Sinful Nostalgia | Hetalia

2 || Unsettling Strangers

"Oh my gosh, you really are boring. You're hurting my charismatic charm."

"Julchen," I groan exasperatedly, snatching my composition notebook from the needy hands of my older sister, "How many times have I told you to leave things how you found them?"

Julchen snorts, crossing her skinny arms across her skinny chest, popping her hip out and narrowing her crimson eyes at me. She was bringing out the daily perfect definition of "impractical" and "immature." I couldn't ask for a more childish older sister, though if Julia "Julchen" Bielschmidt wasn't being childish, I would have more things to worry about.

"How many times have I told you not to leave things where I can play with them?" she argues stubbornly. "Yeesh, you're too serious! I mean, I was just having some fun with that there journal! And I didn't say that your writing was bad or anything. You just really know how to drag on a lecture!"

"It's an self-introductory, for college," I grunt, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks in embarrassment.

For the college program I wish to attend, I must come up with an introductory of my life so far. Sort of like a miniature auto-biography. It's an elite program for students aspiring to become successful journalists, and all my life, that's what I wanted to do. To branch out, to write other people's stories, to write stories for other people, I must first write and discover my own.

"Dear sister, I hate to rain on your parade, but you don't have enough money to attend college," Julchen reminds me. "Why worry about an introduction now?"

"I'd like to remind you that I have money saved up for this very opportunity," I say. "I have a job, if you don't recall."

"Job shmob," Julchen mocks, sticking out her tongue and plopping on the sofa. She leans back easily, getting nice and comfortable, which she does best. "I don't need a job. I just have to sit here and look beautiful!" She fluffs her white locks.

I sit beside her.

"That attitude shows why you're still mooching off our father, does it not?" Julchen throws her books down on the coffee table, and decides in a most declarative manner that, "I'm awesome enough to get my own job and move into an apartment whenever I'd like, thank you very much."

"If you're so awesome," I peel her left foot off of the coffee table, "And so very capable," I peel her right foot off next, letting her ridiculously high boots fall to the floor, "Why haven't you done it yet, shorty?"

Julchen mutters something unintelligible, and I shake my head. She really was an interesting sort. I really was younger than her, but much taller. She really was rather short, and more skinny than I. She moved into my apartment with me about two months ago, after angering our father with her expensive ways. She's twenty-four years old, and acts like she's seven.

And yet, Julchen is the only confident I've had all these years. Whether I had a friend or not in my earlier years, I don't remember anyone but her being there when I'd fallen hard. I don't remember anyone else comforting me so unconditionally. I just couldn't imagine my life without my sister. Childish and brash, and every other personality flaw involved and all, I still love her.

Glancing at the glowing clock on the kitchen oven, I see the green numbers reading 4:00 p.m. That's when my work begins at the bar just around the corner. I've been working there for just over a year now. The pay is pretty small per week - only three dollars - but over a year it adds up plenty.

"Okay, Julchen, I have to go to work now." I pull myself up off the couch, un-wrinkling my simple clothing. "Do you need to come with me, or can I trust you to behave yourself like a big girl?" Julchen knew I was kidding around, though I'm very bad at jokes. I've sent kids into tears on the playground because of how dry my humor can be, so typically I refrained, unless, of course, I'm around Julchen.

"I suppose that means I'll be coming with you," Julchen shouts, hopping up and bouncing from where she stood. "Can I change first?!"

"No." I hated to be late, and my sister knows that. "If you're coming with, then we're going to leave right now."

Julchen makes a crude noise with her tongue, shrugs, and throws open the door. She shuts the door in my face, attempting to be a goof, but I wasn't very amused. "Knock it off!" I holler, though I have no doubt in my mind that Julchen was enjoying whatever she was trying to do.

We walk down the steps of the apartment, making our way down the metallic stairs. I anticipated that she'd do this as soon as Julchen yells, "Race you!" The vain woman throws me into the brick wall, skipping two steps at a time and flying downstairs. I knew I could beat her by a few strides, but I don't want to stoop down to that level. I'm an adult. I have to be.

New York is a very busy city, so the street stood right before us. However, the bus stop was a ways down the sidewalk, so we had a few more strides to run. By the time we made it to the bus, our hair is blown back wildly and our faces are flushed in red. Julchen hurriedly throws down the bus fees in change on the dashboard. The driver glares, but the money's been paid, so we got to sit down.

"Why are you so intent on paying everything in change?" I demand in a harsh, quick whisper. Julchen, with a goofy grin on her face, shrugs indifferently.

We sit down in the very back of the bus. A few idiot people were milling around in the middle of it, so when the bus gave a giant lurch as it began to drive down the road, a man falls on the laps of my sister and I. I meet his fiery brown eyes the moment he looks up at me, and for some strange reason, I begin to feel strange.

"I'm so sorry," the stranger apologizes, speaking through a thick Italian accent. "I'll try better to keep my balance next time." He looked and sounded like he was about to cry. I watch him walk off, unsettled still. I'm not entirely familiar with the reasons why.

"It's fine," I mumble, though I knew it was a delayed response and that the stranger has walked out of my life for good.

Julchen seemed to have different ideas, however. She was poking my cheek obnoxiously, a smirk on her pale features. I ignore her annoying tendencies the best I can, but she does it again, and again. A fourth time, now. A fifth. Finally, I groan loudly.

"What?!" I snap angrily, slapping my sister's pale hand away from my face.

"You're blushing!" she screams.

I cover her mouth, annoyed. Even so, I could feel the hot sensation on my cheeks. I felt so much more self-aware. Every cell in my body seemed to be out of place. It was startling me a great deal, probably because I've never felt that way before.