*4HOLY FUCK. I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE ABANDONED THIS STORY OMFG.

BUT ANYWAYS I'M BACK SO ENJOY

Chapter Five

The strange latino male with the Hawaiian shirt grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, tugging me in closer. While being pulled in, I caught a whiff of his nauseating cigarette breathe and alcoholic stench, and did my best to breathe through my mouth. The only thing I found more vomit worthy than anything else was the sour combination of strong alcohol and tobacco lingering on someone.

"Alfred," he sneered menacingly, his words coming out a bit slurred. "I have been anticipating for our little meeting this entire time. Do you remember what I told you on the very last day of school?"

I gulped nervously. Whatever he had said to the other boy, I had no intention of hearing it. "I'm not Alfred." I managed to protest in a shaky voice.

He scoffed. "Like hell you aren't. I know Alfred Jones when I fucking see him!" And to prove his point, he slammed me roughly against the wall, growling angrily.

My breath unhinged the second my back met the smooth surface. He pushed me hard enough for my wind to be knocked out for a second or two. As I tried regaining my breath, his tanned, hairy fist rose up in the air. My eyes widened in realisation. A funny feeling of déjà-vu shivered down my spine, but left the second his mouth opened, that agonizing bad breathe fucking up my thoughts.

"Not going to even try to defend yourself this time? Pathetic." He whispered darkly, wearing a villainous smirk. With that comment in mind, I attempted to somehow pry myself out of his grip, but it was no use. He only tightened it more.

As if there was some guardian angel waiting to rescue me from the heavens above, the door to my dorm suddenly opened, surprising the Hispanic man enough to let go of me altogether.

I slid down to the floor, face pale with shock and fear. Gilbert stood near the door, hands shoved in his pockets, scowling at the guy with the Hawaiian shirt. Beside the albino stood a blonde teen with a small amount of facial hair, twirling a rose in his hands. He was smiling quite flirtatiously – and if my brain hadn't been too busy calming my body, I might have noticed the way his eyes twinkled as they travelled down on me.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in my room, Carlos?" Gilbert demanded to the Hawaiian shirt dude. "Last time I checked, exchanging marijuana doesn't necessarily mean I consider you my best friend for life. And if you're just here because you're after my roommate's D, can't you do it some other fucking hour?"

His friend beside him chuckled. My cheeks tinted red, and I watched for Carlos' reaction, but the Latino male merely snorted. "Fuck off, Gilbert. The only reason I'm here is to give this son of a bitch," – He pointed at me – "the beating he deserves."

"Oh my god," the white-haired male rolled his eyes. "That's not Alfred, you fucking cunt. It's the new kid named Matthew, who had the honour of dropping his lunch all over my shirt today."

Stupid Gilbert, I thought, turning bright red. Carlos eyed me for a few nerve-wrecking seconds, before saying, "You're not bullshittin' me, are you, Gilbert?"

"Of course he's not, mon ami," the albino's blonde friend spoke, in a silky French accent. "Everyone is aware of just how much Gilbert can't stand Alfred. If that really was the loud chatte over there, do you really think my friend would let you leave his room without so much as a punch? Of course not! In fact, if Alfred happened to be in this room by any chance, Gilbert would join you in on the beating."

Carlos seemed to consider the French male's words, and frowned. His wild eyes dimmed with disappointment. "Well, alright. But if any of you ever see that piece of shit, you tell him that that skinny little ass of his is done for. You hear?"

"Loud and clearly. Not get the fuck out." Gilbert commanded impatiently, pointing a finger towards the door.

"Just a second," Carlos threw a scowl at him from his shoulder while wobbling towards me. Despite the fact that the misunderstanding between Carlos and I had worked out, my heart still accelerated in slight fear when the older man neared.

"I'd like to say I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm kind of tipsy at the moment, so I kind of, ya know, just assumed you were that Alfred douche. But I guess you can't blame me. You two look so fucking alike." He stared at me a bit too intensely, before chuckling and patting my hair. "Except for the hair, though. And the eyes. And the fact that you're kind of cut – "

"Carlos," Gilbert cleared his throat, looking irritated. "Shouldn't you be leaving?"

The Hispanic lad rolled his eyes. "I'm comin', I'm comin'." He sauntered over to the albino, grinning. "That's what she – "

"Just fucking leave already!"

"Jesus Christ, alright." Carlos put his hands up defensively, shooting Gilbert a strange look as he strolled out the door. The blonde French guy giggled, shaking his head at the pair.

"Mon cher," he smirked once the German shut the door a little too loudly. "Someone seems a little jealous!"

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Francis. I ain't jealous of no Latin dipshit." Gilbert huffed, his face and behaviour clearly saying otherwise.

"Oh, yes you are! Just admit it already, Gillie!"

"Jesus, Francis, are you high? I said I'm not jealous!"

"Not jealous, hmm? Good. That's great, in fact." Francis said in a sing-songy voice, all the while skipping towards me. I could only gape as he suddenly encircled his arms around my back, pulling me in closer.

"What are you doing?" Gilbert asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Exactly what I wanted to do the very second I entered the room." Francis responded, winking at his friend.

He spun me around and kissed me. Full on the lips.

FRANCE YOU LITTLE CUNT YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S CRUSH.

Yeah, okay, so important announcement: Despite the fact that I have left the Hetalia fandom and shit, I will still try to update my stories to the best of my ability. Thanks for being patient though. I did this whole chapter in like one day lol.