Chapter Text
Japan was irritated when China called him, though that wasn’t unusual in itself. His old “friend” had an uncanny ability for calling at exactly the wrong time. During meetings with his boss, peaceful strolls alone in the park, even in the middle of his sacred bathtime. China always found a way to inconvenience him.
I swear he does it on purpose.
Japan, deep in his weekly ritual of dusting his extensive figurine collection, sighed and put China on speaker.
“What do you want?”
Maybe if he wasn’t polite, China wouldn’t stay on long. Of course, he knew China wasn’t one to take hints.
“Ah! That’s no way to talk to your elder, is it?” chided China, his voice was tinny over the phone, but still impossibly loud. It made Kiku’s eye twitch.
He didn’t reply.
“Kikuuuuuuu”
He could practically see China, draped dramatically over the arm of his favorite chair with the phone cord twisted around his finger. And everyone would say France was the king of dramatics.
Another irritated sigh. “Yao.”
“Do you remember when you used to call me ‘teacher’? Can’t you do that again?” He could hear the pout in China’s voice. .
“That was almost two-thousand years ago, old man.” Japan crossed his arms, not that China could see. “What do you want?”
“You’re no fun! Can’t I call my dear friend without wanting anything?”
Japan stared blankly at the wall, wondering how long it would take China to find his number if he changed it… again.
“Fine!” China sighed, “Be difficult!”
Japan heard the rustling of his clothes over the phone, his back probably hurt from being too dramatic. Good.
“I know something you don’t.” China was almost giggling like a schoolgirl.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
“Tell me or I’ll hang up.” he said sternly.
“Are you excited for the next meeting? It’s in Italy.”
Okay. That’s weird. Japan pursed his lips and hesitated. He refused to acknowledge that his face felt a bit warm.
He waited a little too long to reply. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“As always, your silence tells all.” China laughed. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” His voice sounded too high in his ears.
A click was his only answer.
What the fuck!
He immediately called China back. Straight to voicemail.
Goddammit.
Japan laid on the floor, his preferred position to be angry in. Why did it matter that the conference was in Italy?.
Italy.
He covered his face with his hands, that way his anime figures couldn’t see him blush. Maybe it mattered. Probably. He didn’t know.
He liked Italy. The country. The land. It was warm, and the food was good. The dirt smelled nice… whatever the fuck that means. Gelato is sweet, he likes sweet things. The architecture cured something in his heart. The people were friendly. He was friendly. He was handsome. Fuck.
Stop it.
Japan rolled onto his side. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have normal thoughts like a normal person? He hated feelings, wished he didn’t have them. Feelings were useless. They got in the way. They snuck up on you.
Like a warm hug from behind. Like the kind Feliciano gives.
“Fuck” Japan groaned out loud.
Now he was laying face-down on the floor. The cat came over and settled itself on his back. Good, at least he could suffer with company.
If he reasoned with himself, Japan could see that his… feelings… for Italy were completely natural.
Unfortunately, when it came to matters of the heart, Japan was never one to see reason.