AN: Hello hello! Goodness it's been awhile (as usual)! Well uh, here's that new chapter and stuff. Like, it's long and stuff happens, so hopefully you like it. I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter, and would've put it up sooner but I lost it for about a week...but now it's here! If you have something to say about this chapter or the story overall please review, I really enjoy reading people's feedback, whether it's positive or reasonably negative.

Enjoy!

America stood in the sun for about 10 seconds until he just sat down in the grass with his head on his knees. Japan sat next to him looking straight ahead at the back door to the house. The silence was broken by the sound of black birds on the electrical wiring, cackling at the sun.

Japan looked at America, whose head was on top of his knees but could still see his eyes were open, staring at the grass in between the space of his lower thighs. Then Japan looked at America's eyes, looking mistier than solid blue since this whole thing started, then blinked and looked in the opposite direction at a flower bed.

"…am I not attractive anymore?" America mumbled.

Japan quickly turned to America, "What?"

"Because I look like this," America said a bit louder, "Am I," he looks at Japan, "not attractive anymore?"

Japan didn't know how to answer the question. He never thought of America as being ugly, but he never fully thought about America in that manner to what America was referring to.

"What do you mean by 'attractive'?" Japan asked.

"You know, handsome, hot, cute, that kind of thing?" America asked, looking more desperately than he wanted to, for an answer.

Japan slightly blushed and looked away, "Um, well…" he mumbled.

America looked back down at his knees, smiled a sad grin, and chuckled, "Forget it. I'm sorry to put you on the spot like that Kiku. You don't have to answer." America stood up and put his hand towards Japan to offer to help him up, "Let's go inside," this time America smiled his classic hero smile, the one that would always make Japan (or really anyone) feel better, no matter the situation.

Japan looked at America's smile and felt odd, but took Americas hand and stood up. They picked up the gloves, bat, and ball and headed back inside. As soon as America closed the back door, his cell phone rang and he went to go and get it. He saw it was his boss and motioned to Japan that he had to take the call.

"Hello? Hey Mr. President! Yeah, I'm doing fine. You don't have to check on me you know…" America walks off into the dining room continuing his conversation. Japan was still thinking about what just happened. Why was America asking such questions? More importantly, why did Japan himself blush when thinking for an answer? He sat on the couch and began to ponder what in the world was going on between him and America for the past couple days. Then he thought longer, these kinds of symptoms have gone from subtle to very strong from the past couple years or so. When they first started to show up, Japan just thought it was just something that'd go away after awhile, and then he saw that they didn't go away, he subconsciously suppressed them until now. What exactly was he suppressing though? Some type of feeling towards his friend…one that was non-describable.

…

"Shit," Japan said as he blushed and covered his mouth with his hands in embarrassment.

Japan figured out what was happening, but he didn't like it (on the surface). He figured out that he—

"Yo Kiku!" America yelled, interrupting Japan's thought process and startling him.

"Huh?! What?" Japan said snapping out of his mind.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you, but you were staring off into space for awhile. What are ya thinking about so hard?"

"Oh, uh, nothing," Japan lied horribly; America could see right through it.

"You're lying! Tell me!"

"I'd really rather not."

"Was it something weird? It was something weird wasn't it?" America continued to forcefully question Japan.

"No! It was nothing weird!" Japan said starting to get irritated. America could hear the irritation in Japan's voice, and stopped badgering him about it.

"So the call was obviously my boss, he was just checking up on me and stuff. Then he was also telling me about something he just emailed me that I have to do today, so I have to go do that," America stated as he was heading toward his study.

"Alfred wait," Japan said.

America turned around to face Japan, "What?"

Japan opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He looked down in disappointment and mumbled, "Never mind, I forgot."

"Oh, okay. Let me know when you remember." America went into his study and closed the door. Japan felt terrible. He knew he had something to say, but something else kept him from saying it. Hell he couldn't even remember what he was going to say it was so embarrassing! But what was it? Japan lied down on the couch looking up at the ceiling, waiting for it to answer all of his questions. After a couple minutes, Japan's eyes started to sink and he fell asleep.

After about 45 minutes, America finished his assignment sent from his boss and went back to the living room to see what Japan was up to. America saw that Japan had fallen asleep on the couch stomach up, and America stood there again. He could feel himself blushing and trying not to keep certain thoughts out of his head. Suddenly, he started to walk towards Japan, as if something else had taken control of his body. Now he was standing right above him, who was calmly breathing in and out of his slightly opened mouth. Then out of curiosity (the excuse America gave himself), America got closer to Japan's face, now about a foot away. He started to take in Japan's facial features, and started to feel warmer. He got closer to Japan's face, now just a couple inches away, wishing he could be there for as long as possible, without Japan waking up.

Japan was lying peacefully on the couch with his eyes closed. He wanted to get up, but felt the position he was in was too comfortable and thought to he'd get up when America was done. That's when he heard America open his door to his office, close it, and start to walk towards the living room. Japan decided to lie there, assuming America saw him on the couch and assumed he was sleeping. There weren't any footsteps for a minute or so, and Japan became inquisitive on America's whereabouts and held his breath. When he heard America moving towards him again, he started to breathe again. Japan could feel America's presence next to him, and was waiting for America to wake him up, but nothing happened. That's when Japan's instincts started to notice America was getting closer again, but he couldn't comprehend why. Was…was America right in front of him? Japan slowly opened his eyes to see America's face just inches away from his. Soon they were both unconsciously staring at each other, until America came back to his senses and shot up like a soldier coming to attention. His face was as red as the stripes on the American flag, and he deeply regretted his decision.

"H-Hey uh…uh, hey," America said.

Japan felt his face heating up from what just happened, quickly stood up and said, "Do you want some lunch? I'm kind of hungry."

"Yeah totally, totally want…"

"Lunch?"

"Lunch!"

Japan quickly walked off into the dining room, wishing that event never happened.

America sat down on the couch with his face in his hands. Smooth, real smooth America. He hasn't been this nervous with someone since his first crush, which was a very long time ago. He wished he could just crawl into a hole and die. That whole conversation—was it even a conversation? It was just setting himself up for getting caught. And now Japan feels weird and he went to make lunch and—wait, Japan went to go make lunch. Lunch means food. Food means he has to eat. Fuck.

Although he still doesn't feel the need to eat on an hourly basis, America was now conflicted more on whether he should eat or not. From the response he got from Japan earlier on what he thought America looked like, it obviously meant he has to eat more if he looked like that. But, there's still the whole thing about him looking at his bathroom mirror as some obese monster…this was a tight spot. Well, for someone in his mindset it was a tight spot.

America could smell the faint scent of pasta being cooked on the stove.

Pasta. Pasta has carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. Carbs turns into sugar. Sugar turns into fat. Fat makes America obese.

From that train of thought, America's stomach closed and tried to make itself as small as possible, which made America feel uncomfortable. You would've thought after all this time he would've gotten at least a little better. America sighed and got up from the couch to the kitchen. When he reached the kitchen, the smell of the carb overload got stronger, and America could see the bowtie pasta being cooked in a pot with its creator mixing the meal. Since when did he have bowtie pasta anyway?

America went back upstairs and started to write in his journal.

I have to start eating. No like, I have to start eating. Japan definitely sympathizes with the way I look, which is not what I want from him or from anyone for that matter. Japan's cooking bowtie pasta, and I can't help but be terrified at how many carbs are in that whole meal, but I must get back to normal.

I shouldn't just get back to normal for Japan though; I need to get back together for my people. They need me. I can't be in the same condition as a holocaust victim and trying to run this whole place! I HAVE to get better ASAP.

America put his journal away and went to his bathroom. He took out his mirror and put it in his closet. He knew that every time he looked in the mirror he saw a fatso, so for who knows how long he had to deal with fixing himself up every morning without a visual source. Then he went to his sock drawer and dug to the bottom to find a black sock full of diet pills. He was able to sneak these away before France and England confiscated all of his diet pills. He should've been gaining more weight than he has, but he's been secretly taking a pill or two a day depending how he was feeling. He felt real guilty about it, and knew that Japan would be saddened if he found out. He went back to the bathroom with the sock and dumped all the pills into the toilet and flushed them.

America headed back to the kitchen, coming in just in time for Japan to filter out the pasta. He wanted to bring up a normal conversation to break the tension between them. He felt that Japan was starting to see how America felt, and he needed to throw him off.

"So…" America said to get Japan to notice he was there. Japan turned around and saw America.

"Hmm?" Japan said still holding the pot that was filled with hot steamy pasta.

"Uh, well…you do know that I get to ask you another question right?" America asked.

Japan had completely forgotten, and grinned and turned around to put the pot away, "If you finish your meal."

"Oh I will," America said determined.

"You seem more eager to eat now. It's good to see you're improving, for a bit there you seemed to be relapsing again."

America walked towards Japan who was by the counter. America opened up the cupboard and got out two plates. He handed one to Japan, and put some pasta one his plate. Before he turned around completely to go to the table, Japan stopped him.

"More," Japan demanded.

"I'm sorry?" America said confused.

"Put more pasta on your plate."

"But this is fine."

"That's probably half of what I would eat, and it barley fills up a fourth of your plate. Put more or I won't answer your question."

"Hey, that's not how the deal works! It was I finish my meal and you answer."

"What you have there isn't a meal, more of an appetizer."

America whines.

"Alfred just put more pasta, it won't hurt you. I thought you said you were going to start eating easily again."

America stood there for a couple seconds, then turned around and put two big spoon scoops of pasta on his plate.

"Good," Japan said. He then reached for the big spoon to scoop some pasta for himself just as America was putting it back, making them both accidently touch each other's hands and quickly flinch them away. America quickly walked away to the table, and Japan cautiously grabbed the big spoon and scooped a couple spoonfuls of pasta onto his plate. He could see his hands shaking, and he cursed under his breath. This was definitely not the time to be acting like this, let alone feeling like this. America was in a fragile state, and the way Japan was acting could make him think Japan wasn't that supportive.

Japan went and sat down next to America instead of facing him, so that he wouldn't have to look at his face when they spoke. He was actually very hungry, so Japan was eating faster than he usually does. America saw this and looked positively baffled at how Japan was able to scarf down the food as he was. It was as if he'd forgotten how to eat quickly and had to eat at a slow pace or else food would end up all over the place. Although he ate slowly, America was determined to finish his food.

Japan finished his food but still felt hungry, so he got up to get seconds. To try to impress Japan, America tried to finish his food before he got back. When Japan sat back down, America had only a couple bites of food left, and went back to the pace he was eating when Japan was there to finish his food. When he finally finished his food, he put his fork down on his plate to where it made a sound loud enough for Japan to look over at him. America was smiling, looking proud of himself that he'd accomplished his goal. Then America's face fell to discomfort, and he held his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Japan asked.

"My stomach hurts," America said, "I think I ate too fast."

"Well you didn't have to rush; you could've taken as much time as you did when I first got here."

"I'll be fine soon, but now I get to ask you a question!"

Japan sighed, "Okay, fire away."

America had been saving his question for the right time, and because it feels like the longer time passes, the more he can't hold his feelings in anymore. He felt the need to ask Japan now.

"So, I've wanted to ask you this, but I don't know how you're going to respond."

"Well you'll never know unless you ask."

"Um, okay. So I've just wondered, what exactly are you?"

Japan stopped eating his pasta and looked at America with a confused face, "What?"

"Y-You know like, who do you like?"

"I already told you who I like to date."

"No, no I mean," America trailed off. He felt so embarrassed asking this.

"You mean…"

America sighed and said straightforward but looking at the ground, "Are you gay?"

Japan was surprised and didn't know what to say, "Uh, w-well, I-I-I—"

"I was just wondering since you've never really said anything about your personal life—"

"That I was in the closet or something?!"

"No no no! I—ugh, I'm sorry the question came out totally wrong."

"No i-it's fine…"

"Let me rephrase the question: What sexuality are you?"

"Um…w-well…"

"Come on man, you can tell me!"

Japan looked at America with a stern face, "Do you promise to keep an open mind about my answer?"

"Yes yes I promise!"

Japan sigh, "This could take awhile to answer, is that okay?"

"Y-yeah, that's fine," America said eager to hear Japan's explanation.

Japan took a moment to compose himself, then spoke, "For the most part, I know I'm attracted to women, but…there are times when I was…attracted to men."

"…so you're Bi?"

"I-I'm not sure…Alfred, I've been alive for a very long time, and from all those years I've only been in a relationship with three men, all from different time periods. The first one was when I was training as a Ninja; I'm not sure what the year was though. The second time was a little before there was an embargo and I stayed inside my home, and the most recent one was around the late 1900s."

"Huh," America said.

"Although I don't date often, and rarely ever fall in…love…I…I did fall in love with…the first one. About a year after I confessed to him, he died in battle," Japan says sadly and mournfully, as if it happened recently.

"I…I didn't know. I'm sorry," America said softly.

"It's fine. It happened a very long time ago, long before you came around."

"So…do other nations know about your personal life?"

"Well, some of them knew about when I was dating the latest one. Definitely Germany, England, France, and a couple other European nations know. Practically most of the Asian nations know. Now that I think about it, a lot of nations know."

"Whoa whoa whoa," America said, sounding a bit offended, "how does practically the whole world know but me?"

Japan's eyes got wide for a moment remembering something, and then he nervously replied, "Because…I didn't know how you'd respond."

"What do you mean?"

"Alfred, you just recently in the past decade or so became increasingly comfortable with homosexuals, and even now in my home there are still people who are very homophobic. Not even my co-workers and boss know about it! It's not something that I'm out and proud about, but also I'm not ashamed. And the thing is I became especially cautious about it the way you reacted when Feliciano told everyone he was gay. He was so sad and embarrassed the way you humiliated him, I thought I'd never be able to tell you without that happening to me too."

America's face went from curiosity to guilt. He didn't say anything, knowing that nothing verbal would help make this situation any better.