World Academy Romances: Romance
Title: Romance
If you are interested in stories with absurd plotlines and bizarre pairings, you’ve come to the right place. This is the first in several one shots about the characters of Hetalia on the campus of the World Academy. It’s an amalgam of moments both humorous and tender, serious and silly, and I hope you enjoy the first of many, simply titled “Romance.”
…
“I hate this weather,” Germany growled, glaring out at the haze of large white snowflakes swirling past the windows of the academy’s library, “I hate this month! It’s always freezing and miserable outside, but all the holidays have passed!”
“Not all holidays,” Japan said quietly, not looking up from his research paper, “we just celebrated Itsuban, remember?”
“Right,” Germany sighed. He didn’t have the heart to tell Japan that sitting around on tatami mats eating soy beans wasn’t quite his idea of a real holiday.
“And you forgot the most important holiday of the whole year!” Italy cried, “Valentine’s Day is only one week away!”
Germany grimaced, as though the very name of the holiday caused him pain. “Valentine’s Day is not a real holiday!” he said firmly, “it’s just a stupid excuse for people to spend money, and we will not be celebrating it.”
“I think Valentine’s Day is a good idea, actually,” Japan cut in smoothly before Italy could reply, “I could use some chocolate right now, especially since with the weather is so harsh, and all these papers to do.”
“See?” Italy said to Germany, “think about it, we could decorate everything in red and white, and make each other cards! It would be so much fun! And I’d be sure to give both of you lots of Italian chocolate!”
“Ah… well, erm, thank you, Italy,” Japan stuttered, valiantly keeping a straight face.
Germany, on the other hand, was not amused at all. “I will absolutely not be making Valentine’s Day cards for anyone, and that’s the end of it!”
“Did someone say Valentine’s Day?”
Germany groaned as a voice sang out from between the bookshelves, and suddenly, around the corner emerged a bespectacled head with an untidy mop of shaggy, dark blonde hair.
“I love Valentine’s Day,” America continued, sitting down unbidden at their little study table, accidentally knocking over one of Japan’s books with his bag as he did so, “I always buy a ton of candy for all my friends, especially those little hearts with the cool phrases on them! And I always make the most badass Valentines, just watch!”
Italy’s eyes were wide with excitement as he listened to America describe in detail one of his most impressive Valentine’s constructions, and when he paused to take a breath, Italy jumped in excitedly, “well, you should join our Valentine’s Day party, America. You could help me make the invitations, and we could make them badass, just like your valentines!”
“Cool, I’d love to, dude!” America said excitedly, “but I gotta run, there’s an awesome video game coming out today and I need to get it before it sells out. See ya later!”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Germany sputtering in protest. Angrily, he rounded on Italy, who scooted his chair instinctively toward Japan’s side of the table.
“What Valentine’s Day party?” he barked, a note of panic creeping into his voice, “we’re not having a Valentine’s Day party, Italy!”
“Of course we are,” Italy said as calmly as he could, slowly sinking down in his chair under Germany’s furious glower, “we can’t celebrate V-valentine’s Day without throwing a p-party, that would just be… just be… um…”
He winced as Germany’s pencil snapped in his grip. He seemed to be struggling for the right words to express his ire, something that Italy was grateful for; Germany had already snapped at him once today, and besides, as soon as he got into the spirit of the party, he’d mellow out.
With a sudden, abrupt movement, Japan pushed back his chair and stood, neatly folding the paper he’d been writing on and slipping it into his pocket before gathering up his books. “I’ve finished my paper, so I think I’m going to… ah… make myself some tea,” he said hurriedly, scurrying from the library as soon as he’d crammed all of his things into his bag.
Germany blinked, his anger momentarily forgotten. “What was that all about?” he wondered aloud, jerking his head at Japan’s retreating back, “and why’d he stick his paper in his pocket?”
Italy shrugged, too relieved that Germany was back to normal to care.
…
Heart pounding, Japan made his way through the vast halls of the academy, barely nodding if anyone spoke to him. The piece of paper in his pocket felt as thick and heavy as if he’d carefully written his best calligraphy all over a piece of stone. Though Germany and Italy believed it to be a research paper, it wasn’t anything of the kind. It was a note, a very important note, and in light of the upcoming holiday, Japan had felt that the time was right to deliver it.
All too soon, the heavy oak doors of the kitchen loomed up in front of him. Taking deep breaths to calm the butterflies swirling through his stomach, he pushed one of the doors open a crack and peeked inside. As expected, China was the only one in the kitchen at the moment, humming to himself as he made himself a cup of tea.
A hot flush crept into Japan’s cheeks. Suddenly short of breath, he let the door slide shut and backed up until he had safely turned the corner. Trying desperately to restore his breathing to normal, he leaned against the wall and wrapped his arms about himself, as if fighting off a chill. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake that brief image of China pouring tea out of his mind. It was just… his hair. Hai, his hair, long and sleek and shining in the kitchen’s fluorescent lighting, like an inky waterfall continually flowing over his delicate shoulders. Who couldn’t love such beautiful hair? And his eyes, sparkling with warmth and love, like two spheres of precious obsidian-
Shaking his head, Japan desperately tried to pull himself back to reality. This was getting silly. He couldn’t give China his note like this! He’d have to try again tomorrow, and try not to get so emotional about it.
…
“Hey Italy! Hey Germany!” America said cheerfully, stepping aside to let them both into his living room. Despite his best attempts at resistance, Germany had finally allowed himself to be dragged to America’s house for the creation of the party invitations. Japan had declined, muttering something about not feeling well. He had certainly sounded odd, as if he were having trouble breathing, and so Germany was left to brave the company of both America and Italy by himself.
“I cleared all my junk off the kitchen table, so we can work there,” America said, leading them both into a bright, cluttered kitchen.
“Wow, look at all this!” Italy breathed, his eyes roving over the many pots and pans cluttering up all the available surfaces, “I could make us a feast in here!”
Germany made an impatient noise in his throat. “Come on, Italy, we need to get started. Where are the supplies?”
Italy didn’t seem to hear him; he was too busy working out just how many pots of spaghetti America’s kitchen could conceivably make at one time.
“Italy, the supplies! Jetzt!” Germany barked.
Italy jumped. “The supplies, right!” he said vaguely, rummaging through his bag, “I’ve got construction paper, glitter, scissors, markers, and glue.”
“Dude, this is gonna be so much fun,” America said happily as the three of them each chose a piece of construction paper and began creating his invitation, “I can’t wait! We can make it a dance party, with a disco ball and everything! So how do you say Valentine’s Day in German?”
“Uh… Valentinstag,” Germany answered, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.
“Man, that’s so much cooler than English,” America sighed, “I wish I could speak German. Then I’d sound like a badass too.”
“Well, I don’t always sound badass,” Germany said, flattered in spite of himself, “you can say tender things in German as well. Like leibe. That means love.”
“Man, it still sounds wicked cool!” America said, his eyes shining bright blue behind his glasses, “even when you speak English it sounds cool ‘cause of your super awesome accent. I’ve been doing my best to keep in shape this winter, but no matter how jacked I get, you’re still gonna beat me on the awesome scale just by talking.”
Italy scowled as Germany fiddled self consciously with his construction paper, his face flushed under America’s praise. Shyly, he asked America something about his work out plan, and then the two were off, talking enthusiastically about weights and running and whatever else guys did to get in shape. Gritting his teeth, Italy stabbed savagely at England’s invitation with the scissors, accidentally cutting off the gigantic heart he’d glued to the top of the card. Germany had never talked that way with him about anything. Come to think of it, Germany had never really looked that way at Italy, either. He’d certainly never touched his hair the way he was doing now, as if making sure the gell he’d applied so carefully that morning still held. He didn’t listen that avidly when Italy talked and… was that a giggle? Italy stared across the table in disbelief. He was beginning to regret ever even speaking to America. How could he have been so stupid as to bring the two of them together? Of course Germany would like him, America was cool and manly, two things that Italy… well, wasn’t. There was an unpleasant clenching feeling in his stomach, and it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. Stonily, he listened to Germany and America talk in silence, trying not to listen as he restarted England’s invitation.
…
The warmth of the tea cup felt heavenly against his fingers. Today was particularly cold, and China was glad for the hot tea to warm his insides. It was difficult to remain a hardworking xuesheng in this weather, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a warm silk robe by the fire. He was about to lift the cup to his lips once more when the door of the kitchen slowly opened. Gracefully, Japan slipped inside, letting the door close gently behind him.
He didn’t know how it happened. One moment he was watching Japan enter the kitchen, the next, his chest was scalding hot. Yelping with pain and surprise, China leaped from his chair as the cup slipped through his fingers, sloshing boiling tea all over his shirt.
“Are you alright?” Japan asked, crossing the kitchen in seconds to pick up the fallen cup and place it back on the table, “are you burned very badly?”
“I-I don’t know,” China said shakily, “I think I’m ok, I just need to get this shirt off…”
Japan blushed as China shrugged out of his soiled shirt, wincing as he did so. From the corner of his eye, Japan could see that China’s skin was red and inflamed, and he saw China’s grimace of pain as he touched the burn gently with the tips of his fingers.
“It’s not that bad,” he said, half to himself, “I just need some aloe, that’s all.”
“Let… let me get some,” Japan said quickly, looking everywhere but China’s naked torso, “I think there’s some in the cabinet.” In his haste to cross the kitchen, he banged his hip against the table, and the letter that had been sticking out of his pocket fluttered to the floor.
“Wait, Japan, you dropped something,” China said, bending over stiffly to retrieve the tiny piece of paper. He paused for a moment. “It has my name on it,” he said finally, looking up quizzically at Japan, who had completely frozen.
“It’s for you,” he said mechanically, staring at the floor wishing with all his heart that he could disappear into it, “I was going to give it to you, but then you spilled your tea.”
With painful slowness, China delicately unfolded the note and began to read it. Even in his misery, Japan couldn’t help feeling a flash of affection for the way China formed the words with his lips as he read, or how a stray lock of hair had escaped its ponytail and fell in a soft black wave over his cheek.
Trembling, he looked down at his feet as China finished reading.
“How long have you felt this way?” China asked quietly.
“For-for a while now,” Japan breathed, “it’s-it’s ok if you don’t f-feel the same. I apologize for b-bothering you, I’ll just go now.”
With a quick bow, Japan turned and made to leave, but before he could make his escape, he felt a hand grip his arm.
“Wait,” China said. Slowly, Japan turned and felt his breath catch in his throat. The two of them were standing inches apart, their noses practically touching. Japan felt lightheaded, he couldn’t breathe, and China’s lips seemed to be getting bigger and bigger…
With shy tenderness, their lips met. In one brief moment, Japan felt all of his fear melt away as China’s fingers worked their way through his hair, gently deepening the kiss. If this was an anime, Japan thought wildly, the background would be pale pink, and there would be cherry blossoms floating all around us…
“Woah! I didn’t know you two were going out! You should have told us, Japan!”
With a gasp, Japan and China pushed violently away from each other. Italy was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. There was a moment of terse silence, until Japan softly cleared his throat and surreptitiously smoothed his hair.
“We’re… ah… not quite going out,” he said, not daring to look at China, “he just spilled his tea, and I was just helping him with the… with the burn,” he finished lamely. “If you want to use the kitchen, please don’t let us disturb you.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to use the kitchen, I wanted to talk to you,” Italy said. The light had gone out of his eyes, and his shoulders sagged as he spoke. “But it’s fine if you’re busy, I’m sure you’d rather kiss China, and it’s not that important anyway.”
“No, no, tell me what’s bothering you,” Japan said. Silently, China opened the cabinet behind him and began rummaging about for the aloe.
“Well, it’s just that Germany and America have been spending a lot of time together, and tomorrow is the party, and I was going to give Germany an extra special valentine, but now I don’t think he’ll want it, and it probably won’t be anything compared to America’s valentine, and I don’t know what to do,” Italy’s words came out in a rush, as if he’d been waiting to say this for a long time.
“Oh, Italy,” Japan smiled, “I think you’ll find that’s not true at all. Just turn around, and you’ll see what I mean.”
“Huh?” Confused, Italy glanced over his shoulder, and let out a squeak of surprise to find himself looking up into Germany’s face.
“G-germany,” Italy gasped, “I didn’t see you there, how long have you been standing there? But I mean, it’s none of my business really. Do you want to use the kitchen? Of course you want to use the kitchen, why else would you be standing there? I’ll get out of your way-”
“Italy,” Germany cut him off, but his face was kind, “I’m not here to use the kitchen.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly as he spoke. “I’m here to give you-er-an extra special valentine.” Roughly, he thrust a large bouquet of roses into Italy’s arms, and straightened his shoulders stiffly. “I felt it would be prudent to honor our friendship on this holiday, though it’s usually reserved for couples and the like-”
“Oh, Germany!” Italy cried, cutting off his speech, “you really mean it? We’re really still friends, even though America is cooler than I am?”
Germany barely had time to grunt a reluctant “yes” before Italy pulled him into a tight hug, the roses still clutched securely in his right hand.
If you are interested in stories with absurd plotlines and bizarre pairings, you’ve come to the right place. This is the first in several one shots about the characters of Hetalia on the campus of the World Academy. It’s an amalgam of moments both humorous and tender, serious and silly, and I hope you enjoy the first of many, simply titled “Romance.”
…
“I hate this weather,” Germany growled, glaring out at the haze of large white snowflakes swirling past the windows of the academy’s library, “I hate this month! It’s always freezing and miserable outside, but all the holidays have passed!”
“Not all holidays,” Japan said quietly, not looking up from his research paper, “we just celebrated Itsuban, remember?”
“Right,” Germany sighed. He didn’t have the heart to tell Japan that sitting around on tatami mats eating soy beans wasn’t quite his idea of a real holiday.
“And you forgot the most important holiday of the whole year!” Italy cried, “Valentine’s Day is only one week away!”
Germany grimaced, as though the very name of the holiday caused him pain. “Valentine’s Day is not a real holiday!” he said firmly, “it’s just a stupid excuse for people to spend money, and we will not be celebrating it.”
“I think Valentine’s Day is a good idea, actually,” Japan cut in smoothly before Italy could reply, “I could use some chocolate right now, especially since with the weather is so harsh, and all these papers to do.”
“See?” Italy said to Germany, “think about it, we could decorate everything in red and white, and make each other cards! It would be so much fun! And I’d be sure to give both of you lots of Italian chocolate!”
“Ah… well, erm, thank you, Italy,” Japan stuttered, valiantly keeping a straight face.
Germany, on the other hand, was not amused at all. “I will absolutely not be making Valentine’s Day cards for anyone, and that’s the end of it!”
“Did someone say Valentine’s Day?”
Germany groaned as a voice sang out from between the bookshelves, and suddenly, around the corner emerged a bespectacled head with an untidy mop of shaggy, dark blonde hair.
“I love Valentine’s Day,” America continued, sitting down unbidden at their little study table, accidentally knocking over one of Japan’s books with his bag as he did so, “I always buy a ton of candy for all my friends, especially those little hearts with the cool phrases on them! And I always make the most badass Valentines, just watch!”
Italy’s eyes were wide with excitement as he listened to America describe in detail one of his most impressive Valentine’s constructions, and when he paused to take a breath, Italy jumped in excitedly, “well, you should join our Valentine’s Day party, America. You could help me make the invitations, and we could make them badass, just like your valentines!”
“Cool, I’d love to, dude!” America said excitedly, “but I gotta run, there’s an awesome video game coming out today and I need to get it before it sells out. See ya later!”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Germany sputtering in protest. Angrily, he rounded on Italy, who scooted his chair instinctively toward Japan’s side of the table.
“What Valentine’s Day party?” he barked, a note of panic creeping into his voice, “we’re not having a Valentine’s Day party, Italy!”
“Of course we are,” Italy said as calmly as he could, slowly sinking down in his chair under Germany’s furious glower, “we can’t celebrate V-valentine’s Day without throwing a p-party, that would just be… just be… um…”
He winced as Germany’s pencil snapped in his grip. He seemed to be struggling for the right words to express his ire, something that Italy was grateful for; Germany had already snapped at him once today, and besides, as soon as he got into the spirit of the party, he’d mellow out.
With a sudden, abrupt movement, Japan pushed back his chair and stood, neatly folding the paper he’d been writing on and slipping it into his pocket before gathering up his books. “I’ve finished my paper, so I think I’m going to… ah… make myself some tea,” he said hurriedly, scurrying from the library as soon as he’d crammed all of his things into his bag.
Germany blinked, his anger momentarily forgotten. “What was that all about?” he wondered aloud, jerking his head at Japan’s retreating back, “and why’d he stick his paper in his pocket?”
Italy shrugged, too relieved that Germany was back to normal to care.
…
Heart pounding, Japan made his way through the vast halls of the academy, barely nodding if anyone spoke to him. The piece of paper in his pocket felt as thick and heavy as if he’d carefully written his best calligraphy all over a piece of stone. Though Germany and Italy believed it to be a research paper, it wasn’t anything of the kind. It was a note, a very important note, and in light of the upcoming holiday, Japan had felt that the time was right to deliver it.
All too soon, the heavy oak doors of the kitchen loomed up in front of him. Taking deep breaths to calm the butterflies swirling through his stomach, he pushed one of the doors open a crack and peeked inside. As expected, China was the only one in the kitchen at the moment, humming to himself as he made himself a cup of tea.
A hot flush crept into Japan’s cheeks. Suddenly short of breath, he let the door slide shut and backed up until he had safely turned the corner. Trying desperately to restore his breathing to normal, he leaned against the wall and wrapped his arms about himself, as if fighting off a chill. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake that brief image of China pouring tea out of his mind. It was just… his hair. Hai, his hair, long and sleek and shining in the kitchen’s fluorescent lighting, like an inky waterfall continually flowing over his delicate shoulders. Who couldn’t love such beautiful hair? And his eyes, sparkling with warmth and love, like two spheres of precious obsidian-
Shaking his head, Japan desperately tried to pull himself back to reality. This was getting silly. He couldn’t give China his note like this! He’d have to try again tomorrow, and try not to get so emotional about it.
…
“Hey Italy! Hey Germany!” America said cheerfully, stepping aside to let them both into his living room. Despite his best attempts at resistance, Germany had finally allowed himself to be dragged to America’s house for the creation of the party invitations. Japan had declined, muttering something about not feeling well. He had certainly sounded odd, as if he were having trouble breathing, and so Germany was left to brave the company of both America and Italy by himself.
“I cleared all my junk off the kitchen table, so we can work there,” America said, leading them both into a bright, cluttered kitchen.
“Wow, look at all this!” Italy breathed, his eyes roving over the many pots and pans cluttering up all the available surfaces, “I could make us a feast in here!”
Germany made an impatient noise in his throat. “Come on, Italy, we need to get started. Where are the supplies?”
Italy didn’t seem to hear him; he was too busy working out just how many pots of spaghetti America’s kitchen could conceivably make at one time.
“Italy, the supplies! Jetzt!” Germany barked.
Italy jumped. “The supplies, right!” he said vaguely, rummaging through his bag, “I’ve got construction paper, glitter, scissors, markers, and glue.”
“Dude, this is gonna be so much fun,” America said happily as the three of them each chose a piece of construction paper and began creating his invitation, “I can’t wait! We can make it a dance party, with a disco ball and everything! So how do you say Valentine’s Day in German?”
“Uh… Valentinstag,” Germany answered, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.
“Man, that’s so much cooler than English,” America sighed, “I wish I could speak German. Then I’d sound like a badass too.”
“Well, I don’t always sound badass,” Germany said, flattered in spite of himself, “you can say tender things in German as well. Like leibe. That means love.”
“Man, it still sounds wicked cool!” America said, his eyes shining bright blue behind his glasses, “even when you speak English it sounds cool ‘cause of your super awesome accent. I’ve been doing my best to keep in shape this winter, but no matter how jacked I get, you’re still gonna beat me on the awesome scale just by talking.”
Italy scowled as Germany fiddled self consciously with his construction paper, his face flushed under America’s praise. Shyly, he asked America something about his work out plan, and then the two were off, talking enthusiastically about weights and running and whatever else guys did to get in shape. Gritting his teeth, Italy stabbed savagely at England’s invitation with the scissors, accidentally cutting off the gigantic heart he’d glued to the top of the card. Germany had never talked that way with him about anything. Come to think of it, Germany had never really looked that way at Italy, either. He’d certainly never touched his hair the way he was doing now, as if making sure the gell he’d applied so carefully that morning still held. He didn’t listen that avidly when Italy talked and… was that a giggle? Italy stared across the table in disbelief. He was beginning to regret ever even speaking to America. How could he have been so stupid as to bring the two of them together? Of course Germany would like him, America was cool and manly, two things that Italy… well, wasn’t. There was an unpleasant clenching feeling in his stomach, and it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. Stonily, he listened to Germany and America talk in silence, trying not to listen as he restarted England’s invitation.
…
The warmth of the tea cup felt heavenly against his fingers. Today was particularly cold, and China was glad for the hot tea to warm his insides. It was difficult to remain a hardworking xuesheng in this weather, when all he wanted to do was curl up in a warm silk robe by the fire. He was about to lift the cup to his lips once more when the door of the kitchen slowly opened. Gracefully, Japan slipped inside, letting the door close gently behind him.
He didn’t know how it happened. One moment he was watching Japan enter the kitchen, the next, his chest was scalding hot. Yelping with pain and surprise, China leaped from his chair as the cup slipped through his fingers, sloshing boiling tea all over his shirt.
“Are you alright?” Japan asked, crossing the kitchen in seconds to pick up the fallen cup and place it back on the table, “are you burned very badly?”
“I-I don’t know,” China said shakily, “I think I’m ok, I just need to get this shirt off…”
Japan blushed as China shrugged out of his soiled shirt, wincing as he did so. From the corner of his eye, Japan could see that China’s skin was red and inflamed, and he saw China’s grimace of pain as he touched the burn gently with the tips of his fingers.
“It’s not that bad,” he said, half to himself, “I just need some aloe, that’s all.”
“Let… let me get some,” Japan said quickly, looking everywhere but China’s naked torso, “I think there’s some in the cabinet.” In his haste to cross the kitchen, he banged his hip against the table, and the letter that had been sticking out of his pocket fluttered to the floor.
“Wait, Japan, you dropped something,” China said, bending over stiffly to retrieve the tiny piece of paper. He paused for a moment. “It has my name on it,” he said finally, looking up quizzically at Japan, who had completely frozen.
“It’s for you,” he said mechanically, staring at the floor wishing with all his heart that he could disappear into it, “I was going to give it to you, but then you spilled your tea.”
With painful slowness, China delicately unfolded the note and began to read it. Even in his misery, Japan couldn’t help feeling a flash of affection for the way China formed the words with his lips as he read, or how a stray lock of hair had escaped its ponytail and fell in a soft black wave over his cheek.
Trembling, he looked down at his feet as China finished reading.
“How long have you felt this way?” China asked quietly.
“For-for a while now,” Japan breathed, “it’s-it’s ok if you don’t f-feel the same. I apologize for b-bothering you, I’ll just go now.”
With a quick bow, Japan turned and made to leave, but before he could make his escape, he felt a hand grip his arm.
“Wait,” China said. Slowly, Japan turned and felt his breath catch in his throat. The two of them were standing inches apart, their noses practically touching. Japan felt lightheaded, he couldn’t breathe, and China’s lips seemed to be getting bigger and bigger…
With shy tenderness, their lips met. In one brief moment, Japan felt all of his fear melt away as China’s fingers worked their way through his hair, gently deepening the kiss. If this was an anime, Japan thought wildly, the background would be pale pink, and there would be cherry blossoms floating all around us…
“Woah! I didn’t know you two were going out! You should have told us, Japan!”
With a gasp, Japan and China pushed violently away from each other. Italy was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. There was a moment of terse silence, until Japan softly cleared his throat and surreptitiously smoothed his hair.
“We’re… ah… not quite going out,” he said, not daring to look at China, “he just spilled his tea, and I was just helping him with the… with the burn,” he finished lamely. “If you want to use the kitchen, please don’t let us disturb you.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to use the kitchen, I wanted to talk to you,” Italy said. The light had gone out of his eyes, and his shoulders sagged as he spoke. “But it’s fine if you’re busy, I’m sure you’d rather kiss China, and it’s not that important anyway.”
“No, no, tell me what’s bothering you,” Japan said. Silently, China opened the cabinet behind him and began rummaging about for the aloe.
“Well, it’s just that Germany and America have been spending a lot of time together, and tomorrow is the party, and I was going to give Germany an extra special valentine, but now I don’t think he’ll want it, and it probably won’t be anything compared to America’s valentine, and I don’t know what to do,” Italy’s words came out in a rush, as if he’d been waiting to say this for a long time.
“Oh, Italy,” Japan smiled, “I think you’ll find that’s not true at all. Just turn around, and you’ll see what I mean.”
“Huh?” Confused, Italy glanced over his shoulder, and let out a squeak of surprise to find himself looking up into Germany’s face.
“G-germany,” Italy gasped, “I didn’t see you there, how long have you been standing there? But I mean, it’s none of my business really. Do you want to use the kitchen? Of course you want to use the kitchen, why else would you be standing there? I’ll get out of your way-”
“Italy,” Germany cut him off, but his face was kind, “I’m not here to use the kitchen.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly as he spoke. “I’m here to give you-er-an extra special valentine.” Roughly, he thrust a large bouquet of roses into Italy’s arms, and straightened his shoulders stiffly. “I felt it would be prudent to honor our friendship on this holiday, though it’s usually reserved for couples and the like-”
“Oh, Germany!” Italy cried, cutting off his speech, “you really mean it? We’re really still friends, even though America is cooler than I am?”
Germany barely had time to grunt a reluctant “yes” before Italy pulled him into a tight hug, the roses still clutched securely in his right hand.