I was inspired to write this when I passed this cute little condo place on the strip while I was riding around in my cousin's car. It had these really nice balconies with a clear view of the water, and a man and a woman were talking to each other across them. Thus, this story was born.
Also, Gilbert's car was inspired by Supernatural.
Warning: I do not own Hetalia. I do own the OCs.
"It'll be fine, Roderich, I'm just down there for the summer," Elizabeta said, exasperated by the conversation. She was talking into speaker phone in her old, yellow, Volkswagon bug, her smartphone resting on the console. Her back seat was piled high with boxes and suitcases, her trunk filled with the more delicate items, surrounded with blankets and pillows to keep from damaging them while traveling down the highway.
"I just don't see why you have to leave for the summer," her boyfriend replied, sounding miffed.
She rolled her eyes, happy that he couldn't see her, before answering, "I love the beach, you know? I found this nice, large house on the strip, so I can wake up to a sunrise, a block from the sea. There's an absolutely motherly landlady who's renting out the top floor this summer, it's divided in two apartments. The other one, the larger, was already taken when I called, but it's only me who'll be living there. But still, I've got this balcony that'll be perfect to sit out on and enjoy everything."
"Elizabeta, I just don't see the merit in this. You even got a job! Why demean yourself to waitressing for three months?"
"Unlike you, I come from a poor family. I've got an all-encompassing scholarship, so it's not like I'm working for tuition. I've worked nearly all my life, and it feels wrong if I let myself get lazy. I like feeding people, it feels nice, so I'll be helping them with that at the restaurant."
"It's a sleazy place," Roderich interjected.
"It's a diner, and a pretty clean one too. Stop trying to pull me back, Rod, I'm ten minutes from my apartment, I'm gonna stay. You can visit whenever you like, you know that."
The rich boy sighed, and it sounded like he was rolling his eyes this time. "Fine, fine," he said. "I'll come down in a week, after you've settled down, and stay for the weekend."
"Bye! Seeya in a week," Elizabeta called.
"Goodbye."
With her windows down, she was beginning to smell the salty air that she had reveled in as a child. An almost childlike smile spread over her face as she passed the sign that read "Welcome to Ocean City". She drove over the bridge that spanned the river and marsh before turning onto the strip. The little yellow bug passed Surf-n-Turf restaurants, tourist traps, several Sunsations stores, and some store chains before getting to the less commercial part of the strip.
"You've got to let us visit you!" Antonio cried, bear-hugging his friend.
"Fine, okay. Now, let go. I've gotta get on the road." Gilbert pried himself away from the Spaniard, only to be hugged in the same way by the Frenchman.
"We're gonna miss you!" Francis wailed.
"C'mon guys, you'll visit every weekend and we can party. Calm down and let me go, I wanna get there early so I can unpack."
"Gil, why do you have to live at the beach this summer?" Antonio asked.
"Well, I've gotta pay my tuition somehow. And I got a job as a lifeguard, which implies water, which implies either the beach or the pool. Hot girls usually hang out at the beach," The Prussian shrugged, like it's simple.
"But-"
"Come on guys, stop overreacting. I've got to go." Gilbert removed himself from his two friends and climbed into his overstuffed car. His black 1967 Chevy Impala roared to life when he turned the key, and as he drove away he waved out the window.
He'd found the perfect place to stay down there too. An old woman was renting out the top floor of her house for the summer. There were two apartments total, a larger and a smaller, and she'd even offered to cook for the tennants once a week. He'd gotten the larger, which including a kitchenette in the living room, a full bathroom, a coat closet, and a bedroom. There was a hallway between his new apartment and the smaller one, which had smaller square footage, that led to the spiral staircase. In addition to that exit, there was a door, at the other end of the hallway, that led out the back of the house, onto a small deck, that had wooden stairs down to the ground. Behind the house was a small lot for parking, and a garden kept by the landlady.
It was across the street, two blocks from the life guard's office. They only had an office to change clothes, keep their possessions in safety, have an organized work schedule, apply for the job, and park by the beach, free of charge. Gilbert had mailed in an application and video chatted himself through the application, promising to be ready for his first shift three days from the day he left home.
Now he just had to get there.
Elizabeta was trying to pull the last, and the largest box out of her car. It was heavy and cumbersome and she cursed herself for not thinking it through. Her landlady, Dia, as she preferred to be called, was too old to help her with it like her friend Bella had earlier in the day. The emerald-eyed girl sighed, looking up at the light turquoise-colored house, more specifically at the door that the box would have to be carried through.
As she was lamenting her decision on the box, a black Impala pulled up on the other side of her Beetle. The engine was cut, and a strange looking guy hopped out. His eyes were red, not from crying, or color contacts, but genetics. Hair was another strange thing, since his was platinum blonde. The man was young too, around Elizabeta's age, or a little older.
He looked from the house, the hulking blue-green thing that it was, then towards her. He sent her a grin, then looked at the box she was struggling to remove. He strolled over, letting her have a better look at him. He wore a white and green thick-striped tank top and a pair of cargo shorts. A pair of too-worn white Chucks had donned his feet.
"Hey, uh, my name's Gilbert. Are you living here too?" The man asked stopping a few feet away.
"Oh, uh, yeah," She answered, taking her hands from the box and offering him a hand to shake, which he took. "Elizabeta."
"You need help?" He asked, nodding toward the box.
Elizabeta smiled and asked, "Are you offering?"
"I am," he replied, smiling back.
"Then, yes."
She moved out of the way so Gilbert could pull the box out of her car. After slamming the car door and locked it, she led him up the back stairs and into the house, then down the hall and into her apartment. Dia had been good enough to furnish the apartments and provide dishes, toilet paper, hand soap, dish liquid, cable, and internet access. She was the ideal landlady in Elizabeta's eyes.
Gilbert set the box on the coffee table and looked around, "If my apartment looks half this livable, I'll be in awe."
"Yeah, Dia's a saint."
"Where is she, anyway? I have to get my key."
"Downstairs, in the kitchen, probably. She's going to make us dinner tonight, since we're just moving in. I'm eating with her, but you don't have to, she can send a plate up."
Gilbert thought about his packed car and shook his head, "I don't think I can, tonight anyway. Too much unpacking to do."
The wild-eyed young man backed up towards the door and waved, "Well, bye, I guess."
"Seeya around," she returned, giving him a little finger wave.
They each spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, each pausing for dinner. Elizabeta had a conversation with Dia about her late husband and successful children. Gilbert ate his meal of curry and naan, that night's "special," in his apartment, on his new couch. As he ate, he thought of the girl who was going to live a hall away, and he wondered why he even thought of her. Sure, she was pretty, bold, and his new neighbor, but it's not like he felt anything for her.
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