Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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Arthur, once again, arrived earlier than he should have. He was currently sitting on his usual bench, the second from the front, and reading his unfinished novel. As usual, his train would arrive at five thirty, and he arrived around three fifty. Arthur purposefully arrived earlier because he wanted to check if the Frenchman whom he had made friend with yesterday would really arrive exactly at four o'clock.

The Brit looked around the station; passengers walked in and out, some of them standing not far from the platform, the others sitting on the available benches. People made a line in front of the lockets to buy train tickets—as for Arthur, he would always booked his—some people walked in and out of the toilets, and bought some snacks and drinks from available markets and vending machines.

Yes, just a plain old train station. Arthur had been using this station since two years ago, where he would book a round-trip ticket from the current town where his college was to his home in the neighboring town. He was dismayed at the idea of staying in an apartment or a boarding house, so Arthur preferred to book a round-trip ticket for two years. The distance between his hometown and the town where his college was in wasn't too far, and it would only take half an hour to get to his destination, so he would arrive at his hometown around six in the evening. The fee wasn't much of a bother, and his brothers didn't protest, so it was pretty fine.

But when the train accident happened a month ago, this 'W' train station was closed for investigation for about a week or two, so Arthur was forced to sleep in Kiku's apartment. He was quite lucky, since the accident happened in Monday early in the month, and he was pretty late for his train because of a long lecture in his class. He had planned on staying at Kiku's place for a night. Kiku didn't mind, since Arthur often came to his apartment for group works or just some casual visits. When they heard about the accident, both of them were shocked to see how close Arthur was to get involved in it. And when they learned that the station was closed for further investigation, Arthur was pissed.

Arthur didn't want to use any other train station, thinking that 'W' station was better than any other train stations in the town. Because he couldn't come home as the train station he always used was closed, he was forced to ask his brothers to bring him clothes for two weeks at most via phone call and messages, and Allistair, his eldest brother, brought his bag full of clothes by another train station. Arthur was pissed off and complained almost every day, to the point of almost making Kiku snapped at him, but he survived. And when the station was opened for business once more, he almost cried in relief—not that he would admit it.

"Bonjour!"

Arthur blinked at the familiar voice, and he looked up. Francis Bonnefoy was standing beside his bench, smiling widely, his dark blue eyes sparkled.

The Brit paused for a second, before smiling uninterestedly. "Ah, you again," he muttered.

Francis pouted. "What's with the reaction?" he huffed. He then proceeded to walk to the front bench, and then turned around to face Arthur, smiling.

Arthur stared at Francis, then blinked. "What?" he asked, bewildered at the Frenchman's behavior.

Francis, still smiling, raised his eyebrows. "Well, aren't you going to sit with me?" he asked back.

The Brit blinked twice, before bookmarking his novel and closed it, picking up his bag, and stood up. He walked to the front bench and sat beside Francis who had already sat down.

Arthur set his bag down on the floor before glancing at his watch; four o'clock. He scoffed silently. This day, too, Francis was on-time, arriving exactly at four o'clock. He then sighed as he leaned back. "Why didn't you just sit beside me?" Arthur asked. "I mean, my usual bench is nearer than the front bench, and my side was empty."

Francis chuckled. "I'm picking up my friends, so they have to be able to see me," he replied with a smile. "The front bench is the nearest to the platform, so when they get off the train, they'll be able to see me."

Arthur hummed. "I guess you're right," he muttered. "But why are you so stubborn to pick them up when they clearly are not coming over? You've come here and waited for, like, four times, including this day."

"They'll come, I'm sure of it," Francis replied. "We've been friends since we were children, and we're always together ever since. So it's impossible for them to just ignore me."

"Wait, you said you three live separately," Arthur said, raising his thick eyebrow.

"Oui," Francis nodded. "We met as children back when we were in Primary International School, and we've been practically inseparable ever since. When we went back to our respective countries, we communicated via Skype, messages, and phone calls. When one of us wanted the other two to come over, the rest of us would always come over."

Arthur stared at Francis in amazement. "But what if one of you is busy or cannot come over?" he asked.

Francis shrugged. "Then we will just come over to his house," he replied. "If there's a work that has to be done, then we'll always help." Francis paused. "Or maybe not. Us three tend to procrastinate," he added with a snicker.

Arthur made a face.

"So," Francis started, "what are you doing for living?"

The Brit shrugged. "I work at a nearby market; a part-time job. My shift is uncontrollably inconstant, so I'm not sure if I really make much money. I also have other priorities like college and whatnot. But when life is being easy on you, you'll find that working a part-time job and attending a lecture is a piece of cake. However, there's an upcoming test, and I don't want to fail in college and become a bother for my family, so I decide that my first priority is my test. Fortunately, my good manager gave me a few weeks off until the test is over."

Francis nodded slowly.

"What about you?" Arthur asked back.

"Oh, I'm working as a designer's assistant," Francis replied, shrugging. "I'm quite good at sketching and sewing. I'm also pretty good in the kitchen, but nowadays, it's kind of hard to find a suitable job for someone who spends his time cooking and baking."

"Why can't you be a chef?"

"Well, I have to have my own restaurant. Besides, I'm already fine with my current job. My mentor is a really notorious designer, and he's really kind towards his clients and patrons. That jacket you're using now? My mentor's designing it. And this trench coat I always wear? My mentor gave it to me."

Arthur looked at his jacket, then looked back at Francis. "Whoa, that's pretty great," he said, smiling.

Francis smiled back. "So why do you always come to this station?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I am uninterested at the idea of staying in an apartment or a boarding house alone, though I've once stayed at my friend's flat. And my home is in the neighboring town, anyway, so I always book a return ticket from here to my home."

Francis chuckled. "Isn't that a bit unpractical for you to book a ticket everyday?" he asked.

"Not really. I'm quite used to it," Arthur said. "Oh, and by the way, I see you always arrive here exactly at four o'clock. Why is that?"

The Frenchman blinked. "Really?" he muttered as he looked at his watch. Then he chuckled nervously, shrugging. "I don't really know myself. I guess I'm always on-time."

Arthur hummed.

"What about you? You seem to arrive earlier than I in the last four days," Francis asked back.

"I usually arrived just before the train arrived, but I accidentally arrived earlier at the first two days," Arthur answered. "I purposefully arrived earlier yesterday and today."

"Eh? Why?"

"You don't need to know."

"What? But I want to know!"

"No, you do not need to know."

"Tell me why!"

"No."

"S'il vous plaît?"

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

"No!"

Francis used his kitten eyes technique.

Arthur shot him a disgusted look. "Still no. And might I say that your kitten eyes technique is only making you uglier."

"Quoi?! Oh, vous êtes mal! You meanie! I've trained my kitten eyes technique and my landlady said I'm getting better!"

"Your landlady? Then, I guess she has an eye problem."

"You're only jealous!"

"Huh? Why would I be jealous of you?"

"Oui, you're jealous of me because I can use my kitten eyes technique. Unlike you who have such ugly eyebrows!"

"Say what again, frog?!"

"Ugly eyebrows! In fact, the first time I met you, I thought caterpillars were nestling on your head!"

"You come here, you bloody little twit! I'll strangle you right here and now!"

"Ah! Not the hair! S'il vous plaît, not the hair! I've taken a good care of it since I was a child!"

"Good! Now I can destroy it and laugh at your ugly little frog face!"

"You won't dare!"

"Who said I won't?"

"Non! This is violence! I'll call the police!"

"Try calling them, then! I bet you left your phone in your apartment!"

"Aieee!"

And once again, they kept on like that, fighting and yelling and scratching at each other like children. Arthur had forgotten their fight yesterday, thinking that it was such a childish fight, but today, he really wanted to strangle the annoying Frenchman. Under no circumstance should one ridicule his eyebrows, or Arthur would definitely enrage. Arthur didn't ask to be born with thick eyebrows, and his brother all had the same thick eyebrows. What was the problem of having one?

It was already five thirty. A female voice warned the passengers of the arriving train to board. Arthur was gripping Francis' collar was about to punch him right in the face when he heard the voice.

The Brit clicked his tongue. "You lucky frog, be thankful that I have to go home now," he hissed at Francis before let the other's collar go. Arthur retrieved his forgotten novel and bag before walking to the platform.

"So are you coming here tomorrow?!" Francis shouted.

"Yes, but not for a frog like you!" Arthur snapped.

"Alright! See you tomorrow, rosbif!" Francis shouted again, waving his hand.

"Sod off, git!" Arthur spat through his shoulder. He finally got into the train, and when he sat on his usual seat by the window and looked up at Francis, he flicked his middle finger at him. Francis snickered, still waving his hand.

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A/N:

Another fun conversation between Arthur and Francis! It's really fun to write both of them when they're fighting, really. XD

There's no pairing, actually. I've planned the whole thing to be as platonic as I can, thought the hints are scattered around and you'll be able to see them right under a microscope, lol. XDD

Reviews are welcome, as well as concrits. No flames, as I don't have a fire hydrant. Let me know your thoughts about this, and if you have a question, PM me. Au revoir.