Confession
Prussia/Hungary
Author's note: I do not own Hetalia nor do I claim to. This one is sappy.
He had finally done it. He had confessed to her. He waited for her to say something, anything to confirm his fear or hope. He couldn't read her face, her clover eyes told him nothing of what was going on that head of hers. He closed the distance between them, gently holding her hand as he reached toward her cheek, gently brushing his gloved hand across it.
She didn't know what to say or even do. There he was; that arrogant bastard, her best friend and secret crush for how many years now? He was staring at her with those crimson eyes but this time they weren't angry or even teasing: they were hopeful. She felt him hold her hand and brush against her cheek.
Maybe this could be. Maybe they could actually have a chance at being happy. No more fighting, no more being married to someone she didn't love. There he was the boy she had grown up with, the teen she had fought and the man she had fallen in love with.
She smiled at him, "I do." He had never been more relieved in his life. He was impatient with how long the rest of the speech took. Couldn't they just skip to and you may kiss the bride?
Oh, wait. Had he missed his cue? "Awesome," he pulled her close, dipping her down and finally kissing his wife.
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