A/N: So, you can totally ignore this note if you want to. As a warning, this is my first story, so if it sucks and you don't like it, that's fine. But if you're already here and reading this, then don't go back now just because you now know this. You can leave after all of the information is given. It will be a multi-chapter, though I'm not really sure how many it will have since I don't have a plan. I'm just going along chapter by chapter, thus, I also don't really know where the story's going to go. The reason why it's rated T...well, there's Romano in there, and we all know (or should know) about his little language issue. Also, there will be shounen-ai. Not yaoi, shounen-ai; there is a difference. But you get the point. Also, I will update sporadically. It could take a few days (yeah, right), a few weeks, a few months...probably not a few years, but who knows. I may not have much of a social life, but school and possibly a job when I'm old enough to get one is still important and takes up a buttload of my time, and I get writers block a lot, so...yeah. But not matter what, I WILL NOT drop this. I will never drop any story unless I die. If this isn't your thing, you can leave now and I won't stop you, I just figured you deserved a fair warning.

As a side note, I have no idea why I named the story what I did. I suck at titles.

Edit: Fixed a few spelling errors here and there. That's it. Hehe...

Life is Undefined

Chapter 1:

In Which South Italy Finds Himself Trapped in a Confined Room with Four Bastards of Various Titles

Italia Romano, otherwise known by most normal people as simply Romano, moved briskly through the halls of the building where the current World Meeting was being held with a grumpy look on his face. Okay, maybe grumpy was an understatement. It was more of an "if-you-come-within-five-meters-of-me-I'll-bite-yo ur-fucking-face-off-bastard" kind of look. Of course, and unfortunately for Romano, some nations have to be oh so oblivious to the emotions of others. The sound of heavy footsteps charging down the hall alerted the Italian, who quickly sidestepped to avoid whatever fresh hell had decided to try to tackle him. The fresh hell landed on the ground with a grunt and a loud thump. "Ouch!" A familiar voice floated up from the ground, assaulting Romano's ears.

Romano scowled and gave the Spaniard his most powerful 'Death Glare'. "What the hell do you want, Spain?" he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. He really didn't need to deal with this now.

Spain, unable to take the hint (or sense the waves of irritation practically radiating from the younger nation), smiled cheerfully and began to stand. "I was just wondering how my former charge was doing~." He hummed, slinging an arm over Romano's shoulders, "Hey, is something wrong? You seem kinda grumpy. I mean, you're normally grumpy, but today you seem even more-" Romano quickly wriggled to escape the man's grasp before he could say anything else and tried to continue on his not-so-merry way. But Spain was, if nothing else, persistent.

"C'mon, Roma, tell Boss what's wrong~!"

"IT'S ROMANO, DAMNIT!" Romano hissed, "And for your information, I had to wake up at fuck-o'clock in the morning only to find that my idiot of a brother had DITCHED me to go with that damn potato bastard and the potato bastard's bastard brother AND he took the only car we own AND THE WALLET WE SHARE which meant that I had no money to get a cab and had to walk ALL THE FUCKING WAY over to this place, which also happens to be in the potato bastard's home, IN THE FUCKING DARK. THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG, DAMN IT!"

As Romano took a few seconds to breathe, the cheerful man beside him decided that it would be a good idea to cut in before he could start his rant again by saying, "Well, at least you made it here in time, right?" The smile on his face proved that he wasn't trying to be sarcastic at all (pfft, as if SPAIN could ever be sarcastic, Romano thought), and under normal circumstances, Romano would have face-palmed until his forehead had a hand imprinted on it. This situation though, was not normal, so all the Italian could do was sigh heavily and continue towards the meeting room with an overly energetic Spaniard at his heels, following him like a cute (yet obnoxious) puppy.

Prussia yawned and, while rubbing the tears from his eyes, glanced around the room, feeling bored as hell. It was obvious from everyone's expressions that the feeling was mutual for a large majority of the world. Everyone was being surprisingly well behaved, though that was probably partially due to the fact that they were in Germany's territory. Prussia had never liked these "World Meetings" (they were totally un-awesome) even when he was still a nation. He had been formed solely for the purpose of waging war, not for…THIS. Even so, the albino felt that it was only right for him to come to this. His younger brother was the host country this time around, and he felt that it would be at least somewhat insulting to Germany if he had just stayed at home locked up in his room (Germany's basement) all day, sitting on his ass and playing video games.

…That doesn't sound like a bad idea, thought the Prussian, who then proceeded to (secretly) take his phone out of his pocket (his old flip phone, Germany had taken his iPhone away as punishment for his…misbehavior earlier in the week). As soon as the time popped up on the screen he snapped the device shut, his face twisted in disgust. It was twelve-freaking-thirty. They'd been sitting around that God forsaken table for almost seven hours already! No wonder he couldn't feel his legs anymore! …Or his ass. He groaned inwardly, about to open his phone again when the sound of chairs moving across the ground and the shuffling of feet around him caught his attention.

"Hey, Prussia!" A cheerful voice called, and the man looked up to see Spain approaching him, "Wanna have lunch together?" Apparently, someone had decided that they had enough of sitting around and talking, so a break had been called for. Finally.

"Sure," he said with a smirk plastered onto his face, "Where's your boyfriend?" Prussia then proceeded to laugh at the confused look on his friends face before waving it off as a joke. "Never mind, is France here?" He openly wondered. It had been a while, a few months actually, since the three had last spent time together.

For those who don't know, the nations known as France, Spain, and the ex-nation known as Prussia, had this whole clique thing going on between them. To each other, they were simply the best of friends. To everyone else in the world, they were trouble. They had even been dubbed as the "Bad Touch Trio", the group of idiots who went around pulling pranks on everything else in the world. One of their best pranks had involved a bucket of mud, a slice of pizza, a shoe, a flamethrower, and making America piss himself. Twice. But that's beside the point.

Spain shrugged. "I think I saw him leaving with someone who looked like America…but I don't remember who."

Prussia had a pretty good idea of who the Spaniard was thinking of, but knew that even if he mentioned the second largest nation (Canada, who?), his friend would have no idea who he was talking about, so instead opted to look around the nearly empty room. The only ones left were himself, Spain, and surprisingly China who was still in his seat with a rather large stack of paperwork to his right. Though to the two younger men, that fact was insignificant.

"Hey, Spain, I know this awesome restaurant nearby," Prussia stated, beginning to walk towards the nearest exit, "Let's-"

SLAM!

"Why must I continually be surrounded by idiots", Romano thought out loud, cursing his life. Italia Veneziano, AKA: Romano's idiot of a brother as previously stated in his rant to Spain, had just approached him asking if he wanted to go out and get lunch with them. And by them, Veneziano had meant himself and that damned potato bastard.

Why, God, why? I go to church every Sunday…I take care of my brother when he's not with that muscley potato son of a bitch…okay, I have some issues with swearing and anger management, but you should be able to overlook that, right…?…And of course, our favorite southern Italian was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when someone turned the around the next corner.

THUD! Thus, Romano ended up sprawled out on the floor in somewhat of a comical fashion. He felt as though he had just run into a grizzly bear, or something along those lines, due to the intense feeling of fear that began to crawl up his spine (because normally, he would have cussed his head off). The faint sound of someone chanting "kolkolkolkol" in the background gave him more than enough of a hint as to who he had just bumped. Oh sweet Jesus…WHY?! The Italian looked up and found himself face to face with the last person he ever wanted to run into.

Russia.

"Privet, other Italy," the tall man greeted with an innocent, yet somehow creepy, smile on his face, "Going somewhere?"

One of the few people whom Romano (though he would never admit it) feared over France and Turkey was trying to start conversation with him? Not happening. "W-well, you see…I…uh…" he stammered, attempting to form any sort of coherent excuse to bail him out of his predicament. Unfortunately, no such words were coming to his short-circuiting brain, so he simply fell back to doing what Italians do best: Running away while screaming like a little girl.

"GYAAAAH SPAIN YOU BASTARD COME AND SAVE MEEEEE!" He shrieked, leaping to his feet and charging off in the direction from which he came. Russia, who had no idea what had just happened, simply smiled and decided to follow him.

SLAM!

Spain managed to jump out of the way just in time as the large (and heavy) door swung open. Prussia wasn't so lucky, and ended up on the floor after receiving a rather violent blow to the face from the large (and very heavy) piece of wood. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Romano was laughing at the East German's predicament, but there were larger priorities on his mind at the moment.

He dived forward, tackling Spain and throwing both of them under the table. This motion caused the table to rock violently which, in turn, scattered China's paperwork everywhere within a five meter radius of where the stack had previously been. The Asian man threw up his hands in defeat. Why are all of the western countries so annoying, aru!?

It was at that moment in which Russia chose to enter the room. Prussia, who had just recovered from the blow to his (awesome) face, squeaked in a very girly fashion (though he would never admit it) and scampered to the other side of the room in order to put as much distance between himself and the psychopath as possible. China, who still feared the large nation, abandoned any pride he had and quickly dived under the table to join the two Mediterranean countries.

Spain, the most friendly (and most oblivious) occupant of the room poked his head out of the table. "Hey there, Russia!" he greeted happily, prying himself free of Romano's grasp and hauling himself out from under the piece of furniture, "What's up?"

Shut up, you idiot… Prussia urged silently but he knew it was no use and that his stupid friend would continue with whatever stupidity he was stupidly trying to accomplish.

Romano was having the exact same thoughts from his hiding place, which he now happened to be sharing with that "panda bastard". Just great…of course out of all the bastards I could've run into it HAD to be that creepy bastard. And now that damn tomato bastard is out there talking to him! Not to mention the potato bastard's bastard brother is here… He sighed heavily and rolled onto his back, looking up at the underside of the table and praying silently for everything to end.

…Of course, he had to notice the faint lines drawn onto the old wood with what appeared to be white chalk. Tentatively, he reached up to touch one of the marks. As soon as his fingers brushed against the wood, all of the marks lit up in a pattern that looked very similar to one of England's magic circles, or whatever they were.

There was a loud banging noise as all of the doors slammed shut simultaneously. Prussia, who, at this point, was very close to pissing himself (though, again, he would never admit it), darted towards the nearest door and attempted to open it, only to find that it was locked. In his panic, he kicked the door hard, attempting to break it down, something that almost all of the nations discovered they had the strength to do at some point in time. He ended up with a sore foot.

"What the FUCK is going on?!" Romano yelled, also in a state of panic, as he rolled out from underneath the now glowing table. The magic circle (?) was now visible from the top of the piece of furniture as well. Before anyone could do anything more, a loud GZZZZZZZZT sound echoed through the room and everything went black.

A/N: Yay, you survived! If you like it, that's good. If not, that's fine too. I apologize for any OoC-ness that may have been in there. So...if you liked it, I guess I'll be seeing you next time. 'Til then, TBC.