The World Academy's library could be said to be the most peaceful and quietest area in the whole school. The library, as expected, was rather desolate—apart from the partially deaf librarian—until a certain French boy waltzed in.

"Arthur~~Arthur~~….Eyebrows!"

"Shut it frog face! What are you doing here?!" Arthur hissed as he appeared from behind a rather tall bookshelf, his hands loaded with numerous thick books.

In front of Arthur was what he would consider his 'frenemy'. With shoulder-length hair that was parted in the middle and a slight amount of facial hair on his chin, Francis Bonnefoy was by no means Arthur's closest friend (if you consider their rivalry as friendly) since young. Grunting in annoyance, Arthur walked over to Francis who eyed him from head to toe, as though inspecting him.

"What?"

"Just checking to see if you have sustained any injuries from such a quick escape from the canteen, mon ami," Francis gave a wicked grin as he flipped out a piece of paper from his pocket. "By the way, that was secondary. I was charged with bringing you back to class."

Arthur's eyes widened in horror as he skimmed through the contents on the piece of paper that Francis was waving under his nose.

"Why did you not tell me there was a change in the timetable?! I have already missed two lessons!" he cried as the books in his hands tumbled out while he went to the table where he had so unceremoniously thrown his bag on.

"I just got the notice today. I was hoping to tell you during breakfast but you ran off so quickly and if you would kindly check your mobile phone, you would notice that I have sent you five messages. Come, come. The teachers are already worried sick that their top student had been missing," Francis replied, sauntering out of the library, with Arthur still frantically gathering his things, running after the blond boy.

"So what did that old man teach in mathematics again?" Arthur asked as he caught up with Francis, his mind immediately flipping back to the earlier conversation he heard in the canteen as he grimaced.

"I have been sleeping. I would hazard a guess that he is still on the topic of Geometry."

"What about—"

"Uh-uh. I slept through that class too. You know I don't care much about Chemistry."

Arthur couldn't decide whether to punch the frog or to kick him in the guts.

It was rather awkward when Arthur turned up half an hour late for his next lesson—history, seeing that everybody in class was gawking at him, unable to believe that the 'model student' was actually late and had missed two consecutive lessons. After explaining to his teacher that he had not known the newest edits in the timetable, he was immediately cleared and was allowed back to his seat. The thing was his regular seat was taken by the Spanish boy, Antonio Carriedo, who seemed intent on remaining rooted to the seat, seeing that he had finally secured the seat beside his Italian crush, Lovino Vargas. Sighing, Arthur looked around to see if there were any spare seats and his eyes landed on the seat beside Francis, who whistled over to him, patting the chair. No. If he ever wanted a peaceful lesson, sitting beside the French boy was not the way to go. Nor was it sitting beside Gilbert the troublemaker. However, his fraternal twin, Ludwig, would be a good choice, seeing that the German boy hardly talk at all. Based on prior experience with the German Boy, Arthur knew that he was also very efficient in his work. Trudging towards Ludwig, Arthur gave a small nod to the German boy at the back who returned the gesture with a small nod as well. Sitting down, he began digging his bag for his history textbook, only to find it not inside.

"Turn to page 296 and read on the Hungarian Revolution. I will test you later so make sure you read each word carefully," the teacher droned as he hurried out of the classroom, probably going to the loo.

Meanwhile, Arthur was trying to figure out if he had taken out his textbook from his room that morning before making his way to the canteen. He remembered he did. But it was gone now.

"Problem, Kirkland?" The German boy beside him grunted.

"No, but my text was—"

"Hey! You are Arthur Kirkland right?"

A rather loud and obnoxious voice sounded from the right side of Ludwig who winced at the bright voice, freezing Arthur in the process. Head lifted up while his eyes widened to an impossible size, Arthur saw Alfred Jones looking at him with his winning smile.

"Uh…I…I…"

"Are you alright Kirkland? You looked very flushed. Do you want to go to the infirmary?" Ludwig queried worriedly, not sure why his table mate had suddenly turned so red in the face.

"I-I'm alright…"

"Yeah Ludwig is right! You do look ill!" Alfred chattered as he reached out his right palm and placed it on Arthur's forehead, then back at his own. "It feels normal. Maybe I'm not doing it right?"

Arthur could not even comprehend what was going on before he felt a pair of large hands cupping his face and pulling his head over to Ludwig's table. The next thing he knew, Alfred Jones's forehead was touching his. Arthur felt faintish all of a sudden as he felt his eyes lolled backwards, cheeks burning. In between them, Ludwig was also spotted with a heavy blush on his cheeks, his face contorted with awkwardness as he tried to look away, as though trying to offer some privacy.

"It still feels norma—"

Coming back onto earth, Arthur finally found control over his limbs as he pushed himself away from Alfred, his face looking scandalised as he breathed in deeply while he jumped up from the seat, causing the whole class to turn and look at him. At this moment, the door opened again as the teacher came in rubbing his stomach. "What's the ruckus? Have you finished reading on the Hungarian Revolution? If so, carry on reading about the Polish Revolution then."

"I think I need to go to the infirmary," Arthur exclaimed as his hands gripped the strap of his bag tightly. The teacher looked at him with a raised brow before nodding.

"I can accompany you! What use is it of a hero if he can't get his classmate to safety?" Alfred exclaimed as he stood up too, getting ready to escort Arthur. "Mr Anderson, I can accompany him!"

At the front, both Francis and Gilbert turned and look at Arthur with identical grins. Wishing he had not told those two about his little infatuation, Arthur found himself blurting out the words before he could control his mouth.

"I…uh...Francis will go with me! That will be fine!" Unable to retrieve his words, Arthur felt conflict rose within his mind and heart where the former urged him to take Francis before any more embarrassment could occur while the latter chastised him for letting go this great opportunity to be with Alfred.

Something flickered across Alfred's face but Arthur dismissed it as a figment of his imagination as he gripped a reluctant Francis by the arm and pulled him out of the class. Once the door was closed, Arthur heaved a sigh and started shaking Francis.

"Did you see that?! Did you see that?! He—he"

"Stop there mon ami. You looked as though you are going to have a seizure," Francis carefully extracted Arthur's claw-like fingers away from his shoulders. "I actually wanted to sit in for class."

"Don't lie. You care for history as much as you care for my cooking," Arthur said as he looked at the classroom door. "Why did he do it? Why is he even in our history class?"

"I told you. Timetable edits. This crush has to stop if it means that I'll be constantly missing lessons or be in danger for my life. Maybe it was just his stupid heroism or whatever you call that," Francis shrugged, unwilling to commit more to the conversation. Knowing how his friend could over think many things, he saw no reason in encouraging Arthur's infatuation for the popular American boy despite the fact that he does wish him well, and not to mention the bet he made with Gilbert.

"Git," came Arthur's reply as his mind replayed the scene in his head. Yes, it could be nothing. After three months of careful observations, he did realise that the American boy is rather tactile in expressing his emotions. He likes to be in as much physical contact with his friends, something that Arthur disliked. That would explain this morning's episode with the clingy girl. Sinking back to his melancholic thoughts, Arthur kept quiet.

Sensing the sudden drop in temperature, Francis couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Not that he wanted his friend to be taken on a wild goose chase, but it sort of bothered him seeing Arthur feeling down. It always does since they were young. Well, not that he would tell him of course. Damn those years of friendship they have had.

"Anyway, he looked rather disappointed when you appointed me to escort you. I know, I have this irresistible charm of course," Francis tried as he whipped his hair back in a dramatic fashion, hoping to at least spike up Arthur's interest.

"It must be that heroism you have been harping about a few minutes earlier," came Arthur's unenthusiastic reply. "And stop that flipping hair thing. It blocks my sight."

"Hey, maybe there might be some chance for you. You might never know. He never had a girlfriend."

"Yeah, just like how you never change partners every fortnight," Arthur's sharp retort came back, hurting Francis a bit.

"Hey, I was trying to be nice you eyebrow freak!"

"Just leave me alone. I'm going back to the dorms. You can go back and sit in for the history class you have been dying for. Just inform the teachers that I am down the weather."

Shrugging off Francis, Arthur turned away from the direction to the infirmary to the direction where the boy's dormitories were located and trudged on after giving a half-hearted wave back at Francis.

"Ungrateful brat," Francis hissed as he made his way back to the classroom, mind still thinking about his melancholic friend. The little Brit boy is as sensitive as he had been since young.

Being family friends with the Kirklands, Francis had ample interaction time with Arthur to carefully observe his mannerism and personality. They had attended school together since young and when they reached sixteen their parents had decided to send them both to the World Academy to further their studies in the prestigious institution, keeping each other company. Of course, their parents thought them to be best buddies. But in fact, they were more of loggerheads than good friends. After enrolling into the school, it had been an uneventful two years, until three months ago when the American boy, Alfred Jones, transferred into this school. That was when Francis noticed a change in Arthur. After knowing that the British boy play for the other team (or in what Arthur had insisted, only Alfred Jones), he was in fact overjoyed, well, to be the 'big brother' to 'guide' little Arthur along the path, seeing that he was attracted to the same gender as well.

But seeing how his childhood friend was now being ever so gloomy and had even lost his usual sharp wit, Francis decided that something must be done, for his sanity, for his well-being.