Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Unexpected People

"Yeah, I never would have tried unless my father yelled at me to do so." He mimicked the face of what looked like an old man lecturing the young generation. "Think about your future-he said. I know, I know, it's important, I understand that, but I need space, you know?"

"Hmmm," I said with absence of interest.

"But Germany! It's so good to see you!" He jumped back to the present addressing me fully. "I assume you'll be in a dorm?"

"Yes,"

"Hope your flatmate is okay," Italy said. "Since I'll be on the Arts side of the campus,"

"I wish you were my flatmate," I half muttered, but Italy heard me and positively beamed. He wrapped his starch white arms around my neck and hugged me. "Don't worry, we'll see each other at school events and things like that. And I bet you'll make your own friends too."

"Don't count on it," I sighed.

"You're just like your dad," Italy commented. That really took me aback. Me? Like my father? Everyone who met me, ante-bellum and post, always said I wasn't even close to my father in terms of personality. I didn't have ambitious drive, I believed in second chances, and I was, how Italy's father once told mine, "weedy and weak". I was definitely taller than my father, who, if alive, would only reach my chin, and I wasn't particularly stout or anything, so the description that Italy's father gave was pretty accurate. I wasn't as offended as my father, who fumed for hours after that phrase was said, but I never gave it much thought. Really, I was a little boy, and had a bunch of clouds in my head, and thought that manifestos were a type of plant in a garden.

"Oof, the time!" Italy suddenly jumped and almost crashed into a girl who was peering at the sign. "My apologies," he said hastily.

"Oh, it's my fault, actually," she said quietly. She was tall, but heavy set, with a thick coat around her arm and a black scarf with little red hearts on it woven around her neck. She had a small suitcase and a matching backpack, and a name was written in fluorescent orange a cross a baggage tag on her case. She had a determined and shy facial expression, and but her cobalt eyes were full of scepticism. Her red face was strikingly cut with a horizontal white cross, but that wasn't what made her different. The aura that she radiated was somehow different than Italy's, or anyone else I had meet. It was warm and sweet, but at the same time icy and cool. She blinked twice innocently in my direction, and then huffed and consulted her map.

"What's your name?" Italy abruptly broke the silence.

"Denmark," she said simply, and didn't even turn her head up from the paper. "I'm a second year student here."

"Really? Second year?"

"Yes, but there is a new addition to my school, so I need the map," she finally folded the map into the lightweight brown jacket she wore. "I don't know why, it's pretty unpopular."

"Do you know where the meeting place is?" Italy said for me.

"Yes, I'll lead you there. You look as lost as first years." She snickered, but not unkind.

"As a matter of fact, we are," he said simply. "I'm Italy, and this is Germany."

"Hi," she said to me again, and she turned on the spot, not looking back to see if we were following. She led us under elaborately carved arches and passages all with mythical beasts and long lost heroes. The faces carved in stone were mostly angry or hostile or just in despair. The spires and towers were on each building, and each unique and different. Stained glass and stone were the main materials used to make the prestigious university, and there was no lack of it, as there was painstaking detail in each of the Windows, walls and archway.