MW: What do you call a writer who didn't update last month like she said she would? Me. You are probably wondering what happened. Long story short: college applications. I'm still not done with them, but considering this set back, my new goal is to now end this series sometime before I graduate high school.
I have more information about a new blog of mine in the bottom AN, so don't forget to read up about that. Before we start the chapter, let's give a big whoop to PurpleLuna98, shinyklefkey, HoneyBeeGirl94, MastermindKakashi, TheSilentReader, and lafayette722. We're already at 86 reviews, which is an insane number! Thank you everybody!
Chapter Summary: Surely a festival of love would have a happy ending.
Warnings: Strong language, blood/gore.
~Chapter 8~
Cheesy Chest Analogies
"Even cowards can endure hardship; only the brave can endure suspense."
-Mignon McLaughlin, American journalist and author
The Fandom: December 31st
"Keep her safe," the blonde girl Jerry identified to be his brother ordered as he jabbed a finger at the Netherlands's chest. Jerry watched the sight carefully from his vantage point, observing Larry's strict voice and taut brows. The incident in the Room had originally made the younger twin doubt his brother's intentions, but seeing him so concerned for Sherry's wellbeing was enough to ease most of Jerry's fears. He was still worried about their being here, especially with what had happened back in their universe, but he had to push it aside. He had to trust America and the rest of them when they said everything will turn out for the better. If he didn't, then what would be the point?
Seychelles, who just happened to be Sherry in disguised, raised her voice as she ranted at Turkey, her fists plastered to her hips as she spoke. "I can't watch over your depressing ass so don't do anything irrational in the meantime," she ordered. It was rare to hear her use such a mature tone, like she had finally admitted to herself how old she was quickly becoming. Jerry shifted on the bus bench, almost sorry. He liked his immature sister and the way she smiled. Adults never smiled enough.
"So what's up?" America appeared at Jerry's side, sipping the straw of an innocent soda cup. If Jerry was in his normal body, America would be about his height, but this foreign body made his friend barely brush the side of his mouth.
Jerry hid his face behind his newspaper again, making sure the black and white sheets covered America's presence from the group across the street. Road blocks prevented cars from entering the area- for the festival- so there was no hope that passing cars could help camouflage them into the background. "They're going to split up for a bit and meet up again around dinner time," Jerry reported in a hissed tone, afraid of who would hear. "Larry and Sherry are on different teams."
America rolled his eyes. "That's dumb."
Jerry felt a smile tug on his lips. "That's what Larry said, but I think it was Iceland who said to do it because we wouldn't be expecting it."
"Whatevers. So who's where?"
"Sherry and the Netherlands are definitely by the stage in the park. France and England are going to be walking around doing their mayor duties while everyone else goes somewhere I don't know to work on a plan."
"A plan?"
"Against us."
America seemed to think it over for a moment before brushing it away. "Eh, it doesn't change the plan for today," he said.
Jerry fidgeted. He didn't like the plan. Austria was the one who thought of it and, while he didn't necessarily doubt the man's strategy, he was all too aware of the variables in it. If a single, minuscule error occurred, someone could end up seriously hurt. Jerry tried pointing it out, but Austria met him with a cold glare. "It is risky, but we are a team of very capable men," he had told him, the haughty tone still ringing in his ears. "I have complete faith that you will not fail me or Himaruya." Jerry didn't know what to think after that, especially when he never had complete faith in himself in the first place.
"Don't look so glum." America nudged his shoulder, cackling as a small smile appeared on Jerry's face. "Everything's going to be alright in the end."
"Are you sure?" Jerry asked.
America pointed a thumb at his protruding chest, sparkling with confidence. "Have I ever been wrong?"
"Numerous times."
He choked, nearly losing his balance. "The hell, man! What was that for?"
Jerry flushed a bright pink. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings-" A hearty laugh ended his sentence.
America patted his shoulder like an old friend, snickering himself senseless. "Chill, dude. I can take a joke. Will you stop being so down on yourself?" Jerry wanted to point out that there had been times where small comments like that gave people a pass to 'beat up the fag,' but he wasn't sure how to say it. America pushed his glasses up his nose, shaking his head. "We're going to have to make you less meek," he said aloud to himself.
Jerry looked down at his hands, gripping the fabric of black coat. He knew he was more open to criticism than he should be, but he did not want to change. He had gone through so much already. His past had molded him into the person he was today. To try to be someone he was not- that was an insult to himself, a crude bleach to his history. Jerry hated being called a 'fag' and a million other curses, but he built himself off of them. He was who he was because of those words and, despite his flaws, he would never want to change.
The Fangirl: December 31st
"Why did I get the distinct feeling that something like this was going to happen?" Lars asked.
"Shut up. You're not helping," I snapped back before resuming the graceful smile I aimed at Poland. The poor sucker's social anxiety had sparked up minutes before the festival was about to start. He paced by us in a frantic line, speaking a novel a minute as he waved his hands around in erratic circles. I wanted to tell him that his fretting was causing his perfectly designed hair to frizz, but he never paused long enough for me to speak.
Lars buried his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, giving the stage a lazy look. "I say we got a minute to figure out a way to get him to snap out of it," he said, spying only a portion of the crowd who had gathered for the pink and heart filled banquet. While the crowd was huge in its own respect, it was nothing compared to the hurried people speeding up and down the stall-lined streets, laughing and buying food, oblivious to the light traces of snow on the pavement.
I took a deep breath. I was wearing the cutest outfit in Seychelles's closet: a sweater with a matching skirt and black leggings. A cute outfit can give any girl enough power to do whatever the hell she wants. If it's used to calm down an anxious cross dressing Pole, then so be it. "Turkey really wants to see you on stage," I said, hoping he remembered that he promised me to be the announcer for the festival. "He'll be upset if you-"
Poland grabbed my shoulders. "I, like, don't care!" He screamed, eyes wild. "I, like, so don't wanna go on that-"
"The show's starting," Lars said, looking at the clock on his phone.
Poland disappeared from his spot in front of me, appearing in the spotlight on the stage. "Like, good afternoon losers!" he welcomed with the outstretch of a hand. "It's totally time to get this party started!"
"You have to be fucking kidding me," I said. If I had known he was going to come through in the end, I wouldn't have worried about it so much. Yet, the more I watched Poland introduce the main stage events, I felt like it was oddly familiar. Then I realized why: this was canon to the Hetalia universe. Who would have thought that there was still something left of the completely butchered canon?
"Okay, so like before we get started with all the performances and jazz," Poland continued, "I would totes like to shout out the dedication to this festival, which is the equality of love because we were, like, all once a bunch of pansexual hoes and now we're just homosexual and that's, like, not cool at all."
"He's pretty good," Lars commented dryly, tugging his scarf away from his face. Today was the sun's first appearance in forever. The white orb hanged low in the vivid blue sky, gracing the planet in a shallow but warm light. "Too bad he has social anxiety."
I shrugged, turning away from the stage. "He's found a way to work around it," I said.
He didn't bother to look at me. "Sure."
I frowned, knowing exactly why he had been distant from me the entire day. I crossed my arms. "You know, if you didn't want to be my babysitter, then you shouldn't have volunteered for the job," I said with a hot tongue.
The corner of his mouth twitch. "In case you haven't realized: I'm here with you because someone had to take the job. Your brother and maybe Iceland would have been more than happy to, but they and Spain need to work on a plan. And unless you want to stake your safety on an asshole who can't keep his emotions in check, then you better shut your mouth and let me guard you."
"I did not agreed to have a bodyguard."
"You don't get a choice, Toots."
"Toots?" I shrieked.
His frown deepened as his already high annoyance jumped another level. He chose not to comment about it, instead balancing his body against a tree as he waited for the moment to pass. "As I was saying: you don't get a choice. With Himaruya around, it's dangerous for any of us to be alone."
I grumbled another complaint, but I knew he was right. We talked about our arrangements this morning at breakfast. We were all originally going to be here at the stage together until Iceland pointed out that the location wasn't secure. Larry and Ari came up with the brilliant idea that my abiding to Seychelles's commitment of managing the festival's stage shows would be something Himaruya wouldn't expect, so they insisted I stayed behind here in the snow while they convened in Antonio's apartment to discuss our next move.
Boys are ridiculous, aren't they?
I tried to resume my job, directing performers to the waiting areas while making sure Poland did not demand the audience shows him their dicks, but I was too restless. I endlessly shifted my weight between feet, pacing a green line back and forth in the snow covered grass. Even if I wasn't wanted for the planning, I still wanted a say in what our next choice was going to be. "I'm bored," Lars announced, leaning his head against the wet tree bark.
I grimaced, flicking the show schedule on my clipboard. "If you want, you can help me with this."
"Give me something interesting to do."
I blew hot air out my nose. Why did I have to put up with this kind of crap again? "Well, what do you want to do?" I demanded, sounding as cross as I felt. Sometimes I wondered who was the real senior here: me or the deadpan immortal who carried a collection of bunnies in his pocket.
He looked up at the sky, counting the green needles lining the branches above him. "I want to do something," he said. "I'm tired of waiting for Mathias to save himself."
Whatever anger had swelled in me deflated as I released a long breath. Larry did say that Lars made his contract to save Mathias. I fiddled with the papers on my clipboard, feeling the need to bite my lip. "You really love him, don't you?" I said.
"He's my friend. He's can put up with my bullshit as much as I can put up with his. He gave himself up to try and save me, so I have to help him in return. It's only fair." I smiled to myself, understanding his meaning completely. It was nice to see that someone around here can maintain a real friendship without it evolving into a romantic subplot. "And what about you?" Lars asked. "What the hell is going on between you and Turkey?"
The clipboard nearly fell from my hands. "Excuse me?"
"It's actually really nauseating how sweet you two are with each other," he added, unaware of my plight, "like if you brother was gay and started dating Spain, they would act like you and Turkey do. But Iceland said you two were just friends and I don't believe it. So what's really going on between you two?"
I scowled. "Is that all I'm ever good for?" I asked. "To love Sadiq?"
"Calm down," he ordered with an eye roll. "I was just asking."
For a moment, I was left speechless. I knew there was no way Lars (the Netherlands of all people) would be concerned with what Sadiq and I did with our relationship. I glared at him, trying to figure out why then he would ask that. He brushed a hand up through his hair. The name came to me. "France asked you, didn't he?"
He nodded. "Said something about talking better to people besides him."
"Fucking France," I swore. The next time I saw him, I swore that I was going to bash my knuckles into his skull. (I would probably just demand to know why he can't keep his nose out of my business. I was never good with hurting people).I kicked the ground, scraping away the thin layer of snow, revealing the muddy patches of grass beneath.
A new idea occurred to me: one so dumb that I came close to banishing it from my mind.
Too bad I was too dumb to hold my tongue.
"Hey, Lars. Can you do me a favor?" I asked. He raised a brow in response, attentive to my command. "I heard that they're going to be auctioning off a basket of shea butter lotions at the silent auction. Can you go put a bid in for me?"
"I can't," he replied, curt as ever. "That'll mean leaving you here alone and I promised your brother-"
"You might run into an old friend," I added quickly. His voiced died and he gave me a stunned look. I couldn't help but to twirl a lock of hair around my finger, mimicking the perfect image of the innocent child. "You know, a friend who you haven't talked to in a while. One you're really dying to see again."
His brow shot further up his forehead. "And what are you planning on doing while I'm gone?" The disbelief in his voice was plain. Yet amid that skepticism was hope, the crushing kind that could bring a man to his glory or dismember him into nothing more than a barrel of tears.
"Nothing but-" I knocked my knuckles on the clipboard. "-running this."
His hope bloomed. "You sure?"
"Swear to God," I recited with a hand on my chest. He gave me a slightest of smiles, one so quick and fleeting anyone could have argued that I made it up. But no matter the speed it passed, I still saw enough of it to know how sincerely happy he was. "Just promise me you won't die."
Lars squeezed a hand on my shoulder. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said with a crooked grin. When I returned his expression with a brisk nod, he dashed away, off to find Mathias.
I smiled to myself, burying my face back into the schedule. I did my good deed today. It was killing him inside, not helping Denmark. I didn't know what he could possibly do, but that didn't matter as long as he got the chance. Hell, I wasn't even all that worried about the Bad Glasses Trio attacking me. Antonio had pointed out the previous night that they would be insane to think of attacking now of all times.
Remembering my job, I picked my pocket watch from my pocket and checked the time. It was another minute or so before the next act. Hopefully Poland was listening to me when I told him there was a change in the programming...
I paused, noticing a small change on the clock face. The slender hand- the one that indicates something unknown -was no longer lingering by the two. It stayed firmly between the four and five, unflinching when the minute hand passed over it. I bit my lip. What triggered it to move? What did I do between the last time I looked at it and now that caused some of my time to run out? I closed it shut, squeezing it in my hand. I should call Larry and the others about this. Maybe Ari picked up on a pattern that I was unaware of.
I juggled the watch and clipboard in my arms, trying to free a hand long enough to pull out my phone. I had the damn thing wrapped around my finger for a second before it fell into the snow. "Shit." I bent down to pick it up as the bells at the city hall began their toll. I froze, feeling myself thrown back to my days at Gauken Healia. Those bells always rang at the stroke of midnight, restarting the spell for my cycles. I counted each echoing toll, feeling my gut twist as the numbers grew.
Six... Seven... Eight...
Midnight was always at the twelfth hour.
... Nine... Ten... Eleven...
While Cinderella's carriage turned back to a pumpkin at midnight, my spell forced me to die.
.. Midnight.
A part of me sensed the explosion before it even went off. I twisted towards the distant sidewalk, dropping my clipboard as I sprinted to the gray path. Seychelles's lean legs carried me for a few good strides before the shattering force behind me knocked the ground away from them.
Everything went black.
Cold, heartless black.
My vision swelled back.
I lay on the ground, my body sprawled over the sidewalk, my head hanging over the edge. Everything blurred and swayed as I stared at the slush-filled gutters, watching the brown snow dye red with blood. I opened my mouth to breathe and tasted the muddy, metallic mixture.
Reality blurred away.
When it returned, I became aware of the turbulence around me. I couldn't see it, my eyes were still aimed at the gutter, but I could feel an incessant pounding all around. I twisted my neck with a painful creak, forcing my head to lift back into a normal position. Boots trampled the ground around my body as people hurried between the safety of the sidewalk and the now burning stage. I saw Poland off to the side being kept steady by Belarus, but I could not hear their voices. I couldn't hear anything but the shrill ringing in my ears.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, but a power beyond my control ordered them to seal shut.
"Seychelles?"
My eyes opened again. Vertigo consumed my sight, distorting the image of the woman above me. I think I mumbled something since she turned what I presumed to be her head to the side, yelling for Belarus to assist me. Slowly, the spinning stopped and I was able to clearly see the worried visage of Ukraine. She hushed me, smoothing her hand down my cheek, speaking in a calm and soothing voice. "You'll be alright, sweetie. Don't you worry. Where's your family?"
I opened and closed my mouth, trying to tell her about Larry and Jerry, but my voice came out as nothing more than hoarse garble.
Ukraine hushed me again. "It's fine, Seychelles. We'll find France or England eventually. For now, let's just let my sister fix you up."
Belarus appeared at Ukraine's side, wielding her medical bag. "You just can't help but to nearly die, can't you?" she asked, swiftly getting to work. She assessed my body carefully, hissing when she saw the worse of my injuries. "An oblique break of your femur, a split lip, a concussion accompanied by a lesion on the forehead, and several ugly bruises. You're unlucky. People closer to the stage than you escaped with far less."
I wanted to snort, but my lungs refused to work.
"Can you go get France for me?" Ukraine asked as she helped Belarus to shift my head onto the pillow of her lap. I shifted my eyes to the man standing beside us, surprised to see it was Poland. His hair was singed at the ends and an entire arm lacked a coat sleeve, revealing a fresh set of burns curled down its length. How was he so unharmed?
Poland shook his head. "France is, like, totally not the best person." He looked down at me and gave me a strong grin. "You were, like, with Neder and stuff, right?" I nodded weakly, summoning a new wave of nausea. "I'll, like, go get him then." Poland ran off before Ukraine could say anything.
"What good would that asshole do?" Belarus asked as she pulled a buckle from her bag. She shifted her hand around and smiled when she pulled out an extendable rod.
"I'm sure they have a friendship," Ukraine replied calmly, combing her fingers through my hair. Sirens howled behind us, causing my ears to ring again. I winced and Ukraine had to hush me again. "Do you know what happened, Belarus?"
Belarus shrugged lightly, absorbed in the ointment she dabbed into the broken bone sticking out of my leg. If I had been any more lucid, I would have fainted from the gruesome sight. "Not sure what exactly happened, but I saw it. A bomb near the stage went off."
Ukraine gasped. "Another bomb? It must be the same guy."
"It has to be." She bandaged the open wound on my thigh before tying it with white bandages. I felt her buckle the rod to my broken limb with a strap, their tightness squeezing the areas above and below the break. "There's no way something like this isn't connected somehow."
Sudden exhaustion flushed over me.
I blinked on high speed, trying to keep myself awake, but to no avail. My vision began to blur again and I started to close my eyes. "Stay awake!" I heard Belarus yell, but her voice seemed like it was miles, years away. "Don't... concussion... st-"
I slipped out of consciousness.
I screamed as the pain ripped through my chest.
The Fanboy: December 31st
"I have an idea," Ari announced for the fourth time today. Nonetheless, we offered him our full attention while we all wondered if this idea would be a flop as well. "So far the problem with taking down Himaruya is that he always has Prussia's body as a shield. Obviously we have to take him out of that body before we can even think of getting him."
"Do you have a plan for how to do that?" I asked, slouching into Antonio's couch. The cushions sunk in my weight, causing Sadiq to dip in my direction. I placed a hand on the heating pad, feeling its warmth travel up my arm. "I'm going to guess right now that it's impossible."
"You're right," Antonio called from the kitchenette. The newfound sunlight streamed in through the window, shining off the side of the coffee pot as Antonio poured the contents into a red mug. He ignored Ari's frustrated groan as he sauntered back to the chairs he and Ari had pulled up to the coffee table. Earlier I had secretly congratulated him for not throwing a fit when we didn't sit next to each other. Maybe he was starting to understand that I just want him to be my friend. "The amount of power it would take to severe the soul from the body is beyond anything Hidekaz can muster alone."
"But I'm on the right track," Ari insisted. He turned to Sadiq. "What do you think, Pops?"
We waited for him to answer. Sherry told me the reason for his sullen behavior during breakfast, but I still couldn't see the logic behind his emotions. Fury would boil in my veins the moment I learned that someone close to me was working behind my back. Wistfulness? It made no sense. Sadiq took his chin off the hand it rested upon, giving us a distant look. He scanned our faces slowly, breathing in our expressions. "I don't know," he said at last. I started to ask him to elaborate, but before I could speak, he stood. "I'm going to the bathroom."
Ari glared. "Pops-"
"Just let him go," Antonio said as Sadiq stalked into the guest bedroom, no doubt intending to lock himself in my bathroom. "He'll come around eventually."
"He's acting like a teenage girl," Ari complained, crossing his arms over his chest. "I get him being upset about Agatha and everything, but he needs to put this before his dramatic romances."
I raised a skeptical brow. "Romances?" I asked.
"He has a tendency to romanticize the past. The idiot's been carrying around the guilt of letting her die for centuries and now thinks that it's his duty to rekindle whatever relationship he had with her in the past. You know, like the Titanic."
I snorted. "That's rich, considering that he could barely stand her during THE WAR."
Ari cracked a wry smile. "I still can hardly believe that you were there during that time," he said, rising to grab his own cup of coffee. "It must have been hell for you."
That's a euphemism for the ages, I thought to myself as I remembered every dark instance where I feared for my life- everything from the battles on the Romanov to the betrayal of Alfred. "Yeah, it was," I replied, wiping my hands on the fabric of my slacks. "Sometimes it makes me wish I never signed that contract in the first place."
Ari nodded for a moment, accepting my answer. Then slowly, like the dawning of a new day, his face lit up in revelation. He banged his hand on the counter, demanding our attention. "That's it!" Antonio and I gave him an odd look as his danced on his feet, unable to contain his excitement. Never before has anyone seen the Icelandic so happy and never again would this level of expression cross his face. Ari jogged back to the coffee table, placing both of his hands on the back of his chair. "Spain, didn't you say that we would need more power in order to rip Himaruya from Prussia's body?"
The Spaniard nodded hesitantly. "Yes..."
"Wouldn't a contract be able to grant us the amount of power necessary?"
Antonio furrowed his brows, blinking as he thought about it. "Maybe," he said, leaning his chin into his hand, "but if I was Himaruya, I would be prepared for something like that."
"Then we'll just have to surprise him," I said. A slight grin threatened to turn up on my face. Ripping Himaruya's soul away would also mean that Gilbert would be free from my mistake. This plan was bound to be the catalysis of my redemption, a way for me to correct all of my past failures and carry me out of guilt.
"Larry!" Sadiq banged the door to the bathroom open, storming back into the living room. While he did not look very angry, he was still irked and scowling. "Did you use the bathroom last?" he demanded hotly.
I stared at him, unsure if I should feel scared or uncomfortable. "Yeah, like twenty minutes ago."
"Did you flush your tampon?"
"Yeah, why-"
"You idiot! You're not supposed to flush any feminine products!" He placed his hands on his scalped and pulled at his hair, muttering Turkish swears. "I can't believe- the toilet's all clogged now. Did your mother ever tell you not to flush them?"
"I'm not a girl," I snapped back. "I don't know these things!"
"It's common knowledge."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is-" His voice ended on a wavering note as a loud boom echoed in the distance. I grabbed onto the sides of the couch as the apartment rattled in the process, the windows quivering from the force and the plates hidden in the cabinet threatening to crash to the floor. Sadiq held onto the door frame as Ari and Antonio stumbled away from their chairs, grabbing onto each other's arms as the shaking ended. "What the hell was that?" Sadiq panted. "An earthquake?"
I jumped to my feet and ran to the kitchen window. The citizens of the pink decorated town converged on the streets, all pointing to the black cloud of smoke permeating into the air. Antonio, Sadiq, and Ari huddled around my sides as we stared at the swirling column, slowly processing what it meant.
"Oh fuck," Ari breathed, his stunned eyes wide. "Was that a bomb?"
Antonio nodded. "It has to be."
"But from where?" I asked.
Ari left the window, hurriedly pulling his phone from his pocket. "I'll check the facebook page," he said, but I hardly listened to him. I pulled the window open and stuck my head outside.
The pungent scent of burnt wood assaulted my nose. The buildings across the street prevented me from seeing the source of the explosion. I needed a better vantage point. I looked up and saw how close to the edge of the roof the window was. "Hold on," I said, climbing onto the window sill. Antonio said something about being careful, but I paid him no attention. I fit my feet into the grooves in the brink, climbing a closer to the roof before I pulled myself onto it. I landed on my back in a crunchy pile of snow. Cold wind nipped at my nose and cheeks as the ice wrapped around my body. I took a deep breath and sat up. The smoke came from the center of a green clearing, one a few blocks away from me.
All air left my lungs as I realized where it was.
"Shit!" I looked down at myself, then back at the growing disaster. My sister was there in the middle of it and I had no idea what I should do. I looked down the line of buildings on our street, realizing that they led me directly to the middle of the fray.
"What's going on?" Sadiq asked, pulling his body onto the roof. He leaned over the side again, pulling up Antonio, then Ari.
I took a few steps back, readying myself for the jump. It has been a long time since I did something like this. "The park's been bombed" was all I said before I ran towards the nearest ledge. My companions screamed out as I leapt forward, clearing the five foot gap with ease before my foot hit the pavement on the roof next door.
The frigid air consumed my senses, making me deaf to the noises of Sadiq, Ari, and Antonio chasing after me. At that moment, they didn't matter. I could only think of Sherry and how much of an idiot I was. I shouldn't have left her in that park. I should have forced France to let her stay with me. Now she was hurt and I was to blame. Never again was I going to let her out of my sight.
Never.
A hand grabbed the back of my turtle neck. "Larry, stop!" Antonio pulled me back into his chest, his arms quick to wrap around my waist. I screamed and struggled against his iron grip, but he only strengthened his prison. "Calm down! It's a trap, Larry. We need to plan accordingly."
"I don't care!" I screamed, kicking my foot back. My heel stuck the soft spot on his calf, causing his hold to slack. I wrestled out of it, breathing heavily as I turned back to the line of roofs left to jump. There were still many, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.
"Help!"
I should have known that the voice was not Sherry's, but I turned to face it by instinct. Nowhere in the throng beneath us was her head of orange hair or Seychelles's defining red bows. I stood still, waiting to hear the voice call out again. It never did- Sadiq jumped off the roof, running after it on quick feet. Ari leaned over the edge, stretching a hand towards him, as though he could catch him by the scruff of the neck. "Pops!"
"Turkey!" Antonio looked up from his aching leg, glaring at where Sadiq had been. "Get back here!" He received no reply.
I jogged to the edge, spying at the crowd below. Already the bronze man assimilated into the crowd, camouflaged from my sight. "He's running after Agatha, isn't he?" I asked. An incensed boil swelled beneath my skin. I couldn't help but to spit at the crowd below. "Fucking idiot. He's going to get himself killed."
I started to turn away, intent of continuing my run when a new voice called out. "Comrade Liechtenstein!" I paused. Was that who I think it is? I looked down at the crowd again, happy to see an arm waving Russia, smiling as a thick wad of spit slid down the side of his face. His quiet boyfriend, Holy Rome, looked up at us with tight lips and interest. "Why are you spitting on us?" Russia asked, a laugh in his voice.
I couldn't help but to smile. Considering the state he was in the last I saw him, it was a relief to see him so happy and carefree. "I didn't mean to," I yelled back. I shifted uncomfortably at my spot, smelling the burnt air again. I had to hurry. "I'll talk to you later. I'm a bit busy right now."
"Do you need help?" he asked. He wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "We can lend a hand. We're not busy now, da?"
I was about to refuse when I remembered the teenage nation next to me. I took a deep breath, running over my options quickly. Their help would be nice, even if it was not vital. "Can you find France and England?" I asked. "Tell them to find me. It's an emergency." I looked at Ari, wearing a look of confidence. "I need you to go after Sadiq and stop him from doing something stupid."
Ari stared at me, thinking over my makeshift plan. Then he nodded. "Stay safe," he said before shouting orders for Russia to catch him.
I saw him slip off the roof in my peripheral vision as I turned back to Antonio. He was rubbing his hand up and now his bruised calf, giving me a strained smile. "Can you run?" I asked, painfully aware of how much time I wasted. "We're going to get Sherry together."
Antonio stared at me for a long moment, looking unsure. Then he gave me a confident grin. "Aye, aye captain."
We started our mad dash again, sprinting across the rooftop before flying over the alley and onto the next. My lungs burned from the effort. Nothing but my fear drove me to keep on going, to keep pushing me closer and closer to my limit. I didn't care. As long as I could eventually reach Sherry, I didn't mind. I just needed to make sure she was okay.
"What's that?" Antonio asked as the buildings passed beneath our feet. I looked ahead and saw what he meant. There was a strange shape in the distance, one that grew closer with each long stride. Second by second, it become more defined, the blur turning into real lines. It almost looked like-
The blood in my veins iced over.
All air left me.
"Oh fuck." Antonio and I made the last leapt, landing a few feet from the body. I barely heard Antonio swear as I sprinted to it. "Oh fuck no no no no no no..." I wretched the cold arm, forcing the limp man to turn onto his back. Lars's pallor head rolled at an odd angle, a thread of blood hanging from his open mouth. I pressed two fingers to his neck.
No pulse.
"No, don't be..." I pressed my ear to his chest, hoping- praying -that I would hear the soft thumps of a beating heart.
Silence.
I stayed crouched to his chest for a long moment, afraid to move away. Lars couldn't be dead. He was my friend he couldn't be dead. He was strong and could defend himself and he couldn't be dead. Stiffly, I pulled away, looking down at his corpse. The realization that I had pressed my ear into a bloody chest wound was met with stunned numbness. Trepidation shook my hands and rattled my teeth.
Antonio knelt next to me, wrapping his arms around my neck. He pressed a kiss into my temple before pulling my face into the crook of neck. I turned to meet him, finally releasing a loud sob.
This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real.
"It's alright," Antonio murmured, smoothing his hand down the length of my hair. He repeated it like a mantra, avoiding the real question- how did this happen?
"Well isn't this sweet?" Antonio and I jumped away. I looked at the new blond, grinding my teeth at the sight of his laid back smirk. "It's like you two actually love each other," Mathias said, balancing an axe on his shoulders.
I forced myself to my feet, pulling out my hidden knife in the process. "You killed Lars," I spat.
"Sure did, Larry-boy." Mathias pulled the axe off his shoulders, swinging it around him before ending in a threatening stance. The sharp blade was a few mere inches from my chest. "Got him right there. It was an easy fight, especially when Lars refuses to hurt me."
The temptation to throw my knife into his chest cavity was almost too great to resist, but I ordered myself to wait. Any hasty decision could end with more people getting hurt. But no amount of self-control could prevent the knuckles on the hand holding the knife from turning white.
Himaruya knew Lars wouldn't fight back. Himaruya had every intention of killing Lars and using his best friend to do it made me sick.
"That's enough gloating." I did not turn around, but I felt Antonio whip his body around to face Roderich. I could hear the sly smirk on the bastard's face as he said, "Cockiness is very unbecoming on you."
"What are you both doing here?" Antonio demanded, moving into a fighting stance. I knew he carried no weapons with him.
"Declaring checkmate," Roderich replied. "We have your king cornered with no chance of escape." I knew he was talking about me, but I did not let his words disturb me.
I focused on Mathias. He was much taller than Liechtenstein and, no doubt, much stronger, though that axe of his was his main upper hand. If I could get it out of his hands, I would have a better chance against him. I stepped closer to Antonio. "Can you use an axe?" I hissed, loud enough for only Antonio to hear.
"Can you get me his?" he replied, just as soft.
I looked up and down the weapon. "I'll try."
Mathias yelled as he jabbed the axe forward, the blade heading right towards my chest. Antonio and I dove to the ground- Antonio rolling to the left and me rolling over Lars's corpse. Blood brushed over my coat as I banged my back into a telephone pole. I thanked every star in the sky for its appearance. Without it, I would have rolled off the building. I jumped back onto my feet, holding my small knife before me.
A deafening roar cut through the air. I saw Roderich swear as Antonio got out of the bullet's path. I had to get that axe before Antonio lost the energy to dodge. "Got ya!" I ducked as the axe swung over my head, nicking my frizzed hair before striking the telephone pole. The blade barely missed the wires to the Christmas lights connecting us to the building across the street. Seeing my opportunity, I lunged forward and knocked Mathias to the ground.
We landed in the snow with a deafening crunch, his back soaking up the pool of blood surrounding Lars. "Antonio!" I screamed as I tried to get Mathias into a strong hold. Moves like those were easy to do in my normal body, but Liechtenstein's muscles moved like they hadn't taken a single martial arts class in years.
Antonio ran from Roderich, keeping his path zigzagged as he reached for the axe handle. In one swoop, he drew it from its wood scabbard and used the metal blade to reflect the oncoming bullet.
I couldn't help but to grin, even when Mathias jammed his foot into my stomach and sent me back into the snow. I sprung back to my feet, standing by Antonio as our white-clothed assailants gathered themselves together for the next part of the fight.
I released a long breath.
If I was the king, then Antonio was the queen. We were the most powerful pieces of the chess board of Hidekaz Himaruya. Sherry could be nothing more than a pawn, yet she was the one pawn who was indispensable for me. I had to end this fight quickly, before I lost another piece in the game.
I lunged forward, knife raised, eyes trained on the man who killed Lars.
The Fandom: December 31st
"Pops!" Iceland pushed his way through the ever panicking crowd, his eyes wild as he searched for Turkey's broad back. Where was he? He couldn't have gone that far away. Iceland shoved shoulders with the throng, cursing whenever someone stronger than him forced him back. All of this- the bombing, the scream-reeked of one of Himaruya's plans. If he guessed right, then it was already in action. The only course of action left was to make sure it didn't do as much damage as the monster intended.
Iceland found Turkey crouching at an alleyway, his back to the world. "Pops!" he yelled, running to greet him. He vaguely wondered why Turkey did not turn to greet him until he saw what was going on.
Turkey squatted next to a quivering body, his hand running up and down the protruding spine as he muttered a calming chant. Iceland did not recognize the crying man until he stepped to the side for a better view. "Italy?" he asked, watching said man press his hands into his temples as he whimpered. Iceland looked down at Turkey, feeling concerned despite himself. "What happened?"
"I was looking for Agatha and I found him here instead," Turkey replied, sounding monotone. Tired. He sighed, lowering his face. "I can't get him to explain why he's like that, though."
Iceland frowned. "This's too suspicious," he said, pulling out his phone. "I'm going to call Larry and the others-" He stopped himself. Larry and Spain were not likely to answer. "Actually, I'll call France and 'England' instead. They can tell 'Seychelles' and the Netherlands-"
"You can't!" Iceland paused, his mouth hanging open. Italy looked at him with his leaking eyes, snot hanging from his nose as he sniffled. "You can't," he repeated, this time much softer. "He's dead. I saw it."
The Fangirl: December 31st
I turned onto my side, sobbing as the pain in my chest sliced its claws through my skin, spreading the ever worsening pain like a virus. Why now of all times? Why did this have to happen now?
I forced my eyes to open, catching the dizzying haze of the world around me.
Why wouldn't this pain stop?
Was that Ukraine's hands holding me back?
How can something hurt so much?
Did I imagine them?
Why this pain?
Was that the golden glint on my pocket watch in the middle of the snow?
Did I imagine it?
I reached out a hand, stretching my fingers as far as they would go. Blood pounded in my head as a new wave of agony tore my ribcage open. I screamed again, louder, and fell into myself. This time I was sure Ukraine and Belarus had their hands on me as a sickening retch left my throat. I vomited into the snow.
The acidic stench wafted to my nose, making me relive the nausea my vomiting was supposed to cure. Sweat drenched my brow, dripping thickly onto the snow. I crawled forward, stretching my hand out again to touch the watch. I wrapped my hand around the warm metal, dragging it back to my eyes.
Colors managed to blend into one another as I stared at the reflective cover.
I must have been hallucinating since I saw my own face looking back at me.
The new stab of pain that should have sent me into a renewed wave of writhing dulled into a monotonous ache as I felt a force beyond all comprehension pry me from my body and cast me into a completely different world.
The Fangirl: Saturday
"I'll get it!" I peeled the pillow off my face, wiping my arm across the sticky lines my dried tears left on my cheeks. Every part of me felt like shit and the humid air did nothing to help it. Sweat stuck my pajama tank to my chest, the fabric clutching my overflowing gut and the skin beneath my breasts. I groaned, tugging it free as I dragged my legs to the door. I prayed it wasn't a hot mail man on the other side, with my appearance being shit and all.
"Delivery for Ms. Sue." I blinked away my confusion as I realized that while the mailman was not extremely hot, he was still pleasing to the eye. He was a skinny, almost delicate looking man whose bones jutted from his skin. In fact, his pale flesh looked like cloth draped against antique furniture. He held a clipboard with his tenuous fingers, ones that looked dead white compared to his oily hair.
I looked between him and the human sized crate next to him. "Delivery for what?" I asked. I felt like I had seen this man before, but I couldn't place exactly where.
He pushed a pair of glasses up his nose. "According to my sheet, you ordered a Hetalia Unit, complete with a step-by-step manual on how to-"
"Wait, what?" I rubbed my eye, sure that I was still half asleep. "What the fuck did I order?"
"A Hetalia Unit, Miss," the mail man replied, ever the outstanding employee. I bet he was the employee of the month who was well liked by his coworkers for being a sincere man who always had enough gum to share. But that still did not excuse the fact that he was speaking absolute bullshit to me right now.
"What do you mean by a 'unit?'" I demanded. "Those only exist in Hetalia fanfiction..." I trailed off. I had seen this face before, in Hetalia. The angular features, the derisive twist in the lips- there was no doubt about it. Somehow, Austria found a way into my world. "Oh fuck."
Austria raised his brow in question, though there was something about the motion that made me feel as though he knew what I was thinking. "Is something wrong, Miss?" he asked.
I was quick to shake my head. "Nothing," I said hastily. I bit my tongue. Austria could only have gotten here with the help of one man. But Sadiq and I killed that man six years ago. For Austria to be here, that would mean he would still have to be alive.
I was running low on options. I knew I was incapable of fighting this man away, especially when I had two brothers I would be putting in danger. I had to keep a cool head and think through my options carefully. Any kind of anxiety attack could end with disaster. I needed a plan. I tried placing myself in Ari's shoes. What would he do?
I imagined him standing next to me, his thumbs hooked in his pockets as he spoke into my ear: buy time.
"So what kind of unit is this?" I asked, faking interest. If this was a horror story, Sadiq's mutilated corpse would be the answer.
Austria graced me with a smile. "I could open it for you if you so desired."
Maybe the unit would give me some answers. "Sure," I said with a shrug, though I immediately regretted it. Watching Austria pull the crowbar from his utility belt made all traces of rationality slip through the cracks between my fingers. I tried to grasp it before it evaporated like mist, but whatever I regained could not make up the amount I lost.
The wood lid of the crate fell back, landing on the stone ground with a loud thud. I jumped, feeling my fear spike with it. I needed to run. I needed to get as far away as possible-
A head of yellow hair popped out from the crate. All air left my lungs as I stared at the man with the crooked grin. "Hi Sherry!" Denmark greeted as he waved an ecstatic hand.
I stepped back, my hand finding the door knob. My legs buzzed with adrenaline as my whole body demanded I run away. The only thing keeping me here was the undeniable fear convulsing the nerves laced down my spine. "What are you-"
"We're here because I'm cool-" He flipped his hair, his long bangs whisked to an odd angle. "-like snow."
I screamed and slammed the door shut, or I would have if Austria hadn't wedged his foot into the doorway. He pushed it back open, looking victorious. I open my mouth to scream again when a new voice ranged out.
"Sherry!"
I turned towards the staircase, realizing my terrible mistake. Larry was going to appear at the rails and find himself caught in the middle of my mess. All thoughts about my well-being left me. I had to make sure Larry didn't get involved. I turned back to Austria invited himself into the house. "What do you want from me?" I hoped he didn't hear the shake in my voice. "Please," I pleaded, "whatever you want, I'll do it. Just don't-"
"Get your brother involved?" He cracked a twisted smirk. "You know nothing, Ms. Sue. This involves so much more than just you."
I stared at him for a long moment, unsure what he was saying. Then slowly, like the waxing of the moon, I put the pieces together. I squeaked, feeling my eyes start to water. This was no longer about me and Sadiq. This was about my little brothers being in the same danger as I was. A single word bounced around my head, sounding the only clear thought echoing in my mind: No.
"Sherry!" Larry ran to the edge of the stairs, just far enough to see what was happening. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, nearly as brilliant as the shine of the knives in his hands. His blue eyes glared at Austria and Denmark as he gnashed his teeth in unspeakable rage. "Roderich," he spat, raising his knives higher. I stared at him, slowly realizing what I was seeing. My brother knew his name, addressed him like an old enemy.
Larry knew him.
The weight of the news fell on me with tremendous force. Tears of frustration trickled down from my eyes as I choked. There was nothing I could do to keep Larry away, not any more. My baby brother was already part of his, his fate already intertwined with mine. I couldn't save him now.
"Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Sue," Austria said, stepping forward. "It's been quite some time."
"What are you doing here?" Larry demanded harshly. His eyes flickered to me, extending a silent promise: no matter what, he was going to protect me. I wanted to give him a commanding look, one that ordered him to run, but my face refused to work. I could only contort it as my sorrow increased my tears.
Austria held up his hands, ever the image of mutual friendship. "I only desire a small talk with you and your sister."
"Over my dead body-" He ended in a loud yelp as he fell forwards. I screamed his name, but it was lost in the movement. His hand grabbed the wood rail and, for a moment, he was safe in his suspended fall. It ended all too soon. His eyes narrowed at the person in the upstairs hallway, one I couldn't see. "Alfred," Larry spat.
I blinked. Alfred? Like America?
Sure enough, America appeared at the top of the staircase, giving a cocky smile. "Howdy to you too, Larry," he greeted, leaning against the wall. He whistled. "Man, that could have had ended really shittily for you."
Larry grinned. "I guess I'm just lucky." He threw one of his knives. The blond moved to the side, letting it strike the drywall behind his head. He turned around, grabbed the knife, and threw it back at Larry. It struck the hand on the rail, slicing the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.
I watched with growing panic as Larry retracted his hand, gasping in pain. America kicked his foot into Larry, sending him backwards once again. Larry struck the staircase with a bone breaking force, but he did not stop there. He tumbled down the flight, each turn sending the ear-bleeding noises of human pain until he rolled onto the hardwood floors of his kitchen. His remaining knife had nicked the side of his face and one of his arms did not look normal.
Yet, covered head-to-toe in bruises, Larry sat up with a loud groan. He grabbed the stair banister and pulled his body back onto its unsure feet. He gasped when he tried to use his apparently broken arm. He let it hang limply at his side as he leaned against the support, a knife held in his bleeding hand. He wordlessly aimed it at the top of the staircase. His pants filled the room with thunderous noise.
America leaned against the railings, unafraid to show off the vicious joy in his eyes. "Man, that looks like it hurt," he said. "You're lucky ya didn't die from that."
I suddenly realized that I was in the wrong spot. My place was with Larry, showing him support, not standing dumbstruck in the middle of the living room. I ran to his side, swiftly lacing his good arm around my shoulders and helping him stand upright. He gave me a gentle smile, not mentioned how my help was occupying his only working arm.
His eyes skimmed over the three men, thinking. Calculating. He realized before I did that we were surrounded by three dangerous men with no real way to protect ourselves. I swallowed a wad of spit down my swollen throat, trying to resist the oncoming panic. I had to stay calm now. I had to keep my head. I cannot afford to fuck this up.
"What's going on?"
Larry stiffened. I shot my head towards the source, feeling a new level of terror. Jerry pushed passed America, his hair messy from bedhead, his innocent eyes widening at the sight of Larry's injuries.
"Get out of here!" The brother at my side screamed. "Go now before..."
The Fangirl: December 31st
A smart pain shot up my face, bringing me back to reality. "Stay awake!" Belarus ordered. I stared at her with lazy eyes, slowly realizing that the ache vibrating on my cheek was due to a very strong slap. When I did not fall back into my trance, Belarus nodded and went back to dabbing a cotton swab of antithetics on my head wound. I winced as the sting killed the bacteria in the cut.
The pain in my chest was gone. Whatever had caused it must have stopped while I was stuck in the memory. Was it a memory? All of it seemed undeniable to me. Even now I could replay it over and over again in my head with perfect clarity. Larry had said that he was starting to remember what happened after our argument, though he never said anything about seeing your personal reflection on the pocket watch, or was that part just a trick of the mind? I didn't know. I was at the point where I couldn't believe anything in my head anymore.
Ukraine sighed as she held my head steady between her hands. "Thank goodness you're awake," she said, sniffling away her tears of fright. She looked at her sister with round blue eyes. "Are you sure that wasn't a sign of anything?"
Belarus shook her head as she pressed a gauzed into the wound. "I don't think it was anything medical, but it might have been psychological." A roll of medicinal tape appeared from her bag. She pulled a long stretch in her hands, swiftly wrapping it around my head. "Either that or you had a mini-heart attack under the course of a minute before fainting."
"Hey! I'm, like, back!" I turned my head to the side, letting my eyes rest on Poland. His skirt bounced with every lunge of his run, his hand towing a member of Seychelles's family: America.
I froze, sucking in a large breath of air. Why did Poland grab him of all people? The bastard literally kicked my brother down a flight of stairs and broke his arm. Why him? It's practically canon, a voice in my head reminded me. I wanted to scream. Of course, 'FACES' family. If France and England were the fathers, then America had to be Seychelles's brother.
Ukraine sighed, stroking the crown of my head. She didn't feel the sweat gathering at my hairline. "Thank goodness. I was starting to wonder if she was going to be alone here."
America grinned, pointing a thumb at his heavy ski jacket. "No worries, dudette! As the hero, it is my job to always stand by the members of my family." He knelt next to me, looking smug as his hand headed to the pocket watch. I tightened my gripped around it, glaring at him, shivering at the very thought of his presence being so close to me. I needed to do nothing more than scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. I wanted to shout and yell, but my throat was still clogged. His hand hovered over mine for a long moment. He grinned. "Don't worry, I'm going to take you to my dad and-"
His hand was slapped away.
My eyes searched for the source, unable to believe that Belarus was the one glowering as she held her arm ready for another strike. Yet, there she was, protecting me.
Ukraine and Poland jumped back, stunned. "What are you doing?" Ukraine asked, looking between America and her sister.
"Like, what the F is your problem?" Poland exclaimed, taking a smart step back.
Belarus set her hard look to America. "Seychelles froze at the sight of you," she said. "She started looking terrified as well. If you meant her no harm, then why would she have such a negative reaction?" I stared at her, unsure if I heard her right. She was willing to defend me, even after everything I had done to her? Even after I called her a bitch?
America blew air through his lips, trying to brush the question aside. "Chillax, Belarus. She hit her head, didn't she?" America wore his slickest look yet as he reached another hand towards me. "She's probably delusional right now-" This time, Belarus grabbed his arm and twisted it to a painful angle. America cried out before lashing out his other hand. The fist crashed into Belarus's face, causing her arm to pass through her fingers as she fell back onto the pavement.
Ukraine pushed me away from him, though my body was so stiff I barely moved. What little distance I traveled made a new wave of dizziness bend my vision into a blur. I watched through hazy eyes as America glared at me. He started to rise, only to be tackled to the ground by a cross-dressing blond. "Get out of here!" Poland yelled, trying to keep America pinned to the blacktop.
Belarus surged to her feet. She ran to Ukraine and I, wasting no time in lifting me onto her back. "Hang onto my neck," she ordered, adjusting her arms as to not hurt my splinted leg. A cry sounded behind us. She turned us around and we saw Poland be thrown to the side, his face buried in the snow as he muttered exclamations of pain. America rolled his shoulders as he jumped back to his feet, barely fazed.
Belarus curled her lip and, in the heat of the moment, stuck her tongue out at him before she turned to run. Each stretch of the leg sent jolts up my body, shaking me up and down like a pepper shaker. Each time, I winced as the pain curled around my throbbing leg and head. I wanted to ask her to stop before the pain made me vomit again, but I couldn't find the words. I focused my attention on the ground, my forehead pressed on her shoulder as the gray pavement passed beneath us.
Although I did not look, I knew Ukraine was running after us. Her loud huffs met my ears as she struggled to keep pace with her more athletic sister. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, her voice sparse from exhaustion.
The side of her chin touched my skull as Belarus glanced behind us. "No idea," she said. She made a sharp turn, taking us down a new street. "Why are you so afraid of him?" It took me a long moment to realize that she was talking to me. I want to reply, but I couldn't find the strength to speak. I felt like smacking myself- I was blown up, not muted. I should be able to explain why that bastard was a menace. Yet, my mouth was sewn shut with no hopes of freedom. The girls would just have to do with my silence.
"Brother!" Belarus sped up. The sudden change made me knock my forehead on the back of her shoulder, but she hardly noticed. I groaned, forcing my face towards Russia. He stood with Holy Rome, looking relaxed as we approached.
"What's going on here?" Holy Rome asked, his concerned eyes skimming over the splint on my leg. Ukraine jogged next to us, wheezing as she placed her hands on her knees. Holy Rome placed a hand on her back, rubbing comfort circles over the indent of her bra strap.
A victorious "ah-ha!" sounded behind us. I stiffened, knowing that America was standing somewhere behind me, ready to go through with whatever plan he had.
"He's doing bad stuff" was all Belarus had to say. Russia cracked his neck as Holy Rome shot away from Ukraine, heading straight towards the America. I turned to follow him with my eyes, seeing him waste no time in smashing a right hook into America's gut, spiraling them both into a brawl.
Russia watched them for a brief moment, as if to make sure that his boyfriend could handle it. When it was apparent that the Holy Roman Empire could make an excellent boxing name, he looked back at us. "I am right to presume that America meant you harm, da?" Russia asked.
Belarus shrugged, which I would imagine would be very difficult to do with a petite nation on your back. "Harm, yes. Me, no." She gestured back to me. "He was going after her, for whatever reason."
Russia tapped a gloved finger on his round chin, violet eyes aimed at the blue sky. "I see. Very suspicious happenings here."
"Happenings?" Ukraine echoed.
"Da. I was sent by Liechtenstein to find France and England. I believe she was in some sort of emergency..."
Belarus and I seized. Something happened to my brother? I needed to get to him now, before something horrible happened to him. If that vision I saw was real, then this wouldn't be the first time I stood by as he got hurt. Either Belarus read my mind or her previous romance with Liechtenstein was rediscovered since she said "I'm going to go find them. Can you take care of the idiot over there?"
Russia looked back to him boyfriend, who appeared to have rammed Alfred into the nearest store building, holding him by the collar of his shirt. A look of duty filled his face as he stepped past his sisters. "Da. I can." He cracked his knuckles, his threatening aura drowning him as he passed us a kind smile. "I'll tell you if he squeaks, da?"
Ukraine raised a brow. "I'll tell you if they kill him," she said.
Belarus gave nothing more than a slight nod (if it can even be called that) before running off again. I held myself closer to her back, praying that we would get to Larry in time. But making nice time was difficult when you have little idea where you should go. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to tell her about Antonio's apartment, but my voice was nothing more than a hoarse breath, one that Belarus did not notice. She ran onto the boardwalk, her face whipping in every which sort direction is pursuit of the head of bobbed blonde hair. When she skidded to a stop, I almost believed that she had found him. Then I realized that she was aiming her question at the burly German standing to the side of the sidewalk. "Have you seen France or England around?"
Germany stared at her for a long moment, seemingly unaware of the oil on his arms and the tool box in his hand. He looked at me with concerned eyes until she coughed impatiently. "I saw them a while back at the children's booths," he said.
They probably already with Larry right now, I realized. I had to tell her where he was. I opened my mouth, forcing my lips to move up and down with words. Again, a small croak was all that left me. I swore I was going to kill the bastard who set off that bomb and left me to be more useless than usual.
"Did you see them leave?" Belarus asked. I needed to tell her where he was without speaking.
Germany ran an oil covered hand through his hair, soiling his yellow hair with black. "I don't think I did..."
I looked at the crowded street filled with anxious pedestrians, all confused as to the smoke wafting in a daunting black column through the air. My eyes followed the pink decorations on the Christmas lights linking two buildings on different sides of the street. The taller one was Seychelles's apartment building. I knew the path from there to Spain's cafe.
I removed an arm from its death lock around her neck. Belarus was asking more questions, fruitlessly trying to hide how much of a loss she was at. I poked her cheek and, when she looked back at me with the slightest hint of annoyance, I pointed down the street. "What's there?" she asked, sliding her feet and raising her hands in defense mode.
I thought back to an anime I watched once where the main character was sick and incapable of speaking. He had written his commands on his servant's palm. I did the same, expect on the skin of her cheek. I only had to write out Liechtenstein's name for her to understand what I meant. "You've know the whole time where she was?" she demanded, livid.
Well excuse me for being mute, I snapped in thought. Couldn't she be grateful for once in her life?
She shook her head. "Never mind. Just point the way."
Pointing ended up being the most helpful thing I could have done. A raw pain still curled around my throat, making it impossible for me to do little than to point down the streets, heading closer and closer to the cafe.
I prayed that I wasn't too late. I didn't think I could forgive myself this time.
"What the hell?" Belarus stopped mid-stride. I looked at the edge of the crowd blocking the street, unsure what I was supposed to be focusing on. Then I looked up. On a building further down the block was a blur of colors. I blinked rapidly, trying to discern the shapes from one another. One person was tall and dressed in red while another was short with a yellow head...
Larry and Denmark.
Strangled swears left my mouth. They were fighting- that much was obvious. Big and scary Denmark was battling against Larry. I had no concern for Larry's ability, but he wasn't himself. He was Liechtenstein. Her arms resembled twigs and she couldn't lift a gun to save her life.
"Enjoying the awesome show?" I started, tensing as the Prussia-resembling Himaruya sauntered to our side. I felt Belarus's grip on my thighs tighten as she pulled her body into her tight, defensive stance. She could read my body language as well as anybody. "What? Am I too awesome for you two?" Himaruya joked, giving us a feline grin.
Belarus pressed her lips. "Too obnoxious, actually."
He blew her comment aside, almost chuckling as he propped his arms behind his head. I noticed how he kept the majority of his weight focused on one foot and remembered the burning cane he wielded in the Room. "Whatever, you unawesome person. Enjoy watching them awesomely kill each other."
Belarus grimaced, tilting her head to the side. I couldn't see her eyes, but I bet the blue hue was sparkling with unspeakable hatred hidden beneath a thin layer of sweet pleasantries. "Fuck you." She stomped her heel into his toe, causing him to howl in pain. She whipped around and dove into the throng, pushing our way closer to the fight.
Luckily, most people knew to make way for Belarus. If they didn't, they risked having their bodies found at the bottom of a dumpster. She broke past the edge of the crowd, stepping beyond their mob hold. She ran into the middle of the street and planted her feet on the yellow road lines.
From my closer angle, I was able to see the details of the fight more clearly. Larry and Denmark danced around each other in a cat-and-mouse fight. Denmark made most of the moves, blindly lashing a barrage of kicks and punches. Larry dodged each one with decreasing precision. Sweat soaked the front of his shirt, his coat already casted aside. His incessant pants formed a white cloud around his mouth. I saw the glint of a knife in his hand, but the weapon seemed to be doing less for him with each passing second. Denmark leaned back and threw a roundhouse kick through the air. Larry was only saved when Antonio took a moment out of his own battle with Austria to shove him out of the way.
Belarus said nothing, but I knew what she was thinking. Larry was in trouble. He was losing. She uncurled my arms from her neck, lifting me like a delicate object off her back. "I have to help her," she said, placing me on the wet asphalt. "Stay here."
"Sherry!" Sadiq and Ari appeared through the crowd as they pushed their way to join us. Belarus switched her eyes between them and me with a scrunched face as she fitted the name to the face. Sadiq escaped the mob's clutches first, running to me with a panicked look. He slid onto his knees with the ease of a dancer, stopping right by my sitting body. "What the hell happened to you?" he demanded. "Have you seen the Netherlands?"
"Seychelles was involved in the explosion," Belarus explained as she shifted on her feet.
Sadiq cupped my cheeks, moving his hands up and down my shoulders and face, checking to see that everything was in place. His eyes grew distant as he passed his palm over the bandage wrapped around my head. "I'm so sorry." He breathed. He looked me in the eye. "Do you know where the Netherlands is now?"
I shook my head.
"We think something happened to him," Ari said as he jogged to our side. He placed his hands on his knees, bending over to catch the scarce oxygen.
An ear-splitting roar shattered the air.
"Tally-ho, mates!" There, on the building opposite of Larry, was the reinforcements. Hidekaz and France stood at the edge of the roof, smiling like idiots as they waved. Switzerland lay on the ground next to him, his eyes glued to the scope, his hands attached to a black sniper rifle. The bullet he fired ripped over the street before tearing across the skin of Denmark's arm.
Denmark clutched his flesh wound, biting back a cry of pain. Larry kicked his side, sending him stumbling into the edge of the roof. We craned our necks to watch Switzerland recock the rifle. For a breath, he stared into the gun, unmoving. He fired again. Denmark had enough brains to jump out of the way before he could be hit again. Antonio and Austria came back into view as they flung away from each other, their shins barely missing the metal bullet.
"Should we do something?" Sadiq asked. He looked at me, expecting me to articulate a response, but I could not reply. I only shrugged my shoulders and returned my attention to the fight.
Denmark looked at Switzerland as he pulled a lever on his gun back, his bright eyes narrowing. Larry tried to strike him in his moment of distraction, but Denmark threw him aside like he was little more than a ragdoll. He ran towards the pole on the roof, hopping onto the string of lights connecting the two buildings. He sprinted across with amazing speed, able to quickly duck when Switzerland tried to fire his gun again. The bullet struck the pole instead, sending a spray of splinters into the air. My brother ran to his, taking his knife to the connecting core. He sawed right through it, sending Denmark to the ground.
Or it should have. He grabbed the wire, hanging onto it like a rope. He swung into the side of France and Hidekaz's building, hitting it with a large thump.
Belarus swore, pulling out her knife as she ran towards his dangling legs. She threw it at his spindly body, the blade diving into his ankle. Denmark cried out again, but held on tight. He reached down with one hand and pulled the knife out. Large drops of blood fell onto Belarus's face, causing her to jump away and rub her sweater sleeve into the red splatters.
Denmark placed the knife between his teeth and finished his climb with relative ease. He rolled onto the roof, quick to ram his shoulder into France's stomach. He flipped him over his back, sending him plummeting to the ground. Belarus swore and ran to catch him in her arms. She nearly fell over from his weight, but her bent knees kept them steady.
Hidekaz offered more of a resistance. He threw a few punches, aiming for the Women's Self Defense weak areas: the neck, nose, eyes, stomach, balls. Denmark dodged most of them, only faltering when the heel of Hidekaz's hand jammed up into his nostrils. He stumbled back a few steps before lunging forward. He attempted to reenact his earlier victory against France, using the same butting as before, but he misinterpreted how much space he had. England stepped back and Denmark knocked into Switzerland's shoulder, causing the gun to jerk the moment it went off.
The deafening roar shattered my ear drums.
During Denmark's plight, Larry had been quick to start aiding Antonio in his fight against Austria. He had paid Denmark little heed once he was on the other rooftop.
Yet, like some innate sense, a part of him knew what was about to happen.
He turned around, able to see the glint of the rifle's barrel before it went off.
For a single second, nothing happened. Larry stood still, as if he was merely taking a moment to feel the breeze filter through the strands of his hair.
Then the red appeared. Against his blue coat, it almost looked black.
So the black appeared, starting as a small dot on the fabric before engulfing his entire arm.
A hoarse scream left me as I reached out, like I could touch him and tell him everything was alright. He was shot. My brother was shot. Trepidation rattled my body as I forgot how to breathe. He was dying and he was shot. How could I let this happen to him?
Larry lifted a hand to his shoulder, touching the blood before holding it to his eyes. He rubbed his fingers, as if he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Each breath that left his body stole the color with it.
His eyes widened.
He dropped his hand.
Only the snow was paler than he was.
He dragged a foot forward.
"Liechtenstein!" Belarus dropped France and ran towards him. I started to do the same, but my leg pinned me to my spot. Lungs burning, I tried to crawl forward, about to cry out again when Sadiq pulled me back, hushing me, telling me things would be okay.
But Larry was injured and things wouldn't be okay.
Antonio finally got Austria away from him long enough to see the blood, to see Larry fall over the edge of the building. "Larry!"
My brother hit an awning a level below and slid down the fabric, leaving behind a smear of blood in his wake before falling again. Belarus caught him, cradling him in her arms like a child. She placed him on the sidewalk, pulling her sweater over her head and applying it to his bleeding wound.
"You weren't supposed to kill him!" Austria yelled at Denmark.
Switzerland laid by his gun, frozen, shocked at what he had done.
I fought against Sadiq, screaming like a savage animal as he held me back. Ari help him.
Larry…
England appeared at the edge of his roof, yelling, "Antonio, backup plan! Use the watch!" Denmark sprang upon him, wrestling him away from the roof.
Antonio abandoned his axe, jumping off his building. He slid down the awning with control and rolled onto the pavement below. "Get him to Seychelles," he ordered, urging Belarus back onto her feet. France ran to help them and, together, they lifted my dying brother over to me.
His complexion was dead, whiter than the snow around his face. I noticed the two trails of tears brimming down her flushed face as Belarus continued to apply pressure to the bullet wound.
"What's the backup plan?" Ari demanded.
"You'll find out." Antonio reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocket watch. "Everyone, grab onto Sherry," he ordered. I felt hand grope the fabric on my torso and legs, but I didn't care. I grabbed Larry's cooling hand and made it grip the end of my skirt. "Everyone, I need you to clear all thoughts from you head. Sherry, I need you to think of yesterday."
Yesterday?
Antonio clicked the pocket watch open. He turned the knob on the top. The clock hands moved backwards in time.
Yesterday, Larry wasn't dying. He was sitting across the table from me thinking, breathing, living.
Yesterday, I was sitting at his high school graduation, cheering with pride as he received his decorated diploma.
Yesterday, I sat next to him as he camped, his eyes in a telescope, his voice dictating the story of Orion.
Yesterday, we sat in front of the TV and watched The Little Mermaid.
A white flash of light consumed my vision as I felt myself falling.
and falling
and falling
and falling
a
n
d
…
Yesterday, things were so much simpler.
The Fangirl: Unknown
I groaned and tried to reach for the alarm clock. It blared some Lady Gaga song on full volume. Sex songs were not the best music to listen to when waking up in the morning, especially when it was only seven o'clock. I hit the snooze button and smiled when silence filled the room. I could sleep for another five or so minutes.
Larry.
Fuck.
I jolted upright on bed, feeling my heartbeat pick up. Already my breath was nothing more than scarce pants. Where was he? What did Antonio do? Was he already…
A hopeless sob left me. I let my brother die. This was all my fault. He's dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead—
No, I couldn't think like that. He had to be alive. Antonio and Hidekaz would save him. They wouldn't just let my baby brother die. I used my bed sheet to wipe the tears from my face. He was the important one, not me. He had to be alive and I had to find him.
I pulled the sheets away and stepped onto the carpeted floors. I paused, sensing something was wrong. The floor looked familiar, but I couldn't place exactly where I had seen them before. I gulped and trailed my eyes upwards. Clean walls greeted me, along with an open window. Sunlight streamed in freely, flooding the organized dorm room with spring light.
My heart beat stopped as I realized where I was.
I opened my mouth to scream.
"Do not scream." I whipped my head towards the voice that was as familiar as that line opener. Sadiq sat in the desk chair, an ankle balanced on his knee. His arms were crossed over his green jacket and his neck was covered in a sparkly pink scarf. I recognized Poland's handiwork.
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to figure out where to begin. "How did we get back here?" I asked. He scrunched his brows together. "I mean, I bet Antonio did it, but why here? Why would he bring us back to Gauken Hetalia, Sadiq—"
"What?" I clamped my mouth shut. He looked confused, as though he had no idea what I was talking about. Sadiq's eyes skimmed down my body. "Alright, Miss. First off, where did you get that nickname?"
I stared at him. He was acting like I had never called him that before in his life. That was because I never have called him that, I realized. Seychelles's dorm room, the familiar dialogue, the scarf, the lack of memories—it all could only add up to one thing.
Clocks told time. That was their singular purpose. I knew that, so do you. Yet my pocket watch had a foreboding hand pointing at the three. Yet Antonio took my pocket watch and turned back time. One, five, ten hours- none of that mattered. He pulled me back into time, taking my twenty-one year old self and placing her in the shoes she wore when she was fifteen.
"Oh fuck," I breathed, sitting back on the bed. I wanted to cry, not because I was alone or scared. My tears came from the single fact that this was my sentence: to be six years in the past, reliving Gauken Hetalia.
MW: Alternatively, this chapter could be called "Going Out with a Bang," or "A Hidekaz Always Repays His Debts," or "Hey, There's Actually Side Characters in This." I love naming chapters.
We've officially a little over half way through the story. We have seven more chapters, which encompass the last two story arcs: the continuation of whatever that ending was and the final battle (though that could be split up into two arcs if we really tried). Again, I plan on somehow ending this before I graduate high school. Yay for me.
Now, for my new blog. As we all know, I have a tumblr blog by the name of clockworkspades. As much as I love that blog, I realized that it had become very fandom influenced and, seeing as I originally made it for my fanfictions, I decided that something had to change. So I made a new blog, my official writing blog. If you're interested in my fanfictions (scraps, questions/answers, inspiration, writing advice and resources), feel free to follow me at aphwriter. There's a link for it in my profile!
No Notes
Next Chapter: Sherry's back in Gauken Hetalia and, with no signs of her friends, she has to figure out what to do herself.
Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful start of October. I'll try to update again this month. Good luck to other college applicants!