"Oh God, you richies are SOsmart…"

O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O

Nearly five minutes had passed, and the tense atmosphere that had emerged the same time as Ivan's pipe, had diminished. However, Alfred and Ivan were still immersed in their verbal sparring match.

"Hamburger lover."

"I take that as a compliment."

"It was my way of calling you fat."

"I'm not the one that hides his flab beneath a bulky coat."

"No, you hide it beneath your cocky attitude."

"Ha!"

"What now?"

"You said "cocky"! Hahaha!"

Francis groaned slumping against the bookshelf Ivan had been sitting on earlier. He honestly felt annoyed by this fighting...well, who wouldn't?

Yao was trying (in vain) to concentrate on the essay, but all that came out of his pencil was random lines—sort of chicken-scratchy looking.

Iggy seemed to be giving his full concentration to his paper, for his head was bowed low over the desk, his discolored hair shielding his face—but it was quite clear that whatever the strange boy was doing, he wasn't writing, though.

Francis groaned once again, letting his head lull to the side, eyeing the clock: Hardly ten minutes had passed.

'This is ridiculous! I am here for a crime I did not commit!' he internally fumed. 'And not only that, but on the day of graduation, nonetheless! Gilbert, Antonio, and I were going to go to Roderich's house to get ready, and hang out one last time, too...'

That last thought seemed to lessen his anger, though it made him extremely sad. Francis had enjoyed high school—he had received good grades, was very handsome, and was probably the most popular boy in the school. Add that to the fact that he had a bunch of great friends, and he was definitely going to miss this place.

Francis yawned, allowing himself to slouch a bit—a rare occurrence in itself. Ivan's and Alfred's conversation seemed to be fading into the background...all Francis could hear was the scratching of Yao and Iggy's pencils, and the "tick tick tick" of the clock. Was it just him, or did time seem to be going slower...

Francis jerked up, determined to stay awake (who knew what those delinquents would do to him, in that vulnerable state...)—however, he had no idea what to do.

He considered texting someone...but hardly anyone ever responded right away (cepting for Feliks and Liz, and he didn't feel like gossiping right now).

Then it hit him.

"Francis, you are an idiot..." he murmured quietly to himself. If either Yao or Iggy heard him, neither gave a sign that they had.

Francis needed entertainment—something to keep him awake.

And he was in a bloody library.

He stood up, stretching his back, before he began slowly walking though the isles of books.

The school's library was pretty nice, considering the size of the school (it was rather small in comparison to city schools). The walls were painted a soft beige color, and were decorated in several posters for "books gone movies". The carpet was a rather sickly green color, and had a few "loud" designs (having been put in place in the eighties). Most of the furniture was a light amber color, and wasn't too-overly sturdy—not that there was typically much rough-housing in the library, especially under Ms. Karpusi's sharp eyes (unlike her son—Heracles, who is rather lazy—that woman felt the need to constantly be moving around and scolding people; even for minor infractions). The library's best feature, however, was most definitely the ceiling, which consisted of colorful tiles (painted by the art department).

Francis wasn't a huge fan of reading—he didn't hang around the library in the morning, like Yao and his friends did—though he did enjoy the occasional book.

Francis rather enjoyed books from his—or rather his family's—country: France. His mother and father had moved to America before he was born, but he had been raised with the French language and culture (the amount of times his mother had dragged him to watch "Midnight in Paris" when it first came out was ridiculous).

He stopped, finally finding the book he was looking for; it was rather large, old, and leather-bound, but the curling letters still spelled out "Les Misérables".

He smiled slightly, as he weaved his way back out of the shelves and to a seat. There was no way he was going to be able to finish it, but at least he could get a good start.

When Francis sat down, Iggy finally lifted his head, his neck making some rather terrifying popping sounds as he did so. Yao ignored the odd boy as he stood, plucking a random book from a shelf. He snickered, settling down on the floor beside the shelf, humming an odd little tune under his breath.

Yao looked up smiling slightly. He stood, tucking his pencil behind his ear as he sat down near the goth boy.

"Harry Potter, aru!" he exclaimed, beaming. Iggy's bright green eyes suddenly appeared over the top of the book, staring at Yao like he was insane.

Yao chuckled awkwardly. "Uh-huh...yeah...I read those a while ago. I liked them! You know, my favorite character was Luna-"

Iggy suddenly set his book down, eyes trained firmly on Yao.

The Asian boy jumped at the intense stare. "-Lovegood...and uh...I-I'm going to go now..." Yao quickly stood up, backing away.

"Ha! That chick is afraid of Iggy!" Alfred exclaimed, suddenly "exiting" he and Ivan's conversation.

"I am a boy, aru-"

"-whatever. I'm bored." Alfred stood up, trying to balance on one foot. Yao glared, but decided against speaking further on the matter.

Ivan glanced at Alfred, before grabbing a few books from the shelf beside him. He flipped through the top one. "I don't know why people like books so much…" Everyone looked at him, as he held the book—now visible as "Tom Sawyer"—by it's cover.

"I mean," he continued, "it's just paper, da?"

He ripped the book in half, something akin to curiosity painting his face.

"AIYAH! Why did you do that?!" Yao exclaimed his eyes widening. The others—including Iggy—gaped at Ivan in shock.

The large boy shrugged, smiling. He then proceeded to purposely rip the book apart, page-by-page.

Yao angrily jumped to his feet, glaring. "What the HELL?!"

Alfred rose his eyebrow at Yao, before sneering at Ivan. "What? Can't read, big bad English?"

Ivan seemed unfazed by Alfred's jab, even pulling himself up onto a higher shelf.

"From what I hear, you can not read it too good yourself," Ivan smirked.

"Actually, it's "read it too well-"" Yao began.

Alfred jumped to his feet, his bright blue eyes seemingly glowing with anger at Ivan. "Shut up!"

Francis stood up the same time as Alfred, setting a hand on the other's arm. He knew that Alfred could easily break loose from his grasp, if he so desired; Francis held on tight, nonetheless.

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "I have heard things at parties. You are dyslexic, probably have ADHD-"

"Don't you DARE, you drunken commie!"

"Don't I dare WHAT, Jones?" Ivan said in a patronizing tone. If Yao didn't know better, he could have sworn that Ivan was TRYING to make Alfred mad—then again, Yao did know better: Ivan WAS trying to make Alfred mad, probably for no other reason than the fact that he was IVAN and Alfred was ALFRED.

"Don't you DARE talk about things you know nothing about! You are an idiot who has swam through high school in a vat of vodka!"

Ivan laughed, slowly clapping his gloved hands. "That is a unique way of phrasing it! I will have to use that sometime!"

Alfred snickered, pushing off Francis's arm. "That's nothin' to be proud of, you know." When Ivan's smile didn't falter, Alfred decided to play this out by forcing Ivan to the "defensive" side.

"Course, you KNOW what everyone has been sayin', right?"

Francis caught movement in his peripheral vision: Iggy was now frowning slightly, his head tilted forward a little bit. Some strange feeling bubbled up within the "pretty-boy"—something that could be called "pity" or maybe "regret"; he wasn't sure. One thing for sure, was that Iggy knew what was coming.

Perhaps it was that odd feeling that pushed Francis to say something—even if it was just a short and quiet warning: "Jones…leave it be…"

Alfred continued his rant, despite that. "They're sayin' that you're gonna be behind bars by Monday." There was still no reaction. Francis vaguely wondered why he was feeling this pity for Ivan—for it was no longer only for the "Arthur" that had vanished all those years ago into "Iggy". After all, yesterday Gilbert had joked about these things, and he [Francis] had LAUGHED (after all this was IVAN: The biggest bully in the school, who used to beat up sweet little Toris).

Somehow, everything just seemed so MEAN when it was said to Ivan's face.

"Alfred, enough is enough," Francis said in a louder, more confident voice.

"I agree, aru," Yao added, crossing his arms.

Iggy remained silent, but he cast a curious glance at Francis…before he continued reading, that is.

Alfred rose his eyebrows at Ivan, and the Russian returned the gesture.

"But you know what I think, Braginski?" Alfred asked. Ivan motioned for him to continue.

"I think you'll be there before the night ends."

Ivan continued smiling. He is always smiling.

"The way you talk, it makes me wonder: Did papa not love you enough when you were younger?" Alfred stiffened. "Do you feel you have been neglected? Why else would you be like this?"

When Alfred stiffened, Francis cast him a look. He found it strange that someone like ALFRED—Mr. Baseball Star—would be sensitive about something…

But then again, no one would expect Francis—Mr. Popular—to have secrets or a dark past…

"Why are YOU the way YOU are, huh?" Alfred growled. "Why are you such a bully? Why do you beat people up? Why did you beat nice little Toris up?" At that, Ivan stood up straight, his eyes glinting angrily.

"I never laid a hand on him-"

"-right; whatever you say. But we've seen the scars. AND we all saw that little tantrum you threw when you found out Toris cheated on you with Feliks-"

"-you know NOTHING!"

Alfred—in one swift motion—stripped off his bomber jacket, and flexed his arms. "I may not be school-smart, but I don't know nothing." Yao almost laughed at how absurdly that sentence was phrased.

Ivan snarled. "Are you threatening me, Jones?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. I suppose I'm just wondering what gives YOU the right to even TALK to me."

"Jones, that's ENOUGH!" Francis exclaimed, his tone pleading.

Alfred turned to snarl at the other three in the room. "You're all thinking it! He's below us!"

Ivan leaned against the wall nearest to him. "And how am I below you? Tell me that."

"Take your pick!" Alfred spat over his shoulder.

Ivan's face became frighteningly blank—Alfred didn't see this.

Ivan stalked over to the door—Alfred didn't see this either.

He did, however—along with everyone else in the room—hear what Ivan said:

"At least I show who I really am! You all are fake—plastic…But no: Plastic lasts a long time, da? You all…you will all disappear soon enough. You are paper people, living your paper lives. YOU ARE FAKE!"

And with that: Ivan left the room, slamming the door behind him.

A/N What is this? Another chapter so soon? What?

Why am I asking so many questions?

Ehehehe! Anyway, the amount of reviews, favorites, and follows for this story is ridiculous! I mean, this is probably my most popular story! XD Thank you so much!

A few people have mentioned how I have incorporated some stuff from the actual show (ie England's haircut, America and England's fight, etc.). I am soooo glad people caught that, and I am not making pointless references nobody is getting…

Also, I think I will finally have "Iggy" talk next chapter (OMG).

Random Pole: Who is your favorite Hetalia character and WHY?

Also, if any one wants something included in this, I am up for suggestions! If not for a suggestion after chapter one, we wouldn't have had Belarus in chapter two, and her little mystery hanging around in the air! XD

So…Please review!