|Of Soccer and Logarithms
Author: SevLovesLily PM
Highschool AU: Many intertwining stories of love, friendship, drama, and... soccer. Among the normal experiences of highschool, of course. Will become novel-length, including several story arcs and pairings, all of which are listed in the 1st A/NRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Friendship - Germany & N. Italy - Chapters: 10 - Words: 58,351 - Reviews: 30 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 31 - Updated: 08-01-12 - Published: 05-03-12 - id: 8083243
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Once again, sorry for the wait. Also, thank you to my first reviewer, the two people who favorited this story, and the three who have it on their watch list! ^_^ I hope you like the chapter.
Kiku was almost surprised that all the desks in the Geometry classroom were labeled with their names for assigned seats—he'd thought that they had been through with that after middle school. Highschool really wasn't all that different, apparently…. So far, the students were just as immature, and the adults were just as condescending. The only real difference was that the building was bigger.
When he found his, he realized that he was one of the first people in the room—there were only a couple others in there, and they had yet to find their seats. Hm. He supposed it wasn't a coincidence that the same thing happened every year.
Only a few of the other students who walked in really caught his attention: One of them was because he was extremely tall for a freshman, another was because he wore his jacket without his arms in his sleeves and almost seemed to be sleeping as he walked in, and the last was because Kiku actually hadn't noticed him at all until he was already sitting down.
It being the first day of school, new people tended to get lost, so the last student wasn't in the classroom until several minutes after the bell, and the teacher was perfectly okay with that.
"Hello—and I know none of you want to be back at school just yet, but my name is Mrs. Bond, and I'll be your Pre-AP Geometry teacher this eighteen weeks," she announced after closing the door and making her way to the front. She smiled, and most of the students already decided they liked her—and Li Xiao was deciding that she was pretty hot. "You'll get used to highschool soon enough, trust me. Anyway, I'll start calling roll—and since I don't know any of you yet, make sure to tell me if you go by a nickname or anything."
And so she began calling out names. Everything went normally until she came to "Heracles Karpusi," and no one answered.
"Heracles Karpusi? Heracles?" she repeated, frowning and looking around.
The first thing that Kiku thought of was how Heracles, a name of legend, was sort of an odd name to give a normal person…. And then he realized that the boy he'd noticed wearing the jacket oddly was sitting a desk over and two up, and he appeared to be sleeping.
Kiku hadn't been the only one who realized it, though: Nearly everyone was staring at the sleeping boy within seconds, and before Mrs. Bond could do anything, Kim, who was sitting behind him, kicked his seat and said, "Yo Hercules, wake up."
It was more the sound of "Hercules" than the chair-kick that had woken him up—he just really hated when people called him that instead of his actual name. Heracles sat up and opened his eyes to see the teacher, as well as a lot of the other students, staring at him, but he didn't really feel embarrassed at all. Figuring what must have been happening while he was asleep, he raised his hand slightly and drowsily said, "Here."
There were a few scattered sniggers around the room; meanwhile, the rest of the class was staring at him weirdly. Lukas kept his eyes narrowed at the kid from across the room for the rest of the roll-call, and Toris was sighing inwardly, thinking that this guy was probably a lot like Feliks but without the flamboyancy.
Kiku, however, simply didn't know what to make of him. He'd known Kim for years and even occasionally enjoyed her company, but he had only just seen Heracles today, and he was actually feeling a little angry at Kim for being mean to him. And Kiku felt he should have already disliked this guy for being irresponsible enough to fall asleep in the first class of the first day of highschool… but he didn't. Perhaps it was because of Heracles's apparent shamelessness.
When Mrs. Bond was finally finished with the roll-call (a lot of the students already felt like they had spent too long at the highschool and wanted time to speed up), she immediately picked up a stack of papers from her desk to hand out.
Then Matthew raised his hand.
"Um, ma'am—" But the teacher didn't look like she'd heard him at all yet, so he desperately cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice before continuing, "Mrs. Bond, you didn't call my name."
"Huh?—I didn't?" Frowning, she retrieved the attendance sheet again and looked at it. "What's your name?"
"…Your name isn't on here." In confusion and curiosity, she narrowed her eyes and checked again. "Oh, wait—I think I have you down as Mathew Williams."
Either way, you completely skipped over it in the—but then he cut his own thoughts off, because he was pretty used to this feeling, and he knew that getting angry about it was useless.
"Williams is my middle name," he said for what felt like the millionth time, as teachers made that mistake almost every year. He was starting to feel like it wasn't a mistake, though…. Well, in a way, it really wasn't—it was his mom's fault that he had a confusing middle name.
"Oh. Well, I can understand William, but the other way, it was too much like a last name for my eyes not to skip over…. I'm sorry, I'll get that fixed." Mrs. Bond raised a pen to the attendance sheet and was about to make a note to change it—
"Actually, um—you don't have to," said Matthew, gesturing for her to stop in alarm. "I can stick with Williams."
"What? Are you sure?" The teacher looked at him quizzically, not understanding why he would want to have his name wrong in the records, especially when he had been seemingly upset about it a few seconds ago. "Because then if I were to call your parents, they'd—"
"Trust me, they'd know you were talking about me."
"I… um, okay then… Mr. Williams."
She gave him another odd look before beginning to pass out the curriculum sheets again, but Matthew was honestly rather satisfied with himself. He'd never liked having to be related to Alfred, and now his name made it seem otherwise, even if his face didn't.
As far as the school was concerned, at least, he and Alfred were completely different people.
The way Arthur's morning was going was pretty clearly expressed by the harshness at which his books hit the desk in his second period class. He'd expected English to be his favorite class, but he wasn't so sure he was going to like it this year, considering his new classmates. If it wasn't enough that he had to share it with Alfred, one of the most annoying people on earth, there was also that creepy Ivan guy.
Bitter as he was, Arthur was thinking how the day would probably only get worse from there—just when a certain perverted frienemy of his swaggered in. Both of them frowned.
"What the hell are you doing in here, Frog?" Arthur managed to say first, half-standing up from his seat as Francis walked toward his desk, which was at the edge of the room.
"Well, my schedule says zat zis is my second period," said Francis simply, almost smirking. "I sink ze question is why you are in 'ere. Why would you take zis class?" He raised an eyebrow curiously.
"B-because I thought this would be the surest way to be far away from you!" sputtered Arthur, only half-honestly. "You already bloody speak French, so I figured you wouldn't take it."
"Onhonhonhon, do you know me at all, Arthur?" Francis laughed, making Arthur's scowl deepen. "I 'ate every language but my own—and ze only reason I speak English is because I 'ave to, so I'm certainly not going to take anozzer language. Besides, I won't 'ave to put forth any effort for zis class. I sink Antonio's doing ze same tsing wis Spanish…. 'Onestly, I tsought zis would be ze last class you took, onhonhon…."
With that, Francis walked around to sit down at the desk directly to the left of Arthur, who merely kept scowling bitterly in response. After all, if they were to have this class together for the rest of the year, they might as well sit together. Unless the teacher ended up moving them, of course…. But if she did, then they'd just be shouting abuse at each other across the room.
"Really, zough…," Francis started to say seriously, turning to him, "I tsought you 'ated French. Remember ze time I tried to teach you 'ow to speak it when we were little, and you tsrew an 'uge fit, saying French was stupid and zat you never wanted to learn it again?"
Arthur smirked and let out a laugh, despite the fact that he should have been somewhat embarrassed. "You left out the part where I threw your notecards on the ground and then stomped on your foot."
They both sniggered, and then Arthur continued: "But I still do hate your language. Once again, I thought I'd be rid of you in this class…. It's too late now, though."
Both of them were aware that he could definitely try to get a schedule change, but neither of them were going to acknowledge it.
There was mostly silence between them until a minute later, when more and more students started coming in. That was when Arthur nearly choked in shock, as he saw Alfred—the one person he'd expect to see in French class less than anyone—walk in.
"'Ey, Matthew," Francis said, smiling and giving a short wave to the boy walking in. He smiled back, feeling extremely happy simply at being acknowledged; Francis was one of the few people who actually noticed him and didn't walk all over him once he did.
Frowning, Arthur did a double-take, looking between Francis and Matthew in alarm.
"Wha—how can you tell the difference between the twins?" he asked in frustration.
"Matthew 'as longer 'air, duh. And he's less confident-looking zan Alfred. Ze kid really needs to learn to be more outgoing, you know?"
"Hm." He still didn't see it.
"And you need to wax zose caterpillars on your face, because ozzerwise you apparently can't see properly."
"Hey—men might act a lot like women in France, but I'm not going to start being all prissy and waxing my—"
"Plenty of men are pretty effeminate in Britain too, sir."
They were both surprised to find that it hadn't been Francis who'd said that, but the teacher. Who was standing right behind Arthur. He expected it to be frightening when he looked up at her, but she was actually quite nice-looking, and he didn't seem at all insulted by his comment.
"Now, if you two are finished," she went on, sighing, "I can start the first lesson of the year."
Francis and Arthur nodded, the former briefly smirking over at the other.
After the teacher, Mrs. Rousseau, went through all the usual introductions and role call, she told them that the first thing she wanted to do before even giving them a basic run-down of the curriculum was have them get to know each other.
"And I'm sure you've all been doing this since middle school, so please try to pick someone you don't already know well. And try to be ready to present your information in about twenty minutes."
Ugh. Arthur hated these things. He didn't like talking to people he didn't know, and he could never just pick a partner…. It might have been easier if he could just partner with Francis, but the teacher must have known by now that they knew each other—and the Frog was already out of his seat and headed over to Matthew, anyway. Bastard.
"Hey, I'll just be your partner, since you don't look like you're going anywhere," said a voice that Arthur didn't recognize, and he looked to his right to see a boy with shaggy, strawberry-blonde hair sit in Francis's seat. Well, at least he wouldn't have to go find anyone on his own.
"Okay," agreed Arthur in a tone that implied he resented the social interaction, getting out a notebook and tearing a sheet of paper out of it. "I'll go first. Name?"
"Sebastian Iorga," the other boy said boredly. Arthur suddenly noticed that his irises were red, and he was wondering how that was possible (since the guy wasn't albino like Gilbert) for a few seconds before asking the next question that was on the projector.
"Lucky bastard… Er, any pets?"
"I've got a cat. His name's Toma."
It went like that for a couple minutes, with Arthur asking the questions dully and impersonally, and Sebastian only occasionally elaborating on his answers (and when he did, they were a bit weird)—until he came to "Favorite book?"
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," said Sebastian proudly, a glint in his eyes. "Read it at least four times."
If Arthur had been drinking something, he'd probably have choked on it. And if he'd been looking away from Sebastian at the time, he would be slowly and dramatically turning his head toward him. His muscles froze and his eyes widened, though—and he nearly dropped his pencil.
"Oh my God, so have I!" he said excitedly, this being the first time in a while that he'd actually been this genuinely glad to be interacting with another person. "I'm actually re-reading Half-Blood Prince right now—that one's my favorite because, you know—Snape, and you're probably the first person I've met around here who doesn't think Harry Potter is stupid."
"Holy crap, me too!" said Sebastian just as enthusiastically, his spirits pumped up at the sudden topic change into one of the things he loved more than anything. "I don't understand why so many people think Harry Potter's stupid or that it's for little kids—it's the best freaking thing in the entire Universe. People are idiots."
"I think it might be that it involves a lot of magic…. Most people our age are much too close-minded and don't believe in it. And they'll refuse to believe that I have actual proof—I see fairies around here all the time," he finished as-a-matter-of-factly, as though it was completely normal.
"Really? That's awesome! I'm not sure if I've seen fairies, but I swear I saw some guy being eaten by a werewolf once. I'm pretty sure the forested area around here is infested by vampires and werewolves…."
Their conversation about magic and mythological creatures went on for a while until Mrs. Rousseau told them that she'd give them five more minutes before they all had to be finished, at which they stopped talking and hurried to get the rest of each other's information down.
Meanwhile, Francis, who had been watching and listening to some of Arthur's and Sebastian's conversation, didn't know what to think of his friend looking so happy. Sure, it was about Harry Potter, but… it was still odd to see. He couldn't figure out whether he liked it or not.
The bell rang a while later, long after they were all finished presenting their partners and Mrs. Rousseau had given them some of the basics of the French language. Arthur and Francis left together, as they both had lunch next.
"Sounds like you 'ad fun wis Sebastian," said Francis as they made their way down the halls to the cafeteria, smirking.
"What, are you jealous or something, Frog?" snapped Arthur, and he habitually tightened the strap on his backpack. And he was actually somewhat serious.
"Well, I never really liked 'im," he said truthfully, wrinkling his nose slightly. "'E always annoyed me. But you can do whatever you want wis 'im, I don't care. I just never tsought insane was your type…."
Arthur scowled and hit Francis in the arm, which only made him smirk wider. "Shut up." Then he sighed inwardly, and as a thought came to mind, he spoke up again: "Hey—just out of curiosity… what other elective do you have?"
"Um…" Francis reached into his pocket for his schedule and unfolded it. "Cooking, fourth period. Why?"
But then he looked over at Arthur's suddenly horrified face, and he was pretty sure he knew the answer. "Oh… Onhonhonhon, you 'ave it too, don't you? Don't tell me you tsought it would 'elp you stay away from me as well, because zat would 'ave been ze stupidest assumption you've ever made."
"I didn't," Arthur groaned. The look on his face was funnier to Francis than anything.
"Zen why?" Francis laughed. "You're 'orrible at cooking!"
"W-which is exactly why I wanted to learn how, dammit, because you're saying that all the sodding time!" he sputtered, feeling his face go red in embarrassment of admitting he was aware his cooking skills ranked negative on the scale. "And I didn't assume you wouldn't take the class; I—I just… didn't think about it. But now you're probably so glad that you get to make derisive comments at my food all year long."
"I don't sink zat's worth risking ze lives of 'ooever else is taking zat class…. Trust me, I'm not any 'appier about zis zan you are."
Neither of them knew it, but that was because they were subconsciously both equally happy.
"Hey, I figure that, since we'll be sitting next to each other the rest of the semester, we should probably at least know each other's names—you know, to eliminate future awkwardness, so… my name's Sadik Adnan. You?"
The outward friendliness and boldness of the boy sitting at the computer to his left was unlike that of anyone he'd ever met before... and for a moment, Kiku had no idea how to react. But then he figured that most people didn't make an effort to be nice to him, and he didn't want to be rude, so he answered simply:
"Oh, cool—like the car?"
Frowning slightly in annoyance, he tried not to think about how this was the umpteenth time someone had said that to him and waited for just a second to see if this was going to actually make him angry. It didn't.
"Yes, like the car," he sighed, starting to turn away but stopping when he heard Sadik's voice again.
"I like your accent—you're Japanese, right?"
"I—um, yes." Kiku narrowed his eyes slightly, deciding that Sadik was sort of strange, but he couldn't quite dislike the guy.
"Cool. Were you born in Japan or here?"
"Japan. But my family moved here when I was young, so I don't remember it."
"My family's Turkish, but I was born here. In case you care, anyway, heh." Sadik grinned at him, and Kiku was glad that he at least seemed aware that he might have been a bit overbearing. "I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone now…. But you seem really nice, so I hope we can be friends!"
Kiku attempted a polite smile at Sadik in response, but he didn't say anything because he didn't really want to be friends with anyone. He did appreciate the gesture, though.
And he found himself respecting Sadik, as nosy and almost annoyingly friendly he was.
As he left the lunch-line with his tray of food, Lovino briefly glanced around to see if anyone he knew was around. Not that he liked anyone he knew or even would have sat with them.
Hardly anyone even had this lunch period, though. It was the last one of the day, which meant he and less than a fourth of the rest of the school's population had to eat last. But it also meant that it was easy to find an empty table to sit down at.
Lovino was perfectly okay with sitting alone. It had been forever since he'd actually had anyone he might call a friend, so he was used to it. He liked being alone, he really did. And no, that definitely wasn't a lie.
There was almost always a scowl on his face, but at the moment it was actually for a reason rather than just his perpetual grumpiness: He had just come back from Woodshop, which was so far definitely not meeting his expectations. Well, he hadn't really had any expectations for the class—or even looked forward to it, but the point was that the class sucked.
Most of the other people in the class were okay, but Lovino now knew he would be stuck with an idiot, arrogant freshman with a huge cowlick, a really intimidating and tall guy who terrified everyone, and a couple of girls who wouldn't stop talking. It seemed, though, that the former two also didn't have any friends, because both of them had tables to themselves as well.
And apparently, the first project in Woodshop was going to be a box. A fucking box. And according to the teacher, they weren't even going to start said fucking box for at least a week, probably more, because they first had to learn about all of the machines and then take a quiz to prove that they knew how to use them properly, as well as a safety quiz.
If that wasn't enough, the class Lovino had after lunch was something he really didn't want to take at all—Spanish. He hated that the school required everyone to have language credit, especially since he already spoke a language other than English. Shouldn't his fluency in Italian be enough? Shouldn't people who were already bilingual be exempted from that requirement, dammit?
While he was complaining in his mind, Lovino was hardly even aware of what he was eating. After about ten minutes, though, he looked down at the macaroni on his tray and decided that it looked and tasted disgusting. Ugh, he should have just packed a lunch for himself like Feliciano…. The one thing he had in common with his brother was that he was usually pretty high-maintenance when it came to food. Feliciano refused to eat something as disgusting as school cafeteria food.
But he was also pretty lazy, so he never did his own cooking, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask his stupid little brother to make his lunches for him.
Oh Gott no, not zem again….
Ludwig had already had Ivan and Natalya in his Algebra class—and now it turned out that he had Cooking with them as well. He was honestly more upset for Feliciano than himself, as his friend was more prone to being frightened and crying, but he was definitely not looking forward to spending half of his school day around those insane Russians.
When he'd noticed them, Ludwig immediately grabbed Feliciano's arm and steered him to the farthest seat from the Russians. His friend didn't know why at first, but then his eyes moved over to the other side of the room and he understood.
"Oh no, they're taking Cooking?" he whispered, suddenly very nervous. "They're probably going to poison us all the first chance they get…."
"I vouldn't be surprised," agreed Ludwig, sitting them both down. He glanced over at Ivan for a couple seconds and noticed that he seemed, for some reason, a bit unwilling to sit next to Natalya. And then Ivan saw him and just smiled, which was extremely creepy and made him look away.
On the other side of the room, Ivan was now looking away as well and back to his adoptive-sister. She was sitting in the desk in front of his, turned around to face him and boredly fiddling with his scarf. He didn't mind it so much, since at least this meant there would be some time before her mood swung back into manic or murderous.
And really, she hadn't been too bad throughout the day, but she'd been letting everyone know that he was hers. Which he really wished she wouldn't do, as it scared everyone else away.
Natalya, meanwhile, was deciding that she didn't like American school very much at all. It seemed louder here than the secondary school back in Russia. The people didn't seem to have much personal space, and they smiled too much—and they weren't even like Ivan's smile, which was almost constant on his face and obviously there because he was always happy when he was with her.
Even the teachers were like that. They all insisted on everyone getting along and knowing each other—in the class just before this, Psychology, they'd all been forced to do this "Three truths and one lie" thing.
"This is stupid game," grumbled Natalya, folding her arms and looking away from the expectant class.
"I know," agreed Ivan somewhat cheerfully, "but just do it anyvays."
"…Fine," she huffed—and then she glared at the rest of the class, continuing in a dull, lower tone than usual. "I am from Russia, my adoptive father is a Math teacher here, I love Ivan, and I vunce stabbed a man to death for threatening him."
Everyone but Ivan stared at her in shock for a moment, and it was even worse once they realized that it was the second one that was the lie because Mr. Winter was actually a World Geography teacher.
Ivan actually hadn't minded that. He was proud of Natalya for what she'd done back then.
Within the minute, there were several people filling the desks in between the Russian adoptive-siblings and the two best friends: Francis and Arthur were already arguing with each other about some derisive cooking-related comment when they sat down in two of the back seats. Kiku was also sitting near the back, since he preferred to avoid ever being the center of attention. Li Xiao was at the front, since he was pretty sure he would be expected to, considering his father was the teacher. And Roderich and Minahil just took whichever seats were open, since they arrived almost just as the teacher emerged from the back room.
A lot of the students assumed it was a woman at first because of the long hair tied back in a ponytail, and so they felt a little awkward when they looked at his face (and chest) for a few seconds and realized he was a man. He had a rather serious face, which contrasted strangely with the fact that his sleeves fell over his hands while he walked to the front of the room.
"Ni Hao—hello, I am Yao Wang," he began, folding his arms as he looked around at everyone. "You will call me Mr. Wang and not anything else—although Professor would work fine, too."
At once, Arthur leaned over to Francis and whispered quickly and a bit too excitedly, "I'm totally gonna call him 'Professor.'" Francis just rolled his eyes.
"There will be no talking while I am talking," Mr. Wang went on, looking directly at Arthur, who went a little red. "I value respect above everything. No one is to enter the kitchens in the back or touch anything from there without my say-so, and I expect that everyone here knows not to throw things across the room or leave trash on the floor. Because those are things I simply refuse to tolerate from highschool students. Fail to comply to any of those simple rules, and I swear I will hit you—with my wok."
He gestured to the huge pan sitting on his desk, and everyone looked to it, some cringing slightly and others holding back laughter. Feliciano, of course, was among those taking him seriously and therefore a little scared.
Ivan, on the other hand, was thinking, Hm, I like his punishment methods.
"Any questions so far?" asked Mr. Wang, somewhat smiling. Feliciano spastically put his hand up in the air at once. "Oh—yes?"
"Will we be cooking any pasta in this class?"
Unlike his friends, Gilbert was leaving the school and heading out to Antonio's car in relatively low spirits. All day, his mind had been preoccupied with Elizaveta—especially after his second period of Chemistry, at which she'd stopped him outside the classroom to tell him that she was sorry for not trying to contact him in Germany and that she still wanted to be friends. Which only made him more confused about the really uncomfortable feeling in his gut.
He honestly hadn't been sure, at first, whether or not he wanted to remain friends with her. Gilbert still just felt like she had betrayed him by changing so much—she'd practically become an entirely different person. So would he even be friends with the same person he used to? It wasn't as though they could do all the old things that they spent their time doing—hunting for small animals in the forest and relentlessly bullying Roderich.
Hell, he wasn't even sure if he could even get along with her anymore, now that she was dating his enemy.
But he also wasn't sure if he only just wanted to be friends with her anymore. That was the feud going on inside his own head—was he… in love with her? Had he been in love with her their whole friendship?—It had occurred to him pretty quickly after he had stormed off that morning, but it felt way too weird. Elizaveta had been so much like a boy when she was younger…. So did that mean that he'd been in love with a boy? Granted, he'd had a small crush on his younger brother's friend for a while, but Feliciano was pretty feminine.
Gilbert had come to the conclusion soon after Elizaveta had started talking to him after Chemistry, actually.
"Listen, I haven't changed completely, you know…. I'm not a weak girl, and I know I'm still strong enough to beat up Roderich if I wanted to. And I'm planning on trying out for the soccer team, since I made it last year. But please, can we still be friends? I just really don't want you to start hating me just after you've come back."
He had answered yes after a second or so of consideration, which had told him that he needed to stop being awesomely stubborn for a moment and that, above anything, he didn't want to lose her.
And since then, Gilbert had spent a lot of time wondering what he could do to make sure he never lost her completely.
"Well, that was a pretty tiring first day…," said Antonio seemingly out of nowhere, snapping Gilbert out of his own little world. "Fucking sucks that we don't even all have the same lunch period, doesn't it?"
Automatically, in order to be part of the conversation and not appear to be acting odd, Gilbert frowned and said, "Sucks more for me, since I'll have no-vun to sit vis all year."
But his plan didn't quite fool Francis and Antonio, who noticed that their German friend seemed a bit too pissed off. As they slammed the doors shut and Antonio stuck the key in the ignition, they looked to each other and mutually figured that Gilbert was probably still upset about Elizaveta.
"'Ey…," Francis was the first one to talk, as he was more experienced in these matters and also slightly more concerned than Antonio was. "Are you and Elizaveta alright? You didn't fight again, did you?"
"Vhat?—of course ve're fine!" said Gilbert unconvincingly in his alarm. While he was growing to be more okay with his feelings towards Elizaveta, he most certainly did not want to admit them to his friends. Not knowing what else to do, he folded his arms, took Gilbird out of his pocket to put him on his shoulder, and slumped against the side of the car.
Both Francis and Antonio sighed inwardly, wondering if Gilbert was really that stupid. Did he actually think they didn't know? As a Frenchman and a Spaniard, after all, they knew love when they saw it…. But they decided not to argue, if only to preserve their friend's ego.
Meanwhile, Gilbert was absentmindedly watching the other cars in the street drive past and finally deciding: If he wanted to keep Elizaveta, he simply needed to get rid of Roderich.
So... any guesses as to who Sebastian was? ;D It should actually be pretty easy. And I am really enjoying making Arthur so obsessed with Harry Potter. Also, one of the main reasons I made China the Cooking teacher (besides the fact that he's really good at cooking) is that I don't ship him with anyone, so I thought it would be better to make him a teacher. Plus, he's the oldest out of all the nations, so it makes sense.
Also, in case you're wondering, Mrs. Bond and Mrs. Rousseau aren't nations. So, for future reference, if it's not obvious, then a teacher isn't a nation or other Hetalia character. I did have a Geometry teacher named Mrs. Bond, though.
Lastly, PLEASE review! I'll be really grateful for your feedback! :D