We Are The Heroes
Title: We Are The Heroes
Rating: PG
Characters: Canada, America, Belarus, Italy, Russia, Germany. Appearances from England, Prussia and Malta
Pairings: None actually stated but a few implied
Summary: America has written the best song in the world but no one seems to want it.
Notes: This story was inspired by this year's Eurovision Song Contest. Specifically, by the second semi-final and Belarus' song, "We are the heroes" by Litesound.
“Mattie! Hey, Mattie, c’mon open up! You gotta read this! Matt! Mattie! Matthew! Are you in?! I know you’re in ‘cause your car’s here, dude! Open the-”
Canada hopped around his bedroom, one leg successfully clothed and the other refusing to co-ordinate. He really should have put his glasses on first, though he doubted it would improve his sleep fogged eyes. America continued to pound his fist on the front door and began to threaten to knock it down. Second leg now where it should be, Canada’s hands fumbled with the fly and the button just as he heard the almighty crash that he could only assume was America barging down his door.
“Don’t worry, man! Just stay where you are and I’ll save you!” Canada sometimes wished he was an only child. He slipped his glasses on and blew his fly away curl from where it was tickling his nose before going out to face his brother. He’d already trod mud prints up the stairs and was staring at him from the top step, “Wha-? I thought you were like dying or something.”
“Sorry for disappointing you,” Canada muttered, but America didn’t hear it, of course. A piece of paper, slightly crumpled and covered in scribbles was thrust under his nose and Canada took it. It must be important. He squinted at it and tipped it side to side in order to read it. America watched him expectantly, “Are these lyrics?”
“Only the best lyrics you’ve ever read, written by yours truly, right?!” America beamed and Canada couldn’t help but smile too, although he was a little exasperated.
“I thought it was maybe a crisis, eh?”
“You worry too much, dude. Why would it be a crisis?”
“Well… it’s only six o’clock in the morning… And you were in New York, right? So you flew at… four?”
“You’re good at maths, bro. Uh, yeah… I stayed up writing this gold and I flew straight over when I finished!”
Canada almost shook with horror and asked tentatively, “You haven’t slept? H-How much coffee did you drink?”
“I slept on the plane, stop panicking,” his brother groaned impatiently, “Just tell me what you think!”
Canada glanced back at the paper and smiled, “It sounds like you. I like it.”
“Well duh! So it’s about nine back in New York, right? I’m gonna call all the biggest labels and I bet it’s a hit by the end of the week! Hey can you imagine touring together, Mattie?” He pulled a face that should only belong on France, “Groupies!”
“Umm… w-we?” Canada shrunk into himself.
“Yeah! We can do a duet! Unless you just wanna back me up?”
Canada fought with the words in his mind. ‘I don’t want to!’ his mind screamed, but Alfred was using that look.
“Um, Alfred, I don’t mean to be a pain or… I mean…. I don’t want… I-”
“Hey don’t worry about it, man, I can handle the main vocals on my own! I practised on the plane before I had a nap and I figured out harmonies for a duet and for me and a backup singer, so it’s no problem!”
“Uhhh…” Canada pushed away the image of America singing on a plane and the many looks he would have received for it, “Well… I guess…”
“Awesome! So when do you wanna start!?” Canada drew a breath, “Now is good!”
---
America threw his cell phone down on to the couch cushions and glared at it.
“Did they say no?”
“Why don’t they wanna hear our song!?”
There was a slight pause as Canada recalled all the times America had harassed those same labels in order to meet his favourite celebrities.
“I don’t know…” He watched as America’s face crumpled and Canada felt his stomach drop. He didn’t like seeing America upset… plus, he didn’t want to have to tidy up after America worked his way through the fridge comfort eating anything he laid eyes on, “England’s been talking about a music competition lately, eh? Maybe you could call him?”
Apparently, America didn’t need any more convincing. He picked his cell phone up and pressed 2 on his speed dial, as England picked up he put it on loud speaker.
“-thur Kirkland speaking.”
“Hey, Britain, dude!”
“America.”
“You totally sound weird on the phone.”
“Did you call me just to insult me, you great buffoon, or does this have a purpose?”
“Woah, chill, man, it totally has a purpose!”
“Well then get on with it! I’m in the middle of cooking my tea!” The two brothers winced at each other.
“Uhh… well good luck with that, Artie… I bet it’s gonna taste awesome! So…”
“What do you want?”
“Wha-? I don’t want anything…”
“Yes you do… no one ever compliments my cooking unless they want something.”
“Well… yeah okay, whatever, so you’re in some singing competition, right?”
“Oh bloody hell.”
“What?”
“I knew this day would come. It was Francis wasn’t it? He told you about all of my failures with this sad excuse of a competition. Well I’ll have you know that last time I won was 1997! Do you know when Francis last won it!?”
“… No?”
“1977!”
“Wait… you and Francis are both in the competition?”
“Yes. You are talking about Eurovision aren’t you?”
“Euro-wha?”
“Canada, I know you can hear me.”
Reluctantly, Canada explained to America what Eurovision was. On the third go, America finally understood. It was like X factor or American Idol, but on a larger scale and most of the European nations competed. It also involved times infinity more sequins and feathers and general madness.
“So last time you won was like almost two decades ago?”
“It’s all a game of bloody politics! No one votes for me because-” England began muttering to himself and sounding slightly flustered, “Because they’re all too busy voting for their neighbours and… because they’re jealous! That’s right.”
“Uhuh…” America brightened, “So what do you say? I wrote a song and me and Mattie are gonna record it and then you can totally use it as your Euromission song thingy!”
“Eurovision. And do you have any concept of how stupid an idea that is?! One of the reasons they don’t vote for me is because of you! I don’t have time to explain this. My bangers and mash are going cold. Besides, I already have Englebert Humperdink to sing my song.”
With that, England put the phone down and America looked slightly hurt and confused. Why would no one vote for England because of America? He did say that the other nations were jealous. Yeah, that must be it. And what were bangers? And what parents call their child Englebert Humperdink!?
“What about France? He might say yes. I can talk to him… he likes it when I speak French,” Canada piped up. He didn’t like that America was so quiet, “You have the rest of Europe to choose from, eh?”
---
It was several hours and several angry, sleepy Europeans later that America finally got a yes. Canada was attempting to fix his door. America lifted it and slotted it into the door frame easily.
“It’s upside down…” Canada pointed out. America flipped it over just as easily and slotted it in again. He had it fixed in under three minutes.
“Go get your suitcase, Mattie,” America grinned and Canada gulped.
“R-right now?”
“Yep! We’re going to Europe, baby!”
---
“Belarus!?”
Canada blushed as passers-by looked around, trying to figure out who shouted it.
“Yeah, dude!” America slapped his brother on the back and steered him towards the desk.
“Um… I’m n-not sure this is a good idea…”
“Aw, c’mon, bro, you’re not scared of a girl, are you?”
“Just that girl…” Canada admitted without shame.
---
The flight was an excruciating eleven hours long. Halfway through, Canada went to the bathroom, only to find that he’d put his shirt on inside out that morning in his rush. No one seemed to notice when he came back out with it on the right way.
---
All too soon, they wound up on Belarus’ doorstep in Minsk. It was raining when they arrived but she didn’t let them in straight away. The door was cracked open only slightly and Canada shivered. She looked America up and down a couple of times before a smile spread across her face, slow and… possibly too slow, actually.
“Прывiтанне, (Pryvitańne),” They stared blankly and she added, “Greetings.”
Canada blew out a sigh of relief. ‘Greetings’ was far better than what he’d imagined she’d said.
“Won’t you come in?”
Fighting back the incredible urge he had to run, Canada shuffled inside after his brother. After a quick tour of the house, she took them to the kitchen, forcefully sitting them both down.
“I made apple pie. You like apple pie, don’t you America?”
“Apple pie!? Heck, yeah, I love apple pie!”
“I’ll call you Alfred now. We’re friends.”
Canada watched with uncertainty. He wasn’t even sure if she knew he was there or not. Apparently, she did because she put a plate of admittedly delicious homemade apple pie down in front of him.
“It is Belarusian apple pie,” she clarified. Although she had her own plate to enjoy, she seemed to find more joy in watching America eat his and ask for more and more.
“So, uhh…” Canada interrupted before Belarus could give America a fourth piece, “W-where are we going to practise?”
“We? No… I will not perform. I will watch you.”
“O-oh, I see…”
“Alfred is strong; he will move the furniture in the lounge to make space for you,” her eyes did not leave America’s face as he licked a bit of sugar from his lips.
“Awesome! Hey, we can even make a routine up, Mattie!”
“Oh, that sounds…”
“Wonderful!” Belarus grabbed America’s arm and took him to the lounge, her nails were digging in but he obviously couldn’t feel it through his jacket. He chatted excitedly to her and Canada heard their voices getting quieter as they got further away. He scrambled up from the table and hurried after them, almost knocking a chair over. He’d decided he wasn’t leaving those two alone for more than a minute.
---
“Again!” Belarus demanded. The song skipped back to the beginning and the beat started again. It had been this way for a few weeks. They alternated in practising their ‘dance moves’ and their singing and then both together.
According to Belarus, Canada was too quiet and his dance moves were danced well enough, but they weren’t performed. Apparently there was a difference that Canada just wasn’t getting. His brother seemed to do no wrong in her eyes.
They were halfway through the second chorus when they heard knocking at the door. Belarus paused the music and skipped it back again, “You will go from the beginning again. Canada needs to practise the second verse.”
They filed out into the hall and Belarus opened the door a tiny crack. Instantly, a very familiar and very unexpected voice greeted them.
“Ciao Bella!” the nation laughed before explaining, “It’s funny because ciao bella means hello beautiful, but at the same time I’m greeting you, Bella! I can call you Bella, right? It suits you! I heard you were starting a band and since my brother is sorting our Eurovision out this year, I decided why not join another one? So I came here! Ve, I brought my suitcase and I won’t be a bother, I promise!”
There was a moment of silence as each of them filtered through what Italy had said before Belarus opened the door a little more, eyes sparkling in the way that most girls did when they’d been charmed by Italy.
“Of course you can come in, little Italy,” he was heaving his suitcase with two hands. America recognised his chance to be the hero and took it from him.
“I’ll go put this upstairs!” he was gone in a moment, leaving the other three stood in the hall.
“Have you heard the song yet, Italy?”
Italy smiled, “No! But I’m sure its good, since America wrote it! I like his songs. I like ‘Call me maybe’ by Carly Rae Jepsen! She’s so cute!”
“Oh um…” Canada blushed and stuttered awkwardly, “She’s C-Canadian…”
“Ve, where’s that?” Italy tilted his head to the side confused. Canada dropped it, sighing softly.
“Oh, I know! I’ll make us some pasta while you play the song!” Italy apparently already knew his way to the kitchen. Canada suspected it was something good cooks could do because he’d seen France do the same thing.
---
After auditioning Italy, they decided he would be best as another backup singer. He had auditioned to play guitar too, but after a few notes they realised that his singing started to suffer because he was paying too much attention to getting the chords on the guitar right.
---
“We need instruments,” Belarus announced. They were eating pancakes that Canada had made for breakfast, or in America’s case, devouring pancakes.
“Hey, you play the drums, right?” America asked. Belarus turned to him and smiled.
“Yes, my doctor said it was good for excess energy. He told me to practise them a lot at my brother’s house,” she explained.
“So then why don’t you be the drummer?” America beamed. She shook her head.
“I want to watch,” here she reached over and wiped some maple syrup from the corner of America’s mouth before popping her finger into her mouth and licking it clean. Canada’s fork clattered to his plate. Italy laughed happily around another mouthful of pancake. America didn’t notice a thing.
“Aw, hey, thanks! I hate it when you get that like crusty sore where you forget to wipe your mouth, y’know?”
---
“He’s the only option left, Alfred,” Canada smiled encouragingly. Somehow they had managed to put off calling Russia till last, even with the influence of his younger sister. Canada suspected it had something to do with America.
“Ugh. You’re right. Fine, I’ll call him, hand me the cell, Bella.”
“Why? If I call he will be sure to do it because he loves his little sister,” she smiled.
“Uhh… Well it is my turn, so…”
They’d taken it in turns to call the other nations up after the first few attempts. America seemed to annoy everyone, so Belarus insisted she try, explaining that the other nations were too intimidated by America. If they hadn’t been intimidated before, they were after she spoke with them and that was putting it lightly. Next, Italy had a go but he had to repeat almost everything due to how fast he spoke. Half of the time he didn’t even get to the point and began talking about other things. Canada got his turn but since when did anyone listen to him anyway?
Belarus handed the cell over reluctantly and leaned in close to America in order to hear her brother, even though America had the speaker phone on as usual.
“Da? This is Ivan, who is calling?”
“Yo, Ivan, dude! Been a long time, huh? It’s America, if you couldn’t tell!”
“America? Why are you calling?” Russia sounded sweet still but Belarus frowned as though she could tell he wasn’t happy with the phone call so far.
America nervously spat it out, “We want you in our band!”
“Your band? Why?”
“Uhhh… well, ‘cause we heard you’re an awesome musician and uhh… well… we really wanted to see you and…”
“I am good at the guitar,” Russia seemed genuinely pleased now. This was good.
“Yeah! That’s totally what we heard, so… we were wondering if you wanted to join us for Eurovision?”
“I am going to win anyway, so there is no use in trying,” Russia stated.
“You don’t know you’re gonna win, dude.”
“I do… I have my babushka and they bake me cookies.”
“Right… you know it’s a singing competition, right?”
“Da. They can sing.”
“So if you’re gonna win anyway, it doesn’t matter if you help out another nation right?”
“Ve, you’re clever, America!”
“Is that little Italy I hear?”
“Huh? Oh yeah… it’s Italy.”
“Is Belarus in your band?”
“… No.” Technically.
“You will come to my house then, da? I will show you what I can do.”
“Ugh, right fine. If that’s what it takes to get you in the band, then fine.”
“Good. I will see you tomorrow at 3.00.”
Belarus was the first up the stairs to pack her bags.
---
“It is 20 minutes past 3,” Russia said when he opened the door. He stepped aside for them and they wandered into the house. They’d positioned Belarus at the back so they could sneak in before he realised.
“Big brother,” Belarus grinned and Canada could have sworn he heard Russia whimper and suddenly felt very sorry for him.
“S-sister… what are you doing here?”
“I came with the band. They represent my country. And now so do you. We’re joined in this.”
Russia blanched and pushed his way through America and Italy standing in the hall and disappeared into his lounge, “My guitar is in here!”
Canada purposely put himself between Belarus and his brother, because she seemed to have some sort of plan in her head. She kept purposely stroking America and looking at Russia. It was only assumed that she was trying to make her brother jealous, but it was having the opposite effect. Russia seemed much more comfortable.
He picked up the guitar and plugged it in. The next few minutes were spent in utter amazement. Russia performed a series of complicated solos, the ornaments rattling and their hearts beating the way only loud rock music could make them. Canada could have sworn he saw Belarus wipe away drool from the corner of her mouth.
“D-dude…”
“Da, I am good. So when can I start?”
---
One day during their practising, Belarus strolled around to the back in order to position them. She was moving America when she suddenly realised something.
“I will be the drummer.”
“Wha-? But you said you just wanted to watch?”
“I can still watch from here where the drummer sits,” she smiled that creepy smile that made Canada’s stomach shrivel up. No one else seemed to have noticed her intentions.
She placed America in the middle, Italy to one side and Russia to the other. She moved Canada on line with her at the back of their little formation. From where he stood he had a pretty good view of exactly what Belarus was looking at.
---
At first, the singing had needed work. Russia’s singing was nowhere near as good as his guitar playing. Canada was always too quiet and America always too loud. Belarus kept getting too excited on the drums and one day a drumstick flew from her hand and almost smashed Russia’s TV.
Italy gave Russia a few private singing lessons, after all, he’d had lessons with the finest opera singers! He was perfect for the job. After a while, Ivan’s voice improved until it was good enough to hear live. There were still a few problems though that no one seemed to want to bring up. Canada decided to bring up the easier problem first.
“I think we need a label now, Alfred,” he said, “A manager can help us with promotional stuff and then we’ll probably do better in the competition, eh?”
“Yeah, you’re right Mattie, but I don’t know who would do it… I mean-”
“Germany will do it!” They all turned to look at Italy who smiled and pulled out his own cell phone.
“Ve, Germany! I’m in a band and it’s for Eurovision with America and Russia and Belarus and… well anyway, I thought that you’d want to be our manager because Germany likes to organise doesn’t he? And this has a lot of organising and you can even have meetings if you wanted to so we can sort out important things! Will you, Germany, please!?”
They couldn’t exactly hear what Germany was saying but he didn’t sound too pleased.
“Oh please, Germany! I said that you would and if you don’t they might hurt me! Agh! Germany don’t let them hurt me! I’m sorry I promised, but it’s done now so you have to come!”
Slowly Italy’s expression went from panicked and on the verge of tears, to perfectly happy and he snapped his cell shut with a goodbye.
“Germany is going to set it all up at home and then he’s going to fly here next week. We should buy sausages for him because he likes those and they make him happy. He doesn’t like a lot of things so they make him extra happy…”
Italy went on talking about Germany for another half an hour.
---
Germany paced his office angrily. It was the simplest step and he couldn’t do it. He looked down at his list of appalling puns and alliteration and screwed the paper up before tossing it, too hard, into the bin.
“Hey, West, you wanna keep it down up there?! You sound like an elephant! Some people are trying to teach music down here!”
Germany grumbled to himself as the music from downstairs floated to his ears. He continued his pacing. If they were allowed to assault his ears with that noise he was allowed to assault their ears with his pacing.
“Oi! West! Shut up!” Too late, Germany realised that Prussia was halfway up the stairs. His door almost flew off its hinges, “What are you even doing?”
“I’m… trying to… I can’t…” Germany sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the words about to leave his mouth, “I’m trying to help Italy out with his band for Eurovision and I need to think of a name for my label.”
“So… you’re asking the awesome me for help, right?”
Another sigh, “Ja. I am asking the awesome you for help.”
Prussia’s grin widened and he caught his brother in a sort of headlock, messing his pristine blonde hair up. He counted to ten and smoothed it back down, “You can always ask me for help!”
Germany severely regretted asking for help. His brother spouted off words he didn’t even know existed. Words made him squirm and blush and attempt to punch his brother in the face to knock some sense into him.
“Ugh, well then why don’t you just call it plain, old, boring ‘West’ then? If you need me I’ll be downstairs teaching Austria how to be awesome.”
Germany scribbled down his label’s new name and in his joy at finally finding one he didn’t notice that he began to sing along with the music from downstairs, “Geht scho, woki mit deim Popo, woki mit deim, woki mit deim Popo.”
---
“Ve, Germany!” The man was half strangled, half dragged through the door by Italy. He flustered and tried to push him off as the other nations reached the hall. He nodded his greetings, Italy still clinging to his arm and he was shown to the kitchen.
Once they were seated he began their first band meeting. He stood at the head of the table and opened up his briefcase.
“I have compiled a list of the issues we need to work through this week. Take one und pass them around, bitte,” he handed out the lists. “First of all, I need to hear your song. If it is good, I will stay. If you are wasting my time, I will go home. We will make important decisions and you can raise any issues you may have during our next meeting after I have heard the song. We need to work out a look and a style that suits us all as well. From now on we will go by the timetable included on the back of your paper. Any questions?”
“Ve… we only get half an hour for lunch?”
---
“Nein, nein, nein… there is something strange… The backing singers do not fit as they are,” Germany muttered. Canada gulped and tried desperately to become more invisible, but as luck would have it, today was one of those days where he was noticeable, “Canada, you play the guitar, ja?”
“Um… yes… but-”
“And I assume you do too America?”
“I’m awesome at the guitar, dude! Even better on rock band! Why?”
“It looks a little odd to have backing singers for a song made for a band.”
“Oh…”
“So everyone singing will have guitars and everyone with a guitar will sing.”
“Awesome!”
“Then you will look like a real band and not some pussy boy band.”
“Hey!” America threw a ridiculous looking pout at Germany.
Belarus shot Germany a look, “Alfred is not a pussy.”
Germany seemed to cower slightly, “O-of course not.”
---
Disaster had struck. Canada moved away from the table a little. Russia had spoken the unspeakable.
“Italy has a better voice than America, so he should be the lead.”
Silence overcame everyone. Belarus looked the most conflicted. She didn’t know if she should agree with her brother or defend America, so she looked between them both with wide, unblinking eyes. Italy shrunk in his seat as America looked over the table at him and Germany tensed uncomfortably.
“So you waited all this time before you told me? Not cool, dude,” America frowned angrily.
“Well, it was not like I could get a word in anyway over your loud voice,” Russia smiled.
“You’re supposed to apologise!” America growled, fists clenching.
“Why? I am only telling the truth.”
“It’s ten days till the first show!”
“I thought that someone else would bring it up, but no one was willing.”
“You all thought this!?” he scanned the table and they each pulled a face awkwardly, revealing that yes, they had all thought it, “Mattie?”
Canada gulped and forced himself to look at his brother, “I’m sorry, eh? I… your singing isn’t terrible Alfred, I promise! It’s just that Italy was taught by opera singers and…” he stuttered to a halt timidly.
America’s fists unclenched and he softened a little, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“What!?” Everyone looked at America in shock.
“They’re right Italy, you have a totally awesome voice, dude. You should be the lead and I’ll back you up. If you miss a note or forget a line, I’ll be right behind you to sing it and make sure no one notices. It’s what us heroes do!”
Italy was so relieved he flung himself over the table at America and hugged him tightly, babbling in Italian while America laughed loudly and patted the smaller man’s back.
---
They’d done it. They’d performed their song for the nation along with the other acts who wanted to represent Belarus. The votes were in and they each held the others hand tightly in their own.
The announcement was postponed and instead there was a long and tense pause as the producers of the show messed with the audience and the performers. Until finally, the announcement was made. Canada had no idea what the presenter had just said, since everything was in Belarusian, but from the looks on Russia and Belarus’ face, they weren’t happy.
Belarus was up on her feet suddenly, growling and shouting angrily at the presenter. The presenter hurried to finish the show, the cameras stopped rolling and the presenter practically fell off the stage in her attempt to escape the crazed blonde girl chasing after her.
They’d lost already.
---
“I demand to speak to the President.”
Belarus was livid, more than livid. She wasn’t having it. The people in the reception recognised her and they announced her to the President, but she was already upon him. He cowered and quivered in her grasp.
“What is it, what did I do!?”
“The Eurovision votes. They were tampered with. You will change this.”
The man blinked, relaxed and then began to laugh. Belarus shook him like a rag doll and he shook once more.
“Please! Let me explain!” he cried. She relented but did not let go, “I am already investigating! We will have our answer as soon as I have the results of the vote. You will be the first to know, I promise!”
“I had better be.”
---
When they heard the news, America hit the roof. He began jumping around the room, hugging anyone he could grab a hold of, he even ruffled Russia’s hair which the other nation didn’t know how to react to.
Italy had actually flung the pasta on his fork across the room, making Germany wince as the tomato sauce splat across the pale walls. He immediately began to clean it up, dragging the Italian bouncing and holding his arm with him. Canada actually saw him smile.
“We’re actually going! We’re going to Azerbaijan! Mattie! We did it! I could kiss you, Belarus!”
To Canada’s horror, America did kiss her. On the cheek, but still.
“Hey… uh… where is Azerbaijan anyway?”
---
Malta climbed off the stage, people bustled across it, removing the instruments and replacing them with Belarus’ instruments. Malta slapped each of them on the back for good luck, except for Canada, who he hadn’t seen and Russia who he definitely had seen and decided to avoid. His song had been lively, they’d had some interesting dance moves and the audience seemed to love it.
It was a tough act to follow and Canada’s heart beat loudly in his chest. The room fell silent for a moment and to everyone on stage it felt like a lifetime. They were in position.
The song began and the noise sent a whole lot of butterflies through Canada’s stomach. The spotlights came down on each of them and they began to walk forwards as they’d practised, straight up to their microphones.
Italy was lit up further and he shot Germany a small glance nervously who gave him a small smile which only Italy could have seen from such a distance. He looked back at the audience confidently taking the microphone in his hand.
“When the light is falling from the sky…”
Notes:
1). Me and my sister thought that Belarus' lead singer looked like an Italy. We looked it up and guess what? He's Italian!
2). There is also a Belarusian drummer, a Russian guitarist and two brothers in the band.
3). And the label really is 'West.'
4). The votes of the national competition to choose Belarus' representative artist were actually rigged and another song won unfairly.
5). The President of Belarus really did launch an investigation and Litesound were eventually chosen to go to the semi-final instead.
6). Belarus didn't get into the final, but I wanted the story to end on a happy note so I didn't write that part in :)
7). In the final Belarus gave 12 points to her big brother Russia, 10 to her big sister Ukraine and 8 to Lithuania (who I imagine was thrilled). She's had her eye on a lot of people this year
You can look it all up online! Hope you enjoyed! Please comment :D