A/N: Thank you so much for reading this. I never really realized how many people were reading until recently! But yeah, thanks for putting up with this crazy story.

One of the first sports he played as a young child was soccer.

It was the one sport his grandmother loved, so while the other boys in his class were interested in football, his attention was only ever on soccer. Every day, after school, he would enjoy a small game of soccer with his grandmother, and after they played, they would eat some burgers and call it a day.

He lived and breathed on soccer and even promised his grandmother he would join the United States' men's national soccer team. He was so sure of his plans. After high school graduation, he would join the soccer team at his college, and after that, he'll get recruited by the national team. And when he made the winning goal at the World Cup, he would proudly show off the trophy to his grandmother.

But when his grandmother's health started to deteriorate, his parents suggested he come to Europe and stay at one of the most prestigious boarding schools. He didn't want to go to Europe. He wanted to stay in Arkansas, and he wanted to achieve his dreams, close to his grandmother. Though, when it became too hard for him to visit his grandmother at the nursing home, he reluctantly agreed to come to Europe.

On the first day of classes, he was already running late. And his Canadian roommate—at least he assumed the dude was Canadian with the amount of maple paraphernalia plastered on the wall—was MIA, so he never really received the memo that school started a bit earlier than he was used to.

As he raced down the halls, he crashed into someone and tumbled down. The books in his backpack spilled out and were tossed in every direction. With a groan, he apologized to a tan teen who was busy rubbing his arm in pain. As he reached for his physics book, another pale hand grabbed onto the book. As his eyes lifted, he met Arthur Kirkland, student body president, lover of erotic comics, and soccer extraordinaire, for the first time in his life. Though don't fall under the assumption that he fell in love with the kid at first sight. Because he didn't.

Arthur's green eyes reminded him of his grandmother's back yard where he used to play games of soccer which was why he stared at the British teen for a second longer than what was normal.

"I'm afraid I'll have to give you a detention," and a British accent which his grandmother would squeal over.

He adjusted his glasses as he mumbled, "What?"

Arthur glanced down and Alfred followed his gaze to the untied shoelaces. "You're a walking hazard," the British teen scoffed. "Detention is at four, and you will have to report—,"

"I can't tie my shoes!" he stupidly blurted out. As far as first impressions go, he was already making himself look like a bumbling idiot in his new school.

Arthur blinked and at that moment, he noticed Arthur's next feature. The monstrous eyebrows. They were mostly hidden by his blond bangs, but when Arthur huffed, he saw them on full display and he couldn't help but feel intimidated by them. The British teen went down on one knee, drawing a blush from him. Gazing up at Alfred, Arthur sighed, "Give me your foot."

"Foot?"

Arthur nodded his head, "I'll tie your laces for you," when Alfred placed his foot on Arthur's knee, he was transported back to memories of his grandmother tying his shoes. With a small smile, he glanced down at Arthur—completely ignoring Arthur's lecture about the proper way of tying shoelaces.

After he was done, Arthur clapped his hands and stood up, "You won't need to attend detention because you didn't know how to tie your laces, but in the future, if I ever see that you are a walking hazard, detention, alright, mate?"

Alfred nodded his head, and he believed that it would be the last time he would ever see the British teen. But, as he was eating his instant mac and cheese for lunch, two seniors flanked him on either side. One was blond with long hair and purple eyes, while the other than the tan teen he bumped into in the morning. Thinking they were out to get revenge, he immediately apologized, "Dude, I am so, so sorry."

The Spanish teen blinked and raised his brow, "Sorry? Why would you be sorry? I wanted to come and thank you!"

This time, it was Alfred's turn to feel confused. The other teen lazily slung his arm around Alfred's shoulder, "Oui, we wanted to thank you. For the past few years, we've been desperately trying to find a partner for our petit Angleterre, trust me, I tried last year to woo the rock, but he didn't waver."

The Spanish teen brightly added, "But he seems to like you!"

Alfred frowned, "He tried to give me detention." He was sure Angleterre meant England or British or something along those lines.

"But he didn't, therefore he is definitely in love with you," the Spanish boy confirmed.

Alfred glanced at both the delusional teens for a brief second. After going through a rough break up, he really did not want to start a new relationship, regardless of who it was. Shaking his head slowly, he shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry dudes, but not interested at the moment—,"

The Spanish boy turned to Francis, "Let's ask him again tomorrow, maybe he'll be interested."

Tomorrow? Frowning, Alfred picked up his mac and cheese, "I said I'm not interested," with a roll of his eyes, he stood up to leave the two boys but stopped and turned to both of them, "By the way, do you two know where soccer tryouts are?"

The French teen smirked, "We're not going to tell you until you ask Arthur to be your boyfriend."

Alfred rolled his eyes as he muttered, "I'll ask someone else, then."

He was sure that his classmates would be of help. On his first day, he quickly befriended a quiet Japanese boy named Kiku, and as class ended, he grinned with giddiness and asked, "Kiku, do you know where I can get information for soccer tryouts?"

Kiku seemed a bit flummoxed for a second, "Soccer?" he mumbled. As the cloudiness cleared from his eyes, he raised a brow, "Do you mean football, Alfred-san?"

"Yeah, yeah, that, so when are the tryouts?" Alfred rolled his eyes as he stuffed his textbooks carelessly into his backpack.

Kiku's head dropped to the floor as he muttered, "I'm sorry Alfred-san, but Francis-san specifically told me to not tell you if he asked."

Alfred growled as he pushed past the Japanese boy. This was the fourth person who said those exact words, and he was becoming exhausted by it all. As he pushed past the hordes of students in the hallway, he only had one aim.

As he pushed the Headmaster's door opened, he dropped his bag and crossed his arms as he faced Headmaster Vargas, Lovino's grandfather. Tapping his foot with annoyance, he raised his brow, "Headmaster Vargas, I hope you can answer this question," because no one else at this school can, "but when are the soccer—err, I mean football tryouts?"

Headmaster Vargas glanced at Alfred for a mere second before he went back to his model battlefield, filled with Roman soldiers in armor, "Antonio told me to not tell you, otherwise I won't get the latest copy of—,"

Alfred had enough. The school headmaster as well? How did Francis and Antonio have this much control over the school?! He honestly should've stayed in Arkansas when he had the chance.

Alfred grumbled as he stared at the food in front of him. In the beginning, it was great eating the exotic food. But for the past several days, eating such foreign food was wearing him out. He desperately wanted a big Mac and fries on the side. And even if he didn't get hamburgers and fries, he at least wanted some of his grandmother's famous puppy chow.

With a sigh, he stood up and threw the food out. He knew he was being wasteful, but he honestly couldn't stomach the thought of eating another crepe. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he rolled his eyes as tried to leave the cafeteria. He'll just head over to his dorm and stuff his face with the junk food he had lying around. Maybe eat a few Twinkies and some super spicy—

"Alfred-san!"

Turning around, Alfred's mouth curved upward as he saw his Japanese friend running up to him. Kiku had a soft smile, "I have something for you, Alfred-san. Arthur-san gave it to me," Kiku reached into his bag as Alfred's eyes slightly widened.

"The class president?" he asked unsurely. He saw Arthur walking around the halls every now and then. But they never really interacted with each other.

"Yes," Kiku pulled out a brown bag and handed it to Alfred. "Arthur-san specifically asked me to give you this during lunch, but I apologize! I was finishing up a lab."

Alfred shrugged as he grabbed the warm brown bag. Kiku nodded his head, "I'll be eating, but I will see you later in class," he did a quick bow before running off.

"What did Mr. Class President give me?" he mumbled as he opened the bag. The first object he noticed was the note that was packed. The penmanship was precise and neat. But he brought the note closer and grumbled, "Should've paid more attention when I learned cursive…let's see…it says," he squinted as he tried to make out the squiggles.

"Try not to look…so…oh! Try not to look so displeased," Alfred frowned as he continued to read the note aloud, "during lunch. I'm afraid I'll have to make a stereotype, but I hope you enjoy the lunch that I bought for you. I have already spoken with the Headmaster about being more inclusive of American cuisine."

He frowned as he gazed into the bag. With glee, he pulled out a double decker hamburger and noticed a small portion of fries to the side. Heading back into the cafeteria, he glanced around for the class president, but as his eyes landed on Francis and Antonio, his happiness fell flat. Did those two buy the burger for him and pretend that it was Arthur who sent it?

Marching up to them, annoyed, he asked, "Did you two perhaps send me a burger and fries?"

Antonio briefly glanced at Francis before frowning, "No," he flatly mentioned. "Why would I send you a burger when I have a boyfriend?"

Alfred turned to Francis, and Francis shook his head, "First time I am hearing about this revolting burger. Why would I waste my money on a—,"

"So, Arthur bought it?" he mused and didn't think Francis or Antonio would hear him, but they did, and their eyes widened with excitement. "You guys really didn't know?"

"No!" Antonio was jumping in his seat, "But that means he likes you back!"

"He bought a burger," he flatly stated.

Francis grinned, "But Arthur doesn't waste his money for anyone! I'm his best friend and he doesn't buy me anything."

For the rest of the day, he couldn't focus in his classes as he thought back to the burger and fries. Did Mr. Class President like him back? There was really no reason for the burger—,

"Alfred-san!" Kiku nearly yelled out in his soft voice. Alfred turned to Kiku with a blank expression as Kiku leaned over to turn off the burner, "You started a mini fire. Are you sure you are alright?"

"Uh…," Alfred turned to the beaker with the clear liquid and frowned. He might need to start all over again. Dumping the liquid into the sink, he ignored Kiku's shocked expression, "Kiku," he started as he leaned over and grabbed Kiku's beaker, "Do you know where I can find the class president?" he poured half of Kiku's product in his beaker.

Kiku grabbed Alfred's beaker and took back his product, ignoring Alfred's pout, "You can probably find him in the student council room. It's on the second floor. And," Kiku turned to make sure the teacher was not looking, "And if you want to get a passing grade for the task, just switch your beaker with the teacher's."

Alfred snorted, "Great idea."

"We all do it," Kiku muttered.

He ended up getting a passing grade after switching his beaker with the teacher's. Luckily, he switched it out at the right time because another one of his classmates messed up as well and ended up using his beaker instead. He lucked out while his classmate failed.

Today was truly turning out to being a lucky day.

As he stood outside of the student council room, he closed his eyes and prepared to knock, but the door opened and he opened his eyes. Right before him was the prim and proper British teen. His blond hair rested on his head messily and his green eyes looked slightly tired. Raising his brow, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Gulping, he lamely said, "Thanks for the burger."

Arthur's face was still for a moment before he nodded his head once, "I see. You're welcome." He brushed past Alfred holding a blue file filled with a stack of sticky noted papers.

Alfred followed after him, "Why'd you buy it?"

Arthur stopped and lazily turned around, "You seemed to hate crepes. Any person who hates French food is a friend of mine." Alfred frowned, and Arthur rolled his eyes, "I can't have one of the students dissatisfied with their experience here at the school. Since you're from America…I figured you would like some food that is close to home." Arthur's arm patted Alfred's shoulder, "We've all been in your shoes, mate. Just let the student council know of any concerns you have."

Alfred grinned, "Thanks, dude." Rubbing the back of his neck, he admitted, "You know…you're a pretty great president. Tying my shoes, buying me a burger—,"

Arthur frowned, "Tying your shoes? When did I do that?"

Blinking, Alfred said, "On my first day…you don't remember?"

With a scoff, Arthur shook his head, "There are about twenty fifty students. I'm not going to remember them all. Anyhow, pleasure to see you. You won't frown again during lunch will you?"

Alfred shook his head slowly. Although he never asked for attention, people always remembered him. He was just an adorable dork that captured hearts. As Arthur walked away, he frowned. Maybe, just maybe, after this conversation, Arthur would remember him.

It had been nearly three weeks since the burger incident, and just as Arthur promised, burgers and American style cuisine were being offered. They didn't taste like home, but at least they were offered.

In those three weeks, Alfred tried to make conversation with Arthur whenever they crossed paths, but Arthur would only give him the same curt nod as he gave everyone. The worst part was when he talked to Arthur, Arthur forgot about buying him a burger as well.

But, as he spent more time watching Arthur from the corner of his eye, he started to appreciate the student council president, his adorably thick eyebrows, his messy blond hair, his exasperated sighs whenever someone does something wrong. Pretty quickly, watching the president from afar, he developed a small crush and that was what prompted him to go to Francis and Antonio.

"Alright, you guys win," Alfred sighed. "I'll give Arthur a chance… but it would be great if you could help me."

Alfred fully believed that Francis and Antonio would have stellar ideas to capture Arthur's attention. But their ideas included making him a clumsy fool. Whenever he saw Arthur, Francis or Antonio would "coincidentally" bump into Alfred—causing him to fly into Arthur's arms and cue the embarrassing blush.

Instead of Arthur falling in love with him, Arthur would scoff and say, "Detention for being a walking hazard."

He's had fifteen detentions so far, and he wasn't keen on getting more. Regardless of his crush, even he could do better, "Look guys, I—,"

Antonio's eyes lit up, "I have it!" Francis and Alfred both turned to him with slight interest as Antonio grinned, "Arthur loves to help out the weak and helpless, what if we pretend Alfred—,"

"Is incompetent at playing football?" Francis grinned. "Magnifique!"

"I…I don't understand," what he didn't know then was that it was a great, yet awful idea. By pretending to be incompetent, he was able to spend a few hours with Arthur alone, getting to know him at a personal level. As well as getting to know Arthur, he also gained insider information about the other teams, which was very helpful for Ludwig as they designed playing strategies.

But the longer he spent with Arthur, the more he fell in love with Arthur. There would be days when he eagerly stared at his alarm just waiting for it to ring so his day could start. It was never his intention to be cruel or mean. In the beginning, he felt a little guilty.

He was a soccer superstar, but he pretended to trip over and fall to gain someone's attention. He even kicked the ball at Arthur's face hoping Arthur would actually pay attention to him instead of that ridiculously lewd novel he always read. But, as Arthur's attention was directed solely at him and his body—he was quite aware that Arthur appreciated his toned body—he liked it. It was the only reason he put aside his guilt and continued the lies.

That, and Francis, Antonio, and Elizabeta—once she found out what was happening—were all great people. It was Elizabeta's idea for him to slowly take off his shirt to gain Arthur's attention, and it was also Elizabeta's idea to use a spraying mist fan to make Alfred get a sheened sweaty look on what was otherwise one of the colder days of the year.

Even though his grandmother would've chided him, he was the one who suggested Arthur's character in Eros to have a significant other. Elizabeta refused, but after much prodding, she relented reluctantly. He didn't ask for the character because he wanted to enjoy some romantic scenes between two fictional characters, but because he wanted to gage Arthur's reaction.

He knew he had no chance with the class president, but somewhere in the corner of his heart, he wanted to believe that he had a chance.

However, after their early morning secret training session—the one in which he text Elizabeta where they were going—he knew he had a chance, and he was absolutely thrilled.

He was going to tell Arthur at some point—really! He just didn't imagine Arthur's harsh reaction. But he knew one thing, he was going to win Arthur back.

A/N: I am so sorry that this is slightly disjointed. I had such a hard time writing in Alfred's perspective since Arthur was mainly the narrator in this story. Anyway, I will be moving out of my apartment this weekend, so I don't think I'll be able to finish the next chapter next Wednesday. But no worries, as soon as I finish writing the chapter, I will update it. See you then!