as he fumbled with the next round of locks. "Here we go," the brunet announced at last, pushing the door open. "I know it's not much but-" he took a step inside and flicked on the lights, a wave of a hand to invite us in. "-it's home."
I placed my boots outside the door and stepped onto the white carpet, charmed. Antonio's house was no larger than an apartment, but the quaintness of the white walls and simple decor drenched me in a sense of nostalgia. I first noticed how his living room, consisting of a simple couch and coffee table, ended with a cramped kitchen. There were a few windows, all closed, while the three doors I saw were all open. A quick glimpse revealed two small bedrooms and a bathroom to share.
I turned to Antonio, a large grin on my face. "I like it here," I said. "Thanks."
He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to hide the hopeful look on his face. "We could live here together, you know."
I frowned at him, feeling my delight vanish. "Can you not?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch. "You know that Sayaka and I are still together, right?"
Antonio sighed, sitting right next to me. I expected him to try to invade my personal space, but he made sure to keep a good inch between our thighs. "I know, but can't I dream of running a nice, little coffee shop with you in a quiet, suburban town?"
I sighed. "Whatever." I ignored the disappointed look that shined in his eyes, instead choosing to sluggishly drop my bag onto my lap. I felt the wet canvas threaten to soak my jeans. "Do you have a dryer?" I asked, rising to my feet. "I need to dry Liechtenstein's clothes."
"No, but you can hang them up in the closet of the guest bedroom. With luck they'll dry by morning." He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously ticked at my lack of tact. "Anything else you want to get out of the way before something else happens?"
I thought about mention how immature he was acting, but what would that say about me? Besides, I knew better ways of getting my revenge. "Yeah," I called, marching into the guest bedroom, which had nothing more than a bed and a table stand. At least the sliding doors of the closet had a mirror on it. "How did you and Japan ever become a thing? I thought that I was your one true love."
Antonio sputtered, making a variety of odd and inhuman noises as he scrambled to come up with reasonable reply. I smirked. I got him. If he wanted to still sound like the dedicated Romeo he was trying to play, then he was going to have to do a much better job at it. But whatever evil plan I had in mind was not telepathically sensed by Lars.
Finally down cleaing the wound on his palm (and by cleaning, I mean he stuck a band aide on it), he started searching the bulky, white fridge. "That's a simple one," he said as he swooping to the lowered shelves. "I figured this one out centuries ago."
So as I pulled all of my clothes on hangers, I was forced to listen to my scheme fall part as Lars explained it casually. Shortly after I had left, Antonio told Lars that the true creator was going off the map until the time for the counterattack arrived. Antonio, however, contented himself with the idea that the true creator was still somewhere in his world, so he got close to whoever could fit the job. These people include Sweden, Japan, Lithuania, Wy, and Japan again.
I supposed that it made some sense. Japan was the personification of Hetalia's country of origin, so it was logical to presume that there would be a connection.
With my last part of pants dripping in the closet, I reluctantly returned to the living room. Lars pulled up a wood chair from the kitchen table, sitting in it backwards as he smoked and drank a light beer. Alcohol—that was what he had looked for. I tried not to frown, but my mouth did not want to listen to me. "I don't think that's safe," I told him bluntly.
"Nothing is ever safe when you only see the risks," he replied, casually taking a long drink. When half of the bottle was gone, he unceremoniously wiped his arm across his arm. "So now that we've covered all of Sunny-Dale's secrets, what about you, Larry? What have you been hiding for the past four or so centuries?"
"Three years," Antonio corrected, his voice stuck in a low growl.
"Well shit- that isn't fair."
"But what has been going on with you?" Antonio asked, dropping his angered air. I guessed his concern for me really did defeat his stubborness. "Has everything been going on okay with your family?"
Family- not inclusive of Sayaka.
I shrugged. "I'm not sure if it's even worth mentioning," I told him, looking down at the white carpet.
"Sure it is." Antonio patted the spot next to him on the couch, beaming with joy. "This is confession time, after all."
There was no escaping it; I said too much already. Reluctantly, I accepted the spot next to him, leaning my elbows into my knees. The two men were quiet as I tried to find a good place to begin, a task made more difficult when I did not even want to mention it in the first place. "Well, I'm not sure how to put it eloquently," I started. "But my brother, sister, and I got into a bad argument before I came here.
"See here, my brother, Jerry, told me that he was in a relationship with someone and I flipped." I leaned into my stomach, running my fingers through my hair. "I just . . . my dad's barely home, you know. I always fancied myself the man of the house and always tried to act like him. I told myself a long time ago that I'll stop trying to be someone I'm not, but my old habits came back. I got really mad at Jerry for dating without telling me." I chuckled hollowly. "Like a dad gets mad at his daughter for dating the football player without his permission."
"And you would have said the same thing to your sister if she told you the exact same thing?" Lars asked, the orange tip of the cigarette dancing around his lips.
I nodded.
"Then it shouldn't be a problem. Just explain to him your reasoning and he'll forgive you."
I shook my head, holding myself in an anxious hug. "No, you don't understand. Before I got angry about all of that, I flipped out over something else that I shouldn't have and . . ." I trailed off, remembering how Jerry's little secret slipped from his mouth.
Antonio placed a hand on my arm and squeeze, attempting a gentle smile. "What happened?" he asked.
I was silent for a long moment, chewing my lip. I did not want to talk about this. I needed to back out before I really showed how much of an idiot I truly was. But a single glance at Lars and Antonio told me that they were not going to let this issue rest. I sighed and leaned back into the couch, saying, "Jerry told me he was gay and that the equivalent of being a straightie in my world. I can tolerate it, but I figured that since we're twins, we would share everything with each other. Instead, he hid it from me. I ran away before I could lash out, but then he told me about the relationship and I started getting upset again and then I accidentally mentioned you and then he was in my face and . . ."
The shame blazed on my face, making it hard to speak. I rested my head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I swallowed, trying to clear my throat. "He was right in my face, saying things he shouldn't have. I got scared and, the next thing I knew, I pulled out a knife and really said something I shouldn't have."
Antonio slithered his arm around my shoulders. I held myself together, resisting the urge to shove it away. "Larry, I know you. It couldn't have been that bad."
"It was." I closed my eyes, trying to pretend that I wasn't there. "I told him that since he was gay, he was disgusting."
I expected there to be a loud return of objections, scolding me for my narrow-minded stupidity. My backlash should have been in immediate strike of lightning, with the roll of logic's thunder to follow. But silence was the only music that greeted me.
Rigid, I cracked open an eye. "Ant-"
The lightning finally struck in the form of a sharp fist. The force painfully whipped my head to the side. The heat burned in my cheek where a bruise was sure to appear. I blinked, slowly realizing that Antonio was the one who rose to his feet and stormed out of the room. "Antonio, wait-" He ignored me, choosing instead to slam the door to his room.
His home rattled.
I stared at where he once was, struck with disbelief. "What the hell? Why did he-" I yelped, a new sting of pain shooting up my arm. I yanked my hand away, caressing it to my chest. A smoldering red spot burned into the center of my hand. I gritted my teeth, glaring at Lars. "What the hell was that for?"
Lars pulled back his stretched out arm, returning his cigarette to his mouth. "You just told a couple of homosexuals that they were disgusting," he said plainly, taking another swing of beer. My frustration boiled in my veins as I waited for him to finish the bottle. He sighed contently, wiping his mouth. "Not the best of decisions."
"Were either of you listening to me? I was under pressure. I didn't mean any of that."
"Here's the thing about pressure, Larry." He stood and carried his chair back to the table. "It reveals to the world what so many demand to be hidden. It shows what kind of person someone truly is." He flipped me off and retreated into my room, closing the door shut behind him.
I jumped from the couch and ran to the kitchen sink. I held my burn under cold water like my life depended on it. I could not deny how badly I screwed that one up. I should have stayed quiet. I should have kept my mouth shut and bore my mistake in silence.
The digital clock on the stove read the time to be twelve in the morning, no longer Christmas.
I wondered if the couch was comfortable enough to sleep on.
The Fangirl: December 25th
Snow happened in northern California, though not often in the valleys. When I lived at home, winter meant marching to school in the rain as white powdered the tops of the circling mountains. Every now and then I would wake up and find the snow on my window sill. Frigid as it was, it felt dry to the touch, always quick to fall apart. The fluffy white blanket so many Alaskans boasted was nothing more than a layer of tissue paper that tainted to a black slush at the slightest touch.
To me, that was snow: a fable that I only saw in A White Christmas.
Yet, in this little town, the ice was that fantasy snow I always dreamed of. It was abundant, a few inches high and so smooth to the touch. The moon illuminated it in a silver glow, but the street lights added a dash of orange gold to the mix. From my place at the window of Seychelles's apartment, it looked beautiful. I wanted to stand out there and wait for Sadiq to come back, but Mr. Stick-In-the-Mud said I had to stay here.
I didn't blame him. I knew Iceland was right about the danger of going outside by myself with America stooping around. I placed my hand on the glass, feeling the outside frost stick to my skin. Still, I wanted to be out there.
"You must be cold." I glanced sideways, a little surprised when I saw France holding two mugs of hot chocolate, smiling at me gently. The bottom of his eyes crinkled, remind me how old he really was. "Would you like one?" he asked.
I could not help but to smile as I accepted a red mug. "Thanks. I really needed this," I said before taking a small sip. The warm, rich flavor filled my mouth. I closed my eyes and hummed in content. It tasted wonderful, better than the sugar-free packaged stuff at the supermarket. My eyes slammed open.
I tasted.
Before I could stop myself, I chuckled. "Miss Sherry, what's wrong?" France asked, placing his mug on a nearby coffee table. "Are you-"
I shook my head, holding my free arm over my mouth. "No, I'm fine, it's just . . ." I laughed again. I placed the mug on the floor and looked back towards France. I wore a large grin on my lips, one to counter his small frown. "It's just that I can taste it."
"Excuse me?"
"Sadiq and I have this, like, motto for reality- 'you can't taste anything in dreams.' We kind of live by it." I stopped, thinking about to all of those times I woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. I placed my hands on my arms, shivering as the hairs on my arms pricked. I wished I was still holding my mug. "Actually, it's just my motto. I live by it."
France nodded, understanding what I wanted to say. He plucked his mug off the table, motioning with it as he said, "you might want to drink up before yours gets cold." I bent to grab it, glad for the distraction. When I came up again, France was finishing off a small sip, a small smirk dancing on his lips. "So, Miss Sherry. You and Turkey are very close, yes?"
My face burned. I thrust the mug to my lips and chugged all of the hot chocolate in one go. Did he suspect? Did France use his romance seeking nostrils to detect that my fifteen year old self had artfully crafted the sloppiest crush in existence?
All of the hot chocolate was gone before I knew it and I had to rip the mug from my lips. I gasped for air.
You might want to sit back for a moment as I explained this.
Once upon a time, when I was a hormonal fifteen year old stuck in Hetalia, I met Sadiq. Sadiq, a very attractive twenty-something year old man (and that was only in appearance. I bet my fanart that this guy was hundreds of years old). While I initially hated him, I had the extreme hots for Ari. Why? Because he was right there for the picking, already offering all of his love and affections to me. What else was I supposed to do?
The answer is to actually use my brain and think things through, but I went to public school. I knew shit.
Moving on.
So after Ari proved himself to be a complete and utter flop, I tried my best to move on. And by moving on, I mean that I started to get a crush on Sadiq. He started to seem like a decent person the exact same time he started to seem like a decent kisser. Of course, I eventually made up this excuse about him being a fatherly figure for me (what else are you supposed to do when your crush is how much older than you?), but the fact remained. It didn't help that Sadiq kissed me right before letting me go home.
But the whole crush nonsense was in the past now. It's been six years: I was twenty-one years old and the first up for an internship with Disney. There was no way that I was going to make all of those mistakes again.
"Yeah, he and I are close," I finally replied. "I mean- we're the only ones who can remember all of the cycles. We just get each other."
France raised his brow. "And that's it?"
I sighed. "And yes, that's it. Why?"
He shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "You are very worried about him- that is all." He motioned towards the couch where Ari was gently placing a wet cloth on a sleeping England's forehead. "Even our dear Iceland is not putting half as much thought into the situation as you are."
"I don't think that's true." I grinned up at him, saying, "I mean, saying that Ari's not worried about his pops is the same as saying that you're not worried about England."
At last, I got him. France looked a little sheepish, choosing to train his eyes on the ground instead of mine. "Of course I am worried about him," he said after a moment. "I don't understand why he would suddenly faint like that."
I didn't have a reason either. Learning that Himaruya was still alive could be quite a shock, but more for Sadiq and I. England and France learned nothing about him until the last possible moment. They barely had an idea of what that man was capable of doing.
"Miss Sherry, may I ask you something?"
"Only if you drop the 'Miss' thing," I said, watching as he played with the ends of his gold hair. I always liked his hair- sketching the individual locks was always a fascinating challenge for me. I wanted to do it again, for old time's sake, but I knew that Seychelles had little skill in art. She did not have my fine hand.
France strained a smile, trying to look cheerful with mournful eyes. "Well, if you insist, Sherry. I was wondering if you can tell me about my daughter." He laughed nervously, twirling his hair. "I mean, since you're in her body, can you talk to her?"
I thought about lying. I thought that if I told him that my head was always a Seychelles free zone, he would be more at ease. I could imagine him fretting around the girl's apartment as he tried to wonder why she had yet to talk to me. I mean, I would think she would stick her head into mine and pipe her little opinions about everything, but she was quiet. Now that I thought about it, I could not even feel her in my head.
Shit.
"Yea, I can," I told him, squeezing my wrist uncomfortably. "And she has. She says that she's not sure why everything's happening, but she wants you and England to be safe."
I watched with a growing conscience as he beamed, swooping down for a hug. I tried not to fidget as he squeezed me. Something was wrong with Seychelles. I did not know what, but there was no way she would ignore me so stubbornly, especially when her papa wants to talk to her so badly. Why was she so silent?
Three knocks.
Three knocks was the only warning we received before the front door was kicked open. "Make a bed!" Sadiq yelled, cantering over the fallen door. Switzerland lay conspicuously in his arms, caked in soot. His head was cradled to Sadiq's chest like a child in need of protecting. "He's injured."
Ari rose to his feet, his face strikingly blank. "Injured? What happened?"
"Burning pile of wood fell on him." Sadiq changed direction and head toward the other end of the apartment, calling, "I'll put him in Seychelles room for now. Can someone get me some water?"
France rushed to the kitchen, giving me the freedom to chase after Sadiq. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, twisting painfully. Did he run into Himaruya? America? Was Sadiq badly hurt?
I stopped at the doorway. Sadiq, very gently, laid Switzerland on Seychelles's messy bed, brushing away the Swiss's stray strands of blond hair. Sadiq had that look in his eye, the kind he never gave me, the cross between crying from self-pity and worldly despair. He knelt at the bedside, holding Switzerland's hand between his own. He pressed his lips to the blacken fingers, not minding the soot.
I wiped my hands on my dress, feeling out of place. A ball formed in the middle of my throat, making it hard for me to speak. I needed to ask him what happened inside of the building, but . . .
"Pops." Ari pushed past me, striding right towards his side. Sadiq looked up at him, adapting his worn but smooth face. "What happened?" Ari asked. "Did Himaruya attack?"
He shook his head. I felt the relief flush over me before he could even explain. "Switzy and I were in there for less than a minute before the ceiling half collapsed on him. I was barely able to dig him out before the whole building came down on me."
I started to ask him about America, but France pushed past me next, armed with a glass of water and a towel. He knock Sadiq away, fully absorbed in wiping away the soot from Switzerland's cheeks. Sadiq glared at him, as if to snap at him for being rude. "I don't think the building was meant for us," Sadiq growled, grudgingly scooting away from the bed. He sat on the floor with crossed legs, his arms folded on his chest. "I can't help but to feel as though someone didn't want Switzerland and I chasing after Liechtenstein and Spain."
"Liechtenstein and Spain?" the Icelandic repeated. "That's an odd couple."
I tried to talk again. "What—"
"Yeah, and you wouldn't believe how suspicious they were acting . . ."
I sighed, lowering my head. I wasn't needed. France was busying himself. Ari and Sadiq were consumed by this apparently new development. And I was simply standing here, trying hopelessly to get someone to listen to me. Maybe I should try to pay attention to what they were saying, but I knew I couldn't. There were chains holding me back, preventing me from extending a hand towards them.
How immature of me- I felt like I didn't belong. Our lives were on the line and not being able to speak made me feel like the odd man out of the pack. I really was pathetic.
I left them, figuring that I would entertain myself some other way.
I propped back the door against the frame, promising myself to make Sadiq fix it before he left. Was he even going to leave? I did not think that any of these men were going to leave Seychelles's apartment anytime soon. I found the spare blankets in a cupboard by a bathroom and started making beds on the living room floor. Three for France, Ari, and I. Sadiq might stay in Seychelles's room with his ex.
I finished all too soon. The clock told me that it was nearly midnight, nearly the end of Christmas. What a joy this holiday season ended up being. I started looking for other things to do. England needed no tending and the dishes from Christmas dinner were in the dishwasher. I placed the two mugs in the sink.
I pulled a chair up to the window I started at and stared at the snow again. A new set of tracks spoiled the pure white, ones that Sadiq undoubtedly caused. The scene wasn't as sweet as it used to be. Yet, I forced myself to look outside and not in.
Eventually, France rejoined me in the living room. He sat on the bed I made at the couch, holding the hand of his dear boyfriend. He pretended to focus on the Brit, but every so often, he gave me a side-ways glance. I watched his reflection play this dance for a few minutes before he finally spoke. "Such a strong reaction from someone who claims to just be understanding," he said.
I flipped him off.
An hour passed. Ari and Sadiq were still talking. France turned off the lights and crawled into bed, leaving me at my window. I thought that maybe I would do the cool 'fall asleep while waiting' trope, but the chair was too uncomfortable to even feel drowsy in. I moved to my bed, one that I made in the corner.
I lay on my side, back to the rest of the apartment, and fell asleep on my side.
When I was shaken awake, I thought that I was still asleep. Yet, I could feel a warm hand on my shoulder, gently calling me from sleep. "Sherry, are you awake?" I groaned softly, curling into a tighter ball. I was dreaming- why else would Sadiq be here?
It was silent for a long moment. Then, without warning, I felt a soft voice at my ears. "I'm sorry I left you alone against America. I should have been out there to protect you. I promise to not leave you like that again."
He kissed my cheek.
I shifted a little, too afraid to open my eyes. I waited for him to say something else, but the world was still. After what felt like a long time, I cracked an eye open. The room was dark. Everyone was asleep.
It must have been my imagination, the remains of a deceased dream. I rolled back into my ball, falling asleep quickly. For once, I knew that there would be no nightmares.
Those nightmares were reality.
MW: Common questions that have popped up throughout The Fanseries:
1. Who's Agatha?
2. Why is he Alfred and not America?
3. ISN'T SPAIN DATING JAPAN?
Well now you know. Thank you for being very concerned with the fine details of this story (though I've had this explanation set up all the way back in FB). Anyways, this chapter was mostly Larry because Larry's side of the story is the one where things are actually happening. I'll try to do more Sherry next chapter, but it's more of a give and take kind of thing.
I've also had my mind hung up on something lately. For some reason, I just really badly want to hold a contest right now. I'm not sure why, but the need wouldn't leave me. The problem is that I have no idea what the contest would even be about or what I could give as rewards. So, this is where I need you guys. I'm going to hold a poll on my profile to see if anyone wants to even be in a contest (and it'll be specific, like 'contest for writing, art, etc'). And if anyone has any specific ideas about anything, feel free to stick 'em in a review, or maybe get to me through my tumblr. I'm not sure if I'll even end up doing it, but it's an idea.
Once again, thank you very much for reading. Review, favorite, or follow if you feel so inclined. I hope that you enjoyed. See you next time.
No Notes
Next Chapter: Larry is now forced to play Matthias's game while Team Sherry try to find the real reason for the police station fire.
Thank you for reading. I hope you all have enjoyed your winter break and the new school semester is not too stressful for you!