Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Notes: Hey everyone! Sorry about being gone for so long from the world of Hetalia fanfiction. I'm still jumping from fandom to fandom like crazy. But, here I am - with a new story. Yeah, I know I have a million other MapleTea works to continue, but I've been craving to do this so badly, it's been rocking nonstop in my head, and I feel the need to at least get it out.

All in all, I'm hoping this will be a better version of I Just Don't Know How to Say It. Unlike that fanfic though, I'm going to go straight ahead and say that this is not going to be a light romantic comedy. I'll try to add in some humour, as I attempt to do with most of my stories, but it will mostly focus on drama, and the trope we always see in yuri/yaoi manga: BUT WE BOTH HAVE THE SAME GENITALIA.

I'm aware that now-a-days I'm much more known for writing hetero MapleTea, but...I sincerely hope that there will still be those who will appreciate a lesbian version of it, or who will at least be willing to test it out.

Now, let's wrap up this terribly long author's note, eh?

Warnings: Nyotalia!MapleTea, smut between women, a first-person style of writing that goes between Maddie and Alice, blatant homophobia, and...basically everything that comes along with the package of an m-rated fic. Save for violence.

Enjoy!

It is possible for one to fully recognize their sexual orientation during the entirety of their life?

If it is, I have experienced it.

As far back as I can remember I found myself attracted to women - when younger, I, at an age where most girls would cup their hands and giggle at the sight of any boys near them (as said boys would flee, screaming and wailing about the prospect of cooties), I would cup my hands and giggle at the sight of my fellow girls; while everyone else chased after boys on their stout legs, attempting to hold their hands, I would be darting after the girls, attempting to intertwine my hands with their own in the shy manner that I have.

Then I didn't understand.

Hell, none of my classmates understood.

The boys seemed happy that at least one of the disease-ridden females wasn't trying to pursue them and inflict them with the filth that had been made up for the years between Kindergarten and grade two.

The girls all sort of smiled sweetly at him, confusion laced in their smiles. They had wondered why this little blonde was mimicking their actions towards them, but allowed their chubby, childish fingers to lock in with each other nevertheless.

Innocent childish play that no won't had a care in the world about.

As I grew older this became more prominent.

By the age of seven, while the only love a child could feel towards a stranger was a crush of admiration, dormant for cartoon characters and actors of children's shows, my gaze always fell on the women; as what happened as I grew older. So pretty, curvy, soft. While my brother, two years older, came to praise female celebrities and the like, all I could do was sit back in silent agreement.

By the age of ten my brother, now at twelve, had started to praise his opposite sex in a much more mature state of speaking...much to the delight of my parent's. He did the most average of those boys near to the years of teenage-hood: hiding pornographic magazines, checking out women much more often, sneaking onto adult-oriented sites on our computer.

I sat in the background as he made me swore not to tell our parents, curious and wondering.

Finally, at the age of thirteen, my own curiosity spawned into something else.

A cousin of mine was worse than Alfred. He prattled on about sexual premises, about how the pornography that Alfred watched and read was cheap smut that shouldn't be allowed to hit the light of day, that he could introduced more dignified means of intercourse between people to my older brother...

...but at the same time he talked about love.

He saved those conversations for me.

It was strange. It still is. Between the never-ending onslaught of prude notions he also enjoyed talking about true love, true romance between two parties.

The thing that always struck me was he always said just that. Romance between two parties. Never romance between a man and a woman. At first I simply believed that he was saying it for, ah...an artistic sake, but one I asked him this, he gave me a dashing grin and an answer that will never leave my head.

'Because love is not only meant for a woman and man. It is for all, regardless of gender. Besides, if I said 'man and man', 'woman and woman', and 'woman and man' it wouldn't be as snazzy and to the point as 'between two parties', non?'

Not a year later I got what one would consider their first real crush. A good friend of mine, Ukrainian. We had both developed quite early, to say the least; though for some reason people ridiculed her over it. I was ignored, as usual, but you would think that, as budding teenagers, they would have gone absolutely nuts over her.

I confessed, and she sort of smiled and said she liked me too. When I cleared up what I was saying, and once she finally got the gist of it, she began to sob her eyes out - saying that she didn't know how to respond, that she didn't want to hurt my feelings.

All in all it was good for a first confession towards another girl.

We remained friends. I assured her that it was alright, that it was only a crush, that I'd probably get over it sooner or later. Our friendship was too strong to burst over something as silly as that.

It was because of the reaction I got from Kat that I had still yet to learn of the hatred, the ignorance from others that came with being who I am. The immediate reaction of disgust, the days and nights of endless mental torture as your inner self chewed you out, the days of going to school and seeing such slanderous words as 'FAG' spray painted your locker.

No, Francis helped me find that out.

Not long after I confessed to Kat, I went to him and told him everything that happened. He was my go-to person when it came to romance, and he was the only one I could trust with something like this. Francis didn't seem all too surprised that I liked women over men, but he appeared rather grave as the conversation went on. As before, his words continue to ring in my mind.

"Cheri...I'm so glad that you can come to me with this...just...please understand this...don't tell anyone else. Not yet."

"W-what? Why not?"

"Mon petit, people don't look too well onto those who are gay. That's the term for it - well, you would be considered a lesbian, but gay all the same."

"But you...you like both girls and guys, right?"

"Oui, that is correct. I am openly pansexual - that means I don't care who I fall in love with, I don't have a preference - but that's because I can take it. If you come out...it's like immediately putting a bullsye on your forehead. I wouldn't be able to stand it if you went through any means of bullying."

"Why would I be bullied? I don't understand."

A sigh. "A lot of people don't look kindly onto homosexuals; another term, cheri."

"But - "

"I can't properly explain that. I don't want to introduce you to the prejudice the world holds at such a young age. Please keep it back from everyone else. Your Maman is open-minded, but your Papa is not. I doubt he will take kindly to it. I know Katyusha is a kind girl, and will keep this to herself..."

"Please, Francis-"

"Promise me, Madeline. S'il vous plait."

"...I promise."

I couldn't understand then. Yes, my Papa was sort of a strict man, but only when it was needed. Most of the time he was laid back, somewhat goofy, and always willing to help out Alfred, Francis, or I whenever an occasion came to the light.

Another year passed and I came to comprehend my cousin's words.

We were just getting home from school when it happened. We were called out by Papa, Alfred and I, and sat down in his office, only to be informed that Francis had been severely beaten at his French immersion school across town. We weren't informed on why exactly he was bullied by his peers, but after arriving in the hospital it became all too clear.

He was the victim of a hate crime.

Based purely on his sexuality.

Two friends of his, a Spaniard named Antonio and a self-proclaimed Prussian named Gilbert informed us that, unbeknownst to everyone else, he had been being pushed around quite often by those at his school; something that had been apparently going on since he was enrolled in the school. They told us this (only my inner family, as Francis' parents had been long dead) while he was resting.

Alfred already knew that Francis was pansexual and was okay with it, so naturally he was pretty pissed off and continually demanded the heads of the people that injured our cousin.

My parents weren't aware of his sexuality.

Maman was worried and full of fire as Alfred, demanding that we took in Francis for the time being and let him live with us until he was better again, and until those miscreants were taken care of.

Papa...he agreed to this...

He's my step-father. But I could still tell that he was uncomfortable.

A week after he was admitted to the hospital the police of the Western part of the island treated this so damn lightly.

Eventually they made it seem like the bullies were the victims in this obscene attack.

From then on I refused to let out my sexuality, even to Alfred, whom would most likely have been okay with it; knowing him he would have probably supported me. We fought often, had those usual squabbles between siblings, but I could count on him any day.

But I was fearful.

Terrified.

I was afraid that the fists would be coming my way next.

Thank the Gods, Francis made a recovery.

What terrified me the most was that he was so chipper after getting out of the hospital. His normal self, flamboyant self. Laughing it off and saying that they will get what's coming to them, that karma's a wonderful bitch, etc, etc.

I could never do that.

Sexuality...it's such a funny thing. People believe that because a country has allowed gay marriage, that each of its citizens are equally accepting of any sort of love, and don't care about what a complete stranger wants to do with their life. They believe that this is completely true with Canada.

They couldn't be any more wrong.

And now, two years since then, here sits Madeline Williams, sixteen years of being so far back into the closet I'm in Narnia, and gazing upon the woman I now love.

British, a senior...Alice Kirkland.

I had many crushes over the last couple of years, silent love that came and went without a second thought, as I dampened down the yearning I felt and pushed it violently to the side, refusing to give in to the will to confess my love for whoever my heart had set its sights on.

This...this was different...mon dieu, I can't even describe it.

Every time I see her...I feel all of those characteristic sensations that are supposed to come with love. Everything. The butterflies in the stomach, palms becoming slick, throat closing up, my heart pounding so hard it's practically about to burst out from my chest...

Now that I think over it, that seems more like the symptoms of an allergic reaction, but still. Every time.

Surprisingly enough, there weren't much people who shared my admiration for her, Alfred include. Whenever he saw her his nose scrunched up and he commented on how stuffy she is, or how she always picked on him for no reason what-so-ever.

Most said they didn't like her for her personality.

Others only took one glance at her appearance and turned away.

She had piercing emerald eyes that bored into whomever she was looking at. Her sandy-blonde hair, even longer than mine, was always put up into twin tails. Strange for someone who was in their last year of high school, but who am I to judge? I used to wear pigtails until I started high school. I was getting tired of people mistaking me for a twelve-year old from behind.

Alice is always adorned in school uniforms...despite the fact that the school doesn't have any uniform, and it isn't in the regiment. Old-fashioned glasses finish the ensemble. She always look cool, crisp, somewhat stern, and ready for anything that was going to come her way.

Unlike me.

I usually allow my hair to cascade down in messy ringlets that are nearly impossible to tame. I refuse to let go of my red hoodie (even though Francis berates me for it, saying that it does nothing to compliment my figure nor show off certain areas - I don't want to show off certain areas) but with some coaxing from both Francis and Alfred the rest of my attire consists of a never-ending supply of skinny jeans and fashionable, up-to-date glasses.

To put it short, I still look like a nerd.

Most of my classmates calls Alice one, though I can't see it. She's simply old-fashioned.

Besides her looks though...yes, she is quite stern. Especially when whatever class we're in is appointed into a group.

Like right now. English class.

Yet I've seen her be incredibly kind to others. She's nothing but nice to Sakura, a Japanese student in our English class. She's one of the few in a loose circle to actually respect the Asian girl's boundary problems, and often gives a tongue lashing to those who don't.

And myself...the first time that I came here...

The high school's so big. Naturally, my first day of grade nine I got lost in its expanse of hallways, nearly frustrated to tears and unable to find anyone that I knew. Eventually I came across Alice, whom was aiding students like myself around the gigantic building. She had smiled the most beautiful smile that had ever graced itself over a person and gave me detailed instructions to each classroom, even going so far to showing me directly to my homeroom.

Just like that, I was sunk.

I'm not usually the sort to believe in love at first sight - yet this time it's too hard to ignore.

I want to be near her. I want to tell her how I feel, I want to hear the same from her, I just want to be in her presence until the end of time, to learn more about her, to have her learn more about me, maybe bring me a bit out of this cursed shell that I currently reside in -

Not that I could tell her this.

As I grew older, I grew shyer. The incident with Francis was no help in further carving my tomb of unwanted solitude. We were in two classes (and in Student Council together) and I could barely say a word to her without stuttering. Hell, even just getting one word out is difficult enough.

It didn't matter all too much anyhow. I was used to staying out in the sidelines like this. Besides, I doubt she would ever listen. We were in two of the same classes and in the Student Council together, yet still -

"Hey! Are you listening?"

I was abruptly broken out of my thoughts as a sweet, British lit floated through my ears. Blinking, I turned my head and found myself staring directly into Alice's dark green eyes.

Not five centimeters.

From.

My.

Face.

Oh God.

My mouth opened, practically unhinged itself from my jaw, but nothing came out. Seeing that I wasn't going to get anywhere with my throat steadily becoming more and more dry by the ever passing second, I shut my trap all together and just stared back at her, trying desperately to stop a rapid-fire blush from rising to my cheeks.

She's close...so close...nearly enough to kiss - oh mon dieu don't think like that Maddie! Your face is going to go red if you let Francis into your mind!

I swallowed heavily.

One eyebrow, somewhat bushy at the edges where they nearly came together, perked upwards in both annoyance and confusion.

"Well?"

"M-Maddie?" A concerned voice from my side. Kat's. "A-are you alright?"

"Perhaps you should lean back, Alice-san." Sakura, from the right. "I believe Madeline-chan doesn't like having people being so close to her."

Alice blinked rapidly, thankfully realizing that this just might be the truth. With an indignant cough she lessened the proximity between us. I let out a small breath, not realizing until then that I was holding my breath. Only then did I find the strength and courage to talk.

"I-I'm sorry," I muttered quietly on reflex, feeling the need to apologize profusely. "I just zoned out, I won't do it again. Sorry."

A stare, and then an exasperated sigh. Alice rubbed at her temples in barely concealed frustration, obviously not too thrilled with my day dreaming. "It's fine. There are no need for apologies. Just, please, don't do it again, -"

She suddenly cut off, brow creasing in perplexity.

My lips tugged downwards into a frown on their own accord. Oh c'mon! She should know this by now! It's been a year of knowing each other, being in the same classes, student council, passing by each other through the hallways, all of that!

Before I knew it, she straightened herself out and coughed again, uncomfortably this time, looking embarrassed. She glanced back and forth between Sakura and Kat, before settling gaze once more back onto me. I pretty much knew what was going to come next.

"I don't mean to be rude but...w-what was your name again?"

I'm beginning to believe that the fact that we're both girls is only going to be the first problem.

Afterthoughts: Well, there it is. Some last notes:

-Yeah, this is going to be probably my first MapleTea where England isn't immediately attracted to Maddie. Unlike my other works, she isn't going to be fall instantly in 'like'.

-This is also my first first-person story since the before mentioned yuri fic I noted up there. Please bear with me if it's horrible.

-Sorry about the utter rant about homophobia up there. I did involve a lot of my experience with said subject into this story. In fact, the convo between Francis and Maddie was somewhat inspired by a conversation between myself and my father, who also told me to not come out publicly. Just get ready for a lot of homophobia related shit in this fic.

Feedback is loved! I would love to know how my first yuri in a while has turned out thus far.

As usual: 7-10 reviews means the next chapter.