Perfection was hard to come by, but Romano came pretty damn close.
He waved off the candle's match and stuck it in the sink, then stretched out the tablecloth's creases. He bit his thumbnail, straightened his shirt, and waited.
The anticipation was killing him as he sat awkwardly on Belgium's couch, not wanting to ruin the cover (she had always been neat) and bit his nail again. Where was she? Romano had already told her that he was treating her to dinner, and that Spain would drive her over to the restaurant, as he was busy the few minutes before they were to meet. Spain would drive her to her own house, where she would be surprised for the dinner and love it.
He checked his watch. Spain was late. What if she refused to go? What if he was rejected as just kid with a crush, and all this food would go to waste? The thoughts swirled around in his mind, and Romano was sure that his heart was about to jump through his chest and Belgium would find him dead on her clean white living room sofa.
The doorbell rang.
Romano's pulse sped up once more, but he forced it to slow with a few deep breaths. He walked to the door and opened it, smiling at Belgium, all dressed up in a violet dress with that matching headband she always wore. She had once told him she had many in many different colors, for each occasion. He listened.
"I made dinner." Romano said, and then mentally slapped himself across the face. Idiot! He felt like he was narrating his life, which was the lamest thing he could done at the moment. She didn't want to hear that.
But Belgium laughed, and walked with him to her own kitchen. Romano had on a goofy smile and Belgium gasped when she entered. He had cooked everything himself, the pasta, the sauce; he had kneaded the bread and cut up the vegetables. Perfection. He thought. The lights were dimmed so that the candles cast a soft light all over the room.
"Romano, did you make this for—?" She asked, and Romano smiled again. It was so easy to smile with her.
"Why don't we eat?" Romano and Belgium sat down right next to each other, she at one side and he on the side next to her.
Dinner went quickly, quicker than Romano had hoped for. They talked about everything; she told him of her other ambitions, he told her of his, they laughed and he smiled more than he would have in a day. Belgium walked up to him and swung her arms around his neck. It was just past ten when she stood up and said she had to leave.
"Thanks for the great night." She said into his ear, and kissed him.
Romano closed his eyes are hugged her tightly. She smelled of chocolate and tulips. When they broke away from each other, Romano felt as though he wanted to kiss her again, over and over again, just for the sake of feeling her touch again. She smiled at him and hugged him once more.
"Romano, you would have been perfect without the radio." She whispered.
"Wh-what?" He said.
"France's station always plays the best music, you know."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Comments appreciated!
