The bell tolled in the halls of the Hetalia World Academy, signaling the end of another December Friday. Student Council President, Arthur Kirkland, still sat in his chair, trying to ignore the loud conversations of students filing out of the main building to their dorms. The day hadn't turned out particularly well; with the student council unable to wrap up another meeting, Francis being a total arsehole, and to top it all off, he had to get field trip permission reports reviewed, stamped, and to the principal's office by the end of the week.
"H-hey." A voice caught him by surprise. Arthur looked up and matched gazes with baby blue eyes. Alfred F. Jones. To tell you the truth, Arthur didn't know what to think of his friend. Friend. He studied him, feeling that something was off. Alfred's normally upbeat air was reserved and his expression was dark and apprehensive. In the pocket of his bomber jacket, a mint-green paper peeped out.
"I-I just came to tell you that Francis told me to tell you to told me," Alfred stumbled on his words. "I m-mean Francis said that he's going to stay a-at Gilbert's dorm for the weekend with Antonio."
Arthur was busy concentrating on his papers, just barely letting the message seep into his mind. It's not like he cared about where that frog was. He only cared if his cousin didn't clean up his half of their dorm room. He may or may not be trying to block out the image of Alfred's bright smile, dark blonde hair, boundless enthusiasm…
"Mmhm, alright, Jones." Arthur hoped he sounded impassive.
He turned to the counter behind him to retrieve a folder and when he looked back, Alfred was gone. 'I shouldn't have been hoping in the first place,' thought Arthur, 'what's there to think about anyway? It's not like I care…' But deep in the recesses of his mind, he did care. Just not enough to look out the doorway to see if he was there. At least, he didn't think so.
He cast this train of thought away, having a more important task at hand. He stood up to get a better view as he shuffled through his piles of papers, when a colored envelope slipped out from between two manila envelopes. It was a pale green, like mint. The envelope was unlike any of the school stationary, so it must have been a personal note. The inscription on the back of Arthur Kirkland in hard, steady handwriting also helped.
Arthur furrowed his infamous brows. Who would send a personal not to him of all people? He had no clue. With no other option, he carefully peeled the seal of the flap and drew a delicate piece of mossy-tinged stationary paper. It smelled crisp, just like a newly printed book. Arthur breathed in the scent, careful not to crinkle the paper between the sharp folds. He peered at the tenderly written words, and then he realized it was a poem. It wasn't exactly professional-grade, but he could tell this mystery-writer tried. Arthur whispered the lines to himself.
I'm not very good at this
But please let me try
To tell you my feelings
With my really bad rhymes
You're often quite grouchy
Always a frown on your face
Your statements are blunt
At cooking, well, you're hardly an ace.
Your build's rather girly
Some of your hobbies, very so
Your attitude's really surly
But I'm also here to let you know
You know what you want
Your determination's strong
That's one of the reasons
You pull my heartstrings along
Your eyes amazing
Like forest-green jewels
My heart aches for you
But I know you think me a fool
You're sharp as a tack
Clearly the smartest of the bunch
You have all the skills that I lack
Though I do have a hunch
You lock your feelings away
Where no one can see
Your thoughts are always guarded
You know, you can always talk to me
You have a soft heart
You try to mean well
Just clueless where to start
Yet the deeper in love I fell
I couldn't stop thinking about you
Both day and night
Why all the things that you do
Made my heart soar in flight
I would feel nervous
Whenever you were around
My heart would pound without purpose
I felt like a stupid, clumsy clown
So I thought, and thought, and thought
Then finally, these observations clicked
I realized that you, Arthur Kirkland, you make me...
Lovesick
A figure sat on a bench in the academy courtyard, just outside the Student Council room window. He held a Styrofoam cup of hot cocoa in his hands, though he had plenty of warmth in his cheeks as he watched Arthur read a green paper in his hands. The warmth flared into a burning as he saw Arthur's emerald eyes widen then a pleasant smile curl on his lips. His blonde cowlick bobbed when he stood up. He wrapped his scarf across the bottom half of his face, leaving only his baby blue eyes shining with new hope.
AN: I'm sorry I haven't been updating Hetalia Headcanons I just felt like I didn't like it, so I'll just it sit for a little while longer. Sorry. ^_^'
I tried writing cute fluffy-ish, and I got this...I don't know what to think. I tried to write the poem a little crappily, just to keep the writer in character (can you guess who it is? :P)