The person walked into the room. He looked almost shrouded in mystery. With elegantly done makeup and dark, casual hair swept to the side, he looked almost ready to kill. (Which he probably would, given the chance.) There was a determined glint in his brown eyes as he observed the people in the room. Another boy approached him. The protagonist smiled, his face changing from a stern look of pure murder to a softer, kinder one. This boy was his and he knew it. He grinned as he pulled the blonde boy into a hug. A few quick words were exchanged, and then the boy needed to go. His counterpart's face fell, but he nodded and moved on to visit with others. The others in the room were close friends of his. There was Beau, the chipper revolutionary war geek who was noticeably smaller than everyone. There was Madison, a kind Canadian girl with a large heart; holding plenty of room for Hetalia, among other things. There was a duo who seemed mesmerized by each other's words, yet played it off like they were simply friends. There were a whole crew of people in this room. A whole crew of friends who laughed together, cried together and banded together no matter what. And that made him happy.
this was written for alexanderhamiltcn in all of its lowkey shitty glory
