Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

Love Syndrome

…he's shivering.

The thought flashed in an explosion-like realization before disappearing into the blankness of my mind, just like the ephemeral beauty of fireworks outside the window. However, unlike the fireworks and the thought, the tremor that ran through Arthur's hand persisted. I wondered if I was also shivering; if somehow the spasm of muscle managed to transfer from hand to hand—from his to mine. I lifted my head and slyly turned it to the side, just a few angles enough to glance at the shivering figure beside me. Our shoulders were barely touching, but I could feel the tremor from them. Arthur was—deliberately, no doubt—facing away from me. I could only gaze at one side of his face: a patch of pale flesh where his fine-shaped jaw connected with his ear. The rest was obscured by the dimness of the room. It reminded me of one side of the moon that humans couldn't see.

It must be raining in that part of the moon right now.

It was just a feeling I had. There was no actual sound of sobbing. I could only hear the loud pop of fireworks sounding off in a calculated sequence. Perhaps if I strained my ears, I could detect tear-tracks being made on each of his cheek?

I tried just that. I closed my eyes and listened carefully:

…

A halted in-take of breath that must've been quite painful for the lungs

…

Another one

…

And another

...

And another

…

I stopped listening. Wordlessly, I tightened the grip around his fingers, entwining them with my own.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

It was almost like a prayer, not only for him but for me as well. We couldn't let this room drowned by two people's tears, could we? But as Arthur returned the grasp, my dam began to break.

"Why are you crying as well, brat?" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a combination of a sob and a chuckle. "It's my divorce, not yours."

Because your heart is breaking, and I think mine is too because it hurts so much.

I couldn't say it though. The tears had seeped into my lips and glued them shut with a salty taste.

The two of us sat side-by-side like that for hours in an empty classroom filled up with melancholy, while the end of school festival celebration was in full blast outside. At 15 years old, I did not recognize the pain I was experiencing at that time as the awakening of love for my 25 year-old English teacher.

3 Years Later

"You're here again, Alfred?" Arthur made a show of letting out a long frustrated sigh, even though the smile on his lips betrayed the act.

I returned the smile with a big grin of my own. I even added a friendly wave. "Shouldn't you act happier when a former student comes to visit you, Artie?"

"I would if the pupil stopped regarding me with silly nicknames such as 'Artie'. How about good ol' Mr. Kirkland?"

"No way! I haven't called you that since my junior year! Besides, Artie sounds more intimate. I mean, since we're friends and all."

It sounded cuter as well—was what I didn't say out loud.

"Alright, alright. You win, lad." Arthur chuckled and beckoned me in. "So how may I help you today, Alfred?"

"Surely you mean how I may help you today? Betcha' you're lonely without me here to distract you from grading, Artie." I dragged one of the student chairs to the side of his desk and plopped myself down. I laid my head on the tiny desk that was attached to the chair and looked up at Arthur with my best puppy eyes. "I know I'm reaaaally lonely without you."

Arthur stared at me for a few seconds before pinching my nose as he replied, "Peril, loneliness, an uncertain future, are not oppressive evils, so long as the frame is healthy and the faculties are employed."

It took me awhile to get it. "…Brontë?"

"Very good, Mr. Jones." The smile he gave me was blindingly beautiful that I couldn't help but to grin proudly at myself for recognizing the quote.

"So what should we chat about this time?" Arthur asked after he served me some lukewarm tea from his own thermos instead of the tea ("Those are rubbish, not tea!" he would say) that they had at the faculty lounge. Since I've been coming to visit him often, Arthur prepared a mug for my own personal use. The mug had the famously British 'Keep Calm and Carry On' logo on its surface, reminding me at every sip that my lips might've touched a place where Arthur's lips had touched one time or another. It never failed to make me went a bit red when thinking about it.

"Have you been going to college classes regularly? Don't skip too much now." Arthur poured some tea for himself and began sipping it.

My head rose from the table as I sat upright. "Don't worry, old man! I'm a model student, ya know?" I paused to take a sip of the tea. "Besides, I'd hate to make mom and you disappointed."

My former English teacher smiled gently and stretched out his hand to pat the top of my head, saying, "Good lad, good lad."

I know it's just a small thing, but I loved the fact that he had to stretch his hand a bit higher to reach my head even when both of us were sitting down. That showed how much I now towered over him. If I closed my eyes, I could vividly remember the day I found out I finally became taller than Arthur. It was right after summer break; on the very first school day of my junior year. I hugged him and kept ruffling his hair that day. I kept thinking that perhaps by being taller than him, he would begin to view me as an equal.

The rest of our conversation revolved around mundane daily things, with the occasional playful banters—it was the kind of chat you would have with someone you saw frequently, but could never get tired of their company even if you ran out of topics. As hours gradually ticked away, I finally glanced at my watch and stood up. "Well, I gotta bounce now, Artie. But see you again soon?"

"As if I could keep you away for too long." He chuckled. "See you again, Alfred. It was lovely seeing you as always."

I left the room after a few more 'good-bye's and a wave. With every step away from Arthur's class, I already found myself counting the days until I get to meet him again. Was this some sort of obsession?

…

Ppppffft hahahaha.

Nope, I was pretty sure this was what people called—

.

.

.

—love.

A/N: For those who are waiting for The Butler, I'm sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I got quite busy with life in general, and I also lost interest USUK temporarily. But now I'm starting to regain my feelings for the two darlings, and this story is a practice to let the feelings back in full force. I might update it irregularly, or I might just leave it as it is. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short(?) story.