Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

"That's it! Stay still!"

With quick reflexes, the young man adjusted his Nikon camera, focusing on the flock of children. Closing one eye shut, he leaned over until his nose brushed the screen monitor, proceeding to click the button on the top right-hand corner. "Say cheese!"

A bright flash of light emanated the group of kids, their chubby bodies anxiously quivering from having to keep the same poses for who knows how long.

Once he was finished, the young man peered at the camera screen, making sure that the shot he took was spot on.

"That was fantastic kiddos!" He declared as he approached them with a satisfying grin.

Bending on his left knee, he then handed them a ticket. "See that booth over there? Give that nice woman this ticket. She will be the one to give you pics that I did of you." He instructed them.

The oldest of the children nodded, graciously taking the ticket. In return, he gave the photographer a stack of greens. "Thanks, mister!"

In response, the young man smiled. "Call me Alfred!"

"Thanks, mister Alfred, sir!"

Before he had the chance to correct them, the children were already heading toward the direction of the booth.

Shrugging, he pocketed the green papers inside of the left pocket of his brown bomber jacket.

Pushing the bridge of his specs, he turned around to face the next following children in line, motioning them to come forth.

It was certain days like these that nineteen-year-old Alfred F. Jones enjoyed the most.

Shortly after he finished his morning college classes, he would rush to go to the public plaza where he partook in a temporary part-time job as a tourist photographer. His affection for photography started during high school when a best friend of his offered him the position as a photographer for the yearbook. Though it was difficult with his packed schedule and his involvement in the football team after school, Alfred gladly took the challenge.

Fast forward to the present day and here he was, still photographing.

The fact that he could do something that he very much enjoyed were music to Alfred's ears.

Most importantly, he loved the genuine smiles of his customers, be it kids, adults or elders.

It didn't matter to him so long as he captured their smiles with his camera, his job as a photographer was worthwhile.

Something nudged Alfred on the shoulder, causing him to get out of his trance state.

Turning around, he saw a fellow photographer about the same age as him. His short stature and short onyx hair caused Alfred to emit a smile, recognizing him all too well. "Kiku! Sup buddy! How're you doing?"

"Alfred, do you know what day is it?"

Alfred paused for a moment. "I don't know…Friday?"

Kiku heaved a sigh. Typical idiot. Pulling his right sleeve, he presented his wristwatch to him, hoping that his blonde friend would realize.

"Huh! Awesome watch, dude! Where'd you get it?"

Unfortunately, he didn't.

"Alfred, it is pass 2 pm! We're gonna be late for the gig!"

As soon as the word 'gig' left Kiku's mouth, Alfred's eyes widened like saucers. "Shit!"

"I'll go and notify Gilbert. Finish up and we'll get going." Kiku stated, his tone relatively calm.

Alfred shook obediently, reverting back to his current task at hand. After a few minutes, Alfred carefully fits his camera inside of the brown pouch strapped around his waist. He took a closed sign and planted it next to the line before running toward the photo booth to check out.

By the time he exited the booth, he was met with an exasperated Kiku dragging a yelling albino. Alfred couldn't help but chuckle at the humorous sight.

Besides Kiku, who remained close with him since the beginning of high school, Gilbert Beilschmidt was a different story. Hailing from Eastern Germany, Gilbert arrived in the States in order to be reunited with his younger brother. Due to his lack of money to support each other, Gilbert took in the job of a part-time tourist photographer. Unlike Alfred and Kiku who tirelessly practiced, Gilbert had a natural talent for taking photos. The problem was, he lacked the decency of a professional one. Because of that, he was often getting chased by police for his inappropriate behavior such as photobombing tourists and trolling with public proposals when they least expect it.

Another shriek from Gilbert caused Alfred to become aware of his surroundings.

"No! We are not going back!" Kiku protested, glaring at the albino.

"Bastard, you ain't my mother!" Gilbert barked back, crossing his arms childishly.

Scratching the back of his neck, Alfred started with the most obvious question, "What's wrong with him?"

"I found him arguing with a little boy next to an ice cream truck. He got the last scoop of ice cream Gilbert wanted." Kiku answered matter-of-factly.

"You don't understand! It wasn't just any ice cream! It was f**king cookies n' cream!" Gilbert whined, his voice getting louder.

Alfred sneer, bringing his hand to pat the poor albino on the shoulder. "That's rough, buddy."

Gilbert sniffed, "Tell me about it…"

'I can't believe I'm friends with them…' Kiku groaned to himself before clearing his throat; "Come on! We do not have much time left!" He pestered, gesturing to his wristwatch once more.

Gilbert pouted, stomping his feet. "But my ice cream⎯"

"I SAID MOVE, BASTARDS!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Both Alfred and Gilbert cried in unison and ran off in different directions.

Alfred ran as fast as he could, proclaiming an apology after another as he roughly passed through a congregation of pedestrians. Minding the nasty glares and puzzled looks from nearby bystanders, Alfred jogged further, his mind dead set on getting home.

Unlike Kiku and Gilbert, Alfred had it tough.

Sure, Kiku had Yao and his endless lecture and Gilbert got Ludwig to keep him in line. However, both Yao and Ludwig's anger weren't close to being compared to the demonic wrath of Alfred's older brother, Arthur Kirkland.

Alfred was expected to be just like him: prim and proper like a gentleman.

Matthew Williams, his twin brother could easily fit those shoes with his introverted persona, which was why Arthur seemed to favored him more. Alfred was different. He didn't obey the rules that Arthur laid for him. As the rebellious one in the family, he broke and bend every single rule, constantly resisting Arthur's demands for him to follow orders. Because of this, the two would often be at each other's throats with Matthew as their peacemonger between them.

But if there was one thing Alfred knew that would anger Arthur the most, it was tardiness.

When Alfred was young, he got away with things easily. Yet the more he grew, the more he was so sure that karma was catching up to him. Of all days, why did it have to be today that he'd die?

Too consumed with his thoughts, Alfred didn't realize that he ran past his own street, angling his body to turn to another corner and⎯

THAWK!

Alfred closed his eyes tightly, suppressing back a moan. He pressed a hand on his forehead, nursing it. Good, his glasses were still intact. Prying one eye open and followed by the other, he was met with the color of pure white.

Wait a second. White?

Blinking twice, Alfred slowly craned his neck to look up, his jaw dropping at the breathtaking sight.

Right there in front of him was a beautiful young woman wearing a wedding gown. Her golden-brown skin complimented her amber orbs, piercing against his shade of sky blue. Her long, dark hair cascaded freely down, its tips playfully tickling against Alfred's flushed face. The smell of fresh leaves and bread whiffed through his nostrils, allowing him to visualize a serene countryside.

Did he just died and went to heaven?

"Am I dead?" Alfred gasped.

The woman bobbed her head, her veil gracefully swaying from side to side. "I don't think so."

Her voice. She had a rough accent, but it didn't stop her from speaking English, which amazed him even more. Just four simple words and she had already taken his breath away.

She waved a hand in front of him. "Hey, you alright?"

When she didn't receive a response, she slapped him.

"I-I'm fine!" Alfred stammered.

"Good."

Looking around, he realized their awkward position. For an outsider's perspective, it looked like a man was being pinned down by a dominant woman.

Thinking about this, Alfred blushed harder.

Fortunately, the woman too had realized their current situation and immediately removed herself off of him, dabbing the invisible dirt of her wedding gown.

Alfred stayed lying down, his gaze unconsciously locked on the woman before him.

The woman looked back at him, her expression filled with concern. "You sure you are fine?"

"Yes, I am." Alfred quickly responded as he rose from the cemented ground.

"Your glasses…" She began, lowering her head down.

Alfred touched the rims of his glasses. "Oh, these bad boys? Texas is okay."

The woman furrowed her eyebrows. "Texas?"

"Yeah, Texas." Alfred casually answered.

The woman lightly giggled, causing Alfred to laugh as well. She then bowed her head down respectfully. "I bid you and Texas good day." And scurried away without a word.

Alfred's eyes followed her distant figure. He forgot to ask for her name.

Without thinking, he quickly took out his camera from his brown pouch, snapping a picture of her.

He then shoved his camera back to its right place and ran off the opposite way.

A goofy smile materialized on his lips.

For the first time, he didn't care if he got scolded.

Author's Note:

This is actually my first fan fiction of Hetalia and dedicated to my first pairing, America (Alfred) + Vietnam (Lien). Don't worry, there will be more pairings coming soon! I'm thinking of making this a short story but if a lot of people seem to like it, I'll do my best to keep updating. What are your thoughts about it? Your opinions are very much appreciated!