That was probably a bad decision to make.
Once you were outside the door, the heavy feeling of fear weighed on your chest again, and you froze for a brief moment.
Clutching the pillow closer, you chewed your lip, shifting your weight from foot to foot, wondering where to go next. Just as you were about to take another step, before you could react, a shadowy figure darted out from another room, and swept you into strong arms, before darting into another room. Yo squeaked, startled, and only yelped once again when you were plopped down onto a soft bed.
You stared up into light blue eyes as a certain Frenchman towered over you. "Mon cher, I apologize for randomly snatching you up like that..." he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "It was a little unfair, seeing as how you weren't seeing it coming," he grinned at you again. "I would like to get to know you, though~!" he winked playfully at you. "After all, if my friend and I are going to be keeping you here, we should get to know each other, oui?"
You nodded hesitantly, still holding the Italian flag pillow tightly. "R-Right...I guess so," you answered carefully, now avoiding his gaze. The Frenchman sat next to you, and rested his elbow on his knee, supporting his head with his fist as he watched you struggle to come up with something to say, shyly hiding your face partly behind the pillow.
He found it quite cute - not in a romantic way, but in the way one would find a kitten cute.
And that's exactly what you reminded him of; a kitten. You were so cute and sweet, although you didn't trust easily, and you seemed like you would be a good pillow, or a good cuddler.
But what troubled him the most was that you seemed as though you were never safe. He felt so strongly for you, although he didn't know you well enough as of yet; he wanted to consider you a friend, maybe even as a sister.
He was unsure if he was right, but he was fairly sure that you underwent prolonged abuse, possibly for more than a day.
You mumbled something, causing his to snap out of his daydream. "Hm? Can you please repeat that?" he politely requested, refraining from touching you due to your fear of being touched. You cleared your throat.
"u-uhh...I-I said...um..." you stammered, trying and failing to say what you said, although you were afraid it would not be a very successful conversation starter.
"I-I...um...M-My favorite color is (f/c)?" you finally told him, burying your face into the pillow again, feeling overly sheepish. He chuckled. "That's interesting. What do you like about that color?" he asked gently, urging you to continue the conversation.
"I-I...I don't know...I guess I just find the color nice," you pulled the pillow a little away from your face, but only enough for your eyes to show again. "...What's your favorite color?" you asked in reply, hoping the conversation could carry on for a while.
As you conversed with France for at least twenty minutes or so, you found yourself slowly beginning to loosen up, although, you were still too afraid to tell him of the abuse you went through. It occured to you that not all people were bad; there were some people like Mr. Francis.
Obviously, your father was not like Mr. Francis; he was lazy, and uncaring, he was cruel and beat you as hard as he could. It was that very abuse that had weakened you; made you into someone your mother didn't want you to be, made you into a weak human being, a person who you did not want to be. You wanted strength and courage, something that was just naturally unattainable for someone like you, although it was all you ever dreamed of.
Italy walked out of the clothing store with his friend, wondering how some people could love shopping so much. It was actually very exhausting, to him, to find clothes that fit right, and would fit to the tastes of the person he was buying for. What made it worse was that the person he was buying for was not with him. Therefore, he knew nothing of her clothing size. So, the best he could do was a small.
Hungary, fortunately, was going to be coming over, too, though! Perhaps she would be of some help to you?
Letting out a tired breath, Feli started toward America's house, hopeful that you will like the clothes, and hopeful that you will be able to trust Hungary.
And, hopefully, you'll finally tell them what really happened.