My gaze flickered up to my living room wall, where a plain black clock with fancily written numbers aligning the polished sides hung, displaying the current time of 6:33 PM. A knot was twisting deep in my stomach. I had to get my mind off of what is soon to come-the inevitable.

I was passing to and fro, arms wrapped around my abdomen, trying to somehow calm my nervousness. It was a futile attempt- I merely couldn't keep my mind from wondering about him.

America-san recently called with "ever so exciting news", involving the fact that he has rented yet another horror movie. Why he continuously tortures himself with these movies is beyond my knowledge. He knows how much they frighten him.

I, unfortunately, know how much they frighten him. I'm sure every nation is aware by now, considering Amerika will not hesitate to wake you up with a phone call in the late hours of the night with details of his movie-induced nightmare.

I shook my head back and forth at the thought. The American never fails to confuse me, even if it doesn't take much. I have come to terms with the fact that understanding the ways of others will most definitely take practice, but I shall prevail one day.

I looked back up at the lock. It read 6:35. How did only two minutes go by? He didn't give a specific time. All he said was, and I quote, "Not sure when exactly I'll be over, dude. Probably around six, maybe seven. See ya, Japan!"

Then, he laughed that unique laugh of his and hung up, not giving me a chance to accept or decline his arrival.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised- It is America, after all. Still, he called at five o'clock, which gave me barely any time to prepare. I am just lucky I have a calm exterior to display before him so he won't see my anxiousness beneath my deep brown irises, or the pounding of my heart through my actions.
What is it about him that causes me to feel this way?

I confronted China-san about it once, confessing that every time Mister America is around I begin to feel odd. Less composed and more awkward, and suddenly it becomes more and more unbearable to stay so cold and stifled with his cheery grin and upbeat attitude. He's my polar opposite, yet whenever we're away, I began to wish we were closer.

I admit, China has his moments in which he has a short temper, and he can be impatient and even a bit slow-witted, but despite all that he is very wise and has raised me better than I could have ever asked for. He has all of my respect, and when I find I have no one else to turn to, he is my journal.

He keeps my secrets and holds them close to his heart, I know for sure. He listens intently, and for that I am eternally grateful. I believe he is the only one who I have lessened my walls around to.

He has seen me at my best times, and my worst times. He's seen my half-smiles turn to something a bit brighter, heard as a small closed mouth chuckle escalated to something more lively. He has also watched as an insignificant quiver of a lower lip turned to gut wrenching, sorrowful sobs.

Even if we are on different sides, I trust him as much as a lonely child trusts their teddy bear, or a shy loner trusts their journal just as they lock it up so no one can ever read any of it. Neither one of us let our "teams" tear us apart. Our bond is much too powerful for that to ever happen.

As I said before, I told China of these feelings I was getting around America-I said how they were growing, widening, blossoming until I felt as if I could burst. A simple glimpse of those sparkling, oceanic blue eyes causes my heart to flutter unnaturally.
He had merely smiled, shaking his head. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't place, and to this day still wander about.

"Ah, yes, I knew this would happen sooner or later." He said, eyes twinkling. I stared at him, expressionless as always. I didn't want to tell him just how much that worried me. I held back numerous questions on what that meant and what exactly it was he knew, but out of respect I kept silent and listened for what he had to say next.
"How long have you felt this way, hmmm?" He asked, a giggle to his voice.

I hope he wasn't able to detect the heat flushing into my face. "Well," I began, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. "Awhile now, I suppose. I noticed it early on, but when we became a bit more acquainted..." My voice trailed off due to embarrassment. China knew of America's constant name for me- he calls me his "homie" on various occasions, and I'm not all that sure just what that meant.
China assured me that it was translated to "good friend of sorts", but I still had my doubts.

China laughed then, causing me to jump. "Uhm, China-san, if you don't mind my asking, what's so funny?" He just shook his head and rolled his eyes as if it was obvious. Again, I was two steps behind. "You mean to tell me, Japan, that you honestly don't know what these feelings mean, aru?"
I shook my head back and forth. I hadn't the clue.

China pinched the bridge of his nose in mock irritation, but the bemused smile about his face gave his true feelings away. "Oh, my poor naive Kiku." I was taken aback by his usage of my real name- this must be important, he knows for sure what's wrong with me. That thought alone was what was keeping my tongue behind my teeth.

He took his hand away from his face, and in a flash the grin he was wearing proudly faded and turned into something more serious. "Kiku," He began, eyes locked on mine, "You're in love."
To this day I am still dumbfounded by his words. He wasn't making up wild accusations; he was being honest and knowledgeable. I was hesitant to correct him, and he seemed one hundred percent positive.

Now, my eyes were locked on that cursed clock as the minutes ticked on like hours. My whole life was based on silence and confusion, never speaking my mind or saying what I think, keeping opinions heavily weighed on my shoulders. Not anymore. Tonight is my night, and I refuse to let my own thoughts of rejection get the best of me.
I've always followed instinct, my mind. Now, perhaps it's time to give my heart a chance.

America was going to walk through that door, having saved a special movie night for just the two of us. I refuse to be silent for any longer.

Nevertheless, my stomach continued to do somersaults, so to calm it I made my way into the kitchen to prepare some herbal tea. I had some at England-san's home once, and after tasting how bland and weak it was, I subconsciously took it upon myself to make some of my own- and I must say, I loved the outcome.

I was just adding the sugar when I heard a hurried knock at the door. It was one after the other with no rests, just a never ending cacophony of fist against wood. I set the heavy bag on the counter-tea still unprepared-and made my way to the door. Once I was only a door away, my heart began banging against my ribcage so furiously I was sure it was going to burst through and make a gory mess of the floor.

I gripped the fabric against my chest, willing my form to straighten and speeding heart to relax. I heard America on the other side of the door yell out, "Yo, Japan, dude! I totally have this wicked movie- it's supposed to be sooo freakin' scary, ha ha!"
Despite myself and the sweating of my palms, a smile curved into my features. I did so adore his hearty laughter, filled with excitement and joy to share his terror with a friend. Also, the way he will occasionally extend his words to prove a point of some kind.

At times, I wish I could be more open- just like America. He's an inspiration, no matter how ridiculous he can be now and again.

"Dude!" He yelled out again, causing me to snap back to reality.
"Coming, Mister America." I answered, silently thanking no one in particular that the fearful stutter hadn't crept into my voice. Giving myself a quick, "You can do it!" Pep talk in my mind, I opened the door.

I swear, in that moment my heart stopped. His smile stretched from ear to ear and almost seemed too big for his face. He wasn't in uniform, but instead a blue Superman t-shirt and black skinny jeans with red converse sneakers. I felt out of place once again, not having changed out of my usual white attire.

"What's up, dude?" He asked casually as he strode into my home as if it was his own. My mouth opened to kindly request he take off his shoes by the door, but all that came out was, "Nothing, America-san."

"That's cool."

He plopped down on the couch, obviously making himself at home. I didn't mind- in fact, I loved it in a way. It gave me false hope of what a future would be like with him, sharing a house with him, having both of us come home after a long day of school or training and watching his become one with the couch. I'd hear his rich American accent call to me so we could "hang out" together.

I shook the thought from my mind. First, I had to speak up, instead of staying deathly silent- as is usual. I had to tell him how I felt, that just looking at him put images in my mind of his strong, athletic arms holding me in a firm grip as we sat down together-just the two of us-and watched whatever caught our attention.

"Something wrong?"

He broke my from my thoughts once more, and I looked over to see him sprawled on the couch comfortably. I shook my head. "No," I started, feeling my pulse race once more. "I was just wandering what movie you picked out."
"Oh!" He jumped up, making my couch look like a trampoline. "Right!" He picked up his movie from its spot on the ground and held it up for me to see.

"Doesn't it just look so totally majorly epically scary?" He was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. His voice was rushed and high-pitched. He must have waited quite a long time to see this. He gripped it tightly and put it much too close to my face for my liking.

"I suppose." I answered the hysterical American. It looked like any horror movie would; I didn't really see anything extravagant about it. It had a women sitting in a yellowish room with stringy black hair that required a good washing, and she had on nothing but black shorts and a straightjacket. It seemed oddly familiar, come to think of it. The words, "Psych Ward" were written in blood-like format at the top of the tape, which, to me, basically gave way to the entire movie plot.

"This is gonna be so awesome! You excited?"
He pulled the movie away and flashed me a toothy grin. I looked at America, then the movie case, then back to him. I wasn't really, my nerves were much too busy going wild for me to feel much of anything else, but nevertheless I nodded stiffly.
"It does look...interesting." I managed.

America seemed to take that as an adequate answer because he laughed and put a hand on his hip. "Yeah, right? Well, let's pop this baby in and watch!"
I should probably get a pillow ready. Every time he watches a horror film he insists on grasping one as if it's his own personal life-preserve.

I thought, holding back a small laugh. America dropped to his knees in front of the DVD player, already popping open the box and inserting the disc. I had already set up the player, ready to watch before he got here. A pillow was placed on the couch, and when he stood and saw it he smiled.

"You know me so well, huh, Japan?"

I blinked, unsure if I should answer. "Well... it's just..." Think Japan, think. "I know how you cling to pillows during movies such as this, so I thought I should have one at your disposal already." Good job, I told myself. I think that sounded pretty fair. America laughed again, and it felt like I swallowed a jar of butterflies, and now they're all trying to escape from my belly.

"Thanks, Dude. You're so thoughtful!" That's when the unexpected happened.
America took his arm and wrapped them around me in a hug. My eyes snapped opened, and all my senses were on high alert. I was so aware of his hands on my back, pulling me to his chest without my consent.

It may have lasted a second, but it seemed like forever, yet still not long enough. He pulled away, leaving me dizzied and dazed. It may have been nothing to him, but to me it meant the world and then some.

America pulled away and walked to the couch, grabbing the pillow on his way. "Come on, Japan." He said and patted the spot beside him, gesturing me to sit beside him. "What's wrong?" He smirked. "You scared?"
I shook my head and accepted the spot beside him. "No," I answered, my gaze fixated on the ground.
"...Oh. Well, you're gonna be!"

He laughed and I felt his eyes drilling a hole in the side of my head.

Unable to keep myself from looking at him I looked up and a rush of emotions washed over me like a tidal wave. The sounds of the movie commercials rolling across the screen was nothing but a buzz now as I realized just how close we really are. I'm not one to deal well with physical contact, but when it comes to China and America, I suddenly can't get enough.
He smiled, but this time it was different. It was soft and reassuring, as if to say, "You're fine. I'm your friend. You don't have to worry about a thing, alright?" I wanted to tell him right then and there, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate. It was as if his eyes locked me in place, frozen here.

I wanted to throw myself in his arms and hold him close, confessing everything to him in a slur of words that he'd somehow understand because he just had to know how I truly feel. But, alas I kept silent yet again. "Wow," He said in a low voice. Did he mean for me to hear?

"Sorry." He said, a bit louder this time. "I mean, you just look so...uh...well, good tonight, Kik- I-I mean, Japan." Blush invaded my pale cheeks, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt it was visibly noticeable. "You may call me Kiku." I said calmly. I surprised myself at how well I kept my voice steady.
"Th-Thanks." What did that stammer of his mean? Maybe he was just as nervous as I.

I expected him to look away, then. The opening screen of the movie began, but he just kept staring at me in that hypnotic way that he possesses. Now was the perfect opportunity. His smile was easy-going, his eyes thick with sweetness and content. "America-san...can I confess something to you?"
I felt my form tremble slightly, but now was no time to show cowardice. I will be silent no longer! America nodded enthusiastically. "Sure, dude! What's on your mind?" He looked so happy that I was talking to him sincerely that it practically melted my heart. I sucked in a breath. Now is my chance.

Finally.

"I...this isn't easy for me to say, and I don't wish to ruin anything..."
"You won't! Ha-ha, dude, you're so nervous! It's fine, just say it."
A knot formed in my throat that seemed impossible to swallow. Talking around it was difficult, but I barely managed. "Well, you see..." That's when my confidence began to falter. What if I destroy our friendship together? What is he never wants to see me again? My shoulders slumped, and my body began to deflate.

I...I can't do it. I can't throw this all away on a whim that he just may have reciprocated feelings. It's too much to risk. So, eating down my pride, all that I had worked up, I finished, "I'm...scared. Frightened, really. This movie does look quite... terrifying."

I worked hard not to choke on my words. America tilted his head, but shrugged.

"Kay, then. Oh! Let's press play and watch the movie!" He plucked up the remote and hit play.
"Yes... Let's..."
I blinked my eyes dry. I failed. I'm a failure. I slumped against the couch, not caring about composure for once. I was forced to sit through the rest of a poorly made "horror" movie, that in which I had already stomached once with Italy and Germany. Again, I was too silent...

The movie finally ended, and as I had already predicted before everyone died. America was a trembling mess of tears, rocking back and forth as he clutched the pillow for safety. "That was way scarier than I thought it'd be!" He screeched. I'm amazed he still had any voice left from all the screaming during the film.
I merely nodded.

America breathed out, collected the DVD, and then stood before me. I arose from my place on the couch as well to stand beside him. He was about a foot taller than I. Through all the crying and yelling, he was still smiling at me. "Did you even get scared once, Kiku?" The way he said my real name sent a shiver down my spine.
I forced myself to speak. "No. Not really."
"See!" He exclaimed, "You didn't have anything to worry about, did ya?"
"No." I repeated.

He frowned, sensing my depression. "You sure nothing's wrong?"
"I am sure."
America didn't seem to accept that. Somehow, he must have read through my lies. "Yeah. Riiiight..." He looked away, seemingly devising a plan of sorts. I watched him, waiting to see what he does next.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and his grin returned. His head snapped to me, and before I could blink his lips connected to mine for a split second before he pulled away. "You know," He said, hiding a laugh. "You really shouldn't be so silent. I love your voice."
I would've thanked him, but I was too dumbfounded...

"We should do this again. But next time, let's call it a date. Okay? Okay! I'll see ya, Kiku!" His voice was sing-songy as he turned away and skipped out without another word.
I wobbled until my legs didn't support my weight anymore and I crashed down into a nearby chair.

I began to smile. A real, genuine smile. I could still feel the warmth of his mouth, and I leaned into the cushions. I didn't remember a time I was this happy.

That was the last night of my silence.