So, this is a another foray into the world of Hetalia. It's kinda my newest obsession. And this fic is kinda an experiment. It's not in chronological order and it jumps from characters and their interactions over time. Sometimes updates will be short or long. The story will get clearer, hopefully, as more moments in time are introduced. But, let's see the reaction to this at first.

Warnings: AU, slash, more later

Pairings: one-sided Arthur/Francis, one-sided Alfred/Matthew, past one-sided Matthew/Alfred

Brief Notes:

1. Human names are used because the characters are human, not countries in this.

2. Magnus is Denmark (...yes, I did randomly choose a Danish name)

3. NOT CHRONOLOGICAL

Enjoy~

May 2008

"I love you, Mattie. I think I have ever since the day we met." Impossibly blue eyes, painfully hopeful and wide, stared straight into confused periwinkle ones. "I want to be with you. Forever, if you'll let me."

"Al, I…you…" Matthew stammered, unable to look away from the pleading gaze. Alfred's eyes were windows into his heart. His every desire, emotion was reflected in that azure gaze.

Accept me. Want me. Love me.

"Please, Matthew." Alfred breathed out, dipping his head so his chin rested lightly on the curve where the other's neck and shoulder met. His breath felt uncomfortably warm against Matthew's skin and the slightly younger blond was acutely aware of the minute distance between their bodies. Whereas Alfred had merely loomed over Matthew when he first cornered his best friend, he had slowly conquered the space between them until he had pinned the other boy against the wall. "I was so stupid."

Matthew couldn't breath and he was starting to feel hysterical. Alfred's arms had slipped around his waist, pinning his arms against the soft fabric of his red hoodie. The spicy cologne of the older boy and the worn scent of his leather bomber jacket enveloped him. He could feel the other boy's heartbeat.

And it inexplicably terrified him.

"Alfred, please…" Please what? Let go of me. Give me some space. Start laughing and tell me this is all a joke. "Alfred…"

"You don't know how much I've kicked myself since that day." Strong arms tightened around him and Matthew started to think his heart was trying to burst out of his chest. "You don't know how much it killed me to see you with all those other guys."

Alfred, whose voice had sounded so hushed and hesitant, darkened, and his words sounded pained and jealous to Matthew.

"Say something, Matt."

And Alfred wasn't supposed to sound so pathetic. He was supposed to be loud and confident and slightly grating. He wasn't supposed to sound as though whatever response Matthew would give would either break him or lift him up.

And it wasn't fair.

Matthew's jaw clenched and he felt his hands slowly form fists. For years he had chased after Alfred, stood by his side and tried to show the other boy how much he cared.

And what had Alfred done? He had laughed awkwardly, glanced away while shoving his hands into the back pocket of ripped jeans, as Matthew stood, mortified and hopeful and frightened.

And then, the very boy who promised to always be there for Matthew, to always save him (because that's what a hero does), turned his back and said "We'll talk about it later, okay Mattie?"

Later never came.

"I'm sorry Alfred."

How did we get here?

May 1987

"I will marry that woman." Francis murmured, voice dreamy and dark blue eyes blind with the images of a cathedral and a beautiful woman draped in white, smiling, holding a bouquet of lilies. "Believe, me, mon ami, I cannot imagine spending my life with any other."

Sharp emerald eyes narrowed at the love struck Frenchman and dark, heavy eyebrows bristled with anger. The blond man, however, noticed nothing as he continued to admire the slim, blonde woman standing a few feet away from the two men. Arthur bit back a snarl, choosing instead to turn back to his book in an attempt to ignore the painful clenching in his chest.

That woman was all Francis could talk about. That woman was all Francis could focus on. That woman was the reason his sometime friend and often enemy and longtime crush (not that Arthur would ever admit it) Francis broke dates and rarely argued with Arthur anymore.

Jeanne.

Francis loved her. Arthur hated her.

But Francis loved her. And Jeanne loved Francis. And Arthur loved Francis.

"Well, you're never going to marry her by just sitting around and drooling over her, you bloody git." Arthur snapped eyes stubbornly trained on the page of his novel. "Just ask her already. Even an idiot could see she's head over heels for you. But you always manage to bring stupidity to a whole new level, don't you?"

Arthur could feel those blue eyes on him. "You think she'd say yes?"

Without glancing up, Arthur knew the older man was wearing a stupidly hopeful expression on his face.

And as much as he wanted to lie… he couldn't.

"Of course, you stupid frog."

September 2005

"Hah! Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other, won't we?" A booming voice called out, shattering the tranquility of the small office. Berwald, knowing full well who the voice belonged too and wishing that the other would just die, frowned darkly.

Seeing the dark expression that overtook his new office mate's stoic face, Magnus broke out into a wide grin. "It's been a while, hasn't it Berwald?"

"Not long enough." Berwald grumbled, feeling the beginning of a headache forming. He hadn't even been around the guy for a few minutes.

"Aww, that hurts." Magnus smirked, ruffling his golden hair, making the spikes look even more wild. "You know, I mostly took this job because you were here." His tone was casual, but Berwald could hear the wistful undertone and he held back a snort. "I miss you."

Berwald didn't answer and Magnus's smile dropped. With a slightly frustrated shrug, the Dane began organizing his side of the office.

It was going to be a long year.

Interesting? Complete failure? Intriguing? Think I should stop writing forever? Leave me a review and tell me what you think so far!