A/N: Heh. My first Hetalia and I have an OC. Er, does a real person count as an OC? Request written as a belated Christmas present for OriginalBubsRA, a friend not on this site. Roleplaying happenings are strange ones, indeed.
It all just started as a meme. A bit of silliness I sat myself at my computer looking for something to do on a dull night. All it was was a play with my name and a push by fate.
Or a rough shove, you could say.
Mother, father, neighbor, all of my possible loved ones named as countries. All seemed right with the world. Romano, my uncle? That would work just fine. A Canadian neighbor? That would be fun to terrorize. This meme didn't seem too bad at all, for once.
Until my eyes met my future wife.
Belarus, the less-than-stable sister of the great Russia.
I must have been reading it wrong, I thought. I must be having some sort of a nightmare. No, no, my eyes were fine. No, pinching myself wasn't doing anything.
I really, honestly, truly, had just been destined by the cruel hands of the meme to wed the dreaded Natalia Arlovskaya, the bane of Russia's existence.
I can't remember what my first thoughts were once I realized this, but I'm sure they involved plenty of deep and profound swears.
Okay, I thought to myself frantically, Okay, this isn't too bad. I'll just publish it onto my page and everyone can have a good laugh and we'll be done with it.
But as I clicked the things necessary, I realized that soon enough, she would find it. I mean, it was Belarus! It was like she was Darth Vader and could sense a disturbance in the force! I decided I had best just enjoy my life while I had the time.
It was then that the stupidest idea I ever had hit me.
Why not weird out the weirdo?
Again, the stupidest decision I've ever made. Also, one of my best.
What can I say? I'm a complicated guy.
They all told me I was crazy. They all told me I was asking for it. And yeah, I guess I was.
But I didn't expect what I was asking for to be the dankness of her basement.
So I sat in this previously stated dark place bleeding to death as my friends laughed at my pain. But, I decided as I sat there, covered in my own blood, I wasn't going to give up. Belarus would be mine. Because, suddenly, I couldn't tell where my pretending to be in love with her for the sake of hilarity had stopped and my actual infatuation began. And nearly bleeding to death had cleared up a few things for me, calming me, making me realize a few things about myself. And one of those things was that I was in love with Belarus, the bane of Russia's existence.
And, oddly enough, saying her name this time brought a smile to my face.
So I was willing to deal with a knife wound or two, even the occasional kick in the head. After all, love's just that: a great, big, kick in the face.
Now she looks at me without bringing the knife straight out. Now I can actually make her smile. It took a bit of craziness, a bit of masochism, a bit of grit, a bit of determination, but... I'm turning into more than a back-up plan for Russia. I'm turning into more than her target practice. I'm turning into... just me.
And maybe I still haven't calmed that insane little storm of a blonde. But, you know, I don't think I'll ever want to.