Pairing: Netherlands x Belgium

Author: Lilli P. Tian

He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he had no right to be angry, but he couldn't help it. Why was Emma Peeters suddenly spending her time with two hotshot soccer team members? What was Emma Peeters, his longtime crush of three years, doing with those two arrogant jocks? He's been watching her since they've been freshmen, and she's never been this close—was she giggling?—to a guy before! She always sat with Eliza-whats-her-face and that small Asian girl with the flower in her hair. Okay, so maybe he was being a little creepy too.

He couldn't help it, though! How was he supposed to approach Emma Peeters, one of the most sought after girls in their school? Granted, there were only about ten girls at their high school… But how was he supposed to walk up to her with her gold-spun hair, her glittering green eyes, and the cute quirk of her lips that strangely reminded him of a cat…? He couldn't! Not when he was known as "that one creepy kid who's always glaring and smoking and skipping class and holy shit! He's looking this way! Quick, turn around! "

What was it about him that turned people away? Even Berwald Oxenstierna and Ivan Braginsky weren't this ostracized—and those two are creepy as fuck! Not that he had much room to criticize in that regard. But both of them had a group of friends and even a girlfriend! …boyfriend? androgynous significant other? Whatever.

He continued glaring through the window at the trio cheerfully chatting in the cafeteria—well, Emma and Antonio fucking Carriedo were cheerfully chatting; Tomato Face looked ready to storm away any minute now. He watched as the bell rang and Grumpy Pants really did stomp away, but not before ripping Antonio a new one—serves him right, the bastard.

He stayed sitting on one of the many courtyard benches as the rest of the student body made their way to their classes. He decided to stay where he was—his next class was French anyway, and he was not looking forward to listening to Mr. Bonnefoy spout crap about "Bon St. Valentin"and "the importance of l'amour" and whatever the fuck else came with this stupid girly holiday.

All Valentine's Day is good for is giving him a splitting headache, with all the blinding—not to mention tacky—red and pink decorations, the screaming girls declaring their love—God damn it all, can't they fucking shut up?, and the stupid couples and their even stupider PDA. Why was the whole damn school expected to get into the spirit anyway? Valentine's Day is strictly a couples holiday, and he'd appreciate it if the couples would damn well keep their happiness to themselves. Wait. Valentine's Day was a couples holiday, a day for lovers. Where was the flower shop again?

He decided to leave early in search of a flower shop. It wasn't as if he was planning on going to class anyway; what did it matter if he was on or off campus?

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he breathed as soon as he arrived. He looked up at bright pink florist store that was practically radiating rainbows and glitter. The cheery sign blinked at him. "Christy's Flowers" it read, daring him to walk into the shop that could easily pass as a Sanrio double—it was pink and sparkly and all other sorts of girly shit. There was no way in hell that he was taking one step into that abomination.

He went in, of course. He hovered near the door, clearly uncomfortable and out of place. His eyes flitted around the quaint shop, assessing all the different bouquets on display and trying to get out of there as fast as he could. He settled on a bouquet of perky pink and yellow flowers.

After he went up to the register to buy the flowers, the peppy teenager behind the counter gave him a wide smile. "Perfect happiness and hopelessly in love? That's sweet of you," she laughed a little while handing him the newly purchased bouquet. His eyes widened, and he could feel a blush creeping up his neck and his heart pounding in his chest. Hopelessly in love? What did she know and who did she think she was? He fumbled for his wallet, threw a fifty on the counter—way more than enough to cover the cost, but he wasn't spending any more time in there than necessary, and abruptly fled the store and the obviously insane florist.

When he got back to campus, classes were already over. He could see Emma sitting at a table with several people he didn't care to identify at that point. That is, until he saw a familiar mop of curly chocolate brown hair. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Why was she constantly with that airheaded idiot all of a sudden? He glowered for a moment, mentally debating whether to stay put for the time being or just hand her the flowers now.

His decision was made for him when Emma got up and walked away from the Spanish asshole and over to that frying pan she-devil. He looked at the spot she vacated, confused. He shifted his eyes to look over at Antonio and…the boy he was tongue-wrestling with. Oh. OH! Ohhhh. Apparently Antonio and Moustache Jerk were a thing. Who knew?

He shuffled over to the two tittering females, thrust the bouquet into a shocked Emma's hands, and practically sprinted away. He looked back at Emma from his spot a safe distance away from her searching eyes. His heart was racing, but that was only because he was running earlier and—fuck it all, he wasn't fooling anyone at this point.

Maybe the florist was right; maybe he was hopelessly in love. But looking at Emma's expression as she carefully fiddled with the flowers that gave her, a deep blush on her face, he decided that being hopelessly in love wasn't so bad after all.

Omake:

"You thought Antonio was a threat? A circle could be straighter than he is! I was just helping Liz set him up with Lovino. Everyone except two of them knew about their feelings for each other. Well, evidently everyone but the two of them and you."

"Shut up, Emma!"

A/N: pink tulips—caring, perfect happiness; yellow tulips—hopelessly in love.