It was fake, and they both knew it. They could pretend that their love was pure and true, but they both knew that it wasn't.
When they kissed, Hungary could pretend that she wasn't thinking of another set of pale lips meeting hers in a violent yet loving dance. She could pretend that she didn't remember the way Prussia had kissed her; emotion running, unchecked, hungry for more yet respecting her boundaries. Pure, raw love.
She could pretend that she loved Austria.
When they held hands, Austria could pretend that he wasn't wistfully remembering another time, another place, and another small hand enclosing his own. He could pretend that he was feeling Hungary's soft hands in his, not recalling Switzerland's calloused yet warm ones offering silent reassurance.
He could pretend that he loved Hungary.
And, finally, in those fractions of seconds when emerald eyes would meet amethyst, they could pretend that their reason for glancing quickly away was shyness. In truth, the only reason for those broken gazes was guilt. Austria's guilt came from remembering another set of emerald eyes, Hungary's from recalling those ruby red orbs.
Finally, when their forced love had ended and their marriage called off, they could stop pretending.
For Hungary, this was absolute bliss. She was finally able to collapse in the arms of her friend, her lover, her everything, and sob happily as he whispered sweet nothings in her ears. She could believe him because the love they shared was unparalleled. Then, their eyes were finally able to meet and he could finally, finally kiss her. Through the kiss, he was able to convey all of his unspoken messages to her.
"I missed you so much, I forgive you, I need you, and I love you."
Love. Love. That feeling that she'd been deprived of for so long.
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
For Hungary, it was a new beginning.
Austria, however, was only given another end that he knew would lead to yet another. He could collapse on the steps outside of Switzerland's house and beg, beg to be taken back. He could tell the blonde exactly how much he missed the times when they had been inseparable. He could finally let the truth fly from his lips after hiding it for so long.
"I love you." Words that had been so pointless when spoken to Hungary would seem completely different. Now, they would be so full of truth, honesty, and hopeless, hopeless longing. Sure, he could do all of these things, but he never would. He would never because he knew how Switzerland would respond.
The blonde would stare down at him with those eyes- those beautiful eyes the exact color of the green mountainsides that were Switzerland- filled with a mixture of pity and disgust. He would say, "We both know that is a lie and is impossible." in a flat tone of voice. Then, he would leave.
Therefore, Austria would keep pretending. Fear of rejection would force him into his own reverse reality where his piano was his only love. In this place, he wasn't awoken in the middle of every night haunted by his luckless love. In his imaginary land, he was perfectly fine, not being cracked into pieces held together by a colorless thread.
Watching from afar, Switzerland would pretend that he wasn't waiting for a chance to whisper those three words into Austria's ears.
"I love you."