Disclaimer: To avoid a copyrights lawsuit, I'll say it- I don't own Hetalia or it's characters
Okay, I'm gonna explain this so no one is confused. In this imaginary school in my story I've decided they will use the block schedule method. The block schedule is where you split the school year into two terms and in the first term you have four classes and in the second term you have four entirely new classes. So, four periods in a school day. On to the story!
The dead silent classroom erupted into chatter and noise as the bell signaling the end of the period chimed. Everyone jumped to their feet and rushed to the exit- all but the quiet Canadian boy in the back who waited for the crowd to dissipate. He began to gather his things when there were just a few students left loitering around the room. Standing with his backpack slung over his shoulder Matthew started for the door when a hand landed on top of his head, rustling up his hair.
"You gonna leave your book, Mattie?" Gilbert asked the startled boy.
"O-oh, I forgot," Matthew replied. The German leaned in closer so he could make out his words and hand him his book. "Thank you," Matthew added as he took the heavy textbook.
"Your velcome! The awesome me vould never forget to give you back your book!" Gilbert all but shouted in his usual boisterous voice. "Also, I've decided your going to join me unt my friends at lunch," he added as they walked out the door and enter the busy hallway.
"W-what?" Matthew turned to face his new 'friend', a little shocked.
"Of course! How else is the awesome me supposed to get to know you?"
"B-but I already said I would sit with someone," Matthew tried to raise his voice so Gilbert could hear him over the noise coming from all sides.
"Who?" Gilbert's crimson eyes narrowed- he didn't like to share new toys, and this kid is hilarious and down-right fun to screw with. He enjoyed watching the kid blush and stutter in surprise or embarrassment.
"Well-" Matthew began but stopped himself when he heard his named being called from the other end of hallway.
"Matthew!"
Towering over the rest of the crowd, Ivan stood there scanning the milling people with a lazy empty smile on his face. When his eyes locked on the small Canadian he began to move through the crowd towards him. In matter of seconds Ivan stood beside his friend. Holding out his hand he said "You forgot these this morning."
"Oh! My glasses!" Matthew squeaked, snatching up his glasses and placed them on his face, moving his odd curl out of the way. "Merci, I was starting to get a headache."
"You can be quite the air-head, comrade Matvey," the Russian said, using his nickname with a small, genuine smile.
"I know," Matthew replied with a slight blush and a smile in return. "Thanks."
Just then Ivan finally noticed the albino standing beside Matthew and the smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a cold expression. "What do you want?"
Instead of answering the question, Gilbert placed his arm around the Canadian's shoulders and pulled him close to his side. "This is who you vere going to eat with, Mattie? Vell, your welcome for saving you from one boring, scary, lunch," he said to Matthew, completely ignoring the glowering Russian in front of him.
"Get your hands off him," Ivan said, danger glinting in his eyes.
"Why don't you make me, commie?" Gilbert replied, tightening his grip on the boy next to him.
"H-hey!" Matthew tried to wriggle out from the German's grasp before the situation got any worse. What is happening here? Matthew thought as he continued to struggle. Do these two know each other?
Ivan leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists at his sides while Gilbert gave him a goading smirk. Other students in the hall seemed to sense a fight coming on and gave the two notorious boys their space. Gilbert squeezed Matthews arm tighter as the tension grew- right on one of the smaller boy's newest bruises. A grimace of pain took up residence on his face. At the sight of Matthew's pain, Ivan snapped. Rushing forward, Ivan grabbed the obnoxious German by the collar of his shirt, lifted him off his feet (shaking Matthew off as he did, causing him to land on the ground), and shoved him into the wall.
"C'mon," Gilbert all but hissed.
"Oi! What are you lads doing?!"
Rushing out of his classroom on the other side of the hall came Mr. Kirkland, the English teacher. Grabbing Ivan with both hands he tried to yank the giant boy away. Kids quickly scurried to their next classes before they could be dragged into the fiasco.
Even though Mr. Kirkland put all his might into extracting the Russian from the German, the large boy didn't budge- he just glared into the red eyes of the smirking mudak he had pinned.
"You will stop this RIGHT NOW Ivan, or we will take this to the Principle!" Mr. Kirkland shouted.
After a long moment, Ivan released Gilbert and took a slow step back. His eyes full of hate never left Gilbert's.
"Now, are you going to tell me wha- Oh!" Mr. Kirkland stopped mid sentence as he accidently trotted on the Canadian on the floor. "Sorry lad, I didn't see you there," he apologized as he reached down a hand to help the boy up.
"It's alright," Matthew whispered as he got to his feet. At the sound of his friends quiet voice, Ivan's eyes darted over to see if he was okay. Matthew gave him what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile while he gently rubbed some feeling back into his arm.
"As I was saying, what happened here?" Mr. Kirkland asked.
"It vas just boys being boys, Mr. K. You're not that old- you should remember vhat that's like," Gilbert said, a playful smile on his lips. And it's true- Arthur Kirkland was the youngest teacher to ever be hired by the prestigious school at the age of 21.
Deciding to take the last comment lightly, Mr. Kirkland gave a faint smile and said "Alright then. Don't let me catch you two at it again- you have enough fights on you records already." With that he turned and headed back to his own class, leaving the boys to sort out their own problems in the now deserted hallway.
"You alright Mattie?" Gilbert asked, breaking the silence.
"I'm fine, thank you Gilbert," Matthew said with a smile- but his brows were furrowed in confusion. What the HELL had just happened. He looked imploringly between Ivan and Gilbert, hoping one of them would offer up an explanation. No one did.
"C'mon Matthew. Let's go to our next class," Ivan said, grabbing Matthew's arm, careful not to squeeze too hard.
As Ivan quickly pulled Matthew away they heard Gilbert call out "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Matthew! And I'm not giving up on the lunch thing just yet!"
Gym passed in a blur. Matthew did his best to hide his bruises while he changed, but really it didn't matter whether he tried or not. No one noticed the quiet boy hiding in the corner.
Walking out of the locker rooms Matthew ran straight into Ivan.
Looking up into his eyes, Matthew gave him a smile. "Ivan hi-"
"What were you doing with Gilbert?"
With a confused look Matthew answered "We have first period physics together- he borrowed my book. Why are you so angry Ivan?"
A long minute passed of Ivan looking down at his small friend, a look of rage and suspicion in his eyes. "He is not a good person to be around, comrade Matvey."
Tilting his head to the side, Matthew gave him a look that seemed to say What in the world are you talking about? "He seemed nice to me."
For a moment Ivan looked as if he was going to scream and yell. For a moment. Then his expression went back to their usual set features, hiding all emotion. "Lets not talk about it now," he finally said. "How about we go eat out on the bleachers, da?"
Matthew's eyes were wide with shock. He had never seen his large friend so angry before- especially not at him. "O-okay," he finally stuttered out..
The rest of the day Matthew just went through the motions. He took notes, he listened to the teachers, he hurried through the hallways. All the while, Ivan tried to avoid any run-ins with a specific albino German, making Matthew take detours between classes and after lunch.
During his last and favorite class- Art- Matthew sat by the window with a sketchbook in his hands. Art is one of the few all-year classes like Newspaper and Band. Ms. Hedervary, the teacher, had a very care-free teaching style and a very strict grading system. Each student received an assignment for the year unique to their skills be it sketching, painting, sculpting or whatever they specialized in. Turn in the assignment at the end of the year, and if it's up to Ms. Hedervary's standards you pass the class, if not you fail.
You might be thinking that is an unfair way to grade a student. What if the teacher doesn't like the style or the look? But as the Hungarian woman says at the beginning of each school year, it doesn't matter if the art is good but if it holds your heart. After her little speech, she sat down with each of her students and discussed what their assignment should be. A lazy boy from Greece decided to make a statue that showed who he was. Another boy- Matthew was pretty sure the boy's name is Kiku, and nearly positive he's of Japanese decent- settled on drawing an entire comic book (Anime is one of my passions, the boy had said in a calm passive voice). And then it had been Matthew's turn.
At first, the teacher hadn't even seen the quiet Canadian and walked right past him.
"E-excuse me," Matthew had squeaked out. "I still need an assignment."
"Oh!" Ms. Hedervary had spun around and searched for the source of the quiet voice, her eyes finally landing on the petite boy sitting by the window. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you," she said as she walked over and sat in the desk beside him.
"It's all right," Matthew had replied, looking down at his sketchbook.
"Well, let's get right down to it!" the energetic woman had exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "What do you do?"
"I-I draw."
"Speak up, dear, I really can't hear you."
"I draw," Matthew strained to make his voice louder and gestured at the worn sketchbook on the wooden surface before him. The plain, worn book had the corners of its cover torn and a dark stain on one side. The metallic corkscrew spine unraveled at the ends as well. Even with all that though, you could tell the ware-and-tare had come from a long, successful career of being loved and held dear.
"May I take a look?" the teacher asked. Matthew nodded his head and handed over the book. Flipping through the pages, Ms. Hedervary's eyes grew wider and wider. Each page held something different- some were oil pastels, others charcoal. A lot were just simple sketches, but they were impeccable- every detail precise, each mark on the page used to the fullest. The images almost seemed to come to life.
One specific image caught the Hungarian's eye- a charcoal picture of a small boy curled up in the corner of an empty room, his knees held up to hide his face and his arms wrapped around his legs. The edges of the walls and floor crumbled away into a gaping abyss. The only color on the page was the red dripping from the boy's hands, some of which puddled on the ground. A simple image, yet it spoke a thousand words, expressed a thousand emotions. I'll be it, it was dark and depressing, but it was beautiful.
A silence stretched out between student and teacher as Ms. Hedervary's eyes lingered on the picture of the boy.
"You have a true talent," Ms. Hedervary finally said.
"Merci," Matthew whispered.
"Hmmmm . . ." a more purposeful silence ensued while the teacher thought about what the young Canadian should do. "How about this? You create a portfolio for me- something you would give someone to get a job, you know? With all the works. One piece for each of your talents. Have the minimum of four pieces. Other than that, do whatever you want."
Matthew gave her a giant, genuine smile. "That sounds wonderful."
Translations:
Merci- Thank you (French)
Mudak: Asshole (Russian)
Author's Note: I loved the idea of an artistic Canada, so that's what I put in. I still haven't decided between FrUk and USUK, so I couldn't put in some of the things I would have liked to. Sorry. I would really appreciate it if you guys gave me your opinion. Also, I wanted to clarify that Alfred is Matthew's OLDER brother in this, just so things don't get confusing later on. Another favor- I don't feel like I'm doing very good with the German accent so if you guys could give me some tips, that would be great
The whole time I was writing this my brother was nagging me to hurry up so he could read it and it really got on my nerves. He made me loose the flow for a bit, so the part where I'm talking about the art class is a little lame- I apologize.
Other than that, I apologize for Google Translate, per usual and hope you enjoyed the story!