Sinful Nostalgia | Hetalia

3 || Crossing Paths

There are so many things I hate about my working uniform. It's a demeaning piece of trash that reveals more than I would prefer, with the skirt up high and the neckline down low. There was no doubt in my mind that a pervert of a man designed this outfit. That was one of the things I hated most about the opposite gender.

Working at a bar means having to dress to impress. I never did so outside of work, but when there's men piling in here to enjoy some alcoholic beverages, the women had to make it worthwhile. It was the most disgusting, sexist display, and I was offended at first. But after a year working here, I discovered that I couldn't be so picky if I wanted money.

I fasten the laced apron we were required to wear, and make my way out to the counter, where I would work serving drinks for the night. It was sort of ironic, seeing as how I was barely old enough to have a few shots myself, but this job pays well.

I could see Julchen sitting at the bar table, laughing hysterically at something she most likely said. My boss was looking at her with a most concerned expression, and I sigh, thanking the dear stars above us that she wasn't downing whiskey and tearing the place up like last time.

"Oh, Monica." My boss looks relieved to see me. "Nice to see you. Okay, lets sell well tonight, yes?"

"Yes sir," I salute obediently, making my way to my spot behind the counter. I liked my boss, and he let me keep all of the tips, which was nice. When he left, every now and again he glanced behind his shoulder. I look at Julchen accusingly. "What did you do?" I demand.

"What? What ever could you be talking about?" Julchen makes her eyes into wide crimson orbs, batting her long lashes. I roll my eyes, not wanting to play "guess what I did?" with the master of the game. "Whatever," I grumble. "Behave, okay? I'm on shift now, and I don't want to get fired because my sister's acting like a complete psycho."

"Yep, sure, totally," she mocks, waving her hand in front of my face. "Hey, since you're on shift and all, think you can get me a few drinks?"

"If you can pay for it."

I knew she couldn't, of course. I didn't want to be carrying her home with a trail of vomit following us to the apartment. Somehow, I always ended up doing so. Julchen whines and moans loudly about not getting her drinks, but finally gives up when her favorite song comes playing on the radio.

***

A few hours pass, and the party lights have come into the picture. I've served a few men, who lay slumped about the counter, fast asleep. Julchen was among them, snoring loudly with her long white hair spread about the floor. She'd managed to trick the less smart males into buying her a drink. Not just one man had fallen victim to her trick. No. All of them did.

By now, many customers were partying, laughing, shouting. I was getting a bit flustered, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. One night, I had to tend to a tourist's birthday party, which I was worried that the building would burst into flames. I'd managed to pull through then, and I decided that if I could make it past that wretched night, then I could make it past any night.

I turn around to find another customer, and gasp as I find the man I had bumped into on the bus earlier. Remember when I said that perhaps he had walked out of my life forever, that sort of thing, whatever? The scary thing is, I could be wrong. People come into our lives at random for a reason, and I wish I knew right then that he wasn't going to leave me so easily. The stranger greets me with a large, close-eyed smile, and a cheerful, "Hullo!"

"Welcome." I may have said that too sternly, because the fearful stranger jumps slightly, staring curiously into my eyes. He was really starting to freak me out, until he finally said, "Sorry, miss.. I believe I bumped into you on the bus, and I am super sorry... I really am very clumsy and I didn't mean any harm.."

"Just... try to be more careful," I say gruffly. "It was in the past, so it really isn't a big deal." He was still staring at me with those wide, fiery brown eyes. The same eyes I had seen on him on the bus. "Do you want a drink, or not?"

"If it's not too much trouble." What is that idiot talking about? It's basically my job. I'm the one standing behind the counter! "You should buy some too!" he insists cheerily. "We can sit and drink together!"

"Okay, stranger, I'm on shift," I remind him irritably. "Also, I don't have much money for spending at the moment, so I may have to pass for tonight. Now, aren't you going to order?"

He orders a mild drink, and I get it for him. While filling up the flask high with alcohol, I can hear him humming in the background. What a strange man...

"Here." I pass him the flask, and he hands me more money than the drink really costs. I raise my eyebrow quizzically. "It's for you to have one of your own," the man urges. "If you can't pay, well, I'm completely fine with paying for you. You see, I-I'd really like you to have a drink with me!"

Moments after senseless arguing and witty retorts, I had given up. And, there I was. Sitting next to a stranger, sipping some beverage he had bought me. The taste was bitter, but I couldn't get enough. I am German, after all.

"My name is Feliciano Vargas," the young stranger grins, offering a warm hand for me to take. "I just moved here from Italy!"

"Monica Beilschmidt," I mumble, and I'm suddenly bombarded with questions towards myself. Is my hair okay? Do I have something on my face? Do I look strange to this man? The questions were endless, but the answers were limited.

"Ooooh! Is that a German name?"

"Yes," I answer. "I'm from Germany, if you hadn't guessed yet."

The conversation grew more vast, too. It wasn't limited to just names, or places we're from, or the usual small talk. We talked about our family, our friends, where we lived, who our neighbors were, our favorite foods, our favorite things to do. We even talked about silly things, such as our favorite colors. Our hopes. Our dreams.

Never have I talked so much to a stranger. But this Feliciano was just easy to open up to. Don't get the wrong idea, though. He's annoying, and sometimes talks so fast that I have to ask him to repeat himself. However, I still constantly worry about my appearance around him for some reason. It couldn't be that unusual. I'm a woman.

Without realizing it, I had ended up talking to him until the end of my shift. The boss came in and turned on all the lights, brightening up the drunkard-inhibited room. My eyes sting a bit as he says, "Alright, out you go guys." All of the men were grumbling and filing their way outside. Feliciano winks at me, handing me the bills and a white slip of paper. I look down at it. His phone number.

"I'm... dying... Monica... save... the... me... awesome..."

I look over at Julchen, who was slumped on a table with a tired expression. She must've gotten her drunk behind off the floor during the time period where I was talking to Feliciano. Speaking of which, I wanted to ask why I just got his number. But... he was gone. I turn back to my sister, and sigh. I end up hauling her on my back in a piggy back ride. Her face rested on my shoulder, her hands flung around my neck. She was completely drunk out.

"Nice work, Monica," my boss smiles at me, handing the tips I've earned. "Looks like you're quite popular tonight."

I take the money, counting the dollar bills I had received. Twenty? My best yet. I can't help but allow my lips to curve upwards in a smile. "Thank you. Night, boss," I wave.

My boss nods curtly in reply, and leaves to the back room. I pocket the money, Julchen still on my back, and walk out the door. "The boy likes you, hah..." Julchen slurs in my ear, eyes closed and breath reeking of whisky.

"Boy?"

"Haha, yeah... boy... Mr. Curl-Curl..." she giggles. Even if it was a strange nickname, I knew who she was talking about due to the strange curl Feliciano had protruding from the side of his head. Even hearing Julchen talk about him made me bristle up.

"S-stop talking nonsense!" I could feel the blush consume my features. There was a grin in Julchen's voice when she says, "Even when I'm drunker than drunk, sis, you know I'm right."