[Hetalia England x reader] Sorry, My Boyfriend is Just Kind Of Old-Fashioned

Chapter 10- Seven Minutes?

"You want me to do what?"

"Go in the closet with her! Don't they ever play seven minutes in heaven in England?"

Arthur looks at the name on the piece of paper-- that he had just drawn from the hat-- quite baffled. "Apparently not. And what exactly are me and (Name) supposed to do once we are in said closet?"

The entire circle of teenagers at Jessica's party facepalms contemporaneously.

"Don't play coy, just go, you idiot!" Charlie and Maurs exchange worried glances as Jessica's studded boyfriend Nate escorts you and Arthur to the closet rather impatiently.

The last thing you see before they close the door is Charlie twirling his fingers in a bit-too-enthusiastic wave. "Have fun in there, (Name)~!" he grins, amused.

"I am going to kill that boy when we get out!!"

Now it's just you and Arthur in the closet.

So much for "keeping your distance."

"Um, (Name)? I feel really stupid for asking this, but can you explain this game to me? I really don't get it at all."

You choke on air. "What-- you want me to-- IT'S SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN IT NEEDS NO EXPLAINING!!" Several crazed giggles come from the other side of the door.

"Hey (Name)! If he's still lost you can always show him, you know! Yeah, (Name)! Hahahahaah...!"

You ignore the catcalls and focus on Arthur. It was so dark in here you couldn't even see where he was.

"Arthur?" More giggles.

"I'm right here, (Name)-- and I think, I think those are stairs!"

"You're crazy! This is a closet, there can't just be stairs!"

"But look!" Your heart leaps in your chest as Arthur takes your hand and palms it against what definitely seems to be a smooth railing.

"Shall we go?"

*~*~*

It was a rickety spiral staircase, and sure enough, it led to a little alcove on the rooftop, just below the top spire of the house. (You remarked to yourself how oddly close this house was in architecture to yours; it was also definitely Victorian-style, but possibly even older.) You let out a sigh of relief as the cool night breeze refreshed you from the clammy stuffiness of the closet, and for a second all seemed clear under the light of the moon and nearby streetlights.

And Arthur... Arthur, slightly frazzled Arthur with his blonde locks still out of place from being shoved in a closet with you, looking out in wonder at the night sky...

Arthur was perfect.

[And that was unaccounting for the almost ridiculously smooth accent that stuttered softly whenever he parted his lips.]

"My word, (Name), they're beautiful!"

You grin. This was like a scene out of a movie. "The stars? Yeah, I agree!"

"No, not the stars!" Arthur points to the row of electric-glowing lamps lighting the street. "Those things."

You laugh, warmly. Never before had anyone sane called streetlights beautiful. And that was exactly it. You knew you would never find anybody else like him in this world, at least in the present. He had a practical naivety, and yet a good heart. Maybe the first emphasised the second, in how he was coping with it all.

"Arthur... can I ask you something?"

"Surely, love."

"Do you... do you really want to leave?" you ask selfishly. Selfishly, and in love.

"Why, of course-- it's essential that I leave! If only we could figure out how, you know-- (Name)?"

He backs in surprise as you lock your arms around him, stupidly hoping that they would be strong enough to keep him rooted in this world. Gradually, the young man relaxes-- you feel it through your shirt, you feel it through your chest that his heart is beating a little slower than the catastrophizing-train-wreck-last-life-legend-of-Zelda hot mess that it was before. And then you realised..

If you could feel his heart beating fast through his chest, surely he could feel yours. Fast. A crimson blush extends far to the part of your body nuzzled against his shoulder, but you. don't. care. one. bit. Lifting your head up, you look at him and don't know what to expect.

But he's figured you out. He kisses your cheek softly and whispers a single phrase, smiling because he sadly knew and felt the same way.

"Well, love, we'll just have to deal with that when we get there. The time machine, I mean."

Arthur sighs softly. "IF we get there," you both add together.