England was acting rather strange, and by 'strange', I mean even weirder than him talking to his supposed magical friends. It was as though he was suddenly trying to avoid you, which was unusual since you had been dating for six years. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would ramble on about some excuse to leave or simply just head off at a different direction. Sometimes you could even feel his presence lurking shyly behind walls, as if he wanted but could not for whatever reason talk to you. This behaviour annoyed you; where was his gentlemanly side?
So one day as you were sulking around on the couch, you received a call from your British boyfriend.
"Hello, love," you heard his voice on the other side, making you realize how much you missed talking to him. However, it wasn't enough to soothe the anger that was boiling up within you.
"What do you want?" you asked bluntly, absentmindedly twirling a few strands of your (insert colour) hair.
"No need to be so rude, young lady. I-I just wanted to ask you... if you wanted... to have dinner together," he stuttered.
You paused for a while, mentally asking yourself how he expected you to be so normal after he practically ignored you for two weeks. You finally replied, "Arthur, you've been avoiding me for weeks! How do you think I feel?"
He sighed, knowing how badly he had been treating you. The former pirate said softly and earnestly, "I'm sorry, ____. Please let me make it up to you?"
There was silence, until you spoke, "You're not cooking, are you?"
You giggled as you heard him growling into the phone; he hated being made fun of, but you just couldn't help it! He was adorable when flustered. England said in an up-tight manner, "My food is perfectly fine! But, no, I was planning on taking you to a high-class restaurant! So, ____, would you like to. Go. Or. Not?"
You were practically rolling off your couch, trying hard to stifle your laughter. You could envision his appearance right now; his cheeks would be pink from embarrassment and his bushy eyebrows furrowed as he grew impatient with you.
"Pick me up at seven."
It turns out that England had booked a reservation at an Italian restaurant, which made you delighted for you loved their cuisine. As you walked into the restaurant, you took another glance at his attire. He was decked out in a simple but classy black tuxedo, while his blonde hair was still in his messy state. You noticed an unusual bulge at his pocket, but immediately brushed it off. It could be anything; you didn't need to think too much into it. You noticed that although he was the one who asked you out, he was acting really fidgety and nervous.
"England, what's wrong?" you asked when you caught him staring at you. The second your (insert colour) eyes met his emerald ones, he pretended to be engrossed with the menu instead. Feeling the intense pressure you were giving him, he placed his menu down, reaching over and allowed his large hand to caress your cheek.
"Sorry, love. I was just admiring how beautiful you look," the British man said sincerely, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. You smiled and shyly bit your lip, leaning into his touch. You loved how romantic he could be.
"Ve~ ____ and-a England! Are you-a on a date?" a familiar chirpy voice said near your table. The two of you turned to see Italy smiling with a notepad in hand.
"Italy? You're our waiter?" you asked in a friendly tone. England, on the other hand was unhappy with this intrusion, but tried to hide his discomfort.
Being Italian, it was natural for Italy to be extra friendly and flirtatious towards pretty women. As he set your food down on the table, he said, "Here's the-a pasta for the bella ragazza*~"
You let out a cute laughter, complimenting him, "Aww, you're so cute, Italy!"
That made the obstinate man grunt loudly, which practically scared Italy away. You looked at him quizzically.
He blushed heavily, saying rather accusingly, "You can't say that!"
Registering what he just said, you chuckled and leaned forward, teasing him, "Jealous, love?"
England could feel his cheeks get even redder, clearing his throat as he reverted back to his gentleman-mode. "No, I just think it's inappropriate."
"Well, I think of him as a younger brother, and if he's 'adorable', then you are 'extremely handsome'," you said sweetly, watching with amusement as he tried to shrug it off. He fitted that Japanese term perfectly - 'tsundere'.
The dinner went on well; England would talk and discuss with you on recent events, while he in return listened attentively to the stories you told him. You liked this intimacy you had with him- he was the only person you could feel so comfortable around. However, you noticed that he would occasionally reach down and fiddle with something in his pocket, yet whenever you were going to point it out to him, he would quickly avert your attention away. What exactly was going on?
After the meal, England brought you to the park, specifically the gazebo. The lights were dim and you had a beautiful view of the large pond, the moonlight glistening and reflecting marvellously against the water. The flowers surrounding the both of you and the graceful white swans swimming around made the atmosphere extra romantic, letting you smile warmly as you appreciated the scenery.
England seated you down but walked to the other side of the gazebo, his back facing you. It sounded as if he was mumbling to himself, probably having a conversation with flying mint bunny or one of those creatures. You could see him take a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled.
"____," he finally said after a long while. You sat more upright, feeling tension build up from the seriousness in his tone. You remained silent, prompting him to continue, "I had spent the most wonderful six years of my entire life with you, and umm, I'm not sure how to say this..."
You studied his body language, noticing how he was shuffling about and rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. His green eyes were cast down, making you wonder if he was guilty of something.
"Uhh, well, frankly I didn't know it'll be this hard to say this..." he said more to himself, turning aside to allow him to think of the correct words. This was odd; he was usually blunt or sharp-tongued in his speech. You stared at him with the most confused facial expression you had ever pulled off. He eventually faced you again, his back straight like a good-postured English man he was.
"____, what I'm trying to say is... I can't or don't want to call you my 'girlfriend' anymore."
That sentence hit you with realization. Was he breaking up with you? That's the answer, right? It would explain everything: his constant distractions, him avoiding you... He probably just lost interest in you, and despite having Shakespeare come from his country, Arthur Kirkland himself had no experience with women! It was quite likely that he decided that taking you out for a nice dinner was a good way of ending a relationship on a high note.
You hung your head and shifted your body more to the other side, trying to shy away from him while resisting the tears that threatened to spill out of your (insert colour) orbs. You weren't one to cry over breakups, but this man was the only person you had ever loved so much. It took so long for him to finally ask you out for a cup of tea, and it felt horrible having to throw away this relationship you treasured so much. You clung onto your dress, attempting to hide the quaver in your shaky voice, "A-Arthur... if you want to break up, then... a-alright, I suppose..."
The response from him was so unexpected and loud that you even jumped a bit.
"Bloody hell!! You can't break up with me now!!"
You whipped your head to his direction, gasping as you saw him on one knee, with a tiny box in hand that contained the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. His face however was of disbelief, which actually matched yours. Anybody who walked by you two and saw your expressions would've thought you were mad.
"Y-y-you were going to p-p-propose?!" you practically shrieked, your heart raging in your ribcage. Your hands covered your mouth, while your eyes were fixated on the jewellery.
"W-well, if you don't want to marry me, then see this as a proposition to unite Britain and (your country/state) together," he said, looking everywhere except at you. Your jaw dropped as he said that, scoffing at how silly he could be, "You can't say that!"
He looked down and sighed, taking it as a sign of rejection. Just as he was about to close the box, he was hurled onto the floor and attacked with kisses. He took a while to adjust and quickly kissed back just as passionately, wrapping his arms around your waist.
You pulled a few inches away, beaming as you whispered, "Yes, I'll marry you. Not England, but you, Arthur Kirkland."
The blonde man smiled as though he was the happiest being on the planet, slipping the elegant ring onto your ring finger with pride. He leaned up and mumbled against your lips, "I love you, ____."
"I love you too~"