Japan wants America to start watching more horror movies. He does not give a reason (a better viewing experience? a stronger reputation?), but these days America will do nearly anything Japan wants without question. This is mostly because Japan doesn't ask for anything grand, but nevertheless he asks this much and America is determined to do it.
Japan doesn't recommend any particular movies, but America figures he may as well start on all the entertainment he exports. The next time Britain happens to be in the country, America forces him to come over and watch A Nightmare on Elm Street. He loves American horror and while he doesn't remember the movie, he is convinced that it will be great, and through the first ten minutes America tries not to be scared witless.
After the first ten minutes, things go smoothly. Hollywood apparently hadn't figured out blood by forty years ago. America is sure he was scared back then, but now it's almost funny to see an actress covered in red paint, to see the weak special effects they used for Krueger. The scariest part of the movie is when Britain gasps, "It's just like that Samaritans PSA!", but not everybody has a British friend to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street with, and America recovers quickly from the scare.
When America tries to ask what he's talking about, Britain shushes him and they keep watching the movie. It's classic Britain, really, and America is glad to have spent the time with Britain even if he didn't need a friend over after all. At the end Britain asks him, "How was that for you?" in that special, I-care-about-you way that he reserves for all the former British colonies he couldn't cut off.
"It was great. I'm cured."
"They're not so bad. It's not like they're real," Britain says. America knows that Britain is saying this to comfort him, because he is notoriously afraid of horror. He appreciates Britain's company, but he misses Japan.
...
America watches a few more horror movies with his cat and he stays strong by covering his cat's eyes during the bad parts, but things only really start to change for him when he watches a random serial killer movie with Canada. Canada spends a lot of time criticizing the characters and the plot just to put America at ease. Nobody else could pull it off without annoying America, but he doesn't mind when it's Canada talking. Canada has always been able to read him like a book, and has always known him better than England has.
However, watching movies with Canada just isn't as thrilling as watching them with Japan, and Canada acknowledges this before he leaves: "Next time you're trying to impress Japan, just criticize the movies in your head to avoid getting scared."
"I didn't say anything about Japan."
"I don't think you'd be doing this if it wasn't to impress someone. You never do anything you don't want to do."
"But Japan, though?"
"Does anyone else hang out with you?"
That's a good point, so America stops arguing and sees him out. Canada may be his closest friend, but at least Japan is never so mean. He really should give Japan a call...
Finally they are together, and they are watching It (2017), which America doesn't find even mildly disturbing. During a slow part he wraps an arm around Japan's shoulders and holds his breath until Japan rests against him. America often forgets that Japan already loves him.
America had known he wouldn't find this movie scary, and he had intended to take the time to figure out what he was going to say when he finally wasn't afraid. Now, though, he just stares at Japan. He stares until Japan pauses the movie and says, "Are you alright? We don't have to continue if you don't want to. I know those bullying scenes bother you."
"Well, yeah. Those damn kids, right? Man, when I was a kid, I'd never have-," America hesitates. "When did we get old? Do you want a drink? I think I want a drink. I'll get you a soda."
"A water is fine," Japan calls after him.
America comes back with a glass of water, but he only manages to stand before Japan. He has become unhappy with how their relationship has stagnated, convinced that this is not the way things are supposed to be; he had planned to remedy this by saying I love you, but it would be dishonest in this context.
"We don't have to finish the movie if you don't want to," Japan reiterates. Ten minutes ago, America had been so bored with this movie, but now he just wants to get back to it so Japan will stop staring at him like that. He sits next to Japan and Japan says, "You didn't get yourself a drink," and America shrugs and puts his arm back around Japan, but it doesn't feel right like he had imagined it would.
After about ten more minutes of the movie, Japan pauses it. "America, you seem really uncomfortable."
America drums his hands against his knees. "Yeah, the movie is pretty boring." He knows now that Japan wants him to say what he's thinking, but what he's thinking is, Why doesn't it feel right to hold hands? Why don't I want to kiss you? and he knows that Japan won't have the answers he seeks. Instead he says, "Kiku, it's the twenty-first century. We can, like, love whoever we want to, right? As long as it's not hurting anyone."
"Right."
"Yeah, totally. Anyway, I can't love whoever I want. I keep trying, Kiku, but it just doesn't happen."
"What do you mean?" Japan asks, in that patient way of his that America wants so badly to be endeared with.
"I think I'm aromantic, like without romantic attraction, or something like that. God, imagine saying that fifteen years ago," America says, and he feels stupid. Terms like that weren't around when he was younger; rather selfishly, he cannot particularly come to appreciate them now that he's old. Putting a label to it must make it seem, to Japan, like America has not tried desperately to change.
"How do you know?"
"I just- I don't want to spend my life with anyone else, not really. I think I could truly love someone for a night, maybe, if I knew I'd never see them again. I just can't imagine settling down like how other people do."
"It's hard to live as long as we do."
America shakes his head. "No, that's not it. Like, uh, look. I realized the other day that I was, you know," America takes a second to collect himself before continuing, "The way that I am. I realized that I was the way that I am when I was thinking about New York City. I was like, wow, I love New York City way more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. I could commit to New York City, you know? I did. It's the randomest thing, but I knew then. Another reason to love the place, I guess."
Japan nods. He's still sitting on the couch and he is very clearly upset, a far cry from his usual unreadability, but still he suggests, "Maybe you haven't found the right person."
America knows he's trying to be helpful, that Japan has listened to him bitch about being aromantic and is just trying to offer a solution, but he still has to tamper his annoyance before responding. "I did find the right person, Kiku. It's you. I know it's you. I am thrilled about your presence, like, every time I see you. You can't get me off the phone. But whenever I try to think about you as a romantic partner, I just don't want it. If I were to do all the things people do, like kissing and holding hands and going on proper dates and shit, I guess it would have to be with you. But I still don't want to do them."
"I'm not asking you to do these things."
"But you never wanted them?"
Japan hesitates and then says, "I was just happy the way things were. Being with you is- it's nice. I love you, romantically, with or without romance."
"I want to love you, dude. I do. I tried really hard to."
"I know, America. I know that you love me."
"Just not like that," America cuts in.
"Yeah. Not like that."
America sits down next to him, and he grabs Japan's hand and asks, "Do you want to finish the movie?"
"Not really."
"Do you... do you want something to eat? Coffee?"
"No. I think I'm going to go to sleep. Goodnight, America." With that, Japan gets up and leaves.
...
The next day, America drops Japan off at the airport. Japan would have been leaving today either way, but to America it feels very personal.
"I'm sorry, Kiku. I really am."
"I know. It's not your fault. I-I read a bit about it last night. I'm sorry for saying that you didn't find the right person."
"It's fine."
They talk about mundane things, cool inventions their people have made and video games they should play together, but America talks a bit more quietly and Japan talks even less than usual. America feels guilty and low, more like a misbehaving dog than he would care to acknowledge, but after a while the shame runs out and he just feels empty. This surely must be the absence of love, the same one everyone else (aromantic or not) experiences from time to time. He worries, irrationally, that he will feel this way forever; there are other forms of love, but he will never find the one he has spent so long searching for.
"Japan, I'm jealous of everyone that gets to fall in love," America says as he stops the car, just so they won't have to have another conversation.
"So am I, but we work with what we've got. Bye, egg-boy."
"That movie sucked."
"We should watch one of mine next time. I'll pick a good one," Japan says, and he slips out of the car. He's gone, and the hard part is over now. Better yet, there will be a next time.
America reframes a little bit on the way home. He is not jealous of people that fall in love; he is jealous of people that don't fall in love and are fine with it. It doesn't feel exactly true, but he has already tried to change and he is always left with himself. He can work toward not being jealous anymore. Really, he must.
Internalized arophobia for the win lmao :/. I don't think many people can relate to being aromantic but I think a lot of LGBTQ+ people can probably relate to going through a period of wanting to be something else. A review would be great, have a great day and stay safe.