Wish Upon A Star || A Hetalia Story [Countries x Chubby!Reader]

Chapter 11: The Start

-CONTENT WARNING-

Very brief implications of emotional abuse and/or 'gaslighting'

"Доброе утро! A goood morning to you, friend. Are you be taeking the buss today?"

(Y/n)'s smartphone chirped loudly from its spot on her kitchen counter, startling the half-awake girl as she was in the middle of packing her lunch into a tupperware container. Abandoning her newly formed taco salad - made with the abundance of produce her Spanish acquaintance had picked out for her the night before - (Y/n) shook her hands free of some lingering shredded cheese and picked up her phone, blinking against its harsh light before reading the new text message. After realizing that it was the endearing Ivan, she smiled to herself, typing out a quick reply: "Good mornin' to you too! Same classes as the other day, so I'll be seeing you soon-ish."

Not a moment after she had set the phone down again, the device chirped a second time, flashing awake to show the Russian's signature smiley-face response to (Y/n)'s confirmation text. It was a good start to her day.

With her mind wandering back and forth between upcoming classes, seeing her new friends, and an evening to be spent with (BF/n), the girl shuffled through her tiny apartment towards her bedroom, where her armor for the hyperbolized battles ahead lay waiting to be equipped.

Outfit number one, should she choose to accept it, would be a quick-and-easy mix of a graphic (favorite video game) tee, jeans, and a pair of lo-fi sneakers: Perfect choice for a lazy day, but maybe not so date-worthy if (BF/n) was planning on taking her out to an event anywhere... She hoped that they were going out. They stayed in way too often.

The second alternative to her more casual outfit would be something a little more cute-sy and 'girly', in the sense that knee-length denim shorts and a long, airy blouse would please her partner's eye for modesty and be a rather safe bet for both school and the possibility of an outing later in the day.

It's... Eh... For him.

(Y/n)'s lips curled into a bit of a grimace, remembering a time when she had filled her wardrobe with clothes she felt would satisfy (BF/n) during their first year of dating; they weren't necessarily bad, but she had been so much more insecure about her looks three years prior as an awkward teen having met the older college student. Now, though, she was beginning to wonder about whether or not she was such an ugly duckling after all.

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes flickered to the darker parts of her closet, where the shadowed outlines of a few impulsive purchases in her favorite colors and styles seemed to quiver with desire to be worn: Belly-cut blouses, chino shorts, rompers, skirts, mid-thigh dresses, heels, off-the-shoulder tops and tanks, daring necklines and accessories...

"I like that about you, (Y/n); you don't dress up too often, or use too much makeup. I'd feel intimidated around you if you did, ha!"

The young woman tore her gaze away from the hardly worn clothing, echoes of one of her boyfriend's earliest observations making her clench her hands in sudden anger.

"What...? Why are you wearing shorts like that? Those are something for finding boyfriends, not for when you already have one! Try not to wear those when we go out anymore so other people don't get the wrong idea, yeah?"

Another comment, previously interpreted as flirtatious teasing, came storming into (Y/n)'s mind soon after the other, now filtered through a screen of time, cynicism, and resentment.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it--!"

Her throat clenching with unexpected grief, the girl tore the more modest and 'fluffy' outfit out of her closet and began to change into it, ripping the monochrome-colored blouse over her shoulders and slamming drawers and doors left and right. Once she was fully dressed, having run through the rest of her morning routine in a blur, (Y/n) found herself taking tight, stressed breaths as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, expression dark and near-empty.