Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya, this fanfiction is owned by me. (A.N: The lyrics featured here are from a love poem I wrote)
No matter where you were in the towering skyscraper Germany used to host world meetings, you were always met with the same sensory assault. The smells of cheap coffee, air freshener, and pencil lead. The sounds of computers and fax machines whirring, the skritch of pens on paper, and the hushed chatter of nations as they made small talk.
England roamed the hallways mindlessly, a stony gaze in his eyes as the events of half an hour ago flooded his mind.
"Why do you think everything can be fixed with superheroes?!"
"Because heroes solve everything! I should know, because I'm the biggest hero here!"
"Will you stop eating for one minute and come up a realistic plan?!"
After a mostly fruitless morning of business, well, not business, but stupid fights and unrealistic ideas, just like every other world meeting, Germany had sent everyone off on their lunch break, hoping that his fellow nations would be more productive once they'd let off some steam.
Though wondering the hallway, bored out of his mind wasn't exactly England's definition of 'letting off steam'. He wasn't in the mood for hanging out with his siblings, plus he didn't feel like barging in any of the little social circles the other nations had.
"Let's try it like this!" a voice cried out decisively.
No response came for the voice. Was it someone talking to themselves?
The strumming of a guitar could be heard a moment later, chords ringing out clearly. England's eyes widened as he was made aware of the sound, wondering where it could have come from. Probably just the radio, he thought, continuing down the hallway.
The strumming stopped a moment later, followed by a quick "Yeah, I like that!" and a skritch of pen to paper. "Now...how about putting that with the lyrics?" and the strumming resumed.
England noticed that he must have been walking closer to the sound of the guitar, since it seemed to get louder with each step he took...
"Blessing my day with your smile, colouring my cheeks red, hey, don't leave me like this! Unless you want to break me," the same voice sang sweetly, in perfect pitch.
England stopped right at the end of the hallway, believing he'd found the source of the sound. He gingerly opened the door, revealing a virtually bare room, in the middle of which was Spain, sat cross-legged on the floor, a guitar resting in his lap. He was surrounded by an array of messy sheets of paper, covered with hastily written musical notations. His green eyes flitted about the paper sheets chaotically as he held up a pen, as though he were ready to attack his pile of notes.
It appeared that Spain had yet to notice England's presence, as he scribbled something down and resumed playing his guitar, singing the next lines of his song with mild uncertainty.
"My addled brain and pounding heart, making a complete mess of me, I need you to fix this, please come here and hold me," Spain continued. "No, that's nowhere near good enough!" he decided, shaking his head.
"I kind of liked it," England said plainly, alerting him.
Spain oh-so-slowly turned to face England, his face flushing, just as he described in his song. "H-hey. I thought you'd be with your brothers," he babbled nervously.
"And I thought you were going to go hang with Italy and Romano," England retorted. "It's not like you to bugger off somewhere alone."
"I wanted to work on my song for a bit," Spain told him gently. "I found myself quite inspired during the meeting, so I took myself off to a quiet room as soon as Germany let us go."
"Sounded like a love song. Excuse me for prying, but are you writing it for someone you like?"
Spain's heart leapt in his chest, and he turned his face to the ground. "Yes..." he whispered.
"Good luck with it, then," England told him, turning to leave.
"Wait!"
England stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it?"
"My song...It's for you."
England made his way back to Spain, and gently placed one hand on his burning cheek. The sincere gaze in his gentle green eyes, and the fresh tears threatening to spill onto his face told England everything. Spain agonising over wanting to write a beautiful song, just for him, to show him how truly, madly, completely in love with him he was, wanting to tell him things that a simple confession of love just wouldn't do the job for. England was starting to feel a little guilty that he'd made Spain want to put himself through this in the name of love now...
"I wanted to sing it to you when I finished it, so you'd understand just how much I love you," Spain told him.
England gently took Spain's hands and pulled him to his feet. "I think I get it," he said bluntly.
England tenderly kissed him on the forehead, wrapping his arms around the other man and running one hand through his hair. "You're completely in love with me."
"...You got that right..."
"I love you too. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"...Exactly. Do you mean that?"
"Of course," England whispered lovingly. "I love you, Spain."
And just to prove it, England gave him another soft kiss, this time on the lips...