Stars in the Sky

Chapter 12: Stuck Together

Sorry this took so long to update. Things got complicated, I feel like shit today, but I promised ya'll an update so here it is. Enjoy! Lots of emotions in this one!

Art ain't mine, and it gets me kinda mad 'cause Molossia is actually taller than Seb. Seb just looks taller 'cause Morro's always fucking slouching in the comics or they aren't right next to each other to do a proper height comparison. But it's good art nonetheless-

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Seborga and Molossia sat on the bed, the mattress creaking with their movements. The Italian could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was almost suffocating. He eyed the taller micronation shyly, glancing away when he thought Molossia was looking back at him.

He knew he couldn't survive in this silence, so he aimed to strike up a conversation.k

"So, what should we do?" he asked. "You know... While we wait?"

Molossia scoffed. "Hell if I know. We don't even know how long we'll be in here for."

"Oh, right," the other laughed dryly.

Again, it grew quiet, and Seborga didn't like it one bit. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap, staring down at them, as he bit his lip. Another attempt surely wouldn't hurt, right?

"So um... Ho-How is Signor America?" he asked.

Almost instantly, Molossia perked up from his sour mood. He uncrossed his arms, picked his head up, and even stopped slouching like he usually did. A smile formed on his lips as he thought fondly of the blond, and it angered Seborga.

"He's actually pretty good, if I'm honest! He's been spending more time with me. Figures not much is happening at the capital nowadays," he replied. "Even though all this happened, I think I've got a chance! Oh, and just the other day-"

Molossia continued to blab on and on about the times he spent with the superpower. Seborga tried his best not to show any emotion, only happiness for his friend. But he could feel his sanity rip away with every giggle emitting from the brunette beside him. Giggles that came because of that American.

It was his jealousy again. Oh, how his brothers were right. It was truly such an ugly thing. Hearing his own thoughts wishing how he had all of these emotions Molossia showed—such love and compassion, and that damned smile of his—were caused by him. How he wished they were his and his alone to witness. How he wished he never even met the older country.

His guilt be damned. He hated America with a passion, if only because the man he loved was infatuated with that bastard.

"I wish he'd talk about me like this," he thought to himself. "I wish he'd smile with me the way he does with him. What did that maiale ever do to deserve Morro? My Morro?  He doesn't even recognize him as a country! None of them do! He's a great country, and a better man, and if given the chance he could do great things!"

Seborga clenched his fists, eyes glued to the carpeted floor of the hotel room and bubbling with rage.

"I know this, unlike that bastardo, so why doesn't he adore me?"

Finally having enough, he decides to pose his question.

"Hey, Morro," he asks, voice trembling in utter fury. But he wouldn't let Molossia hear it in his tone. Oh, no. A Vargas never shows their anger to their beloved. "Why are you so...determined to get America to like you? No offense, but, doesn't he seem—oh, I don't know—a little 'our of your league' as his people put it?"