Hello dear readers and welcome to A world of difference, a spin-off to World Class friends.

WARNINGS: Transgender!Poland, possibly triggering at some points.
Rating may change.

If transgender people disgust you, please ((grow the fuck up)) go back now and do not share your dismay about the subject with the readers here. Thank you.

~o~o~o~

Brussels, Belgium
August 25th 2007

Not amused.

That was probably the best way to describe Feliks' mood. The twelve-year-old Polish boy was sitting on the side of his bed, glaring at the boxes that had yet to be unpacked as though they would just disappear if he did so long enough. He didn't want to unpack all that junk. If anything, he wanted it to magically poof back to his old house in Poland. Along with him.

He hated moving. They were perfectly fine living in Warsaw, so why the sudden urge to move all the way to the other side of Europe and go live in freaking Brussels?! If it was a midlife crisis-impulse from his father, Feliks swore he'd scream. Hard. Like a girl. He looked somewhat like one, so why the hell not?

That guy was never happy. He was always complaining and when he wasn't, tension could be so thick it could be cut with a knife. It was just waiting for him to have another outburst. And that could be anything. A door slamming upstairs, a sneeze, a breath or a needle dropping. His wife was stupid and always wrong, his son was a disappointment.
Feliks' mother blamed her husband's bad moods on the economy. If the economy hadn't gone into a crisis, he still would have had his job and he wouldn't have been so grim. But things would be better now that he had found a job in Belgium.

Feliks ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and looked around his room. His wardrobe was all set up and ready to be filled with clothes again, his bed was ready to be made and his desk was ready to have homework made at it.

The big problem Feliks had with this was that the stuff that was supposed to go in the wardrobe and on top of the desk and on the bed were in the boxes in front of him and that said boxes wouldn't unpack themselves. And he sure as hell wasn't going to do it.

He sat on the edge of his bed, hugging his pillow tightly, visually threatening the boxes when his mother came in. "Feliks, have you unpacked yet?" One glance at the boxes was enough of an answer. One glance at her son was enough to tell her he wasn't quite feeling up to that.

Feliks didn't look up at his mother, but didn't protest either when she sat down next to him.

"You'll have to unpack it once."

He huffed.

"Come on, Feliks. It'll be fun here. In a few weeks, you'll be going to school again. Primary school is over now."

"How am I supposed to go to school here?! I don't speak Belgian." Feliks snapped and pressed his mouth against the pillow.

"They speak Dutch here, not 'Belgian'. And that's why you're going to an international school."

"What?" He looked up surprised.

"Your father and I have applied you for the Hetalia International College instead of the regular school we first picked."

"Oh. Couldn't you have told me that?"

"I thought you'd like it."

"I want to go home." Feliks muttered.

"This is home now, Feliks."

Silence. No it wasn't. This would never be home. Okay, the house was significantly bigger, but that didn't mean it was better.

His mother stood up again. "At least unpack your clothes and alarm clock. "We can't be late for church tomorrow." She left and Feliks dropped onto his back with a loud moan of disapproval. After having been in a car for seemingly days, the last thing he wanted to think about was church. Wooden church benches weren't even close to comfortable, especially not within 24 hours after having been in a car for many, many hours. No, then his bed was a lot more comfortable to lie on. It got the pressing pain away from his spine.

In the past hours he had watched landscapes go by, crossed borders he had never crossed before and been sick because of the bumpy roads. The white of the ceiling was a lot more pleasant to look at. It gave some rest and time to think. International school? He had his doubts. At least there would be other students who just moved into a country they didn't have a shit to do with and wanted nothing but going back.

Would there be any other students from Poland? Or from the Baltic countries? Or from Africa or Asia or something. His classmates could be from anywhere around the world. He'd have to wait and see.

He hoped that school here would be different from back in Poland. School in Poland wasn't one of his fondest memories. They were downright bad, actually. He was bullied in school, from nursery school, all the way to the end of primary school. It wasn't that he had triggered it himself. It was that his classmates were just assholes. So what if he liked to wear the tires of the cars he got for his birthday as rings and forget about the cars altogether? So what if he liked to help the girls with their hair? So yeah, he had some feminine quirks. So what? It was enough for people to start bullying him, already in primary school.

He had gone to another school in fourth year of primary school, but it hadn't made any difference. The bullying hadn't stopped, and Feliks had stopped bothering. He didn't even dare to hope for a better treatment at this school. He dreaded the first day.

A few days later, the mailman was there with a box of school books. Luckily, there arrived yet another excuse for Feliks to lock himself in his bedroom. There was one of those thick tensions in the room again, and he didn't want to wait for the outburst.

In the past few days, he had unpacked his stuff as an excuse, but when he ran out of stuff to unpack, he was forced to be downstairs again.

Then they ordered his school uniform, which he took extra long to fit. It was long enough, but it was quite wide. How fat were Belgian kids that they fitted in this?! Or was he just skinny? Okay, he was just skinny. The fit wasn't even his biggest concern. That role went to the thing itself. Horrible! What colour-blind piece of shit had thought this up?! Dirty yellow, white, dark blue, dark green and purple. Yeah, great combo, idiot.

Yeah.

He totally dreaded his first day at school. Like, totally.

~o~o~o~

This is how little, short-haired, twelve-year-old Feliks thinks about his new life. Not very positive.