Soft and fresh morning breeze blowing through my hair while I firmly gripped the back of my best friend. I had always been afraid of those vibrating machines engine did not provide me more protection than the poor helmet that was supposed to protect me from the shock of an unfortunate fall. Fortunately Francis knew my fear of speed, trying somehow to not drive too fast but we were late for school. We drove through the city at high speed on his blue sky vespa, and I could not help but feel like in a movie. His vespa remembering London where I spent my teens.

The sun was just rising over New York and the streets were filled gradually by men and women who were going to work, or on the contrary, party animals coming back home. Francis suddenly gave a boost and passed a limo where we will probably find one of our classmates. What idea did I have to go to sleep at my best friend on a weeknight? Francis and his sister, Bella, both lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn. Far from the great Upper East Side where our respective schools were. Finally arrived in front of the large red brick building of the Hetalia Academy, I jumped from the scooter and tried to somehow smoothed my uniform.

"Right on time!" Francis commented with a proud smile while taking off his helmet

"We could not have done better," I said removing mine

We both walked into the main courtyard while readjusting our ugly uniforms we hated as a sort of dark blue plaid pants combined with a white shirt for girls, and a blazer of the same color for boys the symbol of our school - an eagle - sewn golden enthroned on our uniforms. All elegantly worn with class and bragging.

You had a uniform as in England? he asked me, running a hand through his hair to give a disheveled air

"No, in Europe, we live naked, git! I exclaimed, hilarious,.

He laughed and then resumed his serious while readjusting a lock of my hair that danced before my eyes:

"I already warned you Arthur, be careful, the Upper East Side is not London ..."

"I already know it: Do not worry about me, I know you know this environment, the London gilded youth is not more horrible than this!" I replied while making a grand gesture in the direction of students entering the school with their new smartphone and their Gucci (or Chanel for a rainy day) bag.

Francis grabbed me by the neck and took me with him to his locker at the back of the court:

"Anyway, I'm so glad that finally you're back, I missed you, you and your whims !"

"I missed you too Francis..."

I took him in my arms affectionately.

We were cruelly separated at the age of 10 years, while I considered my brother. In fact, my frigid mother, more absent than anything else, had agreed that one day me and my father, we would leave our New Yorker bubble for the grandeur and beauty of London. But the beauty of London - at this age there - I didn't give a shit. Thousand miles definitely separated us for seven long years.

But my mother did not care passionately, because he had been offered an important position, and as she told me "it's something you cannot refuse, it's a golden opportunity," while I had wanted answer: "more important than your family happiness?". But this question would have been useless because for my mother, a positive response was clearly evident ...

Francis quickly grabbed some text books in his locker, and he joined me and smiled. I missed his angel smile so much. Now that I had it back, I was just wondering how I have spent seven years without him, without his advices, without his help, without his support. Francis was almost like my only family. The only one who really understood me. We continued to walk together in the courtyard of Hetalia Academy.

While listening with one ear what he was telling me, I could not help but observe Gilbert Belschmidt who had just arrived in the courtyard of the school. He was the cutest and untouchable high school boy. His platinium hair brighting in the sun, just made him perfect. He reminded me of Charlie, my ex-boyfriend, a lovely English guy with green eyes and the smile of an angel. I was dating him for two years and the announcement of my return to New York marked the end of the relationship. Even though I knew I would miss him, I felt ready to move on (even though I realized that falling for his exact lookalike was not in itself "moving on").

Gilbert's girlfriend walked over to him, more sublime than ever, I really had no chance against 5"7 of sheer beauty, Elizaveta Hedervary. Suddenly, Gilbert raised his eyes to me, he was feeling observed. I looked away quickly and I blushed, that Francis soon noticed. He knew me by heart.

"Oh please Arthur, not Gilbert! Anyone, but not him!"

"Why?" I said shocked, "It's just too cute!"

"But he dates my cousin!" Francis reminded me with a knowing smile

"Exactly ... you could not help me get closer to them, could you?"

"What? So now you are a home-wrecker?" He laughed

"No," I was outraged, "I just want to meet him ... for now!"

"Arthur I do not talk to Elizaveta since the death of my parents anyway, so you'll have to do it without me ... But I do not really understand what you can find in him!" continued Francis, "He is too ... perfect!" He almost spat with disgust

"Oh I see, you're the kind of guy who hates perfection .. and especially in others right?" He laughed at me giving me a pat on the shoulder

"No, that's wrong, I like it in you," he corrected, kissing my cheek

I smiled smugly, too happy to finally be back in the big apple. I had to admit that London was the most beautiful city I had ever seen and that I kept great memories, but New York still my world, my trademark. I was gone so long ago now that everyone had forgotten who Arthur Kirkland was.

Yes, I was well and truly back and ready to go in the mold of the Upper East Side ...