The Beautiful World (Hetalia Oneshots)

Love Letters/Sweden

Character: Berwald Oxenstierna/ Sweden

Warning: not really a warning so much as a detail.
It was intended to be a male reader.
I try not to put in physical traits on the reader description, this is because I want you guys to use your imagination.
The only thing that really changed is pronouns I guess, and even then its only slightly different.
Anywho, enjoy.
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Friday 3:15 p.m.

"And that concludes today's class," you say to the room of students as the bell rings signaling the end of the school day, "remember to study for your test next week."

The students began to file out of the classroom, excited to have the weekend off.
A few said their farewells to you, and you said yours in turn with a smile.
You stood by the door, and watched the thirty or so students leave.

When all the students had left you sighed, and sat down on your desk.

Time for another weekend of grading papers, and organizing assignments.

"Mr. (Yn) (Ln)" a knock came to the opened door, Mr. Picardy stood in the doorway.
You stood up, "yes."
He smiled, and handed you a letter.

You thanked him, and examined the white envelope finding no return address, or name other than yours.
"Excuse me," you say before the boy could leave, "who is this from?"

"I was told to keep it a secret," he said with a smile before leaving.

You opened the letter carefully, taking out the folded note.

The writing was neat, and curved beautifully. It must have been written with the utmost care.

"You,
I hope you had a day as wonderful as you. If every day were as beautiful as you the world would be a much better place.

~Me"

Your face flushed slightly, and you read the letter again to try to find a name.

Finding nothing you rested the letter against your chest.

Who would send me a letter like that?

You shook it off, deciding to deal with it later. It was probably just a gag anyway.

May the one of the coaches messing around with you again. Alfred F Jones.

Or the drama teacher/ home economics, Francis Bonnefoy.

Or the janitor, Gilbert Beilschmit.

It probably wasn't anything more than a stupid ruse. It would be better to throw it away.

You cleaned up the classroom, and packed all the papers you would need for the weekend.
You picked the letter back up off your desk, and slid it into your purse.

No harm in it...

You locked your classroom door, and began walking down the hallway.

Your lonely footsteps echoed off the lockers as you walked, unaware of the blue eyes watching your movements.

~*~*~*

Monday 8:15 a.m.

"Good morning everyone." you say to you class.
The tired teenagers didn't seem to be excited to be here; however, a few responded with quiet "good morming, Mr. (Ln)"s

Who would? It's 8 am on a Monday morning.

"I know it's Monday," you say, picking up a stack of papers, "But lets hustle through it, alright?"