Chapter 3
(I do not own Hetalia or the song that is in the story)
Central Park, Friday, PoV Ludwig
Another beautiful day with clouds blotching the sky, but it did become a bit humid rain must be coming. I've been playing my Ukulele for the past two hours I should probably take a break. Strumming the last few notes of the song I decided to take that little break under my signature tree. Grabbing a water bottle and a granola bar I took a look around noticing that same man from before. He's been listening to my small performances for the past couple of weeks, same time every day I come out here. He wheres some of the strangest clothing too, today he was wearing jean overall shorts that had small doodles on the hems, a light green tee-shirt, converses painted like the Italian flag, a black beanie that covered most of his auburn hair but always missing a stray curl and an older looking brown satchel was always on his side holding his lunch/snack and art supplies. He really was intriguing, always sitting under the opposite tree from me constantly looking up from his sketchbook to look at my performance, or just sitting there eating. Sometimes he painted but those were 's been about 10 minutes now I should probably start playing again.
I did rain after another hour or so. The white, cotton ball clouds became a dark grey and a downpour followed. I had already set up a large tarp above me in the branches as a makeshift shelter. I didn't really play any songs when it rained more like strummed chords to the droplets. If the rain came down hard it would be lower notes and if it was light it would be higher notes. When the droplets came down everyone scrambled home for shelter, including the strange man. He got up so quickly that he left his sketchbook behind. Not wanting to it get all wet I went and retrieved it. I didn't look in it because that's his privacy, but it was tempting to see what the man was making for the past couple of weeks. After twenty minutes or so I gave in to my curiosity, flipping it open I noticed the first few pages were of a young man with a scowl on his face, obviously mad, he seemed to be in a field of wildflowers. In the corners of each page was a note in curly writing saying, Lovi 5/10/2014 or Lovi 6/07/2014. These drawings and paintings of this Lovi character were amazing, extremely detailed and full of happiness even with such a scolding face. Lovi must have been someone special, but then another person popped up. A young lady with blonde hair in a bun started to show up for the next pages or so in the corner in the same curly handwriting was the name Frani. She was always put in an elegant garden of roses with a smiling face in each drawing or watercolor. The date would always differ from being 8/24/2014 all the way to 4/19/2015. It went on like this switching from Lovi to Frani and then another person would show up. Names of each one would show in the corners, Granpa, Arthur, Toni, Elizaveta, and then a name entirely different. Ukulele Man was scrawled in the corner in that same loopy the picture of...me? In the first picture it was of me playing under the oak tree but instead of central park in the background, it was replaced with a golden field of wheat. Out of all of the picture, the ones of me seemed the most dreamlike. It kept going on every picture of me was either in the wheat field of a dark green forest that came from a fairytale. Everything about the drawings seemed to be like in a story, it was mesmerizing. But why would he pick me to draw?
I quickly closed the sketchbook when I heard hurried footsteps coming closer. Each step was a large splash in the rain covered walkway. Putting the book to the side I noticed the man from before running to his tree whispering in what must be Italian. Frantic he began to search all around the tree, muttering curses as he seems to give up, he must have been looking for the book.
"Hey! Are you looking for this?" I yelled over to him hoping I could be heard over the downpour. I held up the sketchbook for him to see. He immediately turned around and, from what I could tell, was shocked. He immediately headed over to my spot under the cover.
"Oh thank you for picking up my art pad." the man began to smile widely his happiness was infectious because soon I was smiling as well.
"I couldn't just leave it to get wet, here." I handed over the book somewhat reluctantly. "May I apologize for my curiosity but your art is very good. May I ask for your name?" The rain seemed to have vanished because everything was silent like in a dream, the time had almost stopped.
"Why thank you I've been making art since I was a small bambino. My name is Feliciano, Feliciano Vargas. You may call me Feli. And yours?"
"Ludwig Beilshmidt. Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I fixed my ukulele to the side and moved over. It seemed the torrential downpour of noise returned as well as time.
"You can take shelter here till the rain lightens."
Feliciano nodded before taking a seat next to me, his hair was dripping with water and he was drenched fo. He kept that sketchbook close to his chest, quiet from awkwardness. To lighten the mood I started to strum a small easy song, "Over the Rainbow." Feli began to hum along and the world was at peace.