Ch. 7

Canada:

I sat on Poland's swing again. Does that make me creepy?

Poland:

Was the park, like, always this far. . .?

Canada:

I hugged my bear, wondering if Poland was going to come to the park. If he was. . well, I didn't want to be caught sitting on his swing like a stalker. I quickly moved to the next one over, swinging a bit. I kind of felt bad hoping that he would come, because he generally only came after he was hurt by Lithuania. But I really hoped he would come tonight. I just hoped that Lithuania hadn't-

There he was.

Standing right by the swing set.

I had been so immersed in my thoughts that I hadn't heard his footsteps. He stood there, panting, the moon's gentle light glinting off of the trails of his tears on his cheeks. His shirt was torn, his silky blond hair disheveled. His long, pale legs, revealed by rather short shorts, seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"Canada. .?" My name came out of his mouth in a soft voice.

"Yes?" I stood up and stepped towards him. "What happened . . .?" I reached out a bit shyly, not too sure what to do.

To my surprise, he threw himself into my arms, sobbing. I just stood there in shock at first, feeling my face turn red, with my arms just awkwardly out. His arms were folded up against his chest as he cried. I felt his hands close on my shirt, gripping it tightly. I decided to man up and hold him, and that's exactly what I did. I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders, hugging him close to me. Oh, God. This felt so right. Except the fact that he was crying, of course. I'm not that mean. We stood there, with him sobbing silently into my chest, my arms protectively around him.

When he was finally able to stop crying, he pulled back from me almost reluctantly (or so I'd like to think), wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands adorably and still holding onto my shirt with one hand. He stared at the front of my shirt, then started panicking a bit.

"Like, ohmigosh, I'm so sorry! I totally made your shirt all wet and teary. ."

I shook my head and smiled at him. "D-Don't worry about it." I couldn't resist the urge to pat his head and ruffle his hair, which was, by the way, even softer and silkier than it looked. I was surprised at myself for doing that. But what happened next surprised me even more.

Poland stepped closer to me again, and tiptoed to kiss my cheek, barely reaching.

I think I died.

Or had a heart attack or something.

I felt my knees start trembling, and immediately sat down on the swing. My face. I can't even begin to describe how red it was. Poland looked at me worriedly, and apologized. "S-Sorry. . " I shook my head like mad.

"D-D-Don't be sorry. . I-I was just s-s-surprised. ." Dear God. Surprised? Understatement. Such an understatement. The next words that came out of my mouth made me want to hide and never come out again.

"I-I. .actually . .th-that made me r-really h-h-happy. . ."

And I wished and wished to fall in a hole. Until Poland's face turned an adorable shade of pink, and he answered.

"Like, really. . ?" My heart skipped a beat as I nodded. He'd actually sounded hopeful. . . Could it be? Did the person I've loved for years love me back . . .?

". . You're, like, totally on my swing." Before I could get up and apologize, Poland sat right in my lap.

I had no objections.

Poland plucked my hands off of the chains of the swings and pulled my arms around his waist, leaning back against me. He was incredibly light-weight. . .and warm. . .and soft. . .and I promise, I'm not creepy. We sat there, just like that, swinging just a little. After a bit, Poland broke the silence.

"Thanks. . ."

I blinked. "For wh-what?"

"For, like, giving me the courage to leave Liet. . . Thanks. Seriously."

I blinked again. I had given someone courage? I, the invisible loser who lived my life watching people?

"Y-You're welcome," I mumbled, suddenly hyper aware that the object of my love was sitting on my lap, holding my arms around him. Then he started playing with my fingers, and I thought I'd die. Jesus, why was he so adorable?

"Um. . I . . .like, I want to repay you. . for helping me out."

I shook my head. "Y-You really don't have to. . ."

"But, like, I want to. . ." I began to protest again as he shifted his position to turn and face me.

"R-Really, there's no ne-" I was interrupted by what may have the most pleasant interruption possible.

Poland's soft, sweet lips on mine.