One could say he was handsome. One could say he was confident. One could say he was obnoxious.
His face in itself was stuck in a transition between youth and maturityーa perfect mix of childish happiness and mature features. He wore his sandy blonde hair, parted from the left, like a crown of the most expensive topaz. Despite its ruffled look, I have never seen one pull off such natural look with grace and confidence as he does.
His eyes were the vast sunny sky, and sometimes I could see the ocean in them. They sparkle as if they're sapphires, and it just grew brighter everyday. It matched his rosy cheeks, which never faltered from those he had when he was a young lad.
He was tall, and from his stance one could tell he was a man of worth and position. He always wore a ridiculous old fighter pilot leather jacket, which I thought was stupid on its old existence. Underneath that jacket was a suit, which he managed to keep neat no matter how frisky he became at times, much to constrast with the jacket.
Though, I do admit he looked so wrong when I see him without that jacket. It became his staple, his unique thing, and by then I hope he stays the same.
His hands were large and I bet they're calloused with that much motorcycle riding without gloves. His black and green watch hugged his left wrist, and on his right as a thin brown bracelet. He never wore any rings often, at least not that I've observed, but when he did it was a silver band on his right middle finger. That band seemed familiar, yet I ignored it most of the times.
He always sat in his seat at the edge of the meeting table like the obnoxious git he was. He often puts his feet up the table and if not then he rocks his chair back and forth, and I often scold him for it. His feet once landed on my notes, which ruined it with his shoe dirt. That note is to be passed to Scotland, Wales and the Irelands, and now I need to rewrite my own as well, thanks to him.
Nonetheless, he let me photocopy Canada's notes after that meeting. It wasn't my fault if Canada gets offended that he may have randomly borrowed someone's notes and let me photocopy them, but I said my apologies to the nation that looked so much like the frogandthe git.
It surprised me back then how ironic it was thatーwho was that man again? Oh, yeah right,ーCanada had the faces of both the frog and the git, but I actually respect Canada more. But then again, maybe I don't really hate the frog and the git. The frog, well, yes he's still infuriating with his too-adventurous hands. The git, on the other hand, never did anything that bad lately.
I'm not certain if he does it on purpose, and if he doesn't then if he notices it at least, but I'm not sure if I like it or not. Maybe I prefer us fighting like bastards again because at least then we were still talking.
I remember his speech in the meeting about some heroic whatever. He really has a thing with heroes and being one, and I miss how he felt so passionate about them back then. Now, he just beams up at the sight of burgers and only spoke of heroes when he reasons that heroes need the "hero diet", or whatever that fast food grease routine was called.
He stood on the podium and reported formallyーfor onceーin his silvery voice. It definitely changed since he was very little, where his voice was still high-pitched and he speaks in singsong voice, and that was just too old for me to think of again. I am glad that changed.
His voice was now light and pleasant, yet obviously deeper than back then. When he spoke nothing of useless grease or heroes or extra-terrestrial creatures, his voice remind me of a calm, sunny or windy day. Even if he actually spoke of hurricanes on the report he half-heartedly discussed, since it was on behalf of an island nation he was heartbroken to see injured.
Everytime the meeting ends and Germany's voice rang to signal its end, I always notice he was always last to leave and still caught conversation with either Japan or much to my confusion, the Koreas. I still leave early.
I also remember that one day in Italy where he decided to hold the meeting outdoors, in a quiet villa in a shade and a pool in half-a-kilometer radius. It was a nice change of environment, but I certainly hate the fact Italy told us to bring swimming attire. And as far as I can observe, he wore his jacket zipped up that day. Needless to say, when Italy led us to the pool to end the meeting on light terms and probably sunburns, he was shirtless underneath the jacket. Anyways, what did I even expect?
With China and Canada, we stayed at the poolside and never got wet. We all had a conversation about various things that never had anything to deal with tea, maple syrup and well, tea again, but I can't help but wander around the pool and hopelessly got stuck on him again.
He was the self-proclaimed assistant life-guard after Germany was forced to swim and had let go of the rope that ties Prussia's life saver to the life-guard chair. His chest was broad with a surprisingly small tattoo of the stars and stripes above his heart area. I cannot comprehend how I managed to observe such small tattoo on his chest from that distance, but that was it. His abdomen was decorated with rows of abs from the workout, and his v-line was perfectly developed. I never let my gaze wander lower, since it was when I noticed how his face literally shone in the bright Italian sunny day. It was wet with water droplets, his hair darkened with water yet he brushed through it with his fingers as to not let them stick to his forehead. He occasionally passes by to buy a cool drink from Romano and Spain in the bar, and comes back to let Denmark off the lifeguard duty to chase Norway with water again. He noticed Japan who just came back with inflatable pool floatees and volleyballs, and I've never seen him smile wider.
I watched the volleyball match with China as we all cheered for him, Denmark, Prussia and Italy against Portugal, Hungary, South Korea and Taiwan, with Canada as the referee and Russia as the brutal scorer. The git's side won, and I never knew he could play it so well.
By four o'clock, the frog, the bird and the tomato came by my table when China left, and by then I remember drinking and getting drunk everytime I lose in the weird game with draw four cards they made me play. I woke up the next day in an empty inflatable pool floating in Italy's pool, with the other drunks in their own floatees. A note by the poolside revealed they all have photos, which was written in none other than French script. The others I got stuck with were Spain, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, The Koreas and Prussia.
A camera clicked and I could see the figures by the poolside in the wee hours of the dark morning. It was tall, with a piece of hair sticking up, and it was no mistaking of who it was.
Norway, Iceland and Greenland helped pick the Nordics up, while the rest of the axis powers went to pick the others up. I was stuck in the middle, with a terrible hangover and I could think of was him. The moon was far down the horizon with oranges and yellows starting to appear, and I'm just drunk. It was a shame and so un-gentlemanly, but how can I even act like one when I can't even act like a person?
I heard a splash and made the inflatable pool sway, until I saw a pair of hands grasp my pool and the world moved for me.
He grew since then. The oldest clothes I've seen him wear were from ten years ago and that's that. With the things going on his country, the good and bad things he had and is still going through, he still shone and smiled through it all.
I watched as he entered the meeting hall again, now in France. He sat at his usual seat, putting his feet up and passively mumuring his excuse for being late and arriving in the middle of North and South Korea's announcement of the end of the Korean War. Above all else, he should be there, but his arm, shoulder and chest bandage says something his lips doesn't. Just from a hunch, it was either from guns or fireworks.
Nonetheless, he stayed strong. He was still here, after1812, after the World Wars, after the Vietnam War, the Cold War, after 9/11 and after all those shootings, he was still here.
He looked forward to North and South Korea's joint speech with a small smile and a daze. He doesn't talk to me that much anymore, busy keeping the Land of the Free going as stable as it could be.
I'll just refer to him as my special love, the one that set me free.