Seychelles - Good Night

                                    

                                          
Requested by Aph_Glay.
                          
Seychelles would have rathered being outside on any other day. Sit on the coast and enjoy the sun, the ocean breeze blowing through her hair, a tree giving her cool shade from the hot sun's rays above her. However, at the moment, her little paradise was the last thing on her mind. There were chores to be done around the house. After that, there were some duties she had as a nation to tend to. There was a constant rushing in her head, and when that faded in any small amount, her stomach would churn and feel as if it was trying to turn itself inside out.
                          
She paced in the small kitchen, one arm loosely wrapped over her stomach as the other swung by her side rhythmically as she paced across the room. Her stomach churned and saliva built in the back of her throat. She was going to puke, she could feel it. She'd feel much better when she did. When would she, though? Waiting for her stomach to reject whatever was causing her this illness, she paced back and forth, occasionally pausing by the sink when she thought relief might come. But she was wrong every time.

                          
There was a loud knock at her door. Why were they knocking so loud? Had she not heard them before? Who would be knocking on her door?
                          
Dragging herself from the safe distance from the kitchen sink, she answered the front door, testing her tolerance of pain. Confusion didn't help her state any when she opened the door to find two tall, blond men. She stared at the two of them confused for a minute before they greeted her first.
                          
"Hello, Seychelles," Canada said with a shy smile. "How are you."
                          
"Um." She looked beside Canada to see France. "What are you both doing here?"
                          
"Well, neither of us had heard from you in a while, so we decided to see how you were doing."
                          
"Um, that's very nice of you."
                          
"Seychelles?" France sounded hesitant when he spoke. "Are you ill? You don't look all right."
                          
She nodded, acknowledging him. She thought of speaking before her stomach gave an awful churn and she did her best to suppress a grimace, miserably failing by the expressions Canada and France wore.
                          
"Seychelles, can we help? Please." She watched France carefully before giving a slight nod and walking away. She heard the door close and the two countries following her to her kitchen. Once she was back in the kitchen, she began pacing again and she the mere thought of stopping made her pain soar.
                          
"What's wrong?" Canada asked softly.
                          
"It's just my stomach. It will pass," she hoped. "It has to," she told them. "I have too much housework to do."
                          
"We can help with that, at least. Tell me what to do and I can help. This could be caused by stress and we can help with that."
                          
Seychelles nodded. Maybe. She told Canada about everything she had planned to do that day, everything she hadn't done that morning. He left the room to do that and she had to smile a bit. Canada could be very sweet sometimes.
                          
"Seychelles."
                          
Now it was just her and France.
                          
"How do you feel?"
                          
She bit her tongue, not entirely trusting this situation. "My stomach feels like it's turning inside-out. My head's spinning and I feel like throwing up."
                          
"Do you want to sit down?" he asked carefully.
                          
"I can't," she choked out, finding she was close to tears. When she turned around, France was there and she flinched, jumping back a bit. She expected him to look a bit hurt that she had flinched away, but he only seemed concerned for her.
                          
"How about you try to lie down. Maybe it will help," he suggested.
                          
She nodded, willing to try almost anything at this point if it would make everything stop. She walked into the living room with him and carefully laid sat herself down on the couch with a bit of help from the older nation. She looked up to him as he came back with a blanket for her, her lips slightly parted, her words hiding just behind them.
                          
France saw this and asked softly, "What is it?"
                          
She could hardly get the words out, her eyes bursting with tears. The pain in her stomach was unbearable and she could think of nothing that could possibly cease it. "Could you, um, lie down with me?"
                          
He nodded and sat down beside her, laying the blanket over her as she leaned against him, pulling her feet onto the couch. With one hand still wrapped over her stomach, she let her head rest on France's lap trying to force herself to relax. She soon felt a soothing rubbing along her back and she was finally able to let out a rattled sigh in relief that she hadn't felt in many hours. As France gently rubbed her back, her breathing calmed and her pain faded as if he were pushing on the off bottom to everything. Before she was aware of it, her eyes had drifted closed. Not long after, France ceased his movement and the pain slowly returned and she panicked.
                          
With her panic clear in her voice, she quickly spoke quietly, "Don't stop."
                          
And he started again, and her pain disappeared once again. "It's okay," he said quietly. "It's going to be okay." And she must have fallen asleep quickly after.

                          
When she was next conscious, there was a divine smell in the air, but as she tried to open her eyes, she found it took an immense amount of effort as she tried to roll onto her side. France was gone, his place taken by a few pillows. She gazed across the room and saw Canada sitting in an arm chair nearby with a book in hand.
                          
"Hey," she croaked out.
                          
He looked up and quickly put his book down to come to her side with a weary smile. "How are you feeling?"
                          
"Tired." It was more than that, though. She felt weak, barely having enough energy to even speak. She felt as if she would pass out if she tried to stand. "How are you?"
                          
He smiled with a just response, saying he was fine. He suddenly got nervous and looked down to his hands. "I'm, uh, sorry about that time when we first met."
                          
Her took her a moment to remember what he was meaning.
                          
"I was just excited that someone had actually remembered me and not mistaken me for my brother, and I just wanted to make a good impression." He looked up to her shyly.
                          
She gave him an exhausted smile despite having just woken up. "Just be yourself, that'll be enough."
                          
He nodded and simply stayed with her as she drifted back to unconsciousness. The last time she woke up, both France and Canada were sitting in front of the couch with her. She reached out her hand and France took hold of it with a soft smile. She looked between the two and there seemed to be something only France had in his expression, as if he understood something as the older of the three of them that Canada did not.
                          
She felt France brush her bangs aside, clearing her vision. His thumb brushed over her skin as her eyes drifted closed once more. She listened to France say quietly, "Good night, Seychelles."
                          
"I love you."