I am SO sorry for taking so long... You see, I was met with the unexpected event of getting a boyfriend, and spending time with him added with the distractions of the internet (and the other fic I started) ended up being a couple weeks.

Also, I wanted to reply to CartedOff's review (who didn't log on, which is why I have to reply here): I think I remember someone saying that they were cosplaying as both Italy and Russia... And do you mean that it was actually a male cosplaying as regular Belarus, or that they were cosplaying as nyotalia Belarus? Because I don't think I saw any male!Belarus cosplayers as A-Kon...

As for the ship warnings, in this chapter will mainly be PruHun and Giripan.

The walk to her house felt a lot shorter than it used to be.

But that was probably because the last time Gilbert had walked all the way to Elizaveta's place had been over three years ago, and he had been twelve then—and therefore a lot smaller. His legs hadn't been that long, and his strides had been shorter. It still felt strange, though, that he had grown so much in that time.

Really, a couple blocks used to seem like a journey across the entire city…. Although, it still was a sort of a journey. It had been hard for him just to decide to suck up his pride and go over to his old—and currently still, hopefully—friend's house. But Gilbert had given himself the excuse that his brother was busy practicing soccer with Feliciano, and that his grandfather had locked himself in his room to work on principal-stuff—and so there was really nothing better to do. Except, possibly… actually do his homework.

Alright, he guessed he just really wanted to see Elizaveta.

When he got there, there weren't any doubts in his mind that this was the right house—of course the awesome him hadn't forgotten where she lived. However, he felt himself get slightly less awesome as he hesitated for a second to knock on her door. Vait—vhy ze hell am I getting nervous? I'm too awesome to get nervous. It's not even like I'm about to ask her out on a date or anytsing….

Frowning to himself, Gilbert rapped his knuckles against the door and leaned against the side of the house, waiting. It opened only about eight seconds later, and Elizaveta was standing on the other side, her hair slightly wet and looking like she'd recently gotten out of the shower, and she was wearing a sundress. Gilbert's first thought was that she looked really pretty like that—but then he got irrationally annoyed with both her and himself. He could understand wanting to wear less in this heat, but why did she have to wear a dress when she wasn't even in public? Had she really changed that much?

"Oh—I didn't expect you to come here, Gil…," she greeted in pleasant surprise, smiling at him.

For a second, he was just frozen there, as it took him a second to look away from the dress and remember how to form words. But when he did, he spoke just as obnoxiously as ever. "Yeah—vell… I didn't have your number in my cell phone, und I vanted to hang out vis you, so… I tsought ve could go out und kick a ball around or sometsing. Or go out und shoot at birds like ve used to—I've still got my airsoft gun—!"

"Thanks, but"—her smile faded almost too quickly, and the look on her face was apologetic—"I'm not really interested in shooting anymore…. You know, you're a little kid, and you don't really care about all the other forms of life—but now that we're teenagers, I think we were kind of cruel back then. And… I can't, anyway. I'm going somewhere with Roderich today."

At the mention of him, Gilbert automatically felt his stomach twist in anger and jealousy, and he involuntarily started grinding his teeth. He felt, though, like he could just say "Okay, anozzer time, zen," and leave—but he scowled instead and his mouth started acting without him:

"You're spending time vis Roddy again?"

The disgusted look on Gilbert's face got Elizaveta a bit angry, but she couldn't blame him for continuing to hate her boyfriend, so she held it back for the most part—though her voice was on edge when she spoke.

"I've told you to stop calling him that a thousand times, Gil."

"Vhat, und you tsink I'm going to stop? Ve both used to call him zat, und I still hate him!"

"I thought that you might respect my wishes and put aside your stupid grudge against him, seeing as you're supposed to be my friend!" Elizaveta argued, her face growing hot and her voice getting louder, and she balled up her fists at her sides. "You can't do something as simple as that, just for me?"

"Vhy should I?—apparently you aren't villing to make any sacrifices for me! You're alvays spending time vis zat pretty-boy—!"

"Because he's my boyfriend! And I can do whatever the hell I want, I don't have to—"

"—Spend time vis me?" Gilbert practically snarled in her face, his face twisted up in worse anger than he'd had for a long while. "Yeah, you don't have to do zat, if you vant to be a selfish—" He cut himself off when he realized what he was about to call her and momentarily paused, unable to believe that he'd even thought of stooping that low. And something flashed in Elizaveta's eyes, showing that she knew it as well, but she didn't say anything. "I'm much more awesome zan him, so I don't see vhy you're choosing him over me!"

Neither of them were sure whether this was about who she chose to spend her time with or the nature of their relationship in general anymore. Elizaveta just stared at him, brow furrowed in pain and jaw opening and closing in confusion for a few seconds before she just said, he voice shaking somewhat,

"Not everything is about you, Gilbert!"

And she slammed the door in his face.

He remained standing there for a good three more seconds, staring at the door, before he came to terms with the fact that it wasn't going to open again. Half of him was going, What ze hell? Did she really just do zat?, and the other was slowly sinking into a horrible sort of depression. All he'd wanted to do was hang out with his friend, whom he now felt pretty sure that he was in love with, and he had to be an idiot and make her angry and make it unlikely she would want to hang out with him anytime in the near future, either.

His lip curling and his face falling into a scowl, Gilbert stuffed his hands almost violently into his pockets, turned around, and began walking away back down the street. Spotting a rock, he began to kick it as he walked, really just needing something to hit.

"Stupid—verdammt—Roddy…," he muttered under his breath, punctuating each word with a kick. He had yet to officially execute his plan to make Elizaveta see that he was better than her stupid boyfriend, as he hadn't been able to think of anything, so he'd had to bare through two weeks of him and his enemy being on either side of Liz and acting as though the other wasn't there, and then eventually ending up fighting one another. He was pretty sure that he'd technically started that plan just a couple minutes ago, though. And doing it like that certainly hadn't been a good idea.

Not that he'd meant to. It had just come out because Gilbert couldn't help but be so angry and fraught with jealousy… it just wasn't fair. If he hadn't left to Germany three years ago, this wouldn't have happened.

Half of him wanted to blame everyone and everything but himself, but the other half was beating himself up and screaming at him that it was all his own stupidity and stubbornness at fault. Only he wanted to deny the second half completely.

Interrupting the silence and the somewhat morose feeling that was thickening the air, the little yellow bird on his shoulder let out a loud chirp. He took it as the start of a conversation, as he had somehow convinced himself that he could understand his pet's language.

"Looks like it's just you and me for today, Gilbird…," he sighed bitterly, thinking of how he suddenly wished his other two friends weren't busy. Antonio was never available on Sundays because his family was really religious and pretty much had their Catholic stuff going on all day, and he had already checked Francis's house—he was with that stupid Arthur kid, helping him with his personal soccer practice.

Sighing, Gilbert came to terms with the fact that he would be alone today, though he figured that he was sort of used to it.

The first day of soccer practice began with Lukas slapping Mathias very hard in the face for complaining about how "he wouldn't get to see how good his butt looked in soccer shorts" and quite a few people laughing at him—including Berwald, though he just smirked a little. Mathias had still forced the rest of his friends to come and watch his practice everyday, and they all thought it was unfair but did as he said, anyway.

Berwald couldn't help but be a little glad that Tino would be watching all of his practices, though. The thought made his chest get a little warmer.

"Alright, according to your guys' forms," Coach Vargas started to say loudly once everyone was standing around on the field, "most of you haven't actually played much sports before, so you might not know how it works—but just so you know, the very first day of practice doesn't need to be super-serious. We will be practicing, obviously, but I sort of want you guys to use this day to get to know each other if you don't already. It'll be better if we're all like one huge family, so it's not just a team of ten strangers. I'll give you guys… ten minutes to talk or something."

Roma, the outgoing and friendly sort of man he was, didn't really understand that the majority of people, especially teenagers, found it awkward when they were forced to socialize. So he just went and sat down as his table, not really paying the kids much attention.

There were a few people who liked the idea, but most of them just stood there awkwardly for a moment. Kiku and Arthur both temporarily froze where they stood, suddenly panicking a little and wanting nothing less than to interact with anyone else. They both quickly and separately decided that there was nothing that would make them decide to try to make new friends, so those two were already moving slightly outside the group of people, folding their arms and waiting for the ten minutes to be over.

"Is he really… going to have us do zis?" muttered Ludwig under his breath, backing away from everyone else a little bit and pulling his friend with him. There were times when he really respected Feliciano's grandfather, but the man could often be more annoying than a child….

He did think that making more friends might have been useful, but he figured Feliciano was enough. Besides, he knew that a lot of the others used to bully him when they were younger, and he couldn't help but hold a grudge despite the fact he hadn't remembered much of it on his own. But even if he didn't remember it, he knew that they would. And it would be rather awkward at the very least.

Feliciano actually rather liked the idea, though, and he was mostly oblivious to the fact that Ludwig seemed apprehensive about it. Most of the other people on the team he very easily recognized and had talked to several times in the past (he talked to pretty much everyone), but there was one boy whom he didn't know very well and who looked like he didn't have many (or any) friends to begin with—and his friendliness instinct automatically kicked in. Without thinking, he grabbed Ludwig's hand and pulled him over to the edge of the small crowd.

Strangely enough, Kiku had been thinking that it would probably be the most practical thing to try to get to know at least one other person on the team when he was approached and forced to turn his attention back to the real world.

"Hey, I'm Feliciano—you're in our Cooking class, right?"

Kiku, somewhat surprised, was silent for a couple seconds and just stared, and Ludwig frowned down at his friend, both because he'd been pulled into an uncomfortable situation and because he was still holding his hand. He tried to work his hand out of Feliciano's grip, not wanting to start getting… those feelings in public.

"Um… yes," Kiku said slowly, feeling awkward and unsure how to respond. He hadn't expected anyone to actually try to talk to him. "I'm in your English class, too. I'm… Kiku."

Not at all put off by the other boy's obvious social awkwardness (or possibly just too dense to see it), Feliciano put out a hand and said shamelessly, "Do you want to be friends? You and me and Ludwig"—he patted his friend's arm—"could be our own little trio~!"

"Or," Ludwig started before either or them could say anything, really stressing the word as he looked sharply from Feliciano to Kiku, "you could just… be a normal friend. It doesn't matter. You don't have to." He was annoyed with his friend for being so brazen about that and saying something that might make the kid feel obligated to say yes. And he could tell that they were both feeling just as awkward. But… he did sort of secretly like the idea of perhaps having another friend.

Staring at Feliciano's hand, Kiku felt himself starting to have a mini-panic attack. He didn't like touching people, and so he was extremely hesitant about shaking hands with the other boy, just as he was about being friends with them. Although… as annoyingly friendly as he could see he was, Feliciano seemed very nice—and the other boy, Ludwig, was calm and actually seemed like the sort of person he could get along with. Kiku had never really had what could be defined as "friends" before, but he supposed that, with his being on the soccer team, that was bound to happen sooner or later. So he made the next decision against his better judgment.

"I… yes, we can be friends," agreed Kiku in an almost professional tone. He took Feliciano's offered hand in what he intended to be a single, firm shake—but he got an extended, overly friendly and personal two-handed handshake instead. Panicking again, he made a small noise of discomfort and pulled his hand back.

Apparently not getting the hint, Feliciano then grinned and but his arms around both Ludwig's and Kiku's shoulders, saying, "Great! I'm sure—"

But then Kiku took a large and abrupt step back and away from Feliciano, frowning and almost shaking with how uncomfortable he felt.

"Ah—please… never do that again," he said, noticing that the other boy looked confused. Ludwig sighed internally and tried to tell his friend not to be so inconsiderate.

Meanwhile, amongst the rest of the soccer team, everyone was trying to avoid Ivan, Berwald, and Mathias. Mostly because they were huge and intimidating—and Mathias was also obnoxious and everyone knew it. That didn't leave many other people except for Toris, whom Ivan was holding possessively to his side and keeping from moving around (but he was fine with that, as he was staring at Natalya in the bleachers and she was glaring back at him), Heracles, who was just staring dreamily up at the clouds, and Alfred… who wanted to make friends with everyone.

Unfortunately for him, pretty much everyone was avoiding him, too. As friendly as he was, he was also rather conceited (though he didn't seem to be aware of that) and rude and childish and a bit stupid at times. There was a reason he didn't have any close friends or even people who could stand talking to him for an extended period of time.

It wasn't as though he really needed to get to know anyone like Coach Vargas had told them to do, anyway, since everyone already knew him. Except, of course, for that new Russian guy, but he didn't want to get too near him more than anyone else did.

And so Alfred was left pacing back and forth, trying not to feel sorry for himself yet at the same time not consciously realizing that there was anything about him to feel sorry about—until he thought of one person. Looking up, he adjusted his glasses and glanced over to Arthur Kirkland, who was standing a little away from everyone and looking as bitter as ever. For the past few years, he'd normally avoided looking at or thinking about that guy at all, but now that they were going to be on the soccer team together, he couldn't help but feel kind of sad about the way their friendship had ended and how they had pretty much severed all ties.

Arthur had probably been his only real friend ever (besides Matthew, but he was his twin, so he couldn't count), and he had even been kind of like a big brother, but that friendship had been painfully short and, after that huge fight, they had pretty much tried to pretend that the other didn't exist. Or at least that's what he'd done. He didn't know about Arthur; he might have hated his guts now. There was no way to know.

But, as Alfred was hit with some strange wave of prudence, he figured that it wouldn't do good for the team if he and Arthur were either constantly fighting or ignoring each other. It wouldn't do good for anyone if there were any two people in the team who didn't get along. And he didn't want to bring the team down, so he decided that he ought to make amends or at least fix something before they started their first practice.

Over where he was standing, Arthur was staring at the grass and thinking similarly. He was thoroughly annoyed that Alfred had to be on the team with him, which would mean forced interaction with that brat. But… they were in highschool now, weren't they? So they were practically adults. Still, Arthur had pretty much been abandoned, and Alfred was still bloody annoying, and they hadn't even spoken to each other at all in about four years, and—

"Hey, Arthur."

What? In confusion and alarm, he looked up from the grass to see a pair of glasses on an uncharacteristically serious face and a lock of hair that somehow stood straight up where it was parted. Arthur narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, too shocked to even say something like "What do you want?"

When it remained silent between them, Alfred just took a deep breath, not wanting to make this last longer than it had to, and went on, "Listen, I know we're kind of enemies or not-friends or maybe you hate me—or whatever, but I think it's time we get over it so we can at least get along during the soccer season, because I'm not going to quit and I don't want you to quit and force us to use a backup who's not as good as you. So… we don't have to be friends, but can we be equals?"

Alfred gave him an awkward sort of hopeful look, trying not to look him directly in the eye but also trying not to be too impersonal.

Okay, and now Arthur was even more confused. That guy was the one who wanted to put their differences aside. But of course it was because of his hero-complex, wasn't it?

"Oh bloody hell no, I'm supposed to be the mature one, not you!" was surprisingly, even to himself, the first thing to come out of his mouth. It was just like him to get angry even about something like this, Alfred figured, laughing a little—at which Arthur scowled. "Nevermind, I take that back. You're not being mature at all."

"Hey, maybe it'll be mature of you to forgive me, wouldn't it?" he said in mock-realization, grinning. "Then we'll be even, and you can have your way just like it always has to be with you—"

"You—you can shut up about that!" said Arthur, getting angrier at the mention of the reason they had started fighting in the first place. Or, at least—the reason Alfred had started fighting with him. "But… yes, I suppose I can… forgive you," he added, folding his arms and grumbling. "Only for the team, though. Not for you."

Not entirely to his surprise, Alfred just smirked and said, "That's all I wanted to hear, Artie." As he walked away, he gave a small salute-like gesture.

Arthur hardly had time to get annoyed about being called that stupid nickname or try to comprehend what had just happened before Coach Vargas, completely unaware that his plan hadn't been that effective, told them that the time was up and that they were going to start the official practice now.

For someone who generally spent most of their time inside and hardly ever exercised, Kiku was strangely not as exhausted as he should have been after practices. He blamed it on the martial arts classes he'd taken a couple years before.

Halfway through the week, he was thinking that he actually rather liked being on the team, however much he wished he had as much time for his fandoms as he used to. There simply weren't enough hours in the day, now that there was school, soccer, and homework. He figured he'd have to hardly eat and get less sleep if he wanted to watch anime even nearly as much as usual.

But it was, altogether, nice to be a part of something. He really couldn't explain why, though, since he normally disliked being around any people at all. Feliciano and Ludwig were nice enough, and he even found himself legitimately liking them as friends. And all of this after only three days of practice.

It was a good thing that practices were only all-week for the first week, Kiku mused as he walked away from the soccer field on Wednesday afternoon. Once he reached the edge of the school property, he turned in the direction of his house, and he could feel his thighs burning slightly from all the running and kicking. He figured that at least he would be able to look forward to getting home and sitting down and drinking some water….

Kiku didn't get very far until he felt something soft brush against his leg, and he almost jumped back in alarm before he stopped and looked down to see a gray and black-striped cat sliding in between his legs and briefly wrapping its tail around them each time. At once, his shoulders slumped, and a soft sort of look grew upon his face as he looked down at the cat.

Aw… where did you come from? Kiku thought, smiling and bending down to pet the cat, rubbing his hand gently down the fur from its head to the end of its body—but stopping there, since he knew cats generally didn't like to be touched on their tails. He'd always loved cats, and for some reason the adorable creatures usually liked him in return. There wasn't any collar around its neck, so he figured it was probably a stray. It was funny, though, that this one had happened to be near the school….

As he scratched around its ears, the cat lowered its head and purred. Figuring that it trusted him, and in spite of the fact that there was no guarantee it was free from fleas or any other disease, Kiku decided to put his hand under the cat's middle and pick it up. Apparently very docile, it didn't mind. He'd have liked to take it home and keep as a pet if he wasn't sure that his mom would either say no or tell him that he'd have full responsibility for it—which would have meant that he'd have even less time to do what he wanted.

Unexpectedly, but not quite alarmingly, a hand that didn't belong to him reached out to pet the cat in his arms. Slightly surprised, Kiku moved his eyes from the hand up to the tanned arm it was a part of and then up to the face it belonged to.

It was Heracles, and his expression as he continued to pet the cat—and even as he looked up and acknowledged Kiku—was one of utter calmness, as usual. Though it was pretty much what his face always looked like whenever he saw him, it still amazed Kiku that one could even look that calm. He almost found himself staring, but then managed to stop himself.

"Sorry, I just really like cats," said Heracles, smiling softly at him. Kiku could tell that he was genuinely apologizing, as he must have realized that this could be awkward or considered rude. And because of that, it wasn't either of those.

"It's alright," he replied, almost surprised at himself for being so agreeable, and Heracles smiled a little wider in acknowledgment.

"Did she just come right up to you?" he asked, his calm tone tinged with curiosity.

"Actually, yes… but how do you know it's a she?"

Without saying anything at first, Heracles carefully moved his hand downward on the cat's stomach and pushed aside some fur to get a better view. "…Yeah, it's a she."

Kiku actually found it difficult not to laugh just a bit, and his effort to keep it in along with the actual, small giggles made his body shake uncontrollably. The movement wasn't very nice to the cat, apparently, because it—she—gave a loud mewl and twisted her body in his arms. Not wanting to hurt her, he bent down and let her slide out of his arms onto the ground rather than just dropping her. The cat seemed to be regaining its balance before it trotted away.

It was then that he realized he had nothing to say, but for some reason it didn't feel as awkward as it should have. With Heracles, it seemed, the silence was nice and to be expected.

"Cats tend to hang around me a lot," said Heracles quietly enough that he might have been muttering, but somehow very clearly. "I don't know why. But there's a lot of strays around my house…."

Kiku could guess why—probably because the boy just gave off that calm, sleepy air that would make cats trust him.

"Ah, speaking of which, I should probably be getting home…." Kiku's tone was a bit apologetic, as he didn't want to be rude—and he actually didn't want to stop talking to him.

"I walk home, too… would you mind if I walked with you?"

Strangely enough, he didn't. "Oh—sure," he said, nodding and starting to walk. Heracles started after him and got to his side.

"How far away is your house?" he asked. "Mine's over there"—and he pointed to the far left from where they were walking.

Kiku glanced that way for a second and said, "It's a bit further, and more the direction we're walking now. But… we can part ways halfway to your house?"

"Hm. Sure." Heracles stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled, taking in a deep, relaxing breath.

While they walked, there were the occasional minutes of silence, but otherwise they did a lot of talking. Kiku was surprised, for probably the third since leaving school, to find that he really didn't mind talking and even having answering relatively personal questions. They did ask a lot of questions about each other, what classes they had besides Geometry, what they liked to do…. And neither of them said it directly, but it seemed to be silently established that they had become friends the moment Heracles had reached out to pet the cat, and they were now getting that friendship on track by learning things about each other.

About twenty minutes later, they both found theirselves in front of Kiku's house.

"Huh," Heracles said, not sounding at all bothered by it. "I think I lost track of what I was doing and ended up walking all the way here with you."

"Ah, I'm sorry…. I didn't mean to make you have to walk more." Kiku stopped in his tracks and frowned a little, annoyed with himself.

"It's okay, I don't mind. And I'm sure I can get home from here." Heracles checked what street they were on and looked back to him with a slight smile. "…You know, I don't think I've heard you talk very much before today."

"I don't think I've heard you talk much before today, either," Kiku returned, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he adjusted his grip on his backpack's strap.

Giving a small laugh, Heracles adjusted his own strap and looked behind him for a second as he slowly started to walk backwards. "Well… see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," he agreed.

Kiku walked up the empty driveway and into his house, only vaguely aware but also glad that Heracles was now his friend.

And, as he walked to his own house, Heracles was thinking that, after a single conversation (however long it was), he already liked Kiku more than he ever liked his ex-girlfriend.

And the Giripan arc has begun! They are just too cuuute... And just so you know, any USUK in this story will be strictly platonic. I just wanted to say that just in case anyone thought the moment between Alfred and Arthur seemed romantic and either got their hopes up or got scared.

Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated, and I'll try my best to update as soon as I can (and not procrastinate this time)!