The world of frills, pastel colors, animal prints, mismatched designs, and accessories seemed perfect; everything about it was beautiful and it allowed for so many possibilities. "Why had I not thought of this before?" the Japanese man asked himself as he walked around aimlessly in the convention.
"Yo, Japan," the voice of a loud American asked from the distance. "Where you been?" he asked running up to him.
"America," he said being caught off guard, "I thought I was supposed to meet you at the food court?"
"You were, but I got worried after my 142nd hamburger. What took you so long?"
"I-" Japan said debating in his head if he should tell his friend his new interested.
"You what?" America asked not taking mind to his friend's pause, "Got lost? It's fine, dude; don't worry about it. As long as you weren't with anymore cross dressers, those people are kind of weird. " America rambled on about being the hero and occasionally laughed while the Japanese man sighed.
"America doesn't need to know," Japan thought as he tightened the gasp on the bag of clothes the cross dresser gave him to try on later.
Once again, the Japanese man found himself standing in front of the mirror. Only this time, it was in comfort of his own home and he wasn't wearing a skirt and top; now. He was wearing a dark blue tunic dress, stockings, black heels, bangles, and gray head band on top of his wig.
He was smiling at the fact that he looked pretty and the outfit that he was wearing seemed to match perfectly and complimented his curves. He knew that if he saw a girl on the street looking like him, he would give her a second look. Yet…he stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Part of him, the more embracing side of him, wanted to walk around and try on more clothes; the other part of him, the conservative part, wanted to yank off the clothes of his body because he knew, in the back of his mind, he shouldn't be wearing girl's clothes; it was wrong, even America thought so and he was rather liberal.
"What am I going to do," he said out loud to himself, turning to face the half open window.
The Japanese man's mind didn't wonder far, for his train of thought was cut short by the sound of a fan girl scream and a loud thud. Japan knew that scream from anywhere; he had heard it millions of time when he was with his yaoi obsessed friend. Running up to the window, he opened it, stuck his head out, and shouted nervously, "Hungary, what are you doing here."
Covering her nose that was dripping blood at the sight before her, the Hungarian female mumbled the words, "Don't you remember, you said you were going to help me get some new yaoi pictures, but you didn't show, responded to my texts, or answer your door. I thought something was up. Any who…I never knew you liked to cross dress."
"What?" the Japanese man exclaimed, "No! It's not what it looks like-"
"Sure," Hungary said sarcastically as she picked herself up from the ground and going through the Japanese man's bedroom window, "It's me we're talking about. I have no problem with you cross dressing….all I want is some pictures, but you need to work it.
"What?" Japan asked confused, "I don't understand."
"Honey," Hungary said sweetly, "You look fabulous as a girl; no joke, I'm jealous, but you need to own it. Now strike a pose," she said pulling out her camera.
Japan did as he was told, standing perfectly still as the light flashed, taking the picture.
"No, don't stand still. Stick your butt out, blow a kiss, wink, do something!" Hungary said like a picky photographer.
After a few more directions, the Japanese man got the hang of it, doing poses that made him look so beautiful and attractive that any girl would get jealous.