Ludwig was a cute sleeper.
You’d give him that.
With his peaceful expression and soft snores, he resembled a giant, huggable teddy bear; the fact that his hair was down didn’t help too much either, because it only seemed to add to the adorable look.
Nonetheless, even if he did resemble a teddy bear, he definitely wasn’t acting like one – on the contrary, it was you who was acting like a teddy bear.
“I’m so thirsty,” you whined pitifully, squirming around in Ludwig’s strong hold. “Lemme go, Luddy! Wake up! I wanna get some water!”
The German didn’t even move, earning yet an
It had been a long day of dealing with loud countries that all believed that they were right. You sighed wearily. I’m not even a country, why do I always end up going to all of the meetings? Although you weren’t a country, you were a capital. You were the capital of Italy, or Rome, to be more specific. The Italy brothers were fiercely protective of you and Lovino was not afraid to cuss off anyone who came too close to you. Ah, well, they could use all the help they can get. The meetings were chaotic and normally consisted of much fighting. You were so zoned out that you didn’t notice your name being called.
Ludwig was sure he’d studied the book to the point where he could recite it word for word, so why, just why did he feel so nervous?
Skimming through the thin pages once more, the German sighed before setting it down, blue eyes glancing at the title in neat font before sighing once again.
A Guide to Relationships: Boyfriend Edition
There was no way he could let anyone know that he’d been reading from this book – and not to mention, taking several notes on it – all because of a girl.
But let’s face it, the girl was you and Ludwig refused to give you anything less than perfection.
Thus, he bought the book for a
WARNING: HAS SOME SWEARING, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ, IT'S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. DIFFERENT ENDS IN DESC.
You ran as fast as your short legs would take you. In one hand, you clenched onto your stuffed cat desperately, in the other hand, you cupped the slash on your cheek that bled persistently. Tears stained your face, but you had no time to wipe your eyes.
Not far behind your drunken dad chased you. At the age of four you shouldn't have been able to tell he was drunk, but you had seen it far too many times not to know. The mark on your cheek began to stink, bringing more tears to your eyes. It had been your father who did it, throwing
“What’s a girl like you doing in an apocalypse like this?”
The silence was deafening.
You had to remind yourself that the stillness was a good thing. No scrapes of limping, fleshless feet against the sidewalk; no groans of the undead; no snarls of a cannibalistic freak of nature within radius of your earshot. The streets were nearly empty, you were alone, and you heard nothing but the wind. This was all good.
Except, it didn’t feel that way.
Even with your back against the wall of an alley, a handgun in your palm, and a sword strapped to your hip, you still didn’t feel safe. You never did.
You were in the mi