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

Fill In the Blanks

Alin is conflicted about what happens next.

He's never imagined being in a secret relationship. On the one hand it thrills him because he has always loved the idea of secrecy and mysteries are one of his favourite things in the world.

So hiding from others adds a layer of intricacy and interest and it makes his blood rush every time he sees Nikolai even more so than before. The looks they exchange in classes, the way they look their fingers under the desk when no one is looking – it's all addicting.

But… it gets old pretty fast. It's not enough.

Alin longs to be with the other every moment of the day, to have him close, wrap his scrawny arms around him, kiss him in front of everyone. Maybe he has a possessive streak more than he has realized before.

He looks at Feliciano and Ludwig, the way the Italian is comfortably snuggled up next to his boyfriend during recess. The bright smile playing across the Italian's face and the slight pink over the cheeks of the German.

Alin is glad about them but he can't stop the small flash of jealousy in his chest.

He wants that.

"Something wrong?" Nikolai asks from next to him and he turns around to meet his expression.

Alin knows it sounds cheesy but he still can't get over how handsome the other is. Large green eyes meet his and he can see the small traces of care behind them. The thought of someone loving him is still foreign and unusual to him, it makes him a little lightheaded.

He chides himself, the familiar bitter voice of self hatred ringing in his head. He should be glad someone loves him at all, even if it is a secret, shouldn't he? Surely this is more than he deserves…

"Nah, nothing's wrong," he brushes it off as if it's nothing.

Nikolai seems hesitant for a second or so as he checks whether someone is looking at them. No one is and so he leans in, lips dangerously close to his ear.

"I'll drop by at your place in the afternoon, that okay with you?"

Alin can only nod as his body all but freezes when the Bulgarian kisses his ear and then slowly bites his flesh. He has to pinch himself not to moan as the other proceeds to playfully lick his ear lobe and he all but melts into the chair.

"Okay, see you then," Niko says, shooting him a wink as he gets up an leaves, no doubt skipping classes to follow Ivan into whatever trouble he has come up with today.

The Romania stares after him and he can't stop the bitterness that fills his mind. He is grateful for the other but he can't wash off the disappointment every time he leaves him, the way they have to hide as if what they're doing is wrong.

He can feel this is building up to a conflict but he chooses to focus on the good side of it and enjoy all the joy.

xxx

Alin is glad that Niko holds up to his promise and comes by in the afternoon. He is in a good mood and whatever he's done with Ivan appears to have gone well.

And he can't help but wonder what it was. His imagination is a dark place and paints the pictures for him and he wonders how much of his guessing is true.

"So what did you in history class?" Niko asks casually as they lie on his bed, fingers intertwined. Alin still has to get used to the feeling of having him so close.

He frowns, he knows this yet another one of those times when the other is distracting him, so he doesn't ask about what he does.

"Niko, what is that you do with Ivan?" he inquires, rolling over until he meets his eyes.

The Bulgarian looks a little surprised at the sudden question, apparently having become used to him not asking anything. Maybe Alin has spoiled him.

"Well, you know the bar," Nikolai replies, eyes straight on his. He has the vaguest feeling, call it intuition that the other is very good at lying.

"It's not just the bar," the Romanian almost snaps back, suddenly feeling exhausted. As much as he loves their relationship, he feels as though the secrets they keep are already weighing down on them.

"As much of a wreck that place is I know there are other things too," he presses on, surprised at his own courage.

He can see Nikolai already withdrawing, pulling his fingers away from and sitting up in the bed.

"You're covered in bruises, you have these weird ass convresations in Bulgarian-Russain with Ivan on the phone and-" he bites his lip, unsure what else to say, "I'm worried."

"Well maybe we're secret agents here to infiltrate," the Bulgarian jokes but it falls flat and Alin is not having it.

"Radko hasn't shown up in I don't fucking know how long to school,"

"Not that anybody misses him," Niko interrupts.

"And I know Ivan was expelled…I just I don't want the same to happen to you," he admits, feeling his cheeks heat up. He shouldn't worry about this, shouldn't feel embarrassed that he cares about the other since after all… that's what boyfriends do.

Even the secret ones, right?

"Aw, little Alin is worried about me?" the larger teen asks, his previous reservedness melted away, an amused look over his face.

"I'm serious Nikolai!" he all but shouts as him with switches the atmosphere.

They stay still in silence for a few minutes and he hates it, the fact they're barely into the relationship and are already fighting.

Suddenly Ivanov steps in closer, large hand on his shoulder,

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I am." He asserts, voice certain, tone sincere.

"The only reason I'm not telling you about what I do with Ivan is because you're better left unknowing."

Alin bites his lip, one touch from the other and he's already forgiven him. But…he can't shake the feeling the secrets will keep them apart.

Niko turns him around, until they're close. He leans in closer, their noses touching in an eskimo kiss. He can't stop the sigh that escapes his lips, it's one of content.

The Bulgarian catches his lips and this time the kiss is softer, more gentle that usual, almost reassuring. He can never get used to the many ways the other is touching him, how they all carry different emotion.

When they part they remain still for a few more minutes, soaking in the closeness.

"I just…feel like I don't know so much about you," Alin admits in the end since he can't escape from the tightness in his chest, the need to pour everything before the other.

(Although in the end he doesn't and he has his own secrets to keep).

"Well, my favourite colour is green,"

"Obviously," the Romanian interjects, a slight smirk having reclaimed its place on his face.

"I prefer dogs to cats. I like the cold weather. I fucking hate most modern music."

Alin listens intently, it's small tidbits of information and he knows most of it already but he still makes a mental note to remember it.

"And don't tell anyone but I really love flowers," Niko says in the end, a foolish smile dancing over his lips, making him appear smile, almost like a kid.

"Flowers?" the Romanian asks in surprise, unable to repress a small chuckle.

"Roses in particular. They're cliché but I've always liked them best,"

The Romanian has a strong urge to tease him about it but settles only for a wink shot in his direction.

"Niko, those are just random facts about you and as much as I getting a PhD in Nikolai Ivanov-studies you know I wasn't asking about things like that."

Nikolai keeps silent for a moment too long and Alin is about to give up and change the subject but then he speaks up again.

"What do you wanna know?"

He bites his lip, unsure how far he can go with his questions.

"What about your family?"

The Bulgarian struggles with the question and looks away. Alin can practically see the walls around him erect, he can see the minute he pulls away from him. And yet he tells him and he can't help but feel special about it.

"My mother passed away at birth. My dad raised me in Bulgaria but unfortunately he got mixed up with some really bad people and…"

"And you ran to the USA?"

Nikolai nods,

"At the time it seemed like our only option."

The Romanian scoots closer to him, searching for intimacy. Although the other is skipping over the details and there is probably more to the story, he still appreciates him opening up.

"My dad was a good man but…he got mixed in with some very bad people. And soon enough he…"

Alin only nods, his imagination feeling in the details for him. He puts up a hand, wraps it around the other and snuggles closer. He inhales the other's smell, it's a nice one, whatever cheap perfume he uses it does it job, almost masks the heavy smell of cigarettes.

"Social service took me in afterwards and from the on –"

The Romanian listens and listens and he absorbs every word of it, making a mental note to remember. It's nice to see how the version of Niko's past he's made up in his mind matches up to the one of the real world.

xxx

Nikolai is seven when he has his first meeting with foster care.

He glances between the two women, eyes filled with terror. They are both staring at him with calculating expressions, judging his every movement, as if he is some sort of wild animal in the zoo.

They chat between themselves, nodding their heads in a critical manner and jotting some notes in their big, fat books. He doesn't understand the majority of what they say.

"So where are you from again?" the first lady asks him. She is short and fat, flat bleached blonde hair falling to her shoulders. Her lipstick is an odd pink colour.

Nikolai doesn't know why his mind is registering such things but as he reflects on the memory many years later, he realizes it is nothing but a coping mechanism.

" . You. From?" the woman sneers once again, glaring at him in such a way that he whishes he didn't exist.

"Bulgaria." he says, forcing himself to sound confident even if his voice is shaking.

The two women exchange weirded glances, asking him to repeat. They have obviously never heard of his motherland.

"It must be some sort of village in Russia?" the other woman, who wears thick red-rimmed glasses and a long plaid skirt muses, absentmindedly.

"I am not from Russia!" Nikolai protests and this time his voice sounds a lot more assured.

The two Americans can even pin point the arrogant edge to it and that earns him a nasty glare.

"He must be from that country that fell apart recently." the shorthaired employee concludes.

The other seems weirded out by her words.

"Oh, you know that one country that went to war and stuff?"

Nikolai takes a deep breath as he realizes they're talking about Yugoslavia.

"Yeah, but I can't recall the name of that country. Oh, well, we'll just write him down as Russian. Whatever, they're all Eastern European and poor anyway."

And at that precise moment something in Nikolai snaps and he realizes with absolute certainty he is all alone in this country where no one knows him or likes him.

He gulps, trying to protest but the words die in his throat. He is nothing but a dirty, poor kid from a country they haven't even heard of. How many others are there like him? And they are all the same to them.

His dad is gone, from here onwards he has no one.

"I don't think he'll fit in to well." the fat woman remarks, "He hardly speaks English."

"Yeah, well we don't have anything else like him."

Nikolai curls his palms into fists. He is not a thing! His father had always taught him that people were equal, regardless of where they came from.

"We have that one kid. You know, the one with the burns and scars. He's screwed in the head if you ask me."

"Oh, yes! I'm sure they'll get along."

xxx

Nikolai spends his time mostly alone in the foster home. It's not too bad, he tries to convince himself. He has food and a roof over his top and somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knows many kids can't allow this.

He misses Bulgaria but at the same time realizes things are bad at his motherland. He remembers the poverty, the crime and all of that forces him to smile, despite everything.

He remembers the burning Parliament and how his dad always said he couldn't play outside in the evening. He never said why but Nikolai knew why – it was dangerous.

People got into fights, there were people who were shot in plain daylight. It was something the adults talked about in hushed voice but he knew things were bad. He was a smart kid, much smarter than any of the grownups suspected.

The neighbouring countries were at war, he heard about that on the TV. Nikolai remembered how the red of the blood contrasted against his living room, he remembered the black of the burnt down houses.

But now he is away from all of that. America is supposed to be better, isn't it? His dad would always say things would be so much better in the USA.

His eyes fill with tears at the thought of his father but he quickly raises a pale hand and wipes them away. What kind of man was he? He isn't a damn child anymore, he was seven years old and-and…

He'll be fine. So what if he has no friends?

You don't need friends to survive. Just food, water and a bed to sleep in. He has that and a lot of kids don't. He shakes his head – he shouldn't complain.

Him and Radko are secluded from the rest of the kids but the other hardly talks to him these days. The Serbian gets into fights daily and everyone hates him. Not that they like Nikolai, of course not. They make fun of him, mostly because he can't speak the damn language.

English is hard and the only teacher they have is unwilling to teach anything in the first place, so he has just given up all together on making friends with the other kids.

The teachers don't like trouble so him and Radko are quickly separated from the other kids and now they have their own room. It's quiet most of the time and Nikolai isn't sure he likes that.

It's cold too but in some deranged way he enjoys it, at least at first. It reminds him of the harsh Bulgarian winters and how his father would cuddle with him and their cat on the coldest days. He closes his eyes and he's there, back to Sofia, back to the small, dingy apartment, back to the photos of his mother and their black and white cat. If he raises his hand he can almost pet the animal, feel the soft, fluffy fur underneath his fingers and hear its soothing purr.

(These days he doesn't like cats, they remind him too much of the past.)

There are other memories too, his mother in a picture frame, light blue eyes filled with hope and joy, bright red dress contrasting against pale skin and making her look like a movie star when in fact she was just an ordinary Bulgarian woman.

"They're not fucking real," he hears a gruff voice and snaps in Radko's direction - the boy's sitting in the opposite corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest.

"What?"

"Memories. They're gone, we're not going back there," the brunette says and Nikolai thinks how he sounds both like an adult and a kid, way too bitter for anyone their age and yet too young to let go.

He opens his mouth to argue, argue that his father and the picture of his mother and the cat are real and so are all the other good memories from Bulgaria. They're real even as they are starting to fade like washed out photos from a long time ago.

"Our parents are dead," the Serbian stresses, sending him a glare from his one remaining brown eye, "Dead."

Nikolai wants to argue but can't and so he merely mutter a low "Fuck you" to the other to which Radko flips him off.

Swearing is simple and easy and it's becoming something he does more and more. So it getting into trouble and sometimes he feels Radko is right – his family, Bulgaria it starts to seem like a distant memory.

Slowly he's starting to turn into someone else, the good boy he once was is vanishing before his eyes and he finds getting into trouble is a newfound hobby that takes him away from the melancholy, makes something in his chest beat faster.

xxx

Alin snuggles closer to Niko as he says all of that and he can feel his chest constrict in sympathy. His own childhood wasn't a fairytale but he has always had his mum and grandparents and later on Sorina.

He turns around, until he's face is mere centimetres away from the other's.

"Hey," he interrupts and feels a little silly for doing it. It's all new to him, he's not sure exactly what he's supposed to do in a relationship.

But he acts on instinct, leans in, places his lips over Niko's. They're softer that day but the nicotine taste is still there. The other eagerly responds to the kiss, as if it's a getaway, an escape from the past.

His hands travel down and Alin is taken by surprise, unfamiliar to the touch. they feel warm though as they lift up his shirt and trace his sides. The touch even though it's not all that sexual, it's more of a way for seeking comfort at this point.

The other is good at what he does, the way his tongue falls over his own, teeth bite his bottom lip. His calloused fingers to some sort of magic to him and he all but moans at it.

And it's then of all times that he hears the familiar music, the loud metal song which tears him away from the kiss. It clashes horribly against the atmosphere, ruins it in seconds.

Nikolai pulls away, mumbling a quick „Извинявай," halfway through.

Alin can't hide his disappointment as he catches "Ivan" written in bright Cyrillic letters on the phone screen.'

And then Niko says something in Bulgarian quickly, already on his feet. For the first time in his life he wishes the other's language was closer to his so he could understand, but alas he only manages the occasional "да".

"I have to go," the taller teen blurts out.

"Course you do," Alin all but grumbles back.

Ivanov is completely different when it comes to this, almost as if there are two versions of him – one when he is with him and then the other with Ivan. He has to wonder – which one is the real one?

Niko places a quick peck on his cheek and then he's out. Leaving him alone yet again.

The Romanian can feel the dark thoughts at the back of his mind creep out from the shadows and walk closer. He has to fight to stop them, he doesn't want to overthink as he usually does.

And so takes out his phone, deciding that if Niko's going to act like this, it's about time he paid some attention to his other friends as well.

xxx

The café is small, warm and well lit.

It practically screams Feliciano and Antonio and so he's not surprised the two have chosen to bring him here. Then there are Francis and Arthur, Alfred and Sadiq.

The atmosphere contrasts sharply against the cold, grim weather and Alin finds himself in instantly better mood once they get inside. The furniture is a mix of traditional Turkish style and modernism and he, being a fan of interior design, can definitely appreciate it.

"Hey, guys, what will it be today?"

The Romanian hears a pleasant, slightly accented voice and turns around to spot the waitress.

She's short and curvy and certainly very pretty. Long, pin straight hair falls to her waist graciously. Her skin is a deep tan colour and her eyes are pitch black and shiny. Alin squints his eyes, she reminds him vaguely of someone but he can't pin point exactly who.

"Hey, cuz!" she waves a hand enthusiastically towards Sadiq and now Alin finally connects the dots and realizes they bear similarity.

"Hey," the Turks greets and his lips stretch into a small, warm smile.

"You stunning as always, Elira!" Francis declares over-enthusiastically while the Brit nudges him in the ribs with his left elbow.

Sadiq doesn't seem all too pleased with Francis hitting on his cousin either but he seems to let it slide. In the meantime Alfred offers her a smile too and Alin can see they're all close.

"I'm Elira, nice too meet you," the girls says as she stretches out one hand, notes about the order in the other.

"Alin Popescu, nice too meet you took," the Romanian says quickly and takes in her warm, plump hand.

They chat leisurely and he soaks in the easiness between them. It's a breath of fresh air, a bright spot of normalcy. It contrast sharply against what he has with Nikolai and as much as he likes or maybe even loves the other, sometimes he is too intense to deal with.

Pretty soon two newcomers come along – Feliks and Toris. Alin quickly figures out they are a couple and by the looks of it – a pretty happy one. And then he remembers something Francis said a long time ago, the pieces clicking in his head – wasn't Felix the person Ivan had put in a hospital.

The Romanian eyes him from across the table, taking the long blond hair, nice pink clothes and high heels. His mind then travels back to the Russian – he can imagine for sure him beating up someone for being transgender. He shivers at the thought, what if he finds out about Niko and him?

"Alin, you okay?" he hears Feliciano ask and turns around, offering him a sloppy nod that comes out as forced.

"You worried about something, mon ami?"

"Having in mind he's best buds with Nikolai of all lads, he should be," Arthur grumbles from next to the French.

Alin can feel two pairs of green eyes over him and he turns in the direction of the newcomers.

"You're friends with Nikolai?" Feliks nearly cries out, surprise in his expressive yellow-green eyes. But there is something else too, shock, and maybe a tiny little bit of fear.

"One question – why?" he asks, after a few seconds in which he composes himself, "You do realize he's homophobic as hell, right? And I mean not to be rude but you're gay, aren't you?"

Toris gasps at the statement, mumbling a low,

"Feliks, you can't just ask people like that!" to which the Pole roles his eyes, saying people should be proud of who they are.

"He's not like that," Alin manages to say when the silence in the café stretches on and everyone expect an answer from him.

Feliks huffs in disagreement,

"Oh, yeah, I am pretty sure when Ivan was beating me up he was secretly very much against it," he presses on, voice icy cold, "Except for the part where he didn't say anything."

The Romanian gulps, unsure what to do or say to defend the other. Was this true? Niko would say something to oppose Ivan, right?

"Not to even mention what Radko almost did to Elira and how Ivan defended him. Again your Nikolai said nothing."

Once again it feels as though the whole café falls silent and Alin can pin point everyone going frozen still.

"You shouldn't have brought that up," Toris sighs as he casts a disappointing glance towards his boyfriend.

"Oh, what we should pretend that never fucking happened?!"

"What happened," Alin finds himself saying without thinking.

It takes a few seconds for someone to reply and in the end it's Arthur. He takes a glance towards Sadiq before speaking and the other nods, as if in silent approval,

"He has to know the kind of person he's friends with."

"What happened was that Ivan, Radko and your lad Niko used to come to this café. The Serbian started hitting on Elira and wouldn't take no for an answer. When she finally cut him off –"

"He went nuts. He tried to force her to be with him one night." Alfred finishes, his tan face locked in an unusual for him form of rage.

Francis scanned through the small café, making sure the girl was in the back and she couldn't hear them.

"Arthur and I were in the neighbourhood and managed to stop him, thank God." The American adds but Alin was too shocked to say anything.

"If I had seen him with his hands on her, I would have-"

Sadiq doesn't finish but the Romanian knows well enough what the implication is.

Everyone remains silent, as if unsure how to continue. Alin can't believe any of what he is hearing – can this really be true? Then again the others don't seem like the type to lie and Niko hasn't told him anything.

"You still haven't heard the best part. When Ivan heard about all this not only did he excuse Radko for what he did, he started a fight with Alfred and me for stopping him."

"And Nikolai?" he asks in a small voice, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Arthur scoffs, "What do you expect? He didn't do shit. He didn't defend Radko but he stayed away from the entire thing. And from what I can tell they still live together, don't they?"

Alin gulps, what previously seemed as teenage mischief in Radko and Ivan now appears to be criminals in the making. And to think his boyfriend is living with those people, that they are his family –

"If I were you I would stay the hell away from Nikolai. He's bad news." Arthur concluda.

"And if you're thinking you can be his friend or-" Feliks's eyes fall over his own knowingly, "More – just forget about it. He'd never change like that."

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry if this felt like a filler but I need to fill in a lot of info and to set up some things in motion for the next chapters!

What did you think of Niko's past? There will be more flashbacks to come!

And what we learnt about the things Radko did – as I mentioned earlier the story will explore some very dark themes and it won't shy away from controversy.

So yeah – can you feel the drama coming? Nikolai's work with Ivan and the past will come over their heads full on.

What did you think of Feliks and Toris? There will more of them, I promise!

What are your thoughts on what will come next? Any guesses about the way the Ivan's activities with Niko will come into play?

Before I forget: Elira = Kosovo (her being Turkey's cousin is based on the two countries being very close. What Radko did is based on the treatment Serbia had for the country. I'll explain more on that in the final chapter with all the historical references and what not).

Извинявай = I'm sorry (BG)

Thanks to: Hollywoodling, maryranstadler1, GarGoyl, Elizaveta Hedervary – Hungary, Desio2 for the kind reviews!

Hollywoodling Winter is freezing!

Desio2 – Hey! It's most other characters, especially Alin, that call him Niko because it sounds more like a Westernized version of Nikolai, hope that clears it out xD