I found this deep within the depths of hell (AKA the notes app on my iPod), and since it was literally the first fic I've ever written ever (Plus it's super AWESOME *PRUSSIA MODE*), I wanted to share it. Leave a review!
~VY

CHAPTER ONE STORY A
Italy sat down in her seat. She loved to be the first one to get into the classroom so she could have the best spot. She was looking out the window at the snowy skies, waiting for France to come in. The most exciting thing about going to her high school every day was not only seeing her good friends Germany and Japan, but seeing France. She didn't know what it was about him, but it felt as if she was in love. They are always passing notes during their few classes together, talking about the silliest things, making fun. But Italy had different feelings for France. She adored his long, delicate, blonde locks that flowed down his neck, compared to Italy's simple auburn bob. She loved his big blue eyes, and the way he would laugh at the stupid jokes they created. Italy was in love, there was no denying it. As everyone started pouring in, with China walking in with Russia (they were arguing about Communism), and Israel sweeping the dust off his sweater, watching Russia calmly argue with China. Italy realized her allies Germany and Japan didn't walk in the door. They have been dating and Germany has definitely softened up. She looked over at the door again. France walked in, talking to Finland. Italy said, "Hey! France! Ciao!" France looked over, his hair whipping around his face. She blushed and decided today was the day to tell France her feelings. They always pass notes during their Arithmetic classes, talking about America's new hairdo (which was only Canada), Russia's height, and Britain's cereal-burning. They were the best of friends. Italy worried for a moment. If she told France how she felt, what if he would reject her completely? What if he didn't want to be friends with her anymore? What if... they became enemies? Italy didn't even want to think about it. Poland tapped Italy's tiny shoulder. "Italy, are you feeling alright?" asked his friend. Italy broke out of his trance and smiled at Poland. "Yes, I'm fine. You worry too much, Poland!" she said, hoping she wouldn't notice her stresses. "Okay…" she said questionably. She turned back to her schoolwork. Italy gave a sigh of relief, only to be interrupted by her teacher. "Do your work! Stop the chit-chat!" she said, impatiently. Italy pretended to rummage around in her satchel-like bag for her work for about thirty seconds. If she didn't get it done during class, she would just finish it when she gets home. She waited for the teacher to get back on her computer, working on the next lesson. "Ahem!" France fake-coughed. Italy then realized a note had been sitting there, waiting to be read. Italy picked it up, reading the comment on Israel's huge sweater, given to him from Canada. Italy commented back and put the note in France's outstretched hand. He squeezed his ring finger, just to poke fun. France smiled and read the note. As he gave it back, Italy ripped out a small scrap of paper from her composition notebook. She wrote down her feelings.
Dear Francey-pants,
I know this is very out of the blue, but I have a crush on you. About a month after we made friends I've been dying to date you. I hope you will accept my love, and that you won't reject me.
Worried and nervous,
FELI 3
Her hands shook as she gave the note to France, not squeezing his finger this time. France unfolded the note, with Italy biting her lip in anticipation. She would always bite her lower lip when she was nervous, scared, or felt love. France curved his lips up into a smile, Italy watching every beautiful move he makes. He looks at Italy. He scribbles something back, folds the letter, as Italy's shaking hand outstretched to take the note. France prodded at her finger. She blushed as she unfolded the paper. It said,
I LOVE YOU TOO. 3
A flow of excitement rushed down Italy's back. She smiled, tears forming in her eyes. She shakily asked to use the restroom, smiling at France and biting her lip on the way out. She was biting down hard. She ran into the bathroom, tripping on Prussia's outstretched foot as he passed her. Prussia would always bully her, for she was such an easy target, but she never fell for that one. She hit the ground with a thud, then got up after straining. She landed squarely on her chest and chin-jaw, ribs, and breasts under the pressure of the combination of gravity and the hard hallway floor. She also twisted her ankle. She got up, and started to run again. She limped as fast as she could, until she had completely walked it off. Prussia walked away, laughing, not turning around to see how much physical pain he caused her. It's okay, Italy thought. He didn't know. She instantly forgives him, like always. She ran into the empty girls bathroom. This was Italy's very own bathroom, because it was the furthest away from any classes. It was always empty, just like the spooky hallway. All of the other bathrooms were usually full or had at least two people in there. She wanted privacy. She locked herself in the handicap stall. She sat on the floor, bawling. She didn't know what she was feeling. She was so happy, so it could be a happy cry. She could also be overwhelmed by his note and from the fall. Her chest still hurt. She cried for about ten minutes because of the pain of a possibly broken rib. She calmed herself down, thinking of France. She was so upset about Prussia tripping her that she forgot about the note, which she had been squeezing in her hand the entire time. She opened it up, and looked at his reply. It was a short and sweet message, but it was enough for her. She held the note close to her heart and began sobbing, happy tears this time. She calmed down, unable to stop smiling. The sobs turned into hiccups of laughter as she realized how much she overreacted. She was so joyous, no matter how much pain she was in. She realized the pain and got up to walk over to the mirror. She slipped off her overcoat, tie and undershirt, wearing nothing else on top but a bra. She looked in the mirror and saw, near her breast, a dark red mark. She frowned and washed it up with a wet paper towel, so it felt at least a little better. She took deep breaths, realizing how she overreacted. She really shouldn't have gotten so worked up. She should be happy. She buttoned up her shirt, tied her tie (crookedly) and zipped up her overcoat, walking out of the room with a smile, the note sitting in her pocket. Italy walked down the hallway, feeling as confident as ever. All she really needed was some alone time. Her chest area still ached but she couldn't have felt better. That's when she saw the most confusing thing she had ever seen. She saw her two best friends kissing; with Germany pinning Japan to the wall. Even though they were technically dating, Japan and Germany have never kissed, or done any more than an awkward hug. They were so caught up in their embrace that they didn't notice the Italian, and she wanted to keep it that way. She watched them for a few more seconds, admiring their growth as a couple. She hoped that she would be able to do the same things with Francis. Japan opened an eye and Italy freaked. He ran off, smiling.
END CHAPTER 1a

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