A/N: I should be writing Soul instead of making new fanfics. Especially fanfictions as absurd as this one. If you, my dear reader, are by any chance familiar with my other story, I have a warning for you. They are nothing alike. But really, that's beside the point.

Disclaimer: Do not own. But I just got a set of 36 Copic© markers. Those are mine! Not made by me though…


Awful. Both, autumn and summer season, were just awful. And even that's probably an understatement. The bloody harem trend that seems to be going around this year is taking opportunities for any anime with actual plot to be aired. In the middle of October I got so frustrated with the whole thing I almost ripped half of my hair out in an anger fit. However, with winter season came a surprise. And a fairly good one. Amongst all of the terrible series there was a real pearl. Weird humor, historical setting and a butt load of girls - this Hetalia thing may just prove itself a roleplay worthy material.


Surrounded by dull monitor light, a teenager sat in his chair, doing exactly the same thing he had been for the last few hours. The coffee set on the table next to him had gone cold long ago, and his mother had given up on trying to get her son to eat dinner with the rest of the family even faster than the coffee had cooled. However he did not notice any of that, much less care. With the speed of a professional, he typed his reply, attention solely on his computer, or rather, on the person he was talking to. A small chuckle emerged from him as he finished his typing with the soft click of "enter." After just a few seconds, a loud beeping sound announced that the person on the other side had answered already.

[For once, Igiko didn't care about being a lady. Remembering her pirate days, she leaned into the annoying blond girl who wouldn't leave her alone, smirking with malice.

"Oh yes, what a splendid idea. Not. Give me one reason why I should have lunch with you," she said with false sweetness in her voice.]

Leaning back in his chair, the blond boy reread the paragraph. He reached for his 'til now forgotten coffee, realizing only then that it had gone cold a while ago. With a childish whine he put the cup back down, focusing his attention on the words on the screen once again.

Arthur was in a bad mood, huh? Otherwise he rarely put Igiko into "pirate mode." Alfred had been roleplaying with him long enough to know that. The thing he still didn't know though, was what the other was going to do next. When in a bad mood, his roleplay partner tended to match his character's mood to his own, quite often making them lose all the progress in their characters' relationship they had made. And right now, that was the last thing Alfred wanted to happen. Actually, the alternative was possibly even worse. Dealing with Arthur verbally attacking him was rarely much of a joy. Thinking about what was better to do at the moment, he silently cursed under his breath. And he'd been hoping there would be some action this time!

Sighing, the boy decided against continuing with the roleplay, in favor of asking the other what was wrong. He wasn't expecting to get a truthful or at least a nice reply. Mentally he was already preparing for yet another tantrum the other was sure to throw. Even if the answer would be "I'm fine, git," in the end. However, he was not expecting, nor was he prepared for, the cold shoulder he got.

[Look. We are roleplay partners. Not friends, nor anything else. Therefor it's not your place to know or ask about my personal life.]

However harsh the other boy normally was, he didn't usually shut him out like this. But for some reason he wanted to know even more now. It wasn't just curiosity; he wanted to know so he could help him, even though he knew full well he'd be unable to do anything. Still, he could try at least.

[That so? Then why don't we go out once? You said you're from around Ealing, right? It shouldn't take you much more than twenty minutes by subway to the center. We could meet at Bond Street Station! Then we wouldn't be strangers anymore.]

[That's about the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Not going to happen. I have to go now.]

A loud beep signaled that the other had gone away already. Alfred put his hands behind his neck, looking at the ceiling, or where it would have been if the light was on. The other boy was sometimes quite a handful. But, he still wished that Arthur would stop distancing himself like that. He barely even knew the boy's name! Every time he wanted to know more than that, even if it was a minor thing, the other would quite literally run away. And what was going on in the other's head, about that he had absolutely no idea.


Living with three older brothers and one younger half-brother could easily be considered hell. Even those who actually liked to live with a big family would go insane with his siblings. Drunkards of older brothers and an annoying little twat. What a joy. No wonder he just wanted to be left alone, in his cosy room, which he luckily didn't have to share. Not that it mattered, what with one or another member of his family constantly barging into his room.

After an especially frustrating encounter with the youngest of his brothers, Peter, the last thing he needed was this rubbish from his roleplay partner. He just wanted to go on with what was happening in there, but no, the other just had to go out of his way to ask stuff that was none of his concern anyway. And when did he let his guard down enough for the other to actually know something was bothering him anyway?

He grunted at his own thoughts, writing a reply that he knew full well was harsher than the boy deserved and then leaving his desk.

There wasn't much to occupy himself with in his room. The large, antique French bed took most of the space, accompanied by the massive wooden table he had been occupying less than a minute ago. For a boy of his age, it was surprisingly neat around the room. No boxers lying on the floor, no old dishes with dried, leftover food still attached standing on the table; even his collections, safely stored in cabinet above the table, didn't have a single spot of dust on them.

Aside from the fresh tea stain on his rug, everything was nearly perfect. And the latter was actually the reason for his sour mood as well. Not long before he had had his little fight with Alfred, Peter had charged into the room, crashing directly into him, just as he was about to drink what was left of his tea. Seeing the drink spill all over the floor, the little brat quickly ran out of the room, everything that he was about to say or do immediately forgotten. Which had left Arthur alone in the room, gaping like a fish, slowly processing what just happened.

Scowling at the memory, the British boy looked at his rug with distaste, thinking about how much work it would be to get the frigging thing out of the delicate material. But he would do that later - now he just wanted to do something else. The problem was, he had no idea what.

For a moment he played around with the thought of calling the Beilschmidt brothers. However, he discarded it after mere seconds. Knowing them, Ludwig was either working or studying right now, and Gilbert would probably just want to get drunk. Even if that sounded by far the best thing to do right now, he just wasn't up for it at the moment. Which left him with very few choices.

He didn't have all that many friends, and even fewer he actually hung out with in his free time. With the German brothers out of the picture, the only one he could think of was his neighbour. But hell would freeze over before he voluntarily spent time with Francis. Having absolutely nothing else to do, Arthur lay down onto his bed, playing with the bed sheets, thinking about what the other boy had said. Contrary to common belief, he wasn't mostly alone because of his clothes or his attitude. It was purely his choice. He didn't need, nor did he want, more friends than he had. Which was why he refused Alfred's offer. Probably.

But now, as he was being slowly eaten away by boredom, he couldn't help but think back at what the other boy had said. Accidentally kicking some of the cushions off his bed, he sighed and got up to pick them. His eyes caught a glimpse of his still lit monitor.

Would it really be that bad? It probably wouldn't hurt going out with him just once. Putting the cushion back in its place, he reluctantly walked to his chair, sat down, and, as he took a deep breath, signed back in.

Apologizing wasn't really his thing and neither was socializing. So after mentally preparing himself for what he was going to say, Arthur couldn't help but make a face at what he saw. Sure, leave it to the git to be offline at the worst possible moment.


The day passed quickly, school was fun as usual, the teacher was passing Alfred his test with a smile that could only mean he aced it. Yeah, right. In reality, Alfred was getting hyperactive from having absolutely nothing to do. Sure he could listen to his teacher talking about derivatives. But really, math? He could be absent the whole year and still pass with an A. So instead he tried to occupy himself with the classroom, which was probably older than he was. It certainly looked it.

Loose plaster was peeling off in more places than it was still attached, leaving cracks all over the walls and the ceiling and looking too much like something taken right out of a horror movie for anybody to feel comfortable in the room. Once light yellow paint had faded into pale grey over the time, apparently just calling to students, inviting them to write on everything from their signatures in bold, barely readable fonts to promises of eternal love they wouldn't keep. He snorted at how stupid people could act sometimes, looking through the window rather than giving any more of his attention to the ugly walls. The weather outside reflected the atmosphere in the classroom eerily well, with dark, heavy clouds floating low in the sky. And they sure didn't improve his mood. Checking to make sure the teacher wasn't paying attention to him by any chance, he pulled out his mobile phone, logging into the chat he usually spent his afternoons on, not really expecting anything interesting to wait there for him, since it was highly unlikely that Arthur had written anything after their spat yesterday. Therefor he was pretty surprised when he saw an "offline message" sign blinking in the corner of his screen. And even more when he noticed that Arthur was actually online right now. First checking the not all that nice message of "where the hell are you, you bloody wanker?" that still managed to warm his heart somehow, he quickly posted that he was right there, in the main chat.

[I can very well see that. What was that about anyway?] came the reply faster than he had thought possible, when typing on a mobile.

[Well, you asked where am I and… here I am! How come you are online anyway? I always thought you would be like this really model pupil or something.]

[I'm at home, obviously. I don't have lectures 'til noon. And yes, I wanted to talk to you yesterday. It doesn't matter now anyway.] Blinking at what the other boy had written, Alfred was confused for a moment. It had never even occurred to him that Arthur could in fact be older than him. And apparently out of high school already. But somehow the second part of what the other had said caught his attention more.

[Oooh, college kid. I didn't know that you're older than me. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?]

[Didn't I tell you to forget about it? It holds no relevance to anything any more.] He could only sigh at what he was reading. He should have expected it. Even if Arthur behaved extremely mature for his age most of the time, he could be just as childish when it came to certain matters. Like this one right now. And when he got an idea into his head, there was usually very little that could persuade him otherwise.

[Oh. Ok. Then about the thing that happened last Friday...] Luckily, for him at least, Alfred had his ways as well.

[Don't you dare...!] Smirking to himself the blond fixed his glasses that had almost fallen down from where they'd been barely balancing at the tip of his nose, already knowing he had won this time.

[What was I saying again? Oh, yes! Last Friday. You remember it right?] He could practically hear the other furiously typing.

[Ok, ok, ok, you sodding moron. I...let's do it then. Meet once, I mean.] And if Alfred had felt any kind of remorse for blackmailing the poor guy as he did, it vanished at that very moment.

[Seriously? You really want to meet?] He let out a happy laugh, momentarily forgetting that he was still in a class, earning himself some questioning looks sent his way. Nervously he scratched the back of his neck, but just as quickly all of his embarrassment had gone away as well. Once again he focused on his conversation with Arthur.

[No, but you did just blackmail me into telling you what I thought YESTERDAY. Well, I'm not going to back out on what I said either so... meet me in front of The Camden Eye, just across the station, tomorrow at five. Deal?] Alfred wanted to whistle at that. Somebody could be pretty imperious, eh? Not that he really minded. He'd gotten what he wanted after all, hadn't he?

[So, how am I going to recognize you? Want to send me a picture?] It was probably in vain even asking Arthur something like that, but he could at least try, right? And he really did need to know how the other looked.

[I would rather not. However I will probably be wearing some kind of ripped jeans, leather jacket and military boots. What about you?] Oho, that was kind of an edgy look for Mister Perfect on the other side of the net line. However...

[...we're meeting in Camden. Isn't there some more specific feature of you that I could recognize you by?] Seriously, if they would be meeting anywhere else, finding Arthur with the description given would be the easiest thing in the world. But in Camden Town, there were a lot of people dressed in various alternative scene clothing.

[I guess... I have rather expressive eyebrows.] This time Alfred couldn't help but to laugh aloud.

[And by "expressive" you mean big?] The boy could be so amusingly awkward sometimes, saying the most ridiculous of things.

[NO. I said expressive and I mean exactly what I said. Now belt up before I cancel this whole thing off.] Alfred could bet the other was fuming as he wrote that. What an amusing thought that was. However he still had to calm him down, so he decided to drop the matter, instead telling him he would most likely be wearing some kind of skinny jeans, scarf, Vans skaters and glasses. For a few moments Arthur kept silent after that, not writing anything, then asked the last question Alfred had expected him to.

[You aren't one of those emo kids, are you? With dyed black hair, lame accessories, and failed visual-kei haircuts?] The blond boy grimaced at the question. It probably should be expected from the other not to like "emo kids," what with the whole punk attire, of which Alfred had only found out minutes ago, but still, to say it so bluntly... that was usually his thing to do.

[Haha. No, no, I'm not. Don't worry. So, if everything is arranged, I have to go. The teacher looks furious. Bye!] And with that he quickly logged off.

Actually, the teacher hadn't noticed a thing. And even if she had, she wouldn't say a thing. For being talented in math, the blond boy was her pet student.

No, the real reason Alfred had left the chat so suddenly, in favor of being bored to death another fifteen minutes, was because of what the other boy had said at the end of their conversation. What? He didn't lie to Arthur when he said he wasn't. However, the black hair dye he had bought just yesterday still found its way into the dust bin, rather than onto his, still blond, hair. At least he had made his mother happy, even if his reasons had as little to do with her as he had interest in what teacher was still patiently trying to make them understand.

Pocketing his phone, he once again looked out of the window. The heavy, dark clouds that had been covering the sky at the start of the lesson had wandered off to bother some other troubled teenager, leaving the sky clear as his mind, small birds flying around like thoughts, playing with each other without disturbing the one looking at them. The rest of the day would surely fly by much faster than the first few hours had, for the American boy sitting in the third row of a completely insignificant classroom somewhere in the middle of London.


A/N: After one chapter...I haven't even gotten to the real point of this story. Because yes, it actually has(will have) a plot! Kinda…

Sorry for the chat-speak thingies -.- I know, I know. I hate it too! But it was necessary and I promise there will be less and less of it. What can I do if Arthur has a stick showed up his arse… Enough of my nonsense.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Oh, I don't own Vans© either.

Enjoy life! ^^