Disclaimer: Not owned.
A/N: Written during World History class while learning about the French Revolution and all that fun stuff.
Yay for weird writing styles that make no sense.
I guess this qualifies as a drabble or whatever, the pairing is Spain/fem!Romano in case you couldn't figure it out (the friend is up to you, but I was imagining Prussia while writing this xD)
She thinks she hates his smile (it's fake and deceitful and everything he is),
but the way his lips turn so slightly still makes her blush (but he always makes her blush, and she knows he knows it).
His laugh is gentle and sweet (and she wonders if she's the only one who's heard his real, ground-shaking laugh)
as he leans back a bit in his seat with that grin (stop pretending to be happy).
His friend leans forward, ignoring the shift (and the body language for "stop talking to me")
causing him to turn his head to the side and catch her glance ("Look away, bastard," she wills).
His eyes brighten up (stop pretending to be in love)
and he raises a hand as a wave (she remembers what that hand felt like when it was in hers).
She thinks she loves his smile (it's happy and genuine and everything she's not).
