Vellichor
Summary: The old musty scent of books always has Arthur going back. After a while, it's no longer just the books that draws him there again and again.
Arthur pushes open the oh-so-familiar wood-framed glass door, wind chimes on the other end playing a soft tinkle, welcoming his entrance.
"Heya, Artie. I've got this week's recommendations for you! Care to take a look?" Blue eyes behind glasses meet his green ones, and Arthur can't help but to give a small smile.
His black leather shoes click softly against the antique tiles, walking past shelves made of dark coloured wood filled with books he had probably read before.
"Of course, I always trust your recommendations." Arthur takes one from the top of the stack, flipping through the flimsy paperback, enjoying the new and crisp, clean feel of the pages.
"...old bookshops just have this sort of wistfulness to them, nostalgic and melancholy. Don't you think so, Arthur?"
"Hmmn? You were saying, Alfred?"
"Isn't that what constantly brings you back?"
His consciousness said yes, but something else small in the back of his mind seemed to disagree.
"Used to." Arthur decides to stick with that answer.
Alfred raises his eyebrows, eyes reflecting the warm light in the bookshop, cozy and firm. "Used to?"
"It's just you now, Alfred."
A/N: Hey guys, this is my first Hetalia fic/drabble. I hoped you guys liked it ^.^ I am currently accepting drabble requests, so if you have anything just leave a comment below. Also, if you have anything to point out regarding this, please do so too~!
- disp.