Alright, second chapter. I'm aware nothing much happened in the first chapter. This chapter is also sort of an introductory thing to set things in motion so I'm still mainly focusing on introducing all the main characters. Thank you so much to all who reviewed and alerted. I really appreciate it!

Note: AP classes are highest level of a certain subject. Most challenging classes. Honors classes are the lowest. They are more like fast track. I'm aware that in some schools Honors is actually high level but not in this story.

Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Chapter 2: Of Meetings and Impressions

The bell toll rang throughout the airy hallways as students clad in navy blue and beige uniforms with globes and olive leaves upon their breasts shuffled to their classrooms, chattering away in the refreshing morning light. It was the second day of school and the official starting of classes. The freshmen were perky as freshmen always were. The seniors, however, seemed to be dragging their feet behind them and dark circles took refuge under their eyes- the sign of late night back-to-school parties in the senior dormitories. Excitement of all kinds rippled through the air like electric shocks between every student.

And all of them were lazily being watched by three, very bored boys as they sat perched on their customary arch in the walls, greeting and grinning at everyone who stopped by. Many returnees bounded up to the Bad Touch Trio waving their cameras obnoxiously, begging for back-to-school photos. Others simply stared in awe or walked away quickly, clearly intimidated. This was all routine. Nothing new.

"Call me," Francis murmured seductively to the blonde girl in front of him.

Her hand was outstretched and the French boy had just finished gracefully scribbling his number on her palm with her Sharpie. Placing the black marker back in her hand, Francis gave the girl a quick wink that caused her to blush furiously and she hurriedly turned on her heels and returned to her pack of giggling friends a few steps away.

Francis chuckled, tucking some of his stray golden locks behind his ear and leaned back against the right pillar of the arch.

"Damn man, do you ever run out?" exclaimed the silver hair boy sitting next to him, his crimson eyes blazing with interest.

Francis simply grinned and loosened his navy tie with his slender index finger.

"Well Gilbert there are 7 billion people on this planet."

Gilbert merely rolled his eyes, dragged his gigantic earphones down around his neck and rashly put his hands into the pockets of his black leather pants. His expression immediately sank into a scowl and he plunged his hands into every single one of his pockets, front and back.

"Goddammit," he growled, his crimson eyes threatening.

"What are you looking for?" Antonio asked from the left of the albino, lazily munching a tomato flavored chip. The Spaniard wore no tie and his hair was sexily uncombed as always.

"I… don't… have… any…more…" Gilbert muttered, clearly aggravated, as he now took to dumping the contents of his backpack, not caring for the questioning looks from passing students.

"Ask Elizabeta for some," Francis suggested coolly, his eyes focused somewhere else. "She's heading this way."

Gilbert jerked his head up, his crimson eyes widening in happiness as the slender, black haired girl made her way down the hallway towards the trio, her skirt bouncing with every step and her black leather jacket hugging her torso tightly. One could say she looked like a motorcyclist's sexy girlfriend.

"Hey girlfriend!" the German exclaimed, jumping off the ledge and striding towards Elizabeta, placing his arms around her waist, and greeting her with a deep kiss.

When he finally pulled away, the Hungarian girl frowned, her eyes intimidating.

"I'm not your girlfriend Gilbert," she said in an imposing tone.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Right. Fuck-buddy. My bad. So do you have some? Please say you do."

Elizabeta sighed at his desperate tone, glanced around them, then cautiously removed a small plastic bag with fine white powder in it from the pocket of her jacket, slipping it into the silver-haired boy's hand. Gilbert's red eyes blazed with happiness as a blind man would at seeing the sun for the first time.

"You owe me," she whispered through clenched teeth. "Big time."

Gilbert grinned. "I'll make it up to you. Tonight. I promise," he replied, winking at her in an oh-so-Gilbert way.

A smug smile rose to Elizabeta's face as the final bell rang.

"I'll be waiting. I have to go to class now," she said, acknowledging the echoing bell. She released herself from Gilbert's embrace and nodded at the French and Spanish spectators.

"See ya Francis. Antonio."

Francis flashed her smile and blew her a kiss.

"Later Elizabeta," Antonio called out, grinning, waving as she made her way down the hallway. But his grin suddenly evaporated into a surprised expression.

"Uhh, Francis," he said, his eyes focused on something else. "Isn't that the girl you slept with last night?"

Both Gilbert and Francis turned their heads in the general direction that Antonio was staring in to find a flustered brunette with shades of eyeshadow and rouge painted on her face stomping her way in stilettos towards them.

"Why yes… I think it is," answered Francis.

"Dude, did you like rip her favorite panties or something? Why does she look so angry?" Gilbert asked, raising his eyebrow.

The French boy shrugged. "Hey if that's the case, she should have worn a different pair last night. It's hardly my fault."

"YOU FUCKING MAN-WHORE!" the girl screamed as she approached them, startling all three of them. Francis lazily slid off his side of the ledge, confronting the angry brunette.

"Excusez-moi?"

SLAP! Her palm struck the blond boy's built jaw, causing Francis to stare at her wide-eyed and his friends' mouths drop.

"I HAD FREAKIN SEX WITH YOU LAST NIGHT!"

Francis nodded slowly, not oblivious to the fact that there were tears in the girl's eyes.

"Yes, I am aware."

"HOW COULD YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME ONLY FIVE HOURS AGO AND THEN WRITE YOUR PHONE NUMBER ON MY BEST FRIEND'S HAND?"the girl sobbed.

Francis, Gilbert and Antonio all blinked as the situation became clear. Although rare, it had happened in the past.

"Ma cherie, I'm sure you were aware it was a one night stand only?"

The brunette wiped her threatening tears, her makeup smearing down her cheek.

"Wh-what? N-no, y-you said you loved me last night. You made me feel special," she replied, clearly hurt.

Francis raised a slender eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Did I? Well, it's not entirely false. I love the entire female species. And I'm sure you are very special. But I'm afraid not in the way you'd like to be."

For a moment, the girl in front of him was speechless as if she'd been slapped across the face.

"You're a cold hearted bastard you know that? I feel sorry for every girl who has ever been in your bed. Or even looked at you for that matter," she hissed, turning on her heels and stomping away through the now empty hallway, leaving Francis staring at her back in bewilderment but no remorse.

Gilbert began to howl in laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Gilbert, don't be so rude. Poor girl," Antonio chided, munching on another chip. "She really thought you liked her."

Francis sighed. "Yes, it's the unfortunate other side of females."

"Man, you really know how to screw people over," Gilbert wheezed, trying to recover from his laughter.

Antonio slid off the ledge, playfully punching Gilbert in the shoulder.

"Maybe you should try to stick with one person you like. Just see how it goes," the Spaniard suggested, looking at his blonde friend.

"Pshhh, non," Francis laughed, running his fingers through his golden hair. "Love is like a fairy mon ami. It touches and teases you, making you feel happy inside. And then it's just gone, flown away on its little wings. And besides, monogamy is trés boring. Maybe I'll take a break and have a man this week. I saw a very cute Canadian yesterday."

The copper skinned boy grinned, shaking his head. "You'll never change. Anyway, I've actually got to run. I'm supposed to be teaching Spanish class this year and I'm already a bit late."

"You're teaching Spanish this year?" Gilbert inquired in an obnoxious, annoyed tone. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Antonio shrugged on his backpack and straightened his uniform. "Last year's Spanish teacher retired. And besides, I need a 2.5 GPA to run track this year and Principal Rome said teaching this class would give me credit towards my grade."

"Yes, because the only class you miraculously haven't failed is AP Spanish," retorted Francis, teasingly and Gilbert snickered.

The Spaniard scowled, his caramel eyes narrowing. "Hey, no making fun of my grades okay? It's not funny."

Francis laughed heartily and patted his friend on the back.

"I'm only teasing mon ami. See you."

Antonio waved to his friends and began to walk down the vast hallway. "Yeah, see you at lunch!"

"Have fun teaching freshies!" called Gilbert, hooting at his own personal joke.

The French boy picked up his backpack and slid it onto shoulders, looking at his remaining friend inquisitively.

"Coming?"

Gilbert gathered his stuff and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll take a tardy for today. I've got other important things to do," he replied, waving the small packet of white powder in front of him.

Francis chuckled. "Alright then. Abientot mon ami. Have a nice snuff in the bathroom."

The silver-haired boy grinned and the boys took off in separate directions towards their destinations. It had already been a very interesting morning.

And as they say, the morning shows the day.

/

/

"Ughhhh I don't wanna go to class," whined Alfred for about the hundredth time.

His shoulders were slumped in their customary way even thought his backpack didn't seem too heavy. Matthew on the other hand was all excitement and cheeriness. He had completely discarded all pessimistic feelings that he had felt last night at dinner and was ready to take on his first day of classes.

"Come on Alfred," he said soothingly, trying to calm down his complaining friend as they stood in the boy's bathroom with Kiku and Heracles, trying to kill some time. "It's not going to be that bad."

Alfred had been acting like the drama queen he was the entire morning and was freaking out over how he'd die since he had missed breakfast.

The American boy leaned against one of the sinks, crossed his arms and huffed very dramatically.

"School is stupid. There's no point to it. I mean we honestly have no use in learning how H2SO4 is water."

"Umm, actuarry…" Kiku interjected as he combed his hair in the mirror and straightened his tie, "H2SO4 is surfuric acid."

"Nuance," retorted Alfred, pushing his glasses up his nose as they all four heard the ancient bell ring loudly throughout the hallway outside.

The four friends looked at each other. Heracles tugged on Kiku's sleeve.

"We should be getting to Computer Programming," he muttered. "I heard Mr. Yoshihiko doesn't like it when his juniors are late."

Kiku nodded as he gathered his backpack and jacket.

"Yes, we should go." He looked back at Matthew and the still whining Alfred. "You guys can find your way to crass by yourselves right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred answered. "It can't be that hard. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's finding places."

The three other boys blinked, silently acknowledging among themselves how untrue that was as they remembered the events from the night before. Alfred had surprisingly been the least drunk out of all of them and he couldn't tell the difference between the bathroom and Heracles's bed. Kiku had vowed never to offer Sake to the American ever again.

"Don't worry," Matthew assured the Japanese boy. "We'll find our way."

Kiku nodded and with that, he and Heracles exited the bathroom, leaving Matthew and Alfred alone.

"What class do you have first?" Alfred asked as he sighed and stood up straight, yawning.

"Umm, let me check," Matthew murmured, rummaging through his backpack to find his crumpled up schedule. He squinted through his glasses and replied, "I have AP French. You?"

"Holy sweet mother of hotdogs, AP FRENCH?" Alfred exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. "Damn man, are you really that good at French?"

The purple-eyed boy shrugged as he headed towards the exit of the bathroom, motioning for Alfred to follow. "French comes naturally to me I guess. So what do you have first period?"

"Spanish 1. Honors," Alfred mumbled, his self confidence clearly lowered a bit.

"Honors?" his friend questioned, opening the door and heading headlong into the throng of students hurrying to their class. "Haven't you taken Spanish for like five years?"

"Hey, I might have taken it for five years, but that does not mean I learned anything. I always had really stupid teachers," replied Alfred as he tried to dodge other students.

"Well now that I think of it, I've never actually had a decent teacher ya know?" Alfred continued and Matthew knew he was going to rant for several minutes now. "None of them really knew what they were talking about. Especially my science and English ones. Maybe that's why I never speak in proper grammar."

Matthew drowned out the rest of his friend's speech while he looked at the room number written upon his schedule and the map they had been given during orientation.

"Hey," he said to a distracted Alfred, "I think my class is this way. I'll be going now. See ya."

With that, he took off in the direction the map had pointed him in, almost 95% sure Alfred hadn't heard a word he had said and he was still standing in front of the bathroom monologue-ing. Matthew shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought of how his friend was never really going to change.

/

/

Lovino was practically running down the hallway, nearly tripping over his feet as he struggled to keep one arm around his textbooks and the other on his backpack that was threatening to slip off his shoulder. He had overslept because his idiot of a brother had forgotten to set the alarm. Not that it had any negative effect on Feliciano. He always woke up early so he had been on time. Lovino on the other hand had woken up only when the booming of the bell signaled the time to go to class.

Damn, he hated that bell.

As he mentally cursed everything he had seen or heard this entire morning, he skimmed the numbers of the classrooms that he passed by. He hated being a freshman. He didn't know where anything was and that bothered him. After what seemed like ages, Lovino finally stopped in front of room 234.

Spanish. Yuck.

Well it wasn't like he had a choice. He hated French, English, German, Latin, Mandarin, Hindi, Greek, Russian, and Portuguese a whole lot more and there was no way he was taking those classes.

Panting from his hurried arrival, Lovino straightened his tie, re-gathered his hold on his book and backpack, and was about to enter the dreaded classroom when he heard the annoying tone of an American accent.

"Hey! Mario! You're late too?"

Lovino felt his eyebrow twitch as he turned his head to find the very same boy his brother had run into heading towards him.

Great. He was in this class too.

"Stop calling me that," Lovino grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

The American let out a huge sigh of relief and straightened his back, securing his backpack.

"Phew I finally found the room. I couldn't find the damn room! My map kept switching directions. What's your excuse?"

"I overslept."

Lovino then turned towards the door and placed his hand on the knob, signaling that their short lived conversation was over. The other boy kept talking anyway as he opened the door to an already assembled class.

Everyone's heads turned, including the oddly young looking teacher who had been writing something on the chalkboard.

The teacher blinked. "Oh, hello. I think you're late."

Lovino flushed when he saw everyone's eyes on him. How embarrassing.

"What're you all looking at?" the Italian mumbled, walking further into the classroom and scanning for a place to sit. The American followed.

"Here, why don't you guys take this empty table over here," the teacher said, motioning to a table all the way at the front of the room.

Not the front, Lovino mentally whined.

He began to make his way to the table being pointed at, ignoring everyone else's curious stare, when the American behind him called out,

"Hey, you're that one popular senior kid! Are you the teacher?"

Lovino, along with everyone else's eyebrows shot up at this question.

The copper skinned senior in front of the class nodded.

"Um, yes. I am. And you too must be…."

He looked down at the roster on his desk.

"Alfred and Lovino?"

The two of them nodded and took their seats. The teacher smiled.

"I'm Antonio. And yes I am a senior. Last year's Spanish teacher retired so-"

"Are you even qualified? I mean, you're still a student," Lovino asked, completely aware of how rude his tone was.

Antonio blinked his deep, hazel-brown eyes and scratched the back of his head.

"I completed the AP Spanish curriculum in my first semester of freshman year without ever taking a Spanish class in my life. Does that make me qualified?"

A quiet murmur of surprise and amazement rippled throughout the classroom.

"AP Spanish in his first year?" Alfred whispered to Lovino. "Dude, I was told he was supposed to be stupid."

Although he didn't show it, Lovino was equally astounded. However, he wasn't surprised at Antonio's qualifications but rather at how he wasn't bragging about it. The Spaniard just said it as if it was nothing important. How could you claim such a feat without bragging about it?

After that, the class progressed as it normally had begun. Antonio started off with basic Spanish greetings and the first ten numbers, asking the class to repeat the words along with him. Lovino however, had an extremely hard time saying "Mellamo Lovino" much less remember what "Mellamo" meant.

Next to him, Alfred wasn't doing any better for he kept mixing up all his words and that was just confusing Lovino a whole lot more. And the girls sitting behind him kept murmuring about how hot Antonio was.

Antonio was not hot. Just because he had really nice caramel skin and feathery chocolate hair did not mean he was good looking.

Murder me, he thought. Feliciano was probably enjoying German class a whole lot more than he was enjoying Spanish right now.

They were doing a worksheet on the numbers now. Lovino knew he was going to get a zero on it. Great, a zero on his first assignment of the day.

"Hey, Mario. What's 'diez ee siete'?" Alfred asked him with terrible pronunciation for the hundredth time.

Lovino had just about had it. His eyebrow twitched and his teeth clenched. And when he yelled, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their eyes on him.

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. STOP ASKING ME. AND STOP CALLING ME MARIO. IF YOUR ONLY CONNECTION TO ITALY IS A COUPLE OF FUCKING JAPANESE CREATED ITALIAN PLUMBERS THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF."

And with that, Lovino picked up his things and stomped out of the room, not giving anyone a single opportunity to stop him.

Stupid Spanish. Stupid Americans. Stupid Antonio. Stupid Mario. Stupid Nintendo. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, he thought as he trudged down the hallway with tears threatening to reach his eyes.

He hated this school.

"Lovino, wait!"

The distinct Spanish accent of his Spanish teacher did little to stop him in his tracks. Lovino only sped up, not really wanting to face his joke of a teacher.

A second later, he felt a hand on his shoulder that turned him around to face a barely panting Antonio.

How the hell did he catch up to me so fast? the Italian thought through his cloud of angry emotions.

Antonio smiled a small smile as if he could read the other's thoughts.

"I run track mi amigo. You can't get away that easily."

"What do you want?" huffed Lovino, violently shrugging himself out of the Spaniard's grasp and casting his gaze at the ground. He didn't want to be smiled at at this moment in time.

Antonio hesitated and then started, "Lovino, it's okay if you're frustrated. I understand how that feels."

"Oh yeah?" Lovino muttered in a challenging tone. Like that's true. Alfred said he was popular.

Antonio nodded.

"I know it's hard, especially since you're a freshman. This school is intimidating and I don't want you to feel upset on your first day of school. Let me help you."

Lovino raised his eyes to meet kind hazel ones.

"Really now? How?"

The older boy shrugged. "I can tutor you in Spanish if you'd like. That way you can do better in class."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, almost disarmed by the senior's unexpected kindness. Help me? Me?

Keeping his poker face, held Antonio's gaze.

"What makes you think I'll say yes?"

Antonio ran a slender hand through his hair. "Well I just assumed you were the kind of person who liked getting A's in classes so I figured you'd take up the offer."

Lovino's eyebrow twitched. What the hell did he know? Although he had to admit, it wasn't that bad of an offer. Maybe he could finally catch up to Feliciano in the language area.

Even if he did have to spend extra time with his annoying and definitely not hot Spanish teacher/senior guy.

"Fine," he mumbled. "I accept your offer. But don't expect an improvement. I hate Spanish."

The older boy merely laughed soothingly and patted Lovino on the head, much to his annoyance.

"Just come to my dorm tomorrow. 5:00 alright? Now I've got a class to teach. You can come back if you'd like. But if you don't that's fine. I won't count it this time."

With that, Antonio turned and gracefully walked back in the direction he came from, leaving Lovino standing in a puddle of angry and confused emotions.

What the hell was with that guy?

And as Antonio opened the door to his classroom, a small smile unconsciously rose to his lips.

Lovino had been seen.

Phew, yeah that was a lot to write.

Fact: The uniforms are based on the United Nations Flag.

Well, hope you enjoyed. I tried my best to get this done before my exams next week so it may be a bit rushed and please excuse any improper grammar and spelling.

Also I'm aware Hungary's hair is supposed to be brown but for purposes of this story we'll say she dyed it black.

Next chapter may take about 2 weeks due to AP testing and other exams.

Review! I love those.

See ya!