He disembarked the train at the station. It was still a bit of a walk to get all the way out of Japan's home. The Anglo nation stared up at the characters on the station sign; he couldn't read Japanese. Well, that was a lie, he could read single characters, but stringing them together sometimes proved a challenged. The same was true of his speech, his rhythm was English in every way, which made England's Japanese choppy. He knew Japan had the same problem, but England liked it when Japan spoke his language...even if it was sometimes...off.
England frowned slightly at his own language when compared to others; his was in the same vein and German, Dutch, and Swedish, rough, guttural languages. England sighed as he walked down the rows of houses. Perhaps by sacrificing a beautiful language, he'd gotten imperial success in exchange. French and Italian were pretty, and their respective countries were completely useless. What about Japanese though? England stopped as a group of young boys zipped across his path. Japan had lived in isolation rather than going around killing and taking names, and the former empire couldn't help wondering if perhaps that would have been a better choice from the very start. England shook his head at the idea and lifted the roses in his hand to his nose, trying to think of something else.
They'd been friends for 150 years. The World Wars hadn't even stopped them. England left the town and continued into the countryside. That time had been all about hating Germany, England thought, it hadn't been anything against Japan. After America had lost all sense of proportion and bombed Japan, England didn't speak to him for months. He'd wanted to go see Japan more than ever then, to make sure he would be okay, but tensions stayed high after the war. It felt like they were only now cooling.
He looked at the roses in his hand, eleven white flowers surrounding one red. England gave the flowers a bemused smile and briefly wondered what the hell he was doing with such a cheesy gesture. The bemusement turned into downright self contempt when England considered the box of chocolates in his other hand. He came to a full stop in the middle of the silent road.
Christ, what the hell was he doing? Flowers and chocolates? He couldn't come up with better gifts after a century and a half of friendship? What was he, some kind of hopeless romantic?
But he was. England remembered, he was a hopeless romantic. He'd thought a couple hours ago that these were good gift, and, God help him, he'd stick to it now. England went back to walking with a new vigor. Yes, Japan would love his gifts because...because, because Japan loved him.
England stepped up onto the deck of Japan's modest home. He stuck his face into the roses and took a deep breath before tapping gently on the door then hiding the presents behind his back. There was a soft sound of feet pattering behind the door, and Japan opened the door a crack. Upon seeing that it was England, he opened the door wide and smiled a little.
"Hello, England-san," He said with a small bow, "Your visit is a pleasant surprise; I would invite you inside, but I am cleaning," The Eastern nation showed England the feather duster in his other hand as proof.
"Oh, th-that's fine," England grinned, "I just dropped by to give you these." He held out the flowers and chocolates and dipped down to one knee in some subconscious gesture of gallantry. Japan's eyebrows raised a centimeter which England had learned to read as an expression of great surprise. He slowly took the box, and their hands brushed as Japan delicately lifted the roses from England. He didn't say anything though.
England staggered to his feet, "I-I just wanted to give you something. Y'know, since we've been friends for so long; I-I just wanted to..." He trailed off and watched Japan take a deep breath of the roses and look back up at him. Japan's movement was quick and unexpected as he grazed his lips over England's. The European stood stock still with wide eyes and a faint blush.
They shared a smile, and England turned to go. He'd reached the gate out to the road before Japan called after him.
"A-Asa," England paused and turned around, "S-Sankyu,"
England blushed and tried to remember his Japanese. He eventually stuttered out,"D-Dou, uh, itashi, um, m-mashite." Japan smiled widely back at England and repeated the phrase. England scoffed with a grin, "Everything sound better when you say it." Japan dipped his head back to the flowers, but England could tell he was laughing softly. With a final wave, he departed.
Japan stood in the doorway and watched until he couldn't see his friend anymore. Then he trotted down to the gate to get a few more seconds of seeing England. Admiring his roses, the Asian nation went back inside.
He removed the top from the chocolate box and found one of the sweets in the middle of the box was missing. Japan smiled; somehow he would expect nothing less from England. Romantic didn't mean perfect; sometimes the most romantic things were a little...off.