France x England

'Today I'll be seeing Italy! I wonder if i should make him some spaghetti.' I thought to myself as i went ahead and dressed myself in clothes for our picnic. Then I looked in the mirror. I still have my hair slicked back. Ugh. "Maybe.." I said to myself as I ruffled my hair. Great! I don't look so serious now! Italy should like the way I did my hair today. And especially since the fact I put some cold pasta salad in here! He's such an innocent kid. He's so sweet, cute, and pretty.. WAIT. PRETTY?!?! HE'S A GUY FOR GOD'S SAKE!! Then I shook my head in frustration and clasped my hands around my...

'No... Not him; please, anyone but him...'

Toris awoke from his dream by an insistent chiming. It had been like this a lot lately; nightmares plagued him nearly every night. They were always one of three:

Mr. Ivan coming towards him with his dreaded whip, smile cruel, voice soft and child-like and oh so cold. "You know I do this because I love you, my little favorite..."

Miss Natalia, pressing a knife to his throat, pale porcline face as expressionless and dull as that of a doll…

And then the worst- and most frequent- from which he had just awoken.

Toris groped his bedside table for the bothersome...