December 24th, 2011, 12:10 p.m.
The bells of Hetalia Academy banged against one another like brass pots, but to the students of Hetalia High, it sounded more like the dawn chorus of a flock of nightingales. Usually the old clanging signaled the start of class, and the end of the school day, but now it told the students that it was winter break.
Two of the most wonderful words in the English language. Winter break. Yes, break happened late for them.
Inside the confines of the school building, the students sprung from their desks, shoving their papers into the regulation navy blue St. Hetalia messenger bag they used as backpacks, slinging them across their bodies, rushing to meet up with their friends to gossip about the chance of boys or girls asking them out during the break.
It is at that moment we begin our story.
Back inside the school, a lethargic Greek student named Heracles Karpusi still sat in his math class, in his seat, systematically putting his work into his bag, trying not to crumple the worksheets as they were carefully slid into the bag, probably to remain there until winter break was over. Heracles was an interesting student.
He had switched schools halfway through the year, throwing the academy into an inexplicable frenzy. Strange enough, he was the only Greek student in the whole school. He lived with his mother in a modest two-story house, smooth stones making up the walkway to the front door, a pretty sky-blue plank of wood with a white doorknob smack-dab in the middle of said door, unlike the houses alongside theirs, lining the street.
His mother, Helena, was a beautiful woman. High cheekbones, olive toned skin, gorgeous brown eyes, complete with lashes the length of her pinky finger, or at least it seemed that way. She worked at St. Hetalia University, the school where Heracles would be going after he completed high school, as a history professor who dealt with Ancient Greece. Helena had grown up in Athens, a born and bred Grecian, who had run away with a man whose name she couldn't remember now, and nine months later she had her handsome son, Heracles. The man had left after that, just disappearing off the face of the earth.
Good riddance too, she couldn't stand him. She had only wanted some excitement from her sheltered life, and found herself in too deep before she knew what had happened.
But she wouldn't have changed it for the world. Helena now had a great job, a decent house, a wonderful son who loved cats, and a life. She was happy.
Anyways, back to Heracles. He finally packed up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the class, whistling a tune to keep himself awake. He was always reading when he was at home, studying to follow in his mother's feather-light footsteps as a history professor, and most nights he read until he couldn't stay awake in class, aggravating his teachers. But he still managed to keep up with his schoolwork, so they left him alone about his narcoleptic tendencies.
But there was another reason Heracles slept. So he didn't have to hear the cruel whispers of his classmates, insults slithering through his brain like a snake. There was another thing you need to hear about Heracles.
He was gay.
When Heracles first came to the academy, he and another freshman, a Japanese teen named Kiku had gotten together, much to the delight of everyone. Kiku was a polite boy, and Heracles could take care of him. The couple seemed perfectly happy together. Until the day when Heracles had sprung a surprise visit on his beloved boyfriend and found him kissing another teen, an Italian, brother to a happy-go lucky boy named Feliciano in his history class.
The break-up had left the Grecian heart-broken, for he had truly believed that Kiku had loved him, and had loved him with all his heart. But, time heals all wounds and so he moved on without a backwards glance. Took it all in stride, never showing his suffering to anyone. He began to cut himself in secret, feeling he had done something to make Kiku run from him, and deserved punishment for whatever that thing was.
That day, when Heracles went home, he stopped off at an ice cream cafe he'd begin to frequent at the beginning of the school year. "Yo, Heracles! What's going on, dude?" Alfred "Freedom" Jones called to him as he opened the door. He nodded to the American and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing much, huh, buddy?" Alfred said, and when Heracles didn't answer he sighed. "Same as always?" Heracles nodded slowly, and waited until the triple scoop of chocolate was placed in front of him. The Grecian handed over the money and went over to sit in his favorite spot in the café.
It was then that Heracles realized that the entire café was Christmas-ifed. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling, directly over the booths that students usually hung out in, garlands were strung over the windows, and candy canes were placed in the menu holders. It was very peaceful, and Heracles found a smile stretching across his face as he sat down. He hadn't been content for a while, and it seemed like Christmas made him as happy as a cat with catnip. He had just closed his eyes when the bell to the shop rung signaling a new customer.
"Hey Alfred! What's been going on?" a Scottish accented voice rang out, making Heracles snap out of his stupor. The Grecian felt a blush creep across his face as the scent of tobacco reached his nostrils. It was a widely accepted legend that Allistor Kirkland carried the scent of cigarettes wherever he went, and so far nothing disproved of the legend.
Allistor was a junior, and was famous around Hetalia Academy for being the one always hung over on Saturdays. The Scotsman had auburn hair, often tousled into a disarray, and emerald green eyes that linked his appearance to his brothers, Arthur, the student council president, Dylan, the secretary of said student council, and his last brother, John. Allistor was in Heracles' math class, and was always picking fights with whoever passed by.
Heracles turned back to his ice cream, history book in hand, when the voice came again, this time much closer to him. In fact it was almost behind him. "Hey, looks like we've found ourselves a little Grecian!" the voice crowed, and Heracles' hand balled up into a fist. "Yes, what do you want, Allistor?"
Heracles didn't hate the Scotsman, but he didn't exactly like him either.
"Oh, come on, Herc, don't be like that!" Allistor drawled, throwing himself into the seat next to Heracles. The Grecian sighed. "One, it's Heracles. Not Hercules. And two, you didn't answer my question." The Scotsman smirked. "What's got your panties in a twist? It that boyfriend of yours?" Allistor said, slinging an arm across Heracles' shoulders. Heracles shrugged off the arm. "Kiku is not my boyfriend. He dumped me, remember?" Allistor tsk-ed, and put his arm around the Grecian again, this time, forcing Heracles to be welded to his side. "Anyways, why are you here of all places, on Christmas Eve? Shouldn't you be at home with that beautiful Ma of yours?" he asked. "No, Mother had to go to the university to do some grading. She won't be home until late." Heracles growled, not liking the situation much.
Allistor's grip on the Grecian tightened more. "How sad, pretty thing like you all by yourself." "What about you? Shouldn't you be at home with your family?" Heracles spit out. "Has he ever heard of personal space?" Heracles thought to himself with irritation.
Apparently not. Allistor got a scowl on his face at the mention of his family. "I don't care much for those bastards. Only person who likes me there is Dylan. John and Arthur hate me too." Heracles tried not to wince at the pressure being put on his body as he tried to pull back from the Scotsman, now radiating malice. "None of them ever wanted me there." Allistor said, his voice dying down to a whisper. "They never respected me even though I taught them everything they know about our family. I held down the fort when Ma died, and Pa decided he didn't want anything to do with us anymore. I'm their guardian and they still don't like me."
Heracles stopped pulling away. How sad. He knew what it was like to not have a father, and sure, Allistor might not be his favorite person in the world, but he still respected the guy for doing things his way. Heracles sighed and leant into the Scotsman's side. "I know how you feel. My cousins, Gupta and Sadiq don't respect me, and my father left my mother when I was born."
Allistor turned his face to the Grecian. Heracles had his neutral expression on, and stared blankly at his book. The Scot turned his face upwards. There, hanging above the two this whole time, was a sprig of mistletoe. He then, on impulse, took the Grecian's face in his hands, and kissed him.
…
Heracles didn't really know what was happening, all he could hear was an enthusiastic Alfred shouting his congratulations, and a member of the photography club, Elizabeta snapping photos more than a crime reporter in front of a dead body. However he did know whose lips it was that were pressed against his own.
Allistor's. His lips that is. Slightly chapped, moist, and seemed to perfectly fit against his own.
Heracles shrugged. When was the last time someone had kissed him with this much passion? As Allistor's hand threaded through his hair, he noticed how nice it felt.
Maybe the Scotsman wasn't as bad as everyone said he was. Well, as bad at kissing, at least.
-Transition-
Lien Thi Wang sighed. This was NOT how she intended to spend the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Namely, she did not expect to find herself in a mall, playing the part of an elf while her Finnish boyfriend played last-minute Santa Claus to kids whose mothers STILL had no idea what they wanted. Yet, she relished the time spent with her sweet boyfriend who always listened to her when she ranted about some persistent suitor who hadn't got the memo that she had a boyfriend. Tino would listen to her, calm her down, then the very next day, he'd find the offender, and very icily tell him to back off.
The boys never bothered her again.
Tino was a Finn who had been in Lien's class for as long as she could remember. He was always with a smile on his face, had his homework done on time, played with her hair from the seat behind her, was her violin accompanist, and her best friend besides her sister, Mei. In 9th grade he and a fellow classmate, Berwald had started dating, but that relationship hadn't lasted very long. Tino got tired of Berwald trying to protect him from everything, and frankly, Lien didn't blame him.
Berwald was one scary Swede. Occasionally, she would catch Berwald staring possessively at Tino when the two would walk past, and Lien would glare right back. And trust me, she could get glary. What could she say, she loved Tino. He loved her too.
And that's why she was here.
On Christmas Eve.
In a mall.
Listening to little kids tell Tino what they wanted for Christmas.
It frustrated her. She was playing along, dressed up in a cute elf costume Tino had insisted she wear, complete with candy-cane striped socks, a short green mini-dress, and a tall hat. She already had the elfish-ears down. She brought herself back to hear what the last kid on Tino's lap wanted.
"…and I'd like all my family to be nice to one another for a change. My older sister and brother always fight, so Mom yells and Dad yells at Mom. See my older sister over there?" a 7-year old girl told Tino, pointing eagerly at a tall 13-year old standing by the candy store. The girl noticed, smiled and waved, her little sister waving back.
"Kathryn's an actress. She's going to be on Broadway, I know it!" the little girl exclaimed loudly, just loud enough to be heard by the 13 year old who gave a mock bow and laughed. Tino laughed along with her too. "Shannon, wrap it up okay? We still have Karsten's gift to buy!" Kathryn called to the girl. Shannon nodded and turned back to Tino. "Thanks for listening to me, Mr. Santa! You're a really cool dude!" Shannon exclaimed before giving Tino a quick hug, and running to get to her sister. Tino smiled as he stared after them, the girl named Kathryn stopping to take her sister's hand.
"That's nice. I wish I had siblings who did that." Tino said, watching the two get on the escalator, a faraway look in his violet eyes. Lien smiled and nodded, remembering how she and her sister went through the same routine when Mei insisted on going to see Santa Claus at the mall. Lien would smuggle the little Taiwanese girl out of the house, and together they'd go see "Santa". Yao never really approved of this, you see, hence the smuggling.
Lien smiled absentmindedly as she thought of the Christmases past, so she didn't see Tino sneak up behind her and pull her onto his lap. "What are you doing!" she spluttered indignantly, her pale cheeks heating up to a healthy blush. Tino pulled off his beard so it was just himself under the Santa costume. "So, little girl, won't you tell Santa what you want for Christmas? He very much wants to know." Tino murmured, nuzzling her neck, his arms wrapped around her in an embrace, trapping her. "Why! Okay…well, the only thing I want is to be with my boyfriend." she muttered, looking down at her lap in embarrassment. Tino looked alarmed for a moment, then pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
"I'll be Santa, you be Mrs. Claus." he murmured, hand reaching into the pocket of his coat to reveal a little heart shaped box. Lien's blood pounded in her ears as he slowly opened it to reveal a ring. Simple design, but when you looked closely, it revealed the words "My promise to you." in cursive. She felt the tears leaking out of her eyes as he gently slid it onto the third finger of her left hand.
"Lien Thi Wang, with this ring I promise you that when we get out of school, the first thing I do is marry you. You're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're attractive…I love you more than anything else. Will you marry me?" Tino asked, his voice washing over her ears like waves upon a distant shore.
"Of course I will. Yes, Tino, yes. I love you." she said.
And she, the Vietnamese don't-fuck-with-me-bitch delinquent with a paddle as a weapon, meant every word of it.
-Transition-
"Michael! Michael! Mic-oh there you are!" Mei called to her "brother" Michael. Said Chinese teen looked around at the Taiwanese girl, carrying a package in her dainty hands. "Yes, Mei?" he asked. "I needed to give you your Christmas present!" Mei chirped, practically shoving the parcel into Michael's face. "Oh…well, thank you, Mei!" he said, startled as the package was deposited into his lap.
"So…?" his sister asked him, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. It took him a few moments to realize that she was asking for his present to her. "OH!" he yelped. He flushed an embarrassed red. "Mei, thank you for your present. No doubt it won't be wonderful. I just don't have anything that could compare to it, whatever it is." he said, ashamed. She ceased her rocking. "Michael? You look sad. Come here, give me a hug!" she said, ushering him into her arms. "I don't care if you didn't get me a present. Feliks gave me enough to last me a lifetime! Just having you spend Christmas here with me is gift enough." she said, squeezing him tight.
He blushed some more, but returned the careful squeeze.
"Aww, but I really wanted that new hair-dryer." she thought to herself with a pout.
-Transition-
"Toris! I'm back! Did you miss me?" Elizabeta sang as she flung open the door to her boyfriend's apartment. Said apartment was as silent as the grave. "Toris? Honey? Baby? Love Machine? Where are you?" she called. Usually he would've answered by now. He detested it when she called him "Love Machine."
She felt her heart plummet to her steel-toed boots as she saw the note on the kitchen table. No doubt it had some kind of excuse on it. She had hoped that their relationship would actually last, unlike her and Gilbert, or Roderich, or Sadiq.
"Dear Elizabeta,
I'm sorry I can't be there when you come. I've been putting in more hours at work lately, and unfortunately today is no exception. There's some Cepellini in the fridge if you're hungry.
Love, your Baltic,
Toris."
She curled up on the sofa, and tried hard not to cry.
-Transition-
"I mean it, Victoria, I don't want to date you." Toris exclaimed to his female co-worker. "Toris, why not? Elizabeta never gives you any space!" Victoria, the Seychellois girl whined, swinging her hips in a way designed to get men all hot and bothered.
Blame her French brother, not me.
"Be that as it may, I love Elizabeta, and you aren't going to stop that."
She huffed and walked away. He went back to work, scrubbing the tables of Alfred's ice-cream café, glancing over at the booth where Heracles Karpusi and Allistor Kirkland were kissing. Soon, he would be able to be in the embrace of his loving, frying-pan wielding, girlfriend.
He wondered how she'd like the new camera he'd bought her. He'd left it on the coffee table, and knowing her, she'd probably already opened it.
And loved it.
Boy, how he loved her.
-And there you are folks, 11:59 on Christmas Eve, 5 crack couples-
MERRY CHRISTMAS! HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT, BECAUSE I WORKED MY ASS OFF DOING THIS. Please review if you want to!
Love you all, Hasta la Pasta!