A/N: Hello there! Thank you very much for reading my story! I'd just like you all to know that this fanfiction will contain many pairings, and I'm going to try to distribute the love to everyone equally! Also, reviews make me suuuuper happy! They encourage me to work faster, and feedback is always appreciated!

Also, there's one element to this story that might be hard to grasp. Basically, the characters are existing in a world parallel to the one in Hetalia, where instead of Nations, they're ordinary humans. However, the two worlds are not completely separate from one another. In fact, the worlds are almost exactly the same, the only difference being that there is no such thing as a country personification in the world which this fanfiction takes place. Because of this, the memories from the Nations in one universe sometimes gets mixed up with the memories of the humans in the other universe.

Pairings you can expect: GerIta, PruCan, USUK, Spamano, Rochu, Giripan, FranLux(OC), SuFin, DenNor, SwissAus, LietPol, and maybe whatever others come to my mind later on. Also, sorry for the OC, I usually don't like them either, but he won't be in it a lot and there really isn't any canon character I pair with France ^-^

"Ve~ Fratello, look!" Feliciano Vargas said excitedly, pulling his elder twin across the campus, his youthful face alight with excitement. "Its so beautiful! I can't believe this is actually a school!"

"Chigi, slow down, idiot!" Lovino grumbled, stumbling after him, having a hard time keeping up with the past pace.

Both twins had thick Italian accents and sun-kissed gold skin, and were fairly short and skinny (despite the amount of food they could both consume in one sitting). Their hairstyles were similar, bangs that parted in the middle of their foreheads and two particular curls that seemed to defy all odds of gravity. Feliciano's hair was a pretty auburn color, and Lovino's only a shade or two darker; and they each had a pair of identical molten gold eyes.

"Don't go rushing ahead, Feli." their grandfather bellowed from behind them, laughing loudly. "Your grandpa's getting too old to keep up with you!"

"I'm sorry, grandpa!" Feliciano giggled as he called over his shoulder, still marching ahead at a brisk pace. "I can't help it! I'm so exci-mph!" he came to a sudden halt, having plowed into someone when not looking, his face pressing into a broad, muscular chest. "Oh, excuse me! I didn't see you stan.." as he tilted his head back to examine the stranger, he felt all the breath leave his body, his words dying on his lips.

A pair of the most beautiful sky-blue eyes he had ever seen gazed down at him, belonging to an equally as perfect face with unblemished porcelain skin and a carefully stoic expression. Feliciano wasn't sure why, but everything about him, to the slicked-back yellow-blonde hair, to the slope of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, everything about this man seemed familiar.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Lovino snapped at the blonde, his temper flaring as quickly as usual. "You almost mowed down my fratello!"

The blonde- who had been staring at Feliciano with the same kind of puzzled gaze -tore his eyes away to study the second, angrier Italian. "I believe he was the one who ran into me," he pointed out, his voice deep and German-accented. Feliciano noted that the stern tone may come across as scary to some people, but he wasn't swayed; actually, upon first sight, the little Italian had taken a strong liking to this big, handsome German.

"Ve~ he's right, fratello! I did run into him!" Feliciano chimed in before his brother could get angry again. He reached out, tugging excitedly on the blonde's arm. "Hey hey, Mr. German, what's your name? Mine's Feliciano Vargas! And you've already met my brother Lovino." he giggled.

The blonde blushed, awkwardly retracting his arm from the bubbly stranger. "Ludwig." he said, squaring his broad shoulders. "Ludwig Beilschmidt. You know, the name Vargas sounds familiar; aren't you.." he trailed off and pulled a folded piece of paper from his uniform pants, opening it and glancing down at what appeared to be a class schedule. "Feliciano, right? I think we're roommates. At least, that's what it says here.."

Feliciano's eyes lit up. "Really!" he chirped. "That's magnifico! What a coincidence, the first person I meet is my new roommate!"

Ludwig didn't seem nearly as thrilled, but a loud, rasping 'Keseseses' saved him from having to reply.

"What to we have here, Luddy?" another german-accented boy came up behind the blonde, slinging an arm around Ludwig's broad shoulders. He was tall and thin, though was muscular in his arms and chest. His skin was the pure, unblemished color of snow and his hair a frosted silvery color. He had a handsome face, though his nose and chin were slightly pointed. Most striking of all were his eyes, a blazing scarlet brighter than rubies or blood. "Found some new friends?"

"Ve~ cool!" Feliciano piped up, looking up at the newcomer with wide, excited eyes. "Are you an albino? Your eyes are so weird but kind of pretty! What's you're name? Mine's Feliciano!"

The second boy gave him an amused-looking smirk, his red eyes twinkling. "Well aren't you a little cutie," he purred in a raspy-sounding voice. "The name's Gilbert, Luddy's awesome older brother!"

"Great, another sausage-sucking German." Lovino grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!" Gilbert looked offended. "I'm no German, I'm Prussian!"

The two Italians tilted their heads in mutual confusion, giving the albino odd looks.

"Bruder," Ludwig said with an impatient sounding sigh. "You weren't even alive when Prussia was a country, and you've lived in Germany your entire life."

Gilbert waved off his brother's argument. "But we live in Berlin, which used to be part of Prussia!" he said matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes. "And we have relatives who were Prussian! Right Vati?" he turned his head, calling to the man that was slowly approaching them. He resembled Ludwig in every way, though his hair was long, falling a few inches past his shoulders.

"Ja," the man said calmly. "We can trace our family's ancestry back to even ancient Germanic times."

"Whoa, so cool!" Feliciano cooed, gold eyes lighting up. "Grandpa says fratello and I are descendants from Romulus and Remus!"

"Did I hear someone mention my name?" the affectionately nicknamed Grandpa 'Rome' chuckled, coming to stand behind his grandsons and resting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Have you made some new friends already, Feli?"

"Yes!" the auburn-haired boy beamed. "Grandpa, this is Gilbert and Ludwig! Ludwig and I are going to be roommates! Oh, and that's their Vati, whatever that is!"

"Vati means 'daddy'." Gilbert chimed in helpfully.

Grandpa Rome smiled at the three Germans, until his eyes locked with Gilbert and Ludwig's 'Vati'. Rome's expression visibly deflated, and strangely, Feliciano thought he looked a little betrayed, or as though the man had done something to upset him. The other man, in turn, also had a strange look in his eyes, but with the rest of his expression being so stoic, Feliciano couldn't be sure what it was.

After a moment, Grandpa Rome seemed to regain his composure. "Come on, boys." he said, shaking his head as though to snap himself out of a daze. "Lets go find your rooms." he lead them a little too quickly away, though kept glancing over his shoulder, each time locking eyes with the oldest German man, who didn't stop watching until the three Italians were completely out of sight.

.

Gilbert seized the opportunity to sneak away while Vati was distracted watching the Italians retreat, quickly dashing toward the other side of the grounds. He ducked behind a tree, out of the view of the crowd, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips and lighting it, eagerly taking a long dreg of the gray smoke. His body immediately relaxed and he melted contently against the wall, eyes closing. This was nice; he had been needing a cigaret badly for a few hours now, but he couldn't smoke around Vati (he would kill Gilbert if he knew of his bad habit), or on the plane ride over. He had to applaud himself, though- it hadn't been easy getting them past airport security.

"Ow! M-Maple, that really hurt.."

Gilbert cracked open an eyelid, confused. The voice had come from the other side of the school. It was high and soft, with an accent that was difficult to place; it even took Gilbert a few moments to realize it was male.

"Shut up, American bastard!"

Smack!

A startled yelp. "O-ow! B-but I'm not American..!"

Smack!

"I said shut up!"

Smack!

"B-But I swear, I'm C-Canadian..!"

Smack!

"You're really asking for it, blondie!"

Smack!

"P-Please, stop!" the frightened, soft voice was starting to catch, and at this point Gilbert could hear quiet sniffles and crying.

Gilbert dashed around the corner, unable to listen any longer. "Hey!" he shouted, scarlet eyes narrowing at the sight before him. There were two boys, standing not far away from him, each of them looking at him in mutual surprise. The one had dark skin and eyes, his short black dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail. His fist was raised and his bushy eyebrows furrowed; Gilbert noticed that he was relatively chubby, though he could tell that a punch from that guy would probably hurt, due to the muscle in his hairy arms. All together he was a rather unattractive person- the complete opposite to the boy pinned and cowering against the wall.

Gilbert had never seen anyone, man or woman, more beautiful. This boy had flawless, creme-colored skin and was built like a girl (minus the breasts), with long, slender legs and arms and delicate curves. His hair was a beautiful, honey-gold color that shone brightly in the sunlight and curled delicately around his chin and neck; he even had one thin piece of hair that protruded dramatically from his bangs and bounced cutely in front of his face. His eyes were stunning, a unique blue-violet color Gilbert had never seen on a person before, set behind long, dark lashed and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. His cheeks were red where he had been hit, and Gilbert couldn't get enough of the way this boy was looking at him like he was some kind of knight in shining armor.

"Who the hell are you, pasty-face?" the dark-skinned boy demanded, glaring. "I'm in the middle of something right now."

"The hell you are." Gilbert said, spitting his cigaret in the grass and stomping it out. "Why don't you try picking on someone your own size?" he asked conversationally. "I'll call the cast of Biggest Loser and see if any of them are in the mood for a fight."

The cute blonde dared a soft giggle, then quickly clapped a hand over his mouth when his attacker shot him a warning glare.

"Was that a fat joke?" he demanded, taking a step toward the albino.

Gilbert laughed. He really loved pissing people off. "Lets just say, with a little less hair and a wax, I might have mistaken you for Fat Albert."

The blonde let out another little bubble of laughter, a sound that was starting to give Gilbert a strange sort of high he couldn't explain, that made his heart hammer and his skin feel hot.

The dark-skinned boy's eyes narrowed in anger and he bellowed out some kind of strange war cry, charging Gilbert with murderous intent. Gilbert only laughed again and easily side-stepped him, grabbing the other boys arm and he staggered past and twisting it behind his back, until the attacker cried out in pain. Gilbert kicked him in the back of the knees, causing him to fall forward onto his face, then propped his foot up on the back of his neck, keeping him pinned.

The blonde watched the entire thing in amazement, his eyes round and enormous behind his glasses.

Gilbert grinned and winked at him, heart jumping delightedly in his chest as the other boy blushed and offered a shy smile in return. "So," he said airily, glancing down at the boy beneath shoe. "I don't think I need to tell you to keep your hands to yourself from now on, do I?"

Immediately the other boy shook his head.

"Good." Gilbert nodded, looking satisfied as he let him up. "Run along now."

The dark-skinned boy glared, dusted himself off, the turned and ran to join the rest of the students at the front of the school.

"Th-thank you." that quiet, soft voice from before piped up shyly, coming from the mouth of the beautiful blonde. His eyes were bright with awe. "No one has ever stood up for me like that. You're really strong. I don't even know why that guy was attacking me. He said something about Americans, but I'm Canadian. Well, my brother Alfred is American, and we look a lot alike because we're twins, but that's a long story. And.. oh maple, now I'm rambling." He bit his lip and gave a nervous laugh; Gilbert got the sense that he wasn't used to talking to people a lot. "A-Anyway, my name is Matthew. Matthew Williams."

Gilbert grinned and took a few steps closer to him, shaking his hand. "Hi Matthew." he grinned, tossing silvery hair out of his eyes. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Beilschmidt?" Matthew repeated thoughtfully, smiling a little. "Is that German?"

Gilbert groaned, shaking his head. "Its Prussian, verdammt, why can't anyone get it straight?" he muttered in exasperation.

"Whatever you say, Gil." Matthew giggled again, and this time Gilbert was sure his heart would stop.

.

"Oh, bloody hell no."

Arthur Kirkland stood in the doorway of his new dorm room, thick eyebrow furrowed over startling emerald eyes, fist clenched so tightly around the handle of his suitcase that it was a surprise it didn't snap.

A tall, handsome boy stood on one of the beds, tacking a ridiculously large American flag to the wall. The rest of the walls were covered in posters of everything imaginable, from rock bands to talking cartoon sponges to girls in bikinis to college football teams; even an Uncle Sam 'I WANT YOU' poster, with the words 'in my pants' scribbled beneath it in black sharpie.

"What?" the boy blinked innocently back at Arthur, tilting his head to the side. "You don't like it? I think everything looks pretty good so far."

"So far?" Arthur repeated incredulously. "You've already covered all the walls!"

"Well there's still the ceiling.. I bought these really cool glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars to put up there..."

"Oh no you don't!" Arthur said quickly, shaking his head. "Those things never work, anyway!" he stalked forward, reaching for one of the posters. "I'm taking these down." he pulled on the paper, scowling when it didn't budge. "Bullocks, what did you use to put these on here!"

"Uh.. this stuff." his roommate shrugged, picking up a bottle and tossing it to Alfred.

The Brit caught it and glanced down at the label, groaning loudly. "You idiot, this is rubber cement! These damn things will never come down!"

The American's face lit up. "Yay!" he cheered.

Arthur rolled his eyes, collapsing onto the bed the other hadn't just been standing on in defeat. "This is just great." he grumbled. "What's your name, wanker?"

"Alfred F. Jones! What's a wanker?"

"Never your mind!"

"Okay." Alfred laughed, unfazed, shaking some dirty-blonde hair out of his brilliant blue eyes. "What's your name, 'wanker'?"

"Now don't you go saying it!" Arthur huffed, shooting him a glare. "Its Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred laughed delightedly, sitting down on the edge of the unoccupied bed. "Do all British people introduce themselves that way?" he asked conversationally.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "What are you going on about?" he demanded.

Alfred just grinned. "Bond." he said. "James Bond."

Arthur glared at him for a long moment. You've got to be kidding me. He thought in bewilderment, then snatched up a pillow and threw it at Alfred's face. "Wanker!"

"Ahahahaha! You're a Wanker too, Artie!"

"D-Dammit, don't call me that!"