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A vampire's dilemna He had always been odd to him, especially near to the end of their first time together. Arthur fidgeted slightly as he sat in his chair in their old favorite café. Yesterday, Francis called him, saying he was in town again and asked if they could meet again. The English man sighed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. It was new for him to be so nervous all of a sudden. It was Francis, that annoying French neighbor, we are talking about, but even then, it didn’t stop him from getting nervous. After another hour of waiting, Arthur wasn’t nervous anymore, but more annoyed. Suddenly, the French man walked

They called it obsession. They called it 'puppy-love', but he called it 'admiration of art'. That was what she, Principality of Monaco, was for him. The way her hair danced when the wind softy played with it. The way her eyes light up behind those suiting glasses when she got a brilliant idea. The way her lips moved when she spoke that forgein french language - like honey. The way she smiled at him - so perfect, so beautiful. The way she walked - like a feline flounced through its territory. All that made his heart pick her. Kugelmugel was musing again, staring entraced at the 'living art' in front of him. Austria raised an eyebrow wh

Iceland sighed softly, looking over himself in the mirror again. Today he got that... meeting of friends with Hong Kong. He felt pretty nervous and bite his lip. Just why was he so nervous? He heard a knock on his door. "What is it?" he called. Norway walked inside and looked him over. "Aren't you overdressed for a 'small meeting of friends' as you called it?" the third tallest Nordic asked. Iceland looked at him emotionless and rolled his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of 'aren't you always too overdressed?' Norway sighed softly and sat on the bed, still watching his sibling. "Emil, I'm just worried about you. I know those guys

It was an usual Saturday morning when Arthur decided to roll out of bed, at least he thought so. He rolled on his other side and grumbled; something was off. Forest green eyes were slowly revealed when Arthur lifted his eye lids. As soon as they were open, he screamed silently and fell out of bed. "Frog! What the hell are you doing here?" he yelled at the other. The French man grumbled and slowly sat up. "Mon dieu.. pour quoi est-ce que tu es très fort?" Arthur heard the other grumble in tired French. Arthur stood up and glared at the other. That was a morning what Arthur believed to be a 'one-time'-thing. Unknown to him, it happened a

It took Romania almost one hour to get what the other said. He asked again and again and yet he always go the same answer. "Dude, you're pissing me off, just stop asking me. I already told you, my name is Nikolai Petrov." Romania closed his eyes, almost breaking down. He still didn't get it. The nurse informed him that Nikolai died back then, but now he is here, standing before him. Romania took a deep breath. "Nikolai, da..? What else can you tell me about you?" Nikolai's eyebrow twitched and he sighed softly, starting to tell the other about him not remembering his past or how he woke up in that night club. The only thing Nikolai left out

Romania stared at the man on the stage. That couldn't be him. It just couldn't, but he looked like him. His cheeks glowed red when the dancer started his performance. The stripper moved in beat with the song, winding himself around the pole, grinding against it and slowly wearing less of his already short amount of clothes. Romania's mind went blank when the stripper made direct eye contact with him. Dark olive green eyes were looking into his red orbs, making it feel like they were piercing his soul. "It's Bulgaria," he mumbled which was barely heard by the other two nations next to him. "Romania, I know you miss him, but it can't be him

It had been almost 5 years since Romania got to know that Bulgaria is dead. 5 years of grieving. 5 years of trying to forget. 5 years of not successing in forgetting him. He tried so hard to forget him, but everywhere he went, he saw memories of both of them. The battlefield – Fighting the enemies, commanding his men, almost losing his sanity a few times, but in the end, Bulgaria was by his side. They were often quite battered and completely wounded, but in the end, they could still smile. The bed – They used it in different ways. Either it was back then, during the Soviet Union, when they had to cuddle because of the cold tha

He couldn't get it. His best friend was supposed to be dead, gone, disappeared. How was he supposed to break the news to the others? Romania stood frozen in front of the nurse, slowly processing the information. "He had no chance to survive." Bulgaria was dead. Slowly, he felt a certain wetness rolling down his cheeks, his lungs closing in on him. He was crying, grieving the dead of his closest friend. "I'm sorry…" He heard those words being whispered. That was the last straw for him. He broke down, sobbing into his hands. He didn't know how long he sat there until he felt a hand on his shoulder, stroking over it. He knew that scent,

"You have 20 minutes." He heard a voice behind him say, but he didn't care for that voice, all that mattered for him was the man who sat on the bed. "Nikolai..." he whispered. Said person looked over at him, a small smile found its way on his lips. "Hey, what brings you here?" The bandaged man said in a hoarse voice. Romania trembled; he couldn't bear to look at his friend, not in this state of health. "Are you alright?" Romania noticed that he was lost in thought and looked over to the person who spoke. He walked over to Bulgaria and sat down at his bed. He stared at the ground, didn't dare to look at his friend. "Romania...?" Bulgaria m

„So that's how it happened and all…. Hey… Are you still there Garia? You're so quiet." I snapped out of it when I heard my annoying pet name he had given me. "Yeah, I'm still there. I just didn't want to interrupt you," I answered. I could hear the revived smile in his voice as he went on to tell his story. I know you're probably wondering what the hell is going. Well, like every night, I was talking to my best friend Romania on the phone. As usual, he told me some story of his, while I kept listening to his voice. I know it sounds cheesy, but he usually calls after I woke up from one of my nightmares and his voice is famili