A/N: This story takes place about a year after Helga and Arnold graduated high school. So, they're probably around 18/19 years old here. Slightly AU, as the confession/kiss in the first movie wouldn't really fit in this story. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold or any of its characters.

This isn't real, Helga Pataki insisted to herself, as she stood there in the middle room, still as stone. There is no possible way this is real.

What room they were in, she didn't know. Nor did that matter. For with every passing second, Helga tried to just convince herself that what was happening was just a very vivid dream. One she would cherish forever, but for the moment, all she really wanted to do was wake up.

It wasn't until the figure in front of her slowly began unbuttoning his plaid top and pulled it off his shoulders – tossing it who knows where, since his eyes never left her's – that Helga finally gave in. This was real.

Arnold Shortman, the object of her desires ever since preschool, was standing before her half-naked in an unknown room.

Helga wasn't sure why this detail bothered her so much. Perhaps she was just trying to keep her mind on other things. Maybe it was Arnold's old bedroom? She couldn't tell; it was too dark to tell. She couldn't really remember how she got there, either. Had she been drinking? That might explain the cold sweat she was experiencing.

Oh no, that's right, that was because of Arnold, walking up to her, his chest completely bare. She could barely make it out in the dim room, but she was almost positive there was no shirt on that boy.

She couldn't place why she was so nervous. After all, she used to dream about this all the time. Perhaps she should have prepared herself a little better. Suddenly, random thoughts popped into her head. Did she smell? She casually lifted her arm in attempt to see if her deodorant was still doing its job, when another thought occurred to her.

Her legs! Had she shaved them? Scrambling to check, she accidentally dropped her purse that she'd been clutching to for dear life. She quickly placed a hand against her bare calf and slid her hand upward, raising her dress a little higher and exposing part of her thigh.

No hair, not even a stubble. She sighed with relief, when Arnold let out a little chuckle.

"That a little preview?" He asked, bending down to retrieve her forgotten purse.

Helga chuckled as lightly as possible.

"It's really great seeing you again, Helga," Arnold said, taking her hand.

She knew it was beyond sweaty at this point, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I've missed you."

Helga's heart thudded against her ribcage, but she didn't reply back.

"Is something wrong?" Arnold asked, as she pulled away to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Why?" Is all she said.

"Why what?"

"Why did you miss me?" Helga insisted, snapping her head up to look right at him. Thankfully, due to being in the dark room for so long, her eyes seemed to have adjusted to the lack of light.

"Because...we're friends and-"

"We never used to be friends," She interrupted. "Arnold, I thought we hated each other. I thought you never liked me."

"Well, yeah," He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But that was before..."

"Before what?"

"Before I found this." He seemed hesitant at first, but finally he handed her a letter from his back pocket. He clicked a remote next to him that turned on a dim light above them.

Helga didn't need the light to know what she was looking at, though. Upon first glance she already knew. The pink envelope, the paper heart glued to the front, the very faint smell of her mother's perfume she had soaked it in.

She tried to keep her breathing steady. "Where did you get this?"

Arnold continued rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous habit of his she was all too familiar of. "I've been volunteering at the school over the summer and I kinda found that in the lost and found."

"You were never supposed to read this," Helga said. Her voice was low, angry.

"I kinda figured that," He said. "But once I started reading, I...I-I don't know, I couldn't stop." He looked at her. "Helga, why didn't you ever tell me how you felt?"

"I don't know..."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, tough luck, bucko!" Helga suddenly snapped. "You weren't ever supposed to see that letter, so just forget about it!"

"I can't," Arnold said. "And if I wasn't ever supposed to see it, then why was it even at the school?"

Helga blanked.

"You had meant to give me that letter, didn't you?"

"Maybe," She muttered.

"When?"

"What?"

"When were you going to give me that letter?"

"Er..." Helga mumbled. "Mrs. Gunkelman's homeroom, 7th grade."

"Helga," Arnold replied, almost unconvinced. "That was 6 years ago."

Helga looked at him, regret in her eyes.

Arnold blinked, realization washing over him. "Oh...that was 6 years ago. So you're saying...you don't love me anymore."

"No, that's not it!"

"Of course it is," Arnold face was red, clearly embarrassed. He walked over to grab his discarded shirt. "When I found the letter, I figured...I don't know, that it was maybe only a year old or so. I had no idea..."

"Arnold, I do love you," Helga said, following him across the room. "I always have."

He turned to her, his shirt back on his shoulders, but still unbuttoned. "Then what's the problem?"

"You don't love me."

"Yes, I-"

"If I recall correctly, on graduation day, you basically called me a monster and wished me luck on finding more victims to prey on at college."

Arnold's cheeks burned more. "I know, and I'm sorry...but when I read that letter...it's like I saw you in a whole other light."

"That's only one side of me, Arnold. You still insulted my other half in front of our entire class."

Arnold frowned. "No, Helga. The side I insulted isn't who you are. It's who you choose to be. The real Helga is right here." He grabbed the letter from Helga's hand. "This is the Helga I fell in love with. This is you."

"Love?" Helga choked on the word.

"Er...I mean like," Arnold retreated, his eyes darting to and from Helga. "A lot."

She blinked.

"Aw, hell," He threw his arms out, clearly giving in. "Yes, love. I love you, Helga G. Pataki!"

And then, without giving her a moment to respond – though she wasn't even sure how to – he kissed her.

That's right, Arnold Shortman, her childhood crush was kissing her, Helga Pataki, right there in his old room. It was like the fates had stolen a random page from her diary and decided to torture her with it. Helga realized at any moment this vision might be over, so she tried to enjoy it as best she could.

When they finally pulled apart, Arnold was smiling, though his eyes remained cautious.

Helga blinked and suddenly noticed her eyes were wet, as was her cheek. She reached up to inspect the problem. She was crying. He made her cry.

"Damn it, Football Head!" She spit out, wiping the salty water from her face.

Arnold laughed then. And though it was directed at her, it wasn't a mocking sound. It was sweet, kind...almost melodious, in a way. Like he was just so happy at that moment, that he could think of nothing else to do but laugh. Suddenly, she had an urge to wipe that adorable grin from his lips.

And so she did. With her own lips.

Being more prepared this time fared well for Helga. She led the kiss, putting years of want and longing into it. Everything she had kept closed deep inside herself for all those years, she poured out into that one kiss. It was almost too overwhelming, but neither one of them wanted to stop.

Eventually, though, human nature took over and they broke apart, merely to catch their breath. Helga vaguely noticed she was crying again. Clearly this was too much for her normally stoic form.

Arnold chuckled again, wiping one of her stray tears with his thumb. "You're not going soft on me now, are you Pataki?"

"Shut up and take your pants off," She ordered against his lips.