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. Bulgaria x Romania
Chapter 7: Philosophic Talks on a Rooftop
Alin wakes up to the sight of a pale Bulgarian, mere inches away from his face, his hands firmly wrapped around him. A small wave of shock washes over him but he isn't one to protest. When he takes a closer look he notices his own hands are wrapped around the other's neck and he isn't entirely too sure what to think of it.
The pleasant feeling that blossoms in his chest tells him that whatever this is, it's good thing and for now that's all he cares about.
Thinking is hard and Alin needs sleeps so he forces his eyes shut. Before he nods off he makes a point to snuggle in closer and relish in the warmth of the other that rubs of onto him.
xxx
Alin wakes up once again three hours later when his last alarm goes off with an annoying and high pitched sound. He shuts it off before nearly falling of the bed, the sheets a tangled mess.
He blinks a few times and notices the Bulgarian is nowhere around which causes a small twinge of panic in his chest. He pushes the feeling away as he gets up and hesitates if he should put on some clothes, going against it in the end, the other has already been acquainted with the glory that his pink pajamas stand for the night before.
He heads for the hall where the pleasant smell of homemade pancakes fills his senses as he's not sure if this isn't a dream. For a second he toys with the idea that maybe his mum is back but then remembers she and Sorina won't be home till Sunday afternoon.
Alin decides to inspect whatever is going on and opts for the kitchen where he is met by one of the most beautiful sights – a cooking Nikolai in nothing but his boxers.
The Bulgarian seems engrossed in the task at hand as he flips the pan with ease and the pancake makes a pleasant sizzling sound against its surface.
He even hums a little and the shorter teen makes a mental note to add singing to the list of the other's talents.
Alin just stares for a moment too long in nothing short of admiration.
"You never said you could cook," he says in the end and Nikolai doesn't startle, he merely puts down the pan and turns to greet him with a grin.
"Добро утро," he greets and Alin notices how the smile really suits, "And you never asked."
"Bună dimineața" the Romanian shoots back and they both chuckle over the exchange of greetings in their mother tongues.
It's something small and silly but to them it's a big deal, like a quiet assurance that they understand each other and they're not alone in the vast American land where one can easily get lost.
"I love cooking, it's my favourite thing in the world," Nikolai explains as he shuts off the stove, all the pancakes an even golden brown colour. He puts them in a large plate and Alin vaguely remembers he's never given permission to the other for the kitchen. But he's not one to protest.
Niko places his masterpiece at the centre of table before opening a jar of strawberry jam that he materializes seemingly from thin air and starts to spread it evenly over the pancakes in long, smooth movements.
Alin stares at his pale hands and he's nearly in trans, taking every detail of the other and admiring the ease and confidence behind the other's movements.
How can something so small that the other does look this good?
He feels like a stupid teen with a hopeless crush but he can't help it.
"I can't cook at all," he admits with a sheepish grin as he takes a bit from the first pancake.
His friend shoots him a look that reads, "Why am I not surprised?"
"This is amazing!" Alin cries out and the kitchen is filled by the small moans he makes as he takes another bite.
Nikolai breaks into a bout of heartfelt laughter,
"Dude you seriously sound like we're having sex!"
"Well, I just lost my virginity to delicious food then," Alin argues, a little surprised at his own words. Normally he never allows himself to be this comfortable around people.
The Bulgarian shoots him a look that lasts a second too long and it almost seems as if there's something more behind it.
"You should be a cook!" he points out as he moves onto the next pancake, searching for a way to change the topic before he makes it even more awkward between them.
Nikolai smiles at him, really smiles, none of that smirking goodness.
It's a genuine smile that lights up his entire face and he looks younger and innocent. All the harshness around him disappears and is replaced with something else, some peculiar sort of childlike happiness.
"That's my dream," Ivanov admits after a pause that is longer that it should be and the words sound like that one line from a movie everyone is bound to remember.
But there is the threat of "however" hanging in the air.
"Then why don't you pursue it?" Alin inquires as he squints his eyes at the other, the sunlight that streams from the kitchen window making it hard to look at him directly.
Nikolai laughs once again but this time the sound is tainted with cynicism.
"Cause nothing's ever that easy."
"That's just an excuse."
"And me being a cook is just a dream, nothing more."
Alin wants to argue and desperately so but he bites his tongue and focuses on the breakfast. He's already learnt that when the other wants to share he will, pushing him is no good.
Next to Niko he feels young and naïve, almost as if he there's a barrier between them at times and it has nothing to do with the language.
But he wants to prove the other long, he wants him to be happy and successful, he wants him gone from the smelly bar and the horrible Radko and the entire madness that the shady Ivan brings into their lives.
And he's not one to easily give up.
It's strange feeling how much the other's happiness has become a quest of his own.
xxx
The new school week goes well and Alin finds it refreshing to be able to talk with his classmates, to enjoy simple, light hearted conversations.
There is some odd beauty in not thinking too much at times.
It's not that he doesn't like depth, just the opposite – he is addicted to it and the Bulgarian is the epitome of that – but sometime he needs a distraction, he needs something light hearted and fun, something to remind him life is after all an adventure meant to be lived, not analyzed.
And his classmates are just that – always smiling and lively, caught up in the obligatory teenage drama.
Such as Feliciano and Ludwig going on a date a few days ago.
The news spread throughout the school like wild fire, after all the Italian isn't one to keep his mouth shut but Alin takes small pride in the fact he was one of the first whom the other told.
He feels closer to the gang, almost as if he for once belongs somewhere.
He even gets invited to a party which naturally goes on in Alfred's house although the host isn't one to show up much, apparently busy arguing about something with Arthur in his room. The others don't seem too bothered by it, playing it off as some sort of regular occurrence between the two.
"So, tell me all about how it happened!" Francis insists on as he shoots his friend and inquiring glance.
The Italian isn't sure on details, almost light headed with happiness but apparently it had something to do with Gilbert smashing their heads together and all but ordering them to get their shit together and finally go on a date.
"Can you imagine that Ludwig actually…he kissed me!" Feliciano exclaims, waving his hands around which earns him an eye roll from Lovina and two thumbs up from Antonio.
"See, I wish I could tell other people that!" the Spaniard complains melodramatically to which his girlfriend stomps on his foot and suddenly he's very appreciative that at least she doesn't wear high heels.
"Ludwig tasted so nice too!" the Italian continues on with his rant but Alin doesn't mind, if anything he rather likes the chatter.
Plus his imagination strays and he lets himself imagine what it would feel like to have the Bulgarian kiss him.
For a second there he closes his eyes and can almost sense the other's lips over his own, the way he'd probably bite his lower lip. Alin smirks, the other has always struck him as the type to like biting. He would probably taste bitter, like smoke and strong alcohol – the two things he's become synonymous with in his mind.
The Romanian is pulled away from his day dream as he hears the distinct sound of arguing and he snaps around, afraid it might be Nikolai that is once again in trouble. Fortunately it's not him but rather Alfred and Arthur, locked up in what feels like a scandal.
"What's up with that?" he asks, shooting a glance at the rest of the gang.
"Oh, it's just Arthur's usual horrible display of what he calls "strong character", Francis jokes, light blue eyes dancing over the shorter blonde, "I on the other hand just call it being a stubborn ass."
"I'm telling you, I'm right about this!" Alfred's voice booms and flies across the large room, raising a few eyebrows.
"Seems to me Alfred has a temper too," Alin mumbles under his nose but from what he's seen he's willing to be on the American's side.
He's not sure he likes the Brit after the way he's treated his Niko. Plus the feeling of superiority that surrounds the shorter blonde isn't something he appreciates; he's never been on to enjoy smugness.
Soon enough the two teens walk away, apparently having realized there aren't enough snacks and opting to fetch some in between threatening to murder each other.
Just as Alin is about to ask some questions Ludwig finally arrives at the party, followed by one very smirking Gilbert.
"Hey!" Feliciano exclaims, tan face quickly becoming red.
Alin finds it both hilarious and adorable how strongly the other reacts at the sight of the German.
"Hello, Feliciano," the blonde greets, face the epitome of embarrassment, "Uh, hello everyone."
The Romanian has to bite his tongue not to laugh out loud, he wonders how long it would take for those two to just kiss in front of others.
"Ow, come on, aren't you gonna kiss?" Gilbert teases, as if reading his mind and shooting them both some suggestive glances.
"Yeah, get on it with it, we could use some action here!" Antonio claps his hands.
"Love is something that shouldn't be hidden!" Francis proclaims overdramatically and Alin has to kick himself not to snicker at how cheesy the other sounded some times.
To his surprise it is Feliciano that quickly stands up from his chair and smashes his lips against Ludwig who in turn seems a little shocked at first but doesn't pull back. In fact, he places his hands over the smaller teen's shoulders, steadying him before pulling him closer, savouring the kiss.
The entire room goes into a soft "oww," while Antonio cries out an: "It was about damn time!" and Gilbert claps over enthusiastically.
Alin's glad this isn't their first kiss for he believes that should be a private matter.
Still the embarrassment between the two teens soon melts away and when they break apart they meet each other's eyes, Feliciano's lips stretching into a shit eating grin.
"I could get used to that," he states and Ludwig is one to mirror his smile.
"Ja, me too."
Soon enough things are back to normal, the euphoria about them finally becoming a couple dissipating as quickly as it came.
Gilbert has suggested they go do something that Alin isn't interested in but he vaguely hears it has to do with drinking. Soon enough everyone follows the albino, with Ludwig in the lead, holding hands with Feliciano while warning his brother not to stir trouble.
The Romanian is left with Francis and he quickly shifts his gaze towards him, taking the time to study him.
Truth to be told they haven't interacted much but he likes the guy as a whole, minus the obtrusive sexual humour and the flair for drama that he himself is guilty of at times (only difference being he doesn't say it out loud).
Now though the French teen has a pensive look on his face, one that doesn't suit him and seems a little mismatched with his normally cheerful predisposition. His expression speaks of some underlining sadness or melancholy perhaps.
"You're not going to go with them?" he inquires, taking a seat closer to him now that it's just the two of them.
Francis seems a little startled by his voice, almost as if for a second or so he's forgotten where he is, lost in thought.
Then just as fast as it has slipped the mask is back on and he waves a hand dismissively.
"Nah, I have much better things to do!" he insists, lips locked into a smirk that can almost as pass as a genuine one.
"Like what?" Alin presses on, always one to be blunt, "Pouting?"
The other's smirk falters and he can see the hesitation in his blue eyes, the moment his brain's doing the calculations, weighing in on whether he should be trusted or not.
In the end it seems he has passed the test and a sigh flies past the French's lips.
Alin waits for him to share but then the moment passes and it's only the silence between them and the lively chatter of the others that comes from the patio that remains.
"So you don't wanna talk?" Alin asks in the end, shooting him one last hopeful look.
"Maybe you first," the French says, always one to play games, "I could see that look on your face while Feliciano and Ludwig kissed…"
He pauses, biting his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood, "I know that look. I've been there."
"Francis, I think you are there," Alin admits in some rash, uncharacteristic display of honesty.
Perhaps the Bulgarian is already rubbing of on him.
The French scoffs, "And here I thought I was playing smooth…the others at least don't seem to notice. Or care for that matter."
The Romanian stares at him, taken aback by the fact that this hot, smart and popular guy who is everything he's not can be doubting himself. Then again, when he thinks about it – shouldn't have the others asked for him to come along?
Shouldn't have Antonio, his supposed best friend, have cared at least a little about the fact that Francis was hurting? Now granted the blonde wasn't one to show it but still, if he could see something was wrong, why couldn't they?
"Is it that obvious I like Arthur?" the French inquires and his voice is smaller this time, the usual flair for drama gone. It's sincere now and Alin likes it better this way.
He offers a small nod, "Yeah, I think everyone pretty much knows."
"Merde," the blonde swears under his breath quietly.
A new bout of awkward silence hangs in the air and the Romanian's brain races with ways to continue the conversation, to offer some small dose of comfort to the other because he genuine believes he needs it.
"So, since Arthur is kinda in love with Alfred and Alfred is madly in love with him, my love life is officially screwed," the French declares, taking a generous swing from his wine glass.
Alin flinches at the underlining hurt in his words, the way he tries to play it off as nothing adding a new layer to how badly he must feel. He wants to stretch out a hand, to help the other but his own awkwardness and inexperience prevents him from doing so.
So often he feels as though there is some invisible wall between him and others, stopping him from being close to them when he doesn't have the first clue about how to dismantle said wall.
"What about your love life," Francis asks out of the blue, sitting closer to him and effectively closing off any opportunity to put the focus on himself so Alin can help him.
"I uh, I don't have a love life,"
"Bullshit," the French scoffs, "You aren't the only one who's observant around."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I might play dumb but I can see the way you look at that Bulgarian."
Alin suddenly feels a little light headed, blood rushing to his face and his palms sweating. He knew parties were a bad idea, he shouldn't have come in the first place.
"And that reaction tell me it's not just a crush, is it?"
The Romanian looks away as inquisitive blue eyes dig into his dark brown ones.
Francis sighs, he doesn't even have to answer, that's how obvious it is.
"Good luck with that one," he says downing on his glass of wine.
"He's straight." Alin points out flatly, words hanging awkwardly in the air before falling flat between them.
Francis offers him a sympathetic glance,
"I'm sorry. Believe me I know how you feel…Unrequited love is…it's a bitch."
The Romanian is a little taken aback by his coldness, his swearing which contrasts sharply against his normally polite, corny even manners.
"Does it get better?" he inquires, voice small.
He's slightly disgusted at how he sounds like a kid asking his older brother for advice but he's glad the other doesn't seem to judge him his utter lack of experience the way he expected.
"No," Francis shoots back and it sounds as if he's more certain about this than anything else, "It doesn't. You love him till you get over it, if you get over it."
Alin shudders at the words and he himself takes a large sip of the wine, hoping it would dull the ached in his chest.
The prospect of Nikolai never loving him back is as bitter as the taste of the wine.
xxx
Niko doesn't act any different post their cuddling session and Alin can barely suppress his disappointment. He's not sure what he's expected but surely, that changed things, didn't it?
Apparently not, as the Bulgarian continues in his usual ways, as if nothing between them has happened. The shorter teen can't silence Francis' words playing on repeat in his mind.
It's just another day with the two of them and after finishing the long English lessons, Ivanov has some genius idea of spending the rest of the evening.
Alin hesitates since his "genius" ideas spell trouble more often than not but in the end he caves in and lets the other lead the way.
"Come on, you're taking too long!" the Bulgarian declares, as energetic as always and tugging on his hand.
The Romanian freezes as he feels the other's warm hand over his own, long fingers curling around his.
The gesture seems natural and simple, as are most things with the other. Nikolai doesn't even stop, he just tugs at his hand and drags him own towards whatever "adventure" he has come up with his free night.
For a guy this hell bent on acting though, he sure as hell seems childlike at times.
Alin's squeezes the other's hand and his lips curl into a smile as he enjoys the contact, soaks in it and let's his imagination paint pretty pictures in subdued light colours.
Perhaps it's wrong and he's fooling himself and walking towards disappointment but he can't help it, his mind firmly locked on thinking of the other.
xxx
They buy burgers for dinner and Nikolai demands they take vodka too. Alin imagines his mother somehow finding out and the prospect of the frown over her face makes him reconsider.
After one long argument and being called a pussy the Bulgarian finally gives up with a melodramatic sigh and a pout that Alin finds more adorable than threatening.
As it turns out the mystery place they're heading is some construction site that seems abandoned for the time being.
The Romanian's dark brown eyes fall over it, making the outlines of it in the purple twilight of the evening. It looks a little creepy but he likes creepy, always having been drawn to everything dark and mysterious for some inexplicable reason.
"Come on, don't be a chicken!" Niko demands, tugging at his hand once again.
He takes the time to study the other in this new light, taking in how his features are the epitome of excitement, pupils dilating like two large black dots against the beautiful green of his iris.
"What is little Alin scared?" the Bulgarian teases as he raises a devious eyebrow, lips stretching into a trademark smirk when he mistakes his stare for hesitation.
"Like hell!" the Romanian declares as a bout of determination sprouts in his chest and he heads towards the building.
"That's more like it!" Ivanov shouts after him, the enthusiasm and happiness in his voice echoing through the dark and framing the moment with some gold tinted feeling of happiness that teenage years possess.
xxx
They climb up the building quickly and before long they are at the top, a breath taking canvas stretching before they eyes.
"Wow, it's so pretty," Alin says in child-like amazement, words flying past his lips.
To his surprise, Nikolai doesn't play a smartass, he doesn't protest.
"Да, така е," he admits and his voice is softer than usual, soaked in new found peace.
The Romanian slowly turns around, shifting his gaze from the lights of the city submerged in the evening darkness to him.
The Bulgarian's lips are stretched into a small, pensive smile. It suites him, makes him look younger and more content, taking away the usual sharpness and toughness that he's surrounded himself with like a wall to keep others out.
Alin's expression mimics his and he too smiles, finding it next to impossible to not be happy when the other is.
Nikolai can apparently sense his stare and he shift as well until their eyes lock.
Deep brown falls onto silvery green and Alin tries desperately to find something in those eyes, a reflection of what he's sure is written in his own. His heart slams against his chest as he notices the soft expression in those green irises, the way the other looks at him speaks of no hostility, of nothing fake.
But he's not sure if it speaks of love or that is just his imagination leading him on, desperate to make things seems the way he wants them to be.
Nikolai is the first to break the spell, as usual.
He turns around, lips stretching into a grin, "This some sort of staring contest or what?"
Alin scoffs, disappointment washing over him as the moment is gone.
Still, he can't argue for more, the other's friendship is an expensive gift on its own and he has no intention of losing it.
They eat the burgers while leisurely chatting about everything and nothing in particular, taking sips from the Sprite they've bought.
Once they're done with that Nikolai takes out a packages and starts rolling his own cigarettes.
Alin's eyes immediately fall over his pale, skilled hands and their quick, fluent movements.
He's always been a little on the clumsy side so the other's dexterity is something he takes a fascination with.
"It's cheaper this way," the Bulgarian explains as he licks the paper with which he rolls the cigarette to seal it.
"Don't say that," Alin warns as he sits nearer him, "It takes the magic away."
The taller teen raises an eyebrow, scoffing at his words.
"I mean it, I don't get why you always try to sell yourself short," the Romanian asserts, tone a little more excited than it should be, "Really, you're more than what you give credit yourself for."
He says the words in a rush before he has the chance to think them through and soon comes to regret them as their left with the awkwardness hanging between them.
Nikolai has an unreadable expression over his face and he opens his mouth, as if to say something but then thinks against it and shuts it closed.
Alin waits for something to happen but nothing does and in the end the moment is gone.
The Bulgarian takes a long drag from the cigarette and blows the smoke in his face before breaking into a laugh.
His pulse quickens as the other's melodic laughter soars above them, light like the smoke. There is something inexplicably lively about the green eyed teen, something he feels like has become long lost by most people.
The other lives, he doesn't merely exist.
He enjoys his time, cherishes even the most simple things, he takes profound pleasure in taking a smoke, in climbing up an abandoned building, in simply being.
And Alin is infatuated with that, this approach to life which seems strange and unusual to him, new and exciting.
"You wanna a try?" Niko asks as he holds the smoke before him.
The Romanian hesitates for a moment too long, weighing in between the excitement of trying something new and his usual fears and worry, his rigid beliefs of what is good and bad.
"Oh, come on, it's burning out!" the other demands, his short temper making itself known.
Alin takes the cigarette and the other seems surprised but perhaps he himself is.
He inhales the smoke quickly, wondering half way through if what he's doing it the right way. Then again what could possibly go wrong?
He then breaks into a coughing fit, answering his own question. He coughs harshly as Niko takes the cigarette away, roaring with laughter.
"Oh, you should have seen your face, this is so fucking funny!"
Alin glares at him, wiping off a few stray tears that come from the coughing.
"Some friend you are!" he declares, nudging him with his elbow in the ribs.
But he's not actually mad, he can rarely be with the other, despite his quick temper and crazy ideas which he has a feeling would pretty soon land them in trouble. Or in jail. Or both.
"You love me just the way I am," Niko teases and Alin can only smirk at how true the words are, even if the other doesn't realize it.
They continue to chat leisurely, flying from one topic to another and often laughing at their own awkward inside jokes. They talk about Romania and Bulgaria here and there, they talk about their classmates, make fun of the teachers.
It's simple and ordinary but it makes Alin happier and he ever has been and he muses that perhaps it's precisely such moments that hold the magic to life.
"You cold?" Nikolai's thick voice breaks him away from his little introspection as he looks up to meet a pair of green orbs, concern dancing behind them.
Something melts in the Romanian's chest as he realizes the other cares about him, a feeling he's never experienced before with anyone.
Before he can answer the taller teen steps in closer, wrapping a hand around him and effectively pulling him into a hug as a way to warm him.
Alin's heart slams against his chest at the sudden contact and he can only hope the other can't actually hear his frantic heartbeat.
"Is this normal?" he asks, hoping to get some sort of concrete answer from the other, "I mean two guys hugging like this and all."
The Bulgarian scoffs at his question but he pulls him closer,
"I say normal is whatever we say it is," he responds, smile flickering across his face.
Alin holds his gaze and he can only hope that it isn't his imagination playing tricks on him as he sees his own feelings reflected in the field of green.
He has the sudden urge to kiss the other but his own insecurity prevents from it, not to mention he doesn't feel the need to rush this in.
So he relaxes, melting into the other's hug and lets himself be.
Author's Note: So what did you think of Feliciano and Ludwig finally being together? Aren't they like one of the most epic couples ever?
And Francis – I adore France and I really want to write more of him! Plus France and Romania have always had a nice relationship, kind of like cousins xD
Big thanks to: Hollywoodling, GarGoyl, GrimSickness, Elizaveta Hedervary – Hungary for all your kind words and support after last chapter! It is much appreciated!
And last but not least – what did you think of their shared moments between Alin and Niko? what do you think is Niko falling in love at last?
Next chapter – a lot will happen, get hyped!