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Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Himaruya , Antonio's Spanish, Francis' French and the Vargas Twins' Italian belong to Yahoo!BabelFish , Salut d'Amor belongs to Elgar. . yadahyadah.

And the pickup line? Don't ask me about it, please.

I must say Sorry. ;_;


Romina Vargas sat at the back of the class where the teacher couldn't see what she was doing, which was good because most of the time, she wasn't paying attention in class.

Like how she was now.

Her notebook was open in front of her, and she was busy scribbling down things: new techniques and colour palettes, and reminders to do her long overdue homework. As she was writing down how to best minimize a blush, her mind wandered to the student she had bumped into in the hallway, with his dumb smile and corny pickup line, and her cheeks started to burn again.

The teacher paused in her explanation of how volcanoes formed, and asked sharply. "Is anything the matter, Vargas?" Heads turned, and Romina's expression quickly changed into a scowl. She shook her head in response, cupping her cheeks with her hands in an attempt to hide the blush, taking care not to press too hard.

As the teacher resumed her lesson and Romina returned to her notebook, she could hear the whispered comments among her classmates.


Antonio spent majority of his morning lessons in a grinning, daydreaming state. He would mumble things about tomatoes and hazels under his breath, garnering Katyusha's concern. She would nudge him occasionally to temporarily jerk the oblivious boy out of his daze so that the teacher would not call out on him. She thought she felt a bit guilty, in case her rejection had caused her friend to go off the edge. True, she liked Antonio, but in the same motherly, sisterly way she loved her little brother.

A small frown appeared on her face as she thought of her brother. She missed him.

It's time to pay a visit to the flower shop


He grinned to himself as he looked at the list he had just completed. The heading, in very large capitals, read: Roddy Entertainment. The points under the heading, also in capitals albeit smaller in size, were the numerous ways he was going to go about teasing, embarrassing and playing pranks on Roddy. After a quick glance to the clock on the wall, he scanned the list, trying to see if he had left anything out.

NUMBER 46: TEASE RODDY ABOUT LIZ

He stopped.

"Aw great, now I've lost my awesome mood."

He stood up, chair scraping angrily on the stone floor, crumpling the list in his hands and tossing it into the wastepaper bin. It was lunch break and his classroom was empty save for himself. Antonio and Francis, he knew, were still having lessons. Sighing, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled out to the corridor.

He'd just pay a visit to the pansy with girly hands.


A skirt two centimeters above the dictated knee-length, a red and blue and white striped bra clearly visible underneath the thin white cotton blouse with two out of the give buttons opened. A pair of pouty, kissable lips, carefully applied makeup and curled eyelashes. One leg hooked over the other, swinging invitingly in the air, shoulder length blond hair tousled artfully.

If anything, Amelia F. Jones looked ravishing.

"Mattie, Mattie!" She said exuberantly to the girl sitting next to her. "Do you think Artie will notice me today?" The girl looked up from her book and ached an eyebrow, half-shrugging.

"You're eye-catching," She said in her soft voice.

"Damn straight I'm eye-catching!" Amelia said confidently to herself. She had woken up an hour earlier than usual to prepare herself for school, and she was sure that today was the day that disgruntled, bossy, arrogant boy would look her way.

"I don't know what you see in that guy, Amelia."

"Hmm? What did you say, Mattie? Come on, stop reading that weird book and let's go for lunch! I'm starving!" Amelia jumped up and snatched the yellow book from the girl's hands, throwing it somewhere in the classroom behind her, before proceeding to drag the girl out of the classroom after her.

Time to show that man how awesome and essential she was.


She didn't care about what the rumors said about her, as long as it didn't concern her sister. She never had any good reputation to uphold in the first place, so one that kept the people away was fine by her. It didn't matter if she had to distance herself from her sister, just as long as Felicia was happy, well-liked and had friends.

Oh, but if there was anything bad being said about Felicia…

Scowling, she gently touched her cheek, and pulled out three photographs: clear, detailed close-ups of three different people. It was her pastime. She didn't enjoy it, because it was extremely childish, but she did it anyway because it was necessary. Taking out her makeup kit, she set to work.

In about half an hour she was done and studied her handiwork. Flipping the photographs over, she wrote short, sweet and extremely threatening letters on the back. Letting out a rare smile, she collected her materials and set off for the bathroom to wash them again, the photographs tucked into a pocket of the bag.


"Oi! Roddy!" Gilbert called out to the brunette, who spun around with a concerned expression which immediately changed into one of nonchalance.

"Yes? What do you want?" He asked flatly as the other walked over the parquet floor to him. Gilbert frowned. Here he was, letting the pansy bask in his awesome awesomeness, and the pansy treated him with such indifference and rudeness!

"What else would I want but to ask you something, duh! I always knew you were stupid and so un-awesome, but really!" Gilbert plopped down on the piano bench next to him and leaned his head back, letting it rest against the edge of the top of the grand piano. "I…need some help."

Roderich Edelstein said nothing and fiddled about with his sheet music for a moment or two, trying to figure out what was happening. To him, there were only two circumstances in which the other man would come asking for help: He had either asked his younger brother one too many times for money, or he had angered Elizabeta enough for her to take out her frying pan.

Everything about Gilbert's attitude, however, told something else. Roderich sighed and placed his neatened file of sheet music back on the ledge, and splayed his fingers on the key board.

"It's…about a girl…" Roderich lightly pressed down on the G-sharp key. "She's…she's quiet and really smart and cute and I really, really like her." – B – "But I've heard that she's dating someone already…and it's Francis, Francis of all people!" – G-sharp – "I don't know but…I don't think Francis is the person for her." – F-sharp – "I mean, I'm obviously a better choice, right?"

"Maybe if you dropped that cocky attitude, yes," – E – "Does this girl like you?"

"…I'm not sure…maybe?"

The conversation lapsed and the music room was quiet once more. Roderich closed his eyes, took a breath and played music.

His fingers pressed down on the black and white keys, gently and tenderly like a mother caressing her child. His head was bobbing, moving, swaying along to the rhythm and slow tempo, eyes closed and a serene smile playing across his face as if he was sharing some private joke with piano.

To Gilbert, it was as if his friend was one in mind, body and soul, with the music he was teasing out of the piano.

On days except today, he would make some snide, uncalled for jibe at Roddy's behaviour. Today, he followed suit: shut his eyes, and relax. Perhaps if he did, he could see whatever his friend was seeing, feel whatever he felt, hear something other than plink-plink.

He did not.

"Love cannot be forced."

Gilbert had to restrain himself from making an inappropriate, frustrated sound. He got up from the piano bench, lightly flicked the still playing Roderich at the back of the head and turned to leave the music room.

He tried to tell himself, as much as he believed otherwise, that those words were superfluous.


He lay on his back, staring up at the sky, searching for objects within the white mass of fluffy clouds. He had already found an umbrella, an egg and a heart. A shadow suddenly obstructed his view, and he found himself reflected in absinthe eyes above a smile brighter than the sun. "¡Hola, Francis!"

"Antonio!" Francis smiled up at his friend. It had been roughly four hours since the enjoyable car ride to school. All through middle school, the three of them, Francis, Antonio and Gilbert, had been in the same class, but that had changed in high school. Francis had taken the Arts stream, Antonio, the brainiest of the three, had picked the science stream; and Gilbert was happy with his Humanities (it was just memorizing and regurgitating facts). His happiness at seeing his friend was, for the most part, excitement. "How is the deal going?"

"Say, Francis," Antonio chose to ignore the question and instead lay down next to his friend on his stomach, chin resting on one upturned palm, the other hand fiddling in the grass. "Do you know any girls with beautiful hazel eyes and lustrous brown hair?" Francis made a face.

"Around half the girls in school look like that, mon ami." Antonio crinkled his brow.

"She swears, and when she blushes, it's so cute, her entire face goes red, she looks like a tomato!" Antonio said, smiling as he remembered the way she stormed off red-faced. "Oh, and she's got a strand of hair that curls up, kind of like this," He reached up to bend his own short, curly dark brown hair away from his scalp. Francis watched, open mouthed with a mixture of horror and dismay.

"Don't tell me…you've got a thing for Romina Vargas!"

Antonio's eyes lit up. "Is that her name? It's so cute! Just like her!"

"Please tell me you don't, Toni!" Francis shot up right, and grasped Antonio's face in his hands. "Tell me you don't like Romina Vargas!"

"Why," Antonio removed his friend's hands, looking up and straight into Francis' blue eyes. "Would I tell you that?" Francis had never heard his happy-go-lucky friend sound so dark or threatening before.

"Mon dieu," He said faintly to himself. "That Romina Vargas is bad, bad news."


Arthur Kirkland groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked the halls of the school, footsteps resonating loudly and angrily. He hated schooldays right after the holidays, or after the weekend when everybody was in a holiday mood and nobody bothered to adhere to the rules.

Like that Amelia F. Jones.

The loud American girl, he was sure, was almost – if not, worse – than those three seniors: Beilschmidt, Carriedo and Bonnefoy. Francis Bonnefoy. Oh god.

He altered his route to make a beeline for the nearest toilet to splash his face with cold water. He would not, repeat, would not allow what that man had said to get to him. Arthur squared his shoulders and gave the blonde boy in the mirror an approving look before leaving the bathroom.

He was the bloody Student President and she was nothing but someone to give detention to.


She was originally just going to wash her brushes, and then send the photographs to their respective addressees, but she as looked at herself in the mirror, she paused and reached up to gently touch her cheek. It still hurt. During the course of the day, the makeup had smudged a little, revealing the blue-yellow-purple underneath.

She didn't care what she looked like, but Felicia, she knew, was worried about her and if hiding it would make it just a little bit better, she didn't mind. Setting her bag next to the sink, she drew out the salmon concealer and foundation.


Antonio walked aimlessly around the school, hoping that he would somehow bump into Romina Vargas. He believed they would: they were fated to be together! Francis had told him that Romina was a 1st year, along with some other things that Antonio thought was not nice to say about her, like how she was bulimic, or she was in some gang and got into street fights, or how she would self-harm.

Though Francis probably knew more about the girl than anyone at school (due to Romina being 'a hermit who glares and scowls and hurls curses at you'), Antonio felt that he had gotten all his information wrong. Romina just did not seem to be that kind of person.

Is that her?

He ran up to the girl walking in the opposite direction from him, a '¡Hola' on his lips and arms ready to hug her, but slowed to a walk when he got closer. As he neared, he noticed that the brunette was not Romina Vargas. For starters, Romina's hair was a darker brown, and cut differently. Though there was the same curl of hair, Romina's was on the right side of her head. And those large, sparkling brown eyes were just not Romina.

"¡Hola!" Antonio said. "Do you happen to know who Romina Vargas is?" The girl blinked up at him.

"Ve, I was just looking for her, too! How do you know sorella?" The girl asked happily, bouncing up and down on her heels. Her voice was high and cutesy and a sharp contrast to Romina's lower, mature-sounding voice. "She's –"

"Fucking right here if you need me, bastardo," Both Felicia and Antonio's faces lit up as they turned to see Romina marching towards them, an angry scowl on her face. She expertly sidestepped Felicia's lunging hug and walked up to Antonio. "Hands off my sister, hai capito?" She scowled. Antonio smiled. Felicia looked on, and the usually oblivious girl had a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"You're Italian?" Antonio asked brightly. Romina glared at him.

"So?"

"You're Italian and I'm Spanish but we can do French together!"

There was a moment of awkward silence as Romina tried to understand what he had said, and when she did, she blushed furiously again.

"Let's go, Felicia." She spun around and grabbed her sister by the wrist, angrily storming off.

Antonio watched them go, thinking about tomatoes again.


Arthur walked into the cafeteria, and almost walked out again. He had one foot out the door when he told himself firmly that he wasn't Student President for nothing. He would not run away from something as stupid as this, and instead march up to her and haul her up for another round of reprimanding or detention, whichever was easier.

Mattie's eyes tracked his progress as he approached them. "Amelia, he's here," She said in a soft voice that Amelia miraculously managed to hear over the noise of the cafeteria. She immediately reached up to check that her hair was in place. Amelia spun around with a smile on her face.

"Artie!" She said excitedly, "There you are!"

Arthur grimaced at both the cheerful voice and the stupid nickname. "Amelia F. Jones," He said as smoothly as he could, "This will be the fiftieth time I have had to book you for inappropriate dressing."

"Aw, Artie, must you be so uptight all the time?"

"And stop calling me Artie," Arthur added as he held out the blue booking card and a pen to the girl. "It's not like we're close friends or anything." Amelia's face fell slightly and she sheepishly accepted the card and offered pen. As she was writing her name under the 'Offenders' column, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded note and reached over Amelia's hunched back to hand it to Mattie, who accepted it with a small smile.

He was stupid for thinking the Frenchman could have been telling the truth.

"Mattie, Mattie! Let's go! The bell's gonna ring soon!" Amelia exclaimed, jumping up and walking away really quickly, not looking back to see if her friend had followed her. Curious, Arthur picked up the blue card.

"Remember to add a sixty-five in front," Mattie said, giving the exasperated and flushed boy a knowing look.

Amelia's name had been signed in exaggerated cursive. Beside the curl of the S were eight digits.


Felicia smiled to herself as she thought of the boy she had encountered in the hallway. He obviously had a thing for her sister, something she was extremely pleased and grateful for. Romina was making friends! And that boy even had potential to become her future brother-in-law! He had managed to make her blush! He was good looking – not as good-looking at her future boyfriend, maybe – and seemed to have a nice personality to boot. She thoroughly approved of him. Felicia grinned and reached up to plant a kiss on her sister's cheek, not noticing when her twin winced in pain. "Andare per esso!" She said happily and ran off to class, leaving a blushing and spluttering Romina behind.

She only made it as far as the first corner, where she promptly sat down and buried her head in her arms.

She could taste foundation on her lips.


Ludwig sighed wearily to himself as he made his way back to his classroom. World History would start in fifteen minutes, and he wasn't looking forward to it because perpetually portrayed as the bad one of the lot was Germany. A sob stopped him in his tracks, and he looked down at his feet to see a brunette, with her head buried in her arms, thin frame shaking slightly with her cries.

He stood arrested there, unsure of what to do. He never had much human contact, especially the female kind, throughout his short life. Awkward, he slowly sat down next to her and hesitatingly patted her head. It only occurred to him much later that he was treating her like one of his dogs, and immediately withdrew his hand.

"Are…you okay?"

The girl's head shot up, and she looked at him through teary eyes before rubbing at her tears while smiling, embarrassed at her actions. "Ve, I think so!" She said, giggling lightly. She tried to neaten her hair by running her hands through it, though careful not to damage her locks. "Who are you?" Even with her attempts, there was still a curl in her hair that wouldn't straighten out.

He looked at her in consternation. "I'm Ludwig."

She sent him her best smile and stood up, dusting herself off. "I'm Felicia Vargas!" And I want you to be my boyfriend.


/flails.

Hai capito = You got it?

Sorella = Sister

Andare per esso = Go for it

I'm so sorry for this chapter! I had a writer's block of sorts, and it's exams (ending 15th Aug, whoo!) , and so it sort of turned out like this. It also feels like my writing style has changed a bit, from passive to a little more current. Anyway. It's not as dark as the first chapter (;_;) It feels like I'm compensating quality with quantity D;

I love Amelia. She might become my favourite character.

In Singapore, there's a +65 added to our phone numbers. It's our area code. And in my school, the prefects have little blue cards they write your name and offence down on, and different offences have different weightage of demerit points. Accumulation of 9 demerit points equals detention.

(Many) Thanks to PoisonIvania who helped me with Roddy's playing of Salut d'Amor (Yes, that's what Roddy was playing to Gilbert). I've never been a very musical person.

I think things will start getting interesting by the next chapter, when ahem comes back from ahemahem? :D

I'll try to update weekly, give or take a few days, though be prepared to be either spammed with chapters or none at all.

And thank you all who reviewed / alerted , especially sugerpie-chan. LOL.

Sile the Reader, no offence but Feliciana is a mouthfull and I prefer Romano to Lovino, maybe because Rs are cuter than Ls. Lovina sounds sharp. Very sharp.

Comments , reviews , critiques , suggestions? There's a blue link under this sentence.