Cliché School Romance
Summary: Romania is an eccentric new student eager to make friends. Bulgaria is the school delinquent who hangs out with the wrong people. Against all odds they form a friendship which transforms into something more. A different take on Bulgaria x Romania
Warning: Coarse language, underage drinking, some violence in later chapters but nothing overly graphic
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
Chapter 3: A Tutoring Session Is Booked
In the next few weeks Alin has to admit that he is becoming more and more attached to Nikolai. The Bulgarian doesn't show up every day but in the times he does, the whole atmosphere lights up for him, things seem interesting, more vivid and he can feel himself a little flustered around him.
Slowly he's becoming addicted the foul mouthed, green-eyed delinquent. And fortunately enough, the other seems to enjoy his company as well, even if he rolls his eyes most of the time and shoots him sarcastic remarks every time he say something stupid.
"Hey!" Alin greets in an enthusiastic voice upon seeing the muscular boy make his way towards him in English class, "You're late again" he remarks with a small pout.
"Добър ден." Nikolai responds automatically, realizing half-way-through he's greeting him in Bulgarian and giving him a sheepish grin as he carelessly sits next to him, throwing his backpack on the floor the same way he did the first day.
"Did you write the homework?" the Romanian perks up, giving the other a questioning look as he peeks over his shoulder.
Nikolai scoffs, offering him a look that reads "Are you kidding me?" before playing with his pen idly, without a care in the world. Yes, of course he's not one to bother with a homework.
Alin starts noticing details about the taller teen, which he makes a mental note not to forget, almost as if they are treasure collectibles for him.
Like, for example, Nikolai listens to rock and metal but there is some chalga (as he learns the name of the music genre) poking from the corners of his media player. And then there's the fact that he literally detests American food and takes every possible occasion to praise Bulgarian one. And he, under no circumstances, would admit that baklava is Turkish. *
It's details like these that start making Alin smile and ramble about his mysterious classmate before his mother and Feliciano. The Italian seems terrified from Nikolai and often compliments him on his bravery to be around him. Alin merely rolls his eyes, of course the Bulgarian couldn't be dangerous, could he?
"Mr. Popescu, could you read the next paragraph out loud?" a loud voice tears him away from his own thoughts.
Alin turns to view the teacher who is a modern day hippie reincarnation, coupled with a better than-though view of the world. She sends him a pretentious scowl, almost as if teaching is below her level and she only does it for money. Then again, that's probably the case.
Alin offers a small nod and a precisely measured smile. He is good at making teachers like him. The only people that didn't hate him in the old school were teachers. He quickly reads through the passage, no mistakes of course.
"You certainly read very well for someone from Eastern Europe." The teacher remarks in a flat voice, racism casually poking through the liberal façade she's built around herself.
"Mr. Ivanov, you're next." She adds, sending a tired glance in the direction of the Bulgarian.
Nikolai freezes in spot and he shoots Alin a panicked look. The shorter teen frowns – panic doesn't suit him. The emotion looks almost unnatural for someone who's usually always smirking or glaring at people on the good days and kicking some ass on the bad days.
Alin pushes the textbook in his hands since of course the Bulgarian hasn't brought his own and probably doesn't even have one.
Nikolai doesn't read. The whole class starts turning head towards them, curiosity written over their faces. A minute or so passes and some start to snicker.
"We're in for a fucking show." a tall guy with light-blonde hair remarks, nudging Ludwig in the ribs.
The guy's name is Gilbert, the German's older brother as Alin finds out later. He's loud and obnoxious, quick to express his emotions, unlike his sibling. In fact, safe for their height and pale skin the two have nothing in common.
The silence stretches on and on and Arthur turns to glare at Nikolai, a cruel look written over his face. He winks at Alin but the Romanian doesn't respond, instead furrows his brows. He thought the Brit was a little narcissistic and mean but this is just low.
"Mrs. Violet, perhaps you should give the opportunity to read to someone else. Someone who you know… can actually read." Arthur snickers in a sickeningly sweet voice, making Alin cringe.
But his words seem to work and it's as if Nikolai accepts an unspoken challenge and finally starts reading the paragraphs. He sounds like a child, he butchers the words and speaks as if in Bulgarian, having no regard for pronunciation.
The Romanian can feel the familiar warm feeling of pity settle in his chest.
Nikolai can hardly pronounce the damn words, effectively murdering the English language in plain daylight. It reminds him of those stereotypically made Eastern European villains he keeps seeing in American movies.
The whole class snickers and makes mean remarks. The only ones who remain silent are him, Alfred's twin brother, who everyone, even the teachers seem to ignore for whatever reason, and a short skinny kid with straight brown hair and meek green eyes, whose name he doesn't know yet.
But everyone else takes a jab at the Bulgarian's horrible reading, if it can be called that. Alin wishes he was brave or witty enough to make them stop since he knows how bad it feels to be the school's joke of the day but the words die on his lips, he's not that kind of guy.
Silently, he wishes he was. Not even for his sake but Nikolai's. It's strange how much he's come to care about the other in the span of two weeks.
"Alin, maybe you should've made friends with someone who isn't bloody retarded." Arthur grumbles in the end, nudging him in the ribs from the bank next to him.
The Romanian's dark brown eyes widen in shock at the disgusting remark but he doesn't know how to respond.
Nikolai, on the other hand does.
"Can you read Bulgarian?" the taller teen demands, voice low and threatening.
The Brit is so shocked at the fact that someone's dared question him, he doesn't even respond, dumbfounded, "Oh, you can't? How about any other Slavic language?"
The whole class's watching the exchange and the teacher seems to be enjoying the drama. Alin rolls his eyes – what is up with teachers acting more like teenagers than doing their job these days?
"What about any language other than English?" Nikolai pushes further, furious green eyes firmly set on the shorter teen.
Arthur is becoming as red as a tomato in the face, fists curled into balls from anger. Still, he remains silent since if he swears at the other, he knows he's be getting detention. And he can't allow that, he does aim for a perfect record after all (because he definitely can't let Francis or Ludwig have higher grades than him!)
"Well then since you can't speak any other language, maybe you should get off your fucking high horse."
"Mr. Ivanov, that's enough." The teacher finally declares as she doesn't like her favourite going down.
"How about you?" the Bulgarian challenges and Alin wants to facepalm.
Is Nikolai begging to not pass the subject? Because it looks a lot like it. How can anyone be so impulsive and reckless? Alin puts a hand over his shoulder but the Bulgarian shakes it off.
"Oh, man shit got real!" Gilbert exclaims in an overexcited manner while Ludwig sends him a death glare that makes him fall quiet and prevents any further witty remarks.
"Mr. Ivanov, I'm going to ask you to leave."
"With pleasure." Nikolai deadpans, grabs his backpack and stomps out of the classroom, leaving everyone else laughing their asses off.
"I am so disappointed in you." Alfred whispers to Arthur but of course the American simply can't whisper and it sounds more like he's telling it to the entire class.
Alin turns to face the two blonde teens, Arthur grumbling something under his breath while Alfred looks betrayed by his friend's actions. It makes him think - is it possible there's something going on there? There are some rumours that the two are more than friends and that the American wants to make it official but Alin doesn't know for sure.
"Mon cher, you screwed up." Francis pokes at the Brit, a devious look painted behind his mischievous blue eyes.
"Shut up you bloody French frog." Arthur grunts and Alin mentally remarks that he would be entertained by the love-triangle-like dynamics between the trio if he wasn't busy being pissed off at the Brit.
xxx
The moment the bell rings Alin darts from his seat in search for the temperamental teen. He doesn't have to search for too long since he meets him in front of the school, talking on the phone with Ivan in what sounds like a mix of Bulgarian and Russian, garnered with a lot of swearing.
"Да, добре, разбрах те." Nikolai says curtly and hang ups, just in time.
Alin doesn't wait for an invitation and sits on the steps next to him, perhaps a little too close. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind.
"So, did you like the show?" the Bulgarian asks in the end, turning to him with a smirk.
The Romanian can read right through it, he can see the mask the other's putting on, the role of the macho teen who doesn't care about anything. And he's not buying it.
Nikolai…how well can you read?" he asks while he has the courage to. The question should be unnecessary because he already knows how bad the other was at the task but still, something stops Alin from criticizing.
He can already read the answer in the other's cold green eyes which flash with anger but even more so shame.
Nikolai shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.
"I can read fucking perfectly well!" he grunts, choosing not to look at him but instead fixate on the late flowers, blooming nearby.
Alin sighs, moving closer to him and waiting for a few moments for the other to cool off. When Nikolai backs away he's not surprised but he is a little hurt. Then again he is used to people pushing him away, so in reality it's nothing new. Not something to get himself worked up for even if he does.
"I don't mean in Bulgarian. I know you're good at reading and writing in your mother tongue…but I mean in English."
Nikolai doesn't say anything, he just stares at something which Alin can't see. That, or he is just trying to avoid the question. He is starting to lose patience but he forces himself to remain silent.
"It's just…English is so fucking different. It doesn't make any sense to me." – Nikolai says in the end, rewarding his patience. Once again he doesn't look at him and his voice is low and flat. If Alin wasn't listening so intently, he wouldn't have even heard him.
The answer speaks volumes and he can't help but feel a tiny, little bit special that the other has shared something with him. It's stupid and pathetic because they're not even friends and for all he knows Nikolai might be part of the mafia. Still, he already treats the other like some sort of anchor, something he's building his new life in America around. It's an instinct, almost as if they've known each other before.
"I know it is. I mean when I was learning English it was difficult for me as well." he says in what he hopes sounds like some comforting words.
"No, you don't know!" Nikolai says, finally looking at him. The anger is ever present in his eyes but it is mixed with an equal doze of desperation. "You don't fucking get it, Alin!"
"Why not? It's not like English is my mother tongue?" he asks, puzzled.
"But it is not the same! At least you have the same fucking alphabet and a ton of similar words and shit…" at this point Nikolai spats back "You have any idea what it's like to have to learn a whole other fucking alphabet? That has nothing to do with yours?"
Alin keeps quiet, allowing the other to vent. He is surprised with himself – he isn't known to be a great listener, nor a good friend, especially having in mind he doesn't even have any friends apart from the other.
Truth to be told, the Romanian doesn't think he's good at anything at all.
When he is finally done rambling, Alin steps in a little closer, putting his hand on the other's shoulder. To his surprise Nikolai doesn't fight him off this time. He makes sure to bookmark this moment in his mental library and come to look at it like a rare and expensive book later.
"This isn't about how different our languages are, is it?" he asks, knowing that this entire fight has nothing to do with Nikolai's proficiency in English. Or the lack of thereof.
"You just…you don't understand, Alin. You might be Eastern European like me but…you have a family, you have wealth."
"I don't have any wealth. My parents do." Alin shots back, surprised by the other's sudden urge to express emotions but still welcoming it.
"Well, yeah but you'll never know what it's like to live like me, making stupid fucking choices because you can't afford to sit there and do nothing because you have no one to really on. And no one to teach the damn fucking English."
Alin stiffens at this and he wants to insult right back but to Nikolai's surprise and his own he remains silent.
"Съжалявам." the Bulgarian mumbles after a few tense minutes of awkward silence which seem to stretch forever. And he still doesn't look at him. Alin isn't a psychologist, far from it, but even he can tell, the other's got issues. Then again, who is he to speak?
"Just, fuck, man you'd better stay away from me."
With that he gets up and starts to walk away. Alin gets up as well and walks up to him, tugging at his worn out gray t-shirt.
"Hey, I'm not staying away." he says and cringes at how cheesy this must sound.
"Why not?" Nikolai asks, pupils dilating in surprise and contrasting against the clear green of his irises.
"Because I barely know you but I already see you as my only friend in like….well, fucking ever. And you're the only one who doesn't find me weird and-"
"Oh, believe me I do find you weird." Nikolai interjects, some of the usual tease having returned to his voice, "But I just don't mind it."
"Yeah, well you're the only one like that. And I know you're all about the angsty anti-hero trope but…why don't you at least try to let me help you?"
"I don't fucking need your sympathy, kid!"
"No, but you do need my help in English." Alin points out with a forced cocky grin which manages to dissolve the last remains of the tense atmosphere.
Nikolai sighs but he can't hide the small smile which tugs the corners of his lips.
"I doubt I would ever be able to speak this fucking language." he grumbles.
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself I've heard some parrots even learn it."
This earns him a very poignant glare and a light smack on the shoulder but he notices the Bulgarian is already smiling.
"Tomorrow after classes you're mine." Alin says and maybe he understands the double meaning of the words but he still wants to see the other redden in the face.
"Looking forward to it." Nikolai teases with a smirk and the look behind his eyes, even if it's unintentional, makes the Romanian blush to his nick.
Too bad they'll spend the afternoon studying English instead of doing something that more enjoyable.
Author's Note: Hey, guys!
So this chapter was kind of…meh. I really didn't like how it turned out but what can I say – I did want some drama and I wanted an excuse for Alin to tutor Nikolai.
Btw I am sorry for the poor portrayal of teachers up until now. There will be some amazing ones in the next chapters. As a whole I have very deep respect for the teacher's profession and have even contemplated it as a career choice.
Huge thanks to: GrimSickness, Magician of Khemet, GarGoyl
Anyway, please share your thoughts with me. Your feedback is really what keeps me writing and is really inspirational!