Sinful Nostalgia | Hetalia

8 || Comforting a Friend

January eighteenth, twenty one years ago, a child was born. A German girl, with blue eyes, blonde hair, and a need for control. She wasn't a bad person, despite her own thoughts of herself claiming otherwise. She just felt more secure, like she was welcome, if she had even the smallest sense of control.

She had a terrible problem with anger, too. She would break things when angered, but that was just the serious stuff. Sensibility was always with her, in her heart, almost as if it were engraved. She never broke things over the small obstacles that life inevitably brought. Irrationality, she knew, was just a waste of time.

Unfortunately, the girl had a lot of people taken from her at such a young age. A beloved pet at age three, her best dress flying off into the mud, never to be seen again. And, most devastating, a best friend in second grade. One who she was closer with than anybody else. Even the own members of her family. A sweet young girl who always came to school in a maid dress. An innocent, kind girl with the warmest of brown eyes.

The only person she knew she could trust.

But worst of all, and most cruel of all... her mother, when she was just at the age of nine. A robust woman who the young girl constantly butted heads with. At one point, she was convinced of the false hatred she had built up against her mother. Which, of course, was why it was so cruel. You never know what you love most until it's gone for good. A car wreck. A freak accident. Whatever you call it, the name won't change the facts.

The sister was just as sad, but wouldn't show it. In fact, she would take pleasure in turning everything into a joke. The younger sister hadn't snapped yet, until one fateful day... when the jokster sister tried to make the situation into a joke. That was the last straw. That was what it took to make a nine year old ravage around in an angry rage.

The first thing that was broken was a vase full of wilted flowers.

The second was a painting on the wall.

The third was a shard of glass getting thrown at the face of the shouting sister, a streak of blood falling down her cheek like a tear from the deep cut.

And the fourth thing broken, was the composure the girl once held. She'd completely lost it. The older one, despite being injured, rushed to her sister's aid with an angry desperation. In the struggle to get a hold of the young girl, she accidentally caused a blow to her head. The passed out girl fell in a deep, deep sleep.

The older sister in an even deeper panic.

***

I wake up with a start, heart beating with a speed I couldn't keep up with. I breathe heavily, the room far too stuffy. It was too much. Too much. I can't remember much about my past. I can't remember anything, actually, except for an aching pain. Sometimes, I think it's better not to know what sort of monster I might have been.

I can't take it. I need somebody to talk to. I walk over to the wilting roses, snatching up the piece of paper I had hidden there long ago. I make my way to the kitchen, where the cord phone hung on the wall. I was going to do it. For the first time, I was going to call him.

The number written on the paper was dialed in by my fingers. The phone was held to my ear. I wait, seemingly endlessly, the rings echoing about. It took one, two, five. Eight times, before somebody answered. "Vargas Residence, Feliciano speaking, hehe!" I feel my heart nearly collapse with relief that Feliciano was still awake.

"H-hey, uhm, hi," I speak awkwardly, talking into the receiver. "I-I was just calling because... uh... I uhm had your number... and..." The babbling wouldn't stop. I totally forgot, I didn't say who I was! "O-oh, th-this is Monica Beischmidt talking!"

"I know~" Feliciano laughs lightly into the phone, sounding so carefree. "I could tell because of the cute German accent, yes?"

"I-I w-what!!?" The sputtering was automatic, the blush even quicker. I sigh, taking a deep breath. "I-I... I mean..." I breathe once more, getting the nerve to say what I was going to next. "Thank you, Feliciano." An acceptance to what he had said, even when it made my heart pound almost dangerously. I really was tired.

"So Monica... you called really late, so I know it's not for the sake of just talking," Feliciano tells me. His voice was still innocent, but his words just a bit too observant. "Is there anything wrong? Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you need, I'll help you with, heh!"

"It's just..." I wasn't sure how I was to word this. "I mean... I've been feeling sorta sad tonight... and all these feelings are coming back...." I take a small moment to pause a bit. "I... I keep getting this feeling that I've hurt my sister. And everyone else who comes to cross paths with me in their lives. I always get this nostalgic feeling, too. It's just... hard."

"Eh," Feliciano mutters, soaking in what I had said. "I know how you feel, heh. But the thing that's worse than hurting people, is being alone." I could practically hear his smile, despite his sad words. Such an odd character. "Being alone is just about the worst thing in the world, heheh! But all you need to do is be you, you know."

"Be... me." I repeat his words slowly, mulling over what he'd said. Is being me the best thing? Controlling? Plagued with severe anger issues? Uptight? Before I can ask that with shame, Feliciano seems to know what I'm thinking automatically.

"We all have flaws! But it's better to just be you. It's worth all the imperfections!" Feliciano sounded too wise for the annoying boy I met. "I mean hurting people is a part of life." He sighs gently. "It brings us all... closer. Yes?"

"I still just feel this undying guilt since I moved here from Germany, and I can't trace back to what caused it," I whisper, finally spilling out my insecurities. I can't even trace back to the people in my life then. I can't remember my dead mother's face.

"Well, we can stick to what we can fix," Feliciano tells me cheerily. "Go and cuddle Julchen." He knows I'm about to protest with embarrassment. "It will take you back to your kiddie days, and you can even ask to her face if she's mad at you!"

Way too childish to be twenty one. Even so, I had to hand it to him for giving me advice at one in the morning. He had patience that I would never possess. "Thanks, Feliciano," I say again. "I'll try. I-I'll see you..."

"Just be you, Monica!" And we hung up.

Just be me.

Face bright red already, I make my way to my sister's room. Opening up the door, I'm quite surprised to find she was still awake. She glances up at me with that big grin on her face. "What brings you to the lair," she muses, wiggling her eyebrows. I make my way to her bed, and sit on the side. "Huh? What's this? You finally taking notice of my undeniable hotness?"

"I w-want to lay in here for tonight," I stutter stiffly. I haven't done this since we were children. I can't remember much, but I used to have nightmares, and would go to Julchen for comfort. She was immature and insane, but she was my older sister. That was what I could look forward to. Someone to come to for comfort.

"Then lay, young one," Julchen winks. She wasn't being perverted. I knew that. I could tell that somewhere, deep within her twisted head, she knew about the comfort she gave. My only family I can remember, only because she was right before me. Thank the lord for older sisters. Although they are a pain, they are accountable as well.

And it made me feel just a bit better.