Second Viennese School disciple Roderich gets invited by his mentor Arnold Schönberg to submit a piece to be performed at a concert in early 1900s Vienna, but as soon as he receives the good news, he loses all inspiration. Luckily, the coffee house he frequents has a new waiter fresh from Berlin, and to Roderich's headache-or perhaps good fortune-the Berliner refuses to leave him alone.
Historical Hetalia piece roughly based on the Skandalkonzert of 1913. Written for the Hetabang 2020 event, with accompanying illustrations by the wonderful and wonderfully patient @ekinoksin on Tumblr. <3 My first complete fic in a long, long while. Still a bit rusty, but it was fun to work on Hetalia again and I hope it spurs me to get back to some other projects. I hope you enjoy.
Going to high school as the new kid isn’t easy, but luckily for Harald, he manages to find someone to help him survive the experience.
[Written for @hetabang, with art drawn by @pixeltalia.]
Part One: Gratitude
For the millionth time, Harald reminds himself to thank his brother.
When they got the news of Stellan’s promotion, Harald thanked him once for putting food on their table. When they moved, he thanked him a second time for getting them a place to live. And now, as he stares up at his new school building, Harald’s just about ready to pull out his new cell phone, text his brother and spam him with “thank you”’s until he gets blocked.
Filios International School, the plaque reads, nailed to the iron-wrought gates of the school campus, and it doesn’t take a genius to know, with one look, that the place isn’t somewhere just anyone can get into.
Oh, but Harald did. He remembers passing the entrance exam, though barely so, and getting his admission letter. Stellan ruffled his hair and smiled the day they got the news, saying, “a brand new start for the two of us.”
It’s not until somebody clears their throat behind him does Harald stop staring up at the campus and actually start walking inside, following groups of his classmates into the grand school building.
The interior of the school is just as extravagant as its exterior, with winding staircases that lead up to classrooms with elegantly-carved doors. On the first floor, Harald looks around him, seeing walls adorned with vibrant murals; the floor, mosaicked with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny tiles; the ceiling, made of glass and allowing sunlight to shine in and bathe the school in its golden light.
Everywhere Harald looks, students are milling around. Some of them shriek as they reunite with old friends, some of them walk hand-in-hand with lovers and some lean against the wall, checking their cell phones.
As he looks at his classmates, most of them walking upstairs and disappearing down corridors, Harald realises that he has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Awkwardly, Harald trails behind a group of girls up the stairs. There, the two carved-glass doors that stand in front of them turn out to be common rooms - one for girls, and one for boys.
Harald pushes the one on the left open, stepping inside to see some boys lounging around on plush-looking armchairs, some of them rummaging for books in lockers and some of them reading at desks. He approaches the left wall, filled from ceiling-to-floor with locker cubicles, and pushes his half-empty backpack into the one labelled with his name.
After that’s done, he stares around the common room, thinking, well, the hell do I do now? He settles for leaning against the lockers, trying to look as confused as possible and hoping someone takes pity on him.
Ten minutes later, when half the boys have left the common room for their classes, Harald’s still leaning against the wall and feeling even more baffled than before.
The bell chimes after five minutes, and the only boy left in the room shuts off his computer. Harald watches as his last hope to figure out his school picks up his folders, gets up from his seat and prepares to leave.
Steeling his nerves, Harald decides to clear his throat and step away from the lockers. “Uh, excuse me?”
Luckily, the boy turns around. “Yeah?”
He fumbles for his timetable, stammering, “I’m in class 2B, and I’m not really sure where my classroom is, so, uh, do you mind telling me where to go?”
The boy stares at him for a moment, before heading toward the door. Harald thinks that he’s doomed, before the boy says, looking back, “follow me.”
Without a moment of hesitation, he scurries behind the boy and follows him down sunlit corridors, passing brightly-painted doors and blank bulletin boards, before they reach a blue door with “2B” painted on it with bright-yellow paint. “Here we are.”
“Thank you so much.” Harald pushes the door open, relieved to find out that the teacher has yet to arrive.
The boy, however, marches in before him, past students who murmur greetings and kicking desks out of the way, before plopping down in a seat at the back. “Hey,” he calls, “what’re you waiting for?”
Realising that he’s still standing agape at the doorway, Harald walks into the classroom, staring at the ground until he reaches the seat next to the boy’s. When he stares up at him, Harald adds, hurriedly, “wait, if you don’t want me sitting here I can mo — “
“Nah.” The boy pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, fiddling with the shiny screen. “I can help you out in class, or something. What’s your name?”
Stunned into silence, Harald pulls out his student card and shows it to the boy.
“Okay.” The boy shrugs. “My name’s Leon. Nice to meet you, Haraldur.”
“Harald,” he corrects, “just call me that.”
Leon shrugs again, still typing rapidly on his cell phone. “Sure.”
They remain in awkward silence for a while, and Harald’s about to say something when the teacher walks into the classroom.
…
“How was class?”
Harald stares at his lunch and replies, “good.”
“Are the teachers nice?”
“Mmhmm.”
“You didn’t get lost, did you?”
“Nope.”
Stellan eyes his brother suspiciously over his cup of coffee. “You sure everything went okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re giving me one-word answers.” He pokes Harald in the forehead.“When that happens, you’re usually upset about something.”
“Well, I’m not.” Harald takes a sip of his water. “Things actually went better than I expected. I managed to make a new friend.”
That gets Stellan’s attention. He leans in, clearly holding back a smile. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’m not that antisocial, y’know.” He rolls his eyes, though he’s smiling too. “He’s just some guy in my class. His name is Leon. And, uh,” he adds, “he spent most of the classes just using his phone under the desk.”
“Really?” Stellan remarks again. “I hope he won’t be a bad influence.”
“He won’t, he won’t,” Harald says quickly, “the teachers all seem okay with him. He let me sign up for theatre with him, too.”
That gets his attention. “You’re already part of a club?”
Harald almost laughs at his brother’s disbelieving expression. “Yep.”
“You’re better than me, then. When I was in high school I spent all my time in the library.” Stellan gets out of his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes, so I have to go.” He heads towards the diner’s cashier, pulling notes out of his wallet. “Have fun in school.”
As he watches him leave, Harald begins packing his bag, ready to follow.
Part Two: Guidance
Harald glares at the angry red “F”.
It seems to glare back.
Leon slings an arm around his shoulders, waving his test paper that flaunts a bold “A”. “Failed again?”
“Don’t rub it in, idiot.” Harald elbows his friend in the gut and stuffs the test paper at the back of his folder. “I suck at Chinese, I get it.”
“Why did you pick it, then?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” He scowls. “I wanted to pick Farsi, but they were full and I got tossed here.”
“This is, like, the third time you’ve flunked a quiz,” Leon says, “don’t you think that you need to change the way you study or something?”
The suggestion is met with a deepened scowl. “I’ve tried that.”
“You sure?”
“Yes!” Harald snaps, though he instantly regrets the outburst. Leon pats him on the shoulder and tugs at his frown, clearly still glowing over his good grade. Harald lets him mess with his face, not in the mood to yell any more.
“Yo.”
“Hmm?”
“You need help in Chinese.”
“Clearly.”
“I have an idea.”
“That’s never a good thing.”
He thumps Harald on the back. “Shut up. As I was saying, I have an idea to help you bring up your Chinese grades.”
Harald raises an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“I was thinking that I could tutor you.” It’s clear from the expression on his face that he thinks it’s an excellent idea.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
Leon frowns. “Why, though? I’m practically at the top of the class, and I’m your friend.”
“My only friend.”
“I’m your friend,” he insists, “and I want to help you out. So why don’t you come over to my place after school so I can help you out?”
He takes a moment to think of a rebuttal to that. He can’t. “Okay, okay, fine,” Harald finally says, “you can extend your goodwill to this illiterate, pitiful fool.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Leon reassures, although he’s grinning triumphantly. “You’re not pitiful, just illiterate.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Leon teeters back in his seat, lolling his head back. “I’m an amazing person, I know.”
He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me that I have a presumptuous asshead as my best friend.”
“Any time.” Leon’s widened grin is annoyingly bright.
…
Two hours later, in Leon’s apartment, Harald begins to regret his decision.
His friend is clearly having too much fun showing off, bringing out his old Chinese textbooks from primary school and loudly proclaiming, “this is the stuff I learned in my first year of primary school. Maybe they can help.”
He glares at the textbooks, covered almost condescendingly in bright colours, bubbly fonts and cheerful characters. He flips the textbook open. The overly-large characters printed on glossy papers are barely recognisable.
“Is that still too hard for you?”
“Shut up, I’m already really embarrassed.”
“Why?” Leon sits down next to him, slamming down a packet of manuscript paper. “There’s no shame in having trouble learning a language.” He shrugs. “Hell, when we first moved here I could barely speak English, and look at me now.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “You don’t speak with an accent. I have an accent in both English and Chinese!”
“But there’s nothing wrong with an accent! That just means that you went through the hard work of learning a new language.” Harald jumps when Leon grabs his hand, squeezing it gently. “Look, I’m sorry for being an ass about your grades. You’re stuck with this language, so you might as well be good at it. I can help you with that.”
Harald shakes his hand off. “Right, okay, whatever. Where do we start?”
Leon grabs the nearest textbook, which appears to be targeted toward six-year-olds. Harald does his best to not feel even more embarrassed. “This one, probably. You’re not too bad with the basics.”
“You overestimate my skills.”
“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Leon flips the textbook open and yanks out a piece of manuscript paper. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Very reassuring.”
“I’ve seen waaaaaay worse, trust me.” He points to the passage. “Now, let’s start.”
…
“I think we made pretty good progress today.”
“I feel less illiterate.”
“See?” Leon crosses his arms, that perpetually victorious expression on his face even more so. “You’re not terrible at this, you just needed a little push in the right direction.”
Harald smiles a little, gathering his notes and stuffing them in his bag. “Thanks, Leon. Really.”
“Hey, no problem.” He winks, stacking up the textbooks and hefting them up. “D’you want to meet up again next week?”
“Sure.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and begins heading toward the door, raising a hand in a wave. “See you next time.”
Leon waves. “Bye.”
…
The next few lessons fly by, copyings and recitations making Harald even more familiar with the language. He stops getting zeros on his homework, discussions in class become less awkward and he stops being miserable while staring at his textbook.
After another successful tutoring session, Harald prepares to leave when he remembers something. “Oh, crap.”
Leon looks up from tidying up his desk. “What is it?”
“My brother’s working overtime today.” He claps his palm to his forehead, looking at the darkening sky from out the window. “He won’t get home until ten o’clock.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Leon shoves the pile of textbooks and exercise books into a drawer. “You can stay for dinner.”
Harald stares at him in disbelief. “I can what?”
“Stay for dinner,” he repeats, “Yao can cook for you, too.”
“No, no, I can’t, I’ll just go to the diner.”
He grabs Harald’s wrist, making him jump about a foot in the air. “Like hell you are. If you eat all that greasy diner food, you’ll get heart disease and die at age twenty-one.” Leon pauses. “Gosh, I sound like my brothers. But anyway, you’re going to stay for dinner.”
“I — “ he sighs, sharply elbowing Leon in the ribs. “Okay. I’ll stay. Only this time, though.”
…
More lessons, more improvement. Then one day, their teacher announces the arrival of a dreaded event — another quiz. Harald jots down the date in his planner, then the syllabus. It’s nothing that he and Leon haven’t covered, nothing that they’ve reviewed over and over again, but he can’t help feeling nervous.
After school, he takes the familiar route to Leon’s apartment, tossing his now-enormous folder of notes and textbook onto the table. Leon flops down, puffing his bangs away from his eyes. “The quiz is going to be so easy.”
“For you, maybe.” Harald pulls out a blank sheet of manuscript paper. “For me, it’s going to be a one-way ticket to failure.” He writes down the title with a little more force than necessary. “That is, assuming I’m not there already.”
“Hey, you’ll be fine. As long as you study enough and remember what we went over, you won’t fail.” Very unhelpfully, Leon adds at the end, “hopefully.”
“I just love how reassuring you are.”
“I love me, too.” He leans over to look at Harald, who’s jotting down notes of the first few chapters of his textbook. “But really, don’t worry about it. If you take the quiz all nervous and stuff, you’ll make a ton of careless mistakes.”
He has a point. Harald flips the page of his textbook, perhaps a little too violently, and blots out a mistake. The blue ink smudges when his hand brushes over it. Leon sits down next to him, reading a bright, garish comic book. Harald tries to ignore his whistling, at how at-ease he seems despite the upcoming assessment.
An hour and a half later, his hand cramping and four pages of notes packed with his writing, Harald gets up and packs. When he bends down to pick up his bag, pain shoots through his back and he winces. Across the table, Leon glances at him. “Really?”
“What do you mean, really?”
“Your back hurts, doesn’t it?” Leon stands up, tossing his comic book onto the table and scooping up Harald’s bag for him. “And I’m pretty sure your hand’s cramping, too. You have to take breaks sometimes, or you’re going to burn up.”
“Okay, Mom.” He stretches again, picking up his bag and walking away. “I’ll take care of myself or something. See you.”
…
Leon tilts back in his head so his head rests on Harald’s desk. “So how do you think you did?”
“I have no clue.” He pokes Leon’s forehead, then his nose, watching as his friend grows cross-eyed. “I just hope I passed.”
“That’s no good, you should give yourself higher standards.”
Harald prods him again. “I’ve never passed before, give me a break.”
“I guess.” At the front of the classroom, the teacher calls Leon’s name. He saunters confidently toward them, taking his test paper and staring at the results nonchalantly.
When it’s Harald’s turn to get his test paper, he folds the corner over the red letter, waiting until he gets back to his seat to read them. Once he sits down, he unfolds the cease and looks down.
“You’re kidding me.”
“What?” Leon turns around to look at his test paper. “How did you do?”
“I passed!” Harald shows him his test paper and the C+ on it, fighting a smile. “I actually passed, holy crap, this is amazing.” He sets down his paper before deciding to hug Leon. “Thanks for helping me out.”
As a fun warm-up for our Hetabang project we decided to do a little collab! I did the sketches and @canadiatuxedo did the fantastic lineart and colouring.
The final piece for the Hetabang project with my partner @bluecastleinthesky who wrote an amazing story that goes with it, Canvas and paper hearts on ao3! It's a fluffy piece with historian Ludwig and barista Feliciano!
Aaaaaaand some pictures from our Hetalia High School AU! Today at school, these eager teens went to Denny’s and had a throw-down! Lovino cried in the parking lot while Alfred blocked the entrance and tried to start fights.
