Hi again guys! Enjoy the second chapter! Thank you so much to CircadianLily, LovelessRain0397, 25 to heroplz and Hyanna for reviewing – I really appreciate it! :3

Also, thank you to everyone who added this to their favourite stories list or story alerts!

WARNING: Contains YAOI/ BOYXBOY

DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to, I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.

ENJOY ~ringoichico~

Arthur chuckled to himself. What an interesting boy that Alfred Jones was.

He turned away from the door out of which the student in question had just exited and walked to the window, gazing out onto the fields sprawled out underneath the crisp spring sky. The same sky he had stared out into so many times back in England, but yet so different.

He had only been working as a teacher for a couple of years. A keen and approachable man, the students at any school he had visited seemed to take instantly to him, and he felt at home. His extremely large house, which he had interested from his recently deceased Grandfather, felt like home, the comforting fireplace and squishy armchair in the living room providing the perfect place for a bit of relaxation and calm while he marked the students' homework and tests. For a year or so Arthur was certain his life was as near to perfect as it was possible to be.

However, Arthur slowly began to grow tired of his routine. The charms the countryside had once wooed him with as a child seemed to diminish as his need for adventure and a change of pace had grown. His sprawling house seemed too large, and he no longer felt attached to it. He, after all, had not earned it himself. Coming from a rich family Arthur had never wanted for anything in his life, never had to work to better himself.

It was all so dull.

Eventually he took the decision to sell the house and move somewhere different. Somewhere he had never been before. And America was where he settled on. The money from the house paid for plane tickets and an apartment in Atlanta. With his job references at the ready, he set off into the unknown, safe in the knowledge that even if job offers were slow, he at least had enough money to tide him over until he could find work. However, he needn't have worried; just a couple of months after he had arrived one of the local high schools had called to inform him that due to an unexpected change of events a post had become available in the History department. Arthur had jumped at the chance.

The school had sent him noted regarding what the classes he was to take care of were currently learning, and a little about their grades and history within the school. Sitting at the table drinking his morning Earl Grey tea, Arthur had stumbled across the profile of one particular student that had piqued his interest. The boy's name was Alfred Jones. An attractive boy, judging by the small yearbook photo that accompanied the notes on him. His grades were fantastic, and the quality of an essay he had recently written astounded even Arthur. However, he had noted that in the past couple of months, both the boy's essay and test grades had plummeted. He had enquired with the school as to whether they knew of anything going on with the boy that might have caused such a dramatic shift. They had no idea, but Arthur, stunned by the talent that the student had seemed to show, resolved to do his best to help him in any way he could.

However, standing outside the classroom door before going in to his first class in America, all thoughts other than nervousness left him. Would these students like him? Would they laugh at his accent? Would they think he was too posh? God, why had he chosen to wear such a formal – looking suit? He quickly reminded himself he was being ridiculous and , quickly shaking off his nerves, walked into the classroom with (what he hoped looked like) confident strides.

Aside from the notable lack of uniform, Arthur was soon put at ease by the fact that the students seemed completely normal. He picked up on a bit of interest in his accent, but other than that, they seemed to accept him quite well. While addressing the students he had let his eyes wander around, trying to put faces to the names he had seen in his notes. There was Francis Bonnefoy, the exchange boy who had just apparently just decided to stay. Mediocre grades but oozing charisma. And next to him…

Momentarily Arthur's breath caught in his throat. There was the Jones boy. He had seen the picture of him, but was caught off guard by the stunningly sapphire-blue eyes that were locked onto him. They were framed by lightly wire - rimmed glasses, but underneath them were vaguely noticeable dark circles. Arthur's mind flew back to the notes, and the drop in results.

After dismissing the class, Arthur had called the Jones boy back to talk. He had made a pointed effort to seem approachable, but the student had avoided looking at him for the most part, and had mumbled some excuse to try and explain his results, but Arthur was not fully convinced. A boy with such clear talent and interest in the subject should not be attaining grades such as his without a significant reason behind them. Still, he could tell that he was bothering the boy by keeping him behind and so decided to let him go. However, just as the boy was about to leave the classroom, still avoiding locking eyes with him, another thought sprang to Arthur's mind.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Jones, call me Arthur."

The boy had spun round at this, finally bringing his eyes directly to Arthur's. They really were a fantastic blue. Arthur smiled, although he was slightly unprepared for what happened next.

"…Arthur…"

The Jones boy clearly hadn't intended to repeat the teacher's name, although Arthur felt a slightly odd feeling when he did. The boy's eyes had widened, and without saying another word he had run out into the corridor, slamming shut the door behind him. What an interesting boy.

Later on in the faculty lounge, Arthur was surprised to find out he was getting on well with his new colleagues, who were all remarkably young for a social sciences department. He even got the impression that a few of the female members of staff were flirting with him slightly. Arthur put it down to the accent, and told them about how much he was enjoying his time in the USA, although he hadn't really got a chance to explore the social side of Atlanta. His experiences had mostly been confined to visits to the nearest convenience store, and a tour of a soft drink factory.

"You mean you haven't seen Atlanta's nightlife yet?" A young brunette psychology teacher named Elizabeta asked, a look of clear disbelief on her face.

"Well then," a teacher (Arthur could not recall the subject) called Gilbert interjected, "We'll have to correct that, won't we?"

"Oh yes. Yes we will, indeed" Elizabeta responded, a devilish glint dancing in her eyes. "Who here's up for coming to a welcoming party for our new friend and colleague here?"

The teachers unanimously cheered and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder. Bars and clubs weren't usually his scene; he preferred a quiet pub with a pint of larger, but with all the teachers looking so excited, and himself being thrilled with having so easily made friends, he grudgingly agreed to go, earning another round of cheers.

"9 P.M. Friday night alright for everyone?" Gilbert asked. There was a general noise of ascent. "Excellent. Arthur, I'll come call for you about 8, make sure you know your way around the city enough to be able to make your way home slightly intoxicated."

Arthur laughed, in good spirits, before excusing himself. Later on, once he had finished his day and headed back to his apartment , he sat comfortably in front of the TV with another cup of tea, revelling in how unexpectedly well his day had turned out. Now he thought about it, he was actually pretty tired. He checked the clock on the wall. Only half past 8, but he headed to bed regardless after his shower. He needed to keep his energy levels up if every day was going to be as exciting as the one just passed. He felt himself drifting off comfortably in his double bed, the occasional mumble of traffic outside his window a soft lullaby. A pair of twinkling blue eyes was the last thing he saw before he fell entirely asleep.

A couple of blocks away, sleep was the last thing on Alfred's mind. He still had a couple of hours left at work, although most of it now was cleaning, and he didn't have to bother hiding how tired he was. However he knew that going home wouldn't help either. He had checked his phone and found several missed called from his father. His father never called at that time unless he was drunk enough to forget that Alfred was at work, and Alfred knew that once home, his father wouldn't shut up asking him questions about why his mother had left, and about whether she was coming back, and about if there was enough money for a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of jack. And when Alfred couldn't provide the answers to these questions his father would get angry. This was when Alfred would retire to his room to play video games with headphones on to block out the noise.

And indeed, once he arrived home, the ritual proceeded seamlessly, and Alfred found himself under the duvet in his room, headphones blasting out gun noises and the backing music from "Zombie Killerz 3". He did, however, find his eyes wandering to the history textbook sticking out of his bag. His thoughts wandered to the conversation he had had earlier with Francis about how weirdly Mr. Kirkland had made him act.

Francis had simply laughed it off, "ah but of course you are just thrown by his looks. He is a very attractive gentleman, of course, mon ami. Almost as pretty as a girl"

And the Frenchman hadn't much cared about Alfred's concerns about his sexuality. "It is normal to experiment, Alfred. And if you're that concerned about your feelings, you can just put them down to a little schoolboy crush. He is a teacher after all. Nothing will come of it, so it is perfectly harmless, non?" For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, this dismissal had kind of pissed Alfred off.

Alfred's mind next wandered to the talk he had after the lesson with the subject of his and Francis' rather fruitless conversation. Mr. Kirkland. Arthur. He seemed like such a kind man, and seemed to show genuine interest in Alfred's talent, excited to have found someone who loved history as much as he did.

And Alfred did love history. How could have forgotten and become so disillusioned? His eyes focused back onto the textbook. Maybe he should do his homework.

He wouldn't admit it to himself, but one of the reasons he wanted to do it was to increase the chances of seeing Mr. Kirkland – Arthur – smile kindly again. And besides, it was already 4 A.M. It didn't look like he was sleeping tonight.

Even so, as he poured over the textbook, pencil furiously scribbling out notes, he felt a quiet sense of calm. Arthur's kind smile always at the back of his mind.

And there you have it! Chapter 2! I will update again as soon as possible, although it may not be quite as quick as this update was, seeing as I have an exam on Wednesday :(

Once more, thanks to everyone for reading!