You sighed. He was following you for the third time this week. You didn't know exactly who he was, but you did know that he and his twin brother were in most of your classes. He started whistling 'God Save the queen', which was weird because you knew he was American. 'Why would he be whistling my country's anthem?' you thought to yourself. You decided to figure out why. You spun around on your heel, causing your (h/c) hair to whip your face. He stopped whistling and stood still.
"Hi! The name's Alfred F. Jones, and I'm the hero!" his blue eyes glittered with excitement. He grinned like an idiot and continued, "You're in a couple of my classes, but I don't remember your name! What is it?"
"_-_____ ______," you whispered, barely audible. You tilted your head down so that your bangs covered up your blushing face. You've always been rather shy, and no one really talks to you much. You've naturally started bowing your head in shyness when people you're not close to try to have a conversation with you.
"Cool name! Why'd you turn around though?" he pulled a cocky smirk, "Were you wanting to meet me?" he paused to strike a pose that showed off his biceps and continued, "My guns, or what?" he changed poses so that it looked as if he were purposing to you and lifted an mischievous eyebrow.
"I wanted to ask you a couple of questions
" you whispered as he stood up and tilted your head with two fingers so that you were looking at his face. You got a good look at his facial features in the process. You don't look at people very closely usually, so this was a new thing. He had dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes that were rimmed by rectangular glasses and a strange cowlick that stuck up from the part in his hair, which was off to the side.
"Okay, yeah, go on!"
"Well, you're American, right?"
"Yeah! And you're um..." he apparently couldn't remember last month when you introduced yourself. You remembered back to that embarrassing day.
"Class, today we have a new student who transferred here from
" the teacher trailed of as she looked back at you so that you could tell her and the class where you transferred from.
"I was born in London, England, but four years ago, when I was ten, I moved to Lyons, France for my mother's job. We just moved here last week." you whispered. Only the teacher, Ms. Smith, had heard you, because she had to repeat it to the class. When England was mentioned, a bored looking boy in the back with shaggy blonde hair and thick eyebrows looked up at me from his book as he took in your features. The same thing happened when France was mentioned, only this boy had wavy, shoulder-length, blonde hair and a bit of stubble on his chin. He was flirting with a girl that looked like she wanted to kill something and was sitting one empty chair away from the other blonde- haired boy. You figured that was my new seat, seeing as it was the only empty chair in the class.
"Thank you, ______! You may go sit in between Francis and Arthur!" she motioned to the seat in between the boys before she bent down to your ear and whispered "Sorry, but they have a tendency to fight with each other." you nodded and walked back to your seat. As soon as you sat down, the boy with the longer hair passed you a rose with a note attached to it.
You glanced over at him, and he just winked at you before blowing you a kiss. You glanced back at the note, and decided to read it. It was in French, but translated it said; 'Hello, my flower, I suppose you speak French, yes? My name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I too come from the country of love, that is France! Might I say that you look absolutely gorgeous today? Would you like to go on a date with me after school? Please put your reply! Love, Francis! ~' You blushed. No one ever gave you compliments! You quickly grabbed a pen from your bag and wrote, also in French; 'Yes, I do speak French, and it is very nice to meet you. I thank you for the compliment, even though it's probably not true. I am sorry to say, but I promised my parents that I would go straight home after school and help them unpack.' You handed the note back to him, but held onto the rose.
As he read the note, he frowned, but looked back up to you and nodded. That's when you felt something poking the other side of your body. You looked over and saw the other boy blushing and handing you a note. You took the note from him, this one was in English. It said; 'Hello, duckling!' you blushed at this. This was a cute British term for 'dear'. You looked over at the boy, who was reading his book. You then continued reading the note; 'My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I as well as you am British! Oh, and ignore the frog that calls himself Francis, he flirts with everyone. Would you like me to show you around the grounds during lunch today?' You scribbled down a quick 'Hi! I'll make sure I don't hang around him too much, okay? And yes, please! I was almost late today because I got lost!' you handed the note back to him and he smiled as he read it
The rest of the day went on, and you got to know Arthur a bit better, and he was rather nice beneath a grumpy layer.
~End of Flashback~
"I'm French and British." You finally responded to Alfred after you thought back to your first day at Washington's International High School. Most of the people that attended school there were foreign, with exceptions like Alfred. "My mother is French, and my father is British." He made a face that read 'Oh yeah, that's right'. "Anyways, why were you whistling 'God Save the Queen'? Oh, and we may want to start walking again." He nodded and continued walking.
"That wasn't 'God Save the Queen', that was 'My Country 'Tis of Thee'! Don't worry, Arthur already slapped my head for 'tricking' him with that!" You quietly giggled as you thought of the grumpy Brit.
"Oh, right!" You blushed in embarrassment. "Next question; why have you been following me for the past couple of days?"
"I wanted to know why you never talk to anyone and why you're always so quiet! I mean, dude, the school doesn't have any mean people in it or anything!" You sighed and thought about how you were going to respond to this rather personal question.
"Well, I've never been a very social person, and no one really talks to me much," you glanced around, "Where's your brother?" you looked once more for his Canadian twin, Matthew.
"Oh," he gave a nervous laugh, "He overdosed on maple syrup yesterday and he had a major sugar crash this morning, so I let him sleep, knowing that if I tried to wake him up after all of that maple syrup, he'd pull out all of his hockey strength on me!"
'Overdosed on maple syrup? Hockey strength? He really must be Canadian!' you thought to yourself. All you could muster up to say was, "Well that's a new one!" You arrived at the front gate of the school and walked into homeroom together. you waved goodbye to Alfred and sat down at your seat in between a certain arguing Brit and Frenchman.
"For the millionth time, Frog, it is 'Harry Potter'! Not ''arry Potter'!" Arthur scolded Francis. 'They must be arguing about accents again.' you thought to yourself. You pulled out your drawing notebook, seeing as this was a time where the class got to do whatever we wanted, took attendance, and continued with whatever we wanted to do. As soon as you had the notebook out of your bag, a French hand grabbed it off of your desk.
"Hey! Give that back to her, you git!" Arthur tried to grab your notebook from Francis.
"Not until she gives big brother Francis a hug!" the Frenchman smirked as Arthur tackled him. Like Ms. Smith had said, these two did have a knack for getting into fights over the most ridiculous things, many of which involved manners, accents, food, yourself, and the list goes on forever.
"That is not very gentleman-like of you! Just give it back!" Arthur lunged for the notebook.
"H-hey, Arthur? It's fine- I'll give him a hug!" you said, but neither of the fighting blondes noticed. 'Curse you, naturally quiet voice!' you mentally shouted at myself.
"I GOT IT!" Arthur stood up, proudly holding up the heavily decorated book in his right hand.
"Can I still have my hug?" Francis pleaded.
"NO!" You and Arthur shouted at the same time, causing you both to blush. Arthur looked at your notebook and all of the pictures covering it, and then his gaze floated to me.
"_______?" Arthur waved his hand in front of your face.
"What?" you must have been staring at him, because he looked pretty awkward.
"I asked if you liked 'Doctor Who'." he pointed to one of your favourite pictures on your notebook. It was of David Tennant, also known as the Tenth Doctor in 'Doctor Who', looking very adorable as usual and had the caption 'Allons-y' which was his famous catch phrase, but also meant 'let's go' in French.
" you bent your head down again so that your bangs hid your face.
"Dude, seriously?" you jumped. Alfred had snuck up behind you and roughly brought his hands down onto your shoulders as he said this.
"Alfred! What have I told you about not doing that to a lady?" Arthur, who was still holding your notebook, slapped the American with it before handing it back to you. you gladly accepted it, glad that he hadn't gone through it. I had sketches of everyone in the class in there, and if anyone saw them, you would probably never go back to that school again. you quickly placed it on your desk and turned around.
"Oh, yeah! Wait, what's 'Doctor Who'?" You and Arthur stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.
"ONLY THE BEST SHOW EVER!" you shouted. That was the wrong move. Everyone in the class stared at you for a couple of seconds before they all burst out laughing. You froze in place and you probably turned one million shades of red, ending in a nice crimson. You ran out of the classroom before the tears could start pouring out of your eyes.
"________! Wait!" Arthur shouted as you shoved past him and down the hallway. You burst out into the tears that had been threatening to spill out of your eyes. Throughout your life, whenever you got embarrassed, you would cry, hide, and make sure that no one tried to comfort you.
You pounded down the white halls towards the girls' lavatories. You heard your high-top Converse hitting the cold, hard ground. The hot tears steamed down your face, causing the bangs that were hitting your face to become wet as well as the rims of your glasses. That's when you heard the second pair of footsteps. They were moving faster than yours, probably because the person wasn't trying to hide their tears. Before you knew it, a hand was placed on your shoulder, pulling you backwards into a warm embrace. Your eyes got wide. Someone was hugging you! Who, though? Was it hyperactive Alfred? Maybe it was the flirtatious Frenchman they called 'Francis'. What is it was Arthur? Maybe it was a complete stranger!
~To Be Continued Maybe!!!!!~