Summary: Arthur asks a man for the time on his way home from work.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
To anyone feeling déjà vu right now, I've rewritten the old version of this.
I looked around the bus, barely concealing my distaste. Just what on earth had possessed me to rely on public transport to get to work this morning? Perhaps I had been out of it, too tired to bother driving and was looking forward to the weekend ahead of me. Or, perhaps I had just been tired of the same old routine and wanted a change for once. I don't remember— not that it matters anyway, I'm going home now.
I blinked and shook my head. I made my way over to the closest empty seat. Hopefully, whoever it is sitting next to me doesn't mind. Speaking of which— I stole a quick glance at the man next to me. The blond paid me no mind, not even bothering to remove his gaze from the window.
I looked out the window too, noting how dark it had gotten since I had last checked. I stared at the man, feigning interest in the passing view. He's… pretty. I don't usually ogle strangers,— hell, I don't, at all— but, god, those clear, cerulean eyes, shaded by long, dark blond lashes, his shoulder-length, wavy blond hair— sue me, he's pretty.
A muted thump caught my attention and I turned to the source of the noise. It was just someone's bag that accidentally fell. I kept my head turned for a few seconds before bringing it back towards the window. I swear, in that brief moment after the bag fell, the man looked up and I made eye contact with his reflection.
Oh, dear. A guy like that has probably had tons of partners— female partners. Why did I have to stare? Why does he have to be so pretty? Why did that bag have to fall? Why did he have to look up? Why did today have to happen? It's going to be so awkward if his stop is before mine— I can see it now. He's going to talk to me and ask if I could move and we're going to make eye contact and I'm going to have to suffer through his silent judging. Oh, why?
I sighed as quietly as I could and tugged at my sleeve. I thought it over momentarily, before tapping on the man's shoulder. No going back now. "Terribly sorry, but do you have the time?"
The man turned to face me and I could finally see his face, not just the reflection in the window. Fuck, he's pretty. "Hmm? Oh, of course." He checked his watch, "It's nearly eight."
"Ah, right, thank you." So, the man is French… Bloody fuck.
The bus neared the stop and the man next to me shifted. Oh no. I was right. He does have a stop before mine. The man hastily took out a piece of paper and began scribbling something onto it. I pretended not to notice.
When the bus came to a halt, he stood up. I moved to make space for him, keeping my gaze on the floor. A folded piece of paper landed on my lap and I looked up, catching the wink sent my way. I picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it carefully.
Mon cher, I suggest hiding your watch better. Also, it's normally rude to stare, but I'll make an exception for you since you're so cute. The name's Francis. Call me? XXX-XXX-XXXX
I hope no one gets on the bus and sits next to me. It'll be awkward if they see my blush…
end~
First thing's first, I love how easy first-person POV makes it for the unreliable narrator. Second, Francis totally enjoyed the fact that a cutie sat next to him on the bus and found him attractive.