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Warnings: Bit of cursing. Hey, it's Hetalia. Romano. 'Nuff said.

  "I'm two steps from the edge;
  Don't push me over it!
  And don't cha know, don't cha kno-"

With a sleepy groan, you slapped a hand over your smartphone, practically toppling it off of your desk.

"Yes, I do know, Cady." You groused, pushing your disastrous bed-head out of your eyes.

  Sitting up, you rotated your shoulders until they clicked satisfyingly. Leaning back, spine pressing into the pillows, you surveyed the space of your bedroom without really seeing it. There were sketchbooks, stray papers, and numerous art supplies strewn across your desk, canvases tilted against the walls. boxes of paint settled in the desk chair, and a couple of bandannas, covered in oil pastel and water color smudges. Your school bag lay haphazardly near the door, which was open slightly, the sound of birds brought wafting in.

Then you blinked, and leaped out of bed, suddenly full of frenzied energy. It was the last day of school before break. A half day of classes, and you would be free. A small smile appeared on your face. After all, you had Arthur to meet up with, along with several sketches to finish.

You scampered around, trying to pack your homework, which you had somehow managed to locate in the shambles of your Japanese pens and half finished doodles. Finally, as you managed to find a socially acceptable outfit, consisting of a (fave/band) T-shirt and a pair of doodle-covered shorts, with paint splattered Converse to match, you grabbed your unfinished sketches and a sketchbook as you stumbled down the stairs to eat something and get on with your morning routine.

Nearly an hour later, you scrambled to school, barely getting there in one piece. As you entered the crowded hallways, many of the students greeted you. Alfred's arm around your shoulders nearly dislodged the papers in your own, but you managed to cling to them with the tips of your fingers while laughing along with him, Matthias, and Gilbert about what must have been a very surprised look on your face. The rowdiness only ended when Lukas turned up, and dragged Matthias away by his tie, per usual. Alfred and Gilbert watched their comrade go with some trepidation, but when it was apparent that he was in no real danger, and was soon released to breathe, the three of you began talking again.

"Oh man, we are so gonna crush them!" Alfred babbled excitedly. Gilbert agreed enthusiastically. You however, blanked on what they meant.

"Um, sorry, but what are you talking about?" You asked, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, but don't you know?" The French drawl turned your attention to the owner of the voice. "We are have a game, mademoiselle. A football game. After classes are over." Francis said in answer to your confused look. Your expression clears, and then you all are distracted by another familiar voice. Or rather, two familiar voices.

"But Looviiiii-!" "Shove the fuck off, bastard!" The four of you grin, and turn to see everyone's favorite Spaniard, Antonio. And of course, he was trying to get a hug out of the world's most stubborn Italian, Lovino. When the two reached your little group, Antonio's attention was diverted elsewhere, allowing Lovino to escape. He hugged you, ruffling your hair in greeting.

  Just then the bell sounded, and you made an attempt to flatten your (h/c) hair before you reached Arthur. Okay, so you may or may not have a small crush on the guy. Alright, so it wasn't that small, but all the same. You knew there was no way he could even remotely like you back.

Moving into your fist class, you sorted through your papers to find the homework for the period, when the person of your thoughts entered the room. A light grin flicked across your face as your (e/c) irises met his own striking green eyes. His smile mirrored yours, and he made his way over to you.

"Alright, love?" He asked, mimicking you and withdrawing his homework from the depths of his own bag.

"Fine." You respond, and are about to ask him if he was playing after class, but then the teacher called for silence. You sigh, and shuffle your papers.

                                                                  (Time skip brought to you by Supreme Lord Doitsu! Ve~!)

The end of the day found you in the art room, overlooking the playing field. You stood by the window, letting the afternoon sun filter onto the canvas propped up in front of you. Pulling the charcoal pencil from behind your ear, you added a few strokes to the portrait; trying to catch the way he moved when he was running, the monstrosities he called eyebrows, the concentrated look he got when he was thinking hard. You stood back, and growled in frustration. It just wasn't right. You had tried to draw Arthur multiple times, but something was always off.

  Forgetting momentarily where you were, you moved into a table, upsetting a glass that stood on it. The glass rolled, and shattered as it hit the table. It fell, and caught you painfully in the leg. Hissing in pain, and clutching your leg you blinked furious tears out of your eyes.

                                                                                       ~(Change in viewpoint!)~

Francis threw his arm over Arthur's shoulders, startling the Brit. "You can see the art room from here, hohohoho..."

"Get off, bloody frog." He grunted, throwing off the Frenchman's arm. In spite of himself, he glanced up at the said window. Arthur could just see you, stepping back from the easel. After a pause, you moved oddly, as if you had hit something. Then you staggered, and before you crumpled to the floor, Arthur saw look of intense pain cross your face, you teeth gritted, eyebrows scrunched together.

"(Name)...." He breathed, before he shoved the football he was holding into a very confused Ludwig's hands, and sprinted for the school doors. Arthur bounded up the stairs two at a time, and then threw himself at the art room door.

                                                                                              (Back to you~)

You were just picking yourself up to inspect the damage to your leg, which was something of a bloody mess, when the door banged open. Startled, you looked around. Arthur stood there, panting. Before you could do more than blink in surprise, he had crossed the room at a run, sending a few tubs of water flying, and knocking you to the ground. Water sloshed over the two of you, leaving you partially soaked. But you didn't have it in you to care. What mattered was that Arthur was practically straddling you, and you were kissing.

Once you had gotten over the initial shock of it, you pressed the pads of your non-bloody fingers to his wet cheekbone, leaving streaks of smoky charcoal on his skin. When you broke apart, the pair of you stared at each other for a few seconds before you asked, "Well. What spurred that on?"

He flushed a pale pink, before answering, "It just felt right." You laughed, and allowed him to help you up. You were barely up for a second when you hissed and bent over your knee. "Aaarghh."

"Christ, sorry. I forgot about that." Arthur says, bending too to inspect your leg. You laughed dryly. "Nice to know I have a caring boyfriend." And landed a kiss on his nose.