Headnotes: This was written for Fanime-Sensei's Hetalia Romance Story Writing Contest. The prompt for this month was SuFin! I don't really know much about this pair; to be honest, I hadn't really consumed much fanwork of it in the past, even though I like it a lot in canon, so I was kind of running in the dark here. But hey, isn't that my favourite way to write anyway? Hahaha!
I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think. I can't wait to read everyone else's entries (I had to put off reading them until I finished this, didn't want to accidentally steal anyone's idea orz), and good luck to everyone!
Starring Finland and Sweden and their Meddling Friends
A good friend of mine gave me this diary the other day, and though I feel a little foolish when I think of filling it up, it seems a waste to leave it be. I think for now I will just write about my thoughts without using names. Perhaps it will be less incriminating this way.
When my friend gave the book to me, he called it a "Romance Diary" and told me I should have a place to put my secret feelings. I found his joke in very bad taste. I don't recall ever telling him about harboring secret feelings of any kind but he seemed to know all the details, down to the very who of the matter. I tremble to think what manner of obsessive observation allowed him to discern this.
Enough about my friend. This is a Romance Diary, after all, so I shall fill it with my romantically-inclined thoughts; I really might as well.
It's been many years now since I first met him, and over that time he's become very special to me. We used to live together, though due to political circumstances which made things less than ideal at the time, I didn't appreciate the time we spent together as I should have. Now we are neighbors, and all I can do is look across our border and wonder at what he's thinking, how we became this quiet pair over the years.
The friend I earlier mentioned is often telling me that I could resolve the problem simply by walking up to him and speaking to him, but to be honest. . . I've tried before, and I can never speak my mind when I feel his eyes piercing through me. I've been assured many times by others of his feelings for me, but after all the things we've been through I'm not sure it can really happen.
Maybe I will just remain quiet for ever. He has come forward before, and if our relationship has any hope of success, then I'm sure he will again.
"Finland? What are these doing around your room?"
Finland quickly put down his pen, shut his book, and turned. "Sorry, what was in my room?" He patted his cheeks; yes, they were hot.
Estonia walked into Finland's study holding a pile of scrapbooks in his arms. He smiled slowly. "What were you just doing in here that's gotten you so distracted?"
"Nothing!" Finland grabbed the book and put it in a drawer. "Just looking through old things and being sentimental. What was in my room?"
Estonia continued to smile thoughtfully at Finland for a tense moment before he held up the scrapbooks. "I know you sometimes put together sweet photographs and drawings of us, and sometimes with the other Nordic guys," here Estonia twisted his lip and Finland patted his shoulder, "but you've got a few here that aren't labeled at all."
Finland took the first book from the pile and opened it. Old photographs and letters slipped from inside and Finland caught them quickly. "Th-these are just s-some things Sweden sent me over the years. I guess I haven't gotten around to putting the scrapbooks together yet."
Eyebrow raised, Estonia set the pile down on Finland's desk and opened one himself; photos and letters slid from blank pages covered in paperclips. He opened a page from the middle at random and discovered a bouquet of pressed flowers. "You've certainly kept a lot of things from him," Estonia said. He looked at Finland, hand over his mouth to cover a knowing smile. "Flowers too, huh?"
"Very funny Estonia, now can we not talk about this again?" Finland gathered up the books and slid them to a further corner of his desk. "I keep everything people give me. I haven't even finished these yet, he's not a priority."
Estonia reached over and poked Finland's cheek. "And you're blushing." Finland batted his fingers away and he sniggered. "Please, at least if you're not going to talk to me about these things you could write them down." He took a seat in Finland's computer chair and traced his fingers expertly over the keyboard. "Even a secret blog would be better than nothing."
"That wasn't very funny even the first time, the joke's wearing out." Finland's fingers traced over his drawer, then curled and returned self-consciously into his pocket. "Come on, can we please just watch some TV, or, play some video games?"
Estonia raised his eyebrows again and then bit his lip. "Look, it's really sweet of you to invite me over today, but you said we would play video games an hour ago and you're still in the study. I don't think you were even thinking of me when you came in."
"It wasn't an hour, was it?" Finland realized he was fiddling with his phone and sighed, putting the phone away. "Oh man, I didn't even notice! I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to!"
Estonia scooted the computer chair closer with a knowing grin on his face. "I understand. So. . . what was Sweden calling you about?"
"Ooh!" Finland covered his beet-red face. "It wasn't even a big conversation, all right? You know he doesn't talk much. He only asked me if I had seen that popular adventure movie that had just come out."
"So he finally asked you on a real date?" Estonia said.
"No! And not 'finally'! There is no 'finally'!" Estonia just kept laughing as Finland leapt out of his chair and walked to the bookshelf. "He only asked because it was based on a book we both liked, okay? And he didn't ask to see it with me."
Estonia rolled back and forth on the computer chair. "Then did you ask him to see it with you?"
Finland huffed at Estonia's smug expression and stormed out of the study, forcing Estonia to follow him. "We are not going to see any movies together, now do you want to jailbreak my new iPad for me or should I feed you some snacks?"
That made Estonia's eyes light up, suitably distracted, and he ran to the living room to fetch his laptop. Finland shook his head and went into the kitchen for refreshments.
Even though we aren't going to see that new movie together, I still find myself looking forward to seeing it with him, and I can't even speculate on what it will be like without imagining him there with me. I wonder if I made the right choice in deciding to wait for his move. I'm starting to think I should have just gone forward and asked him to see the movie. It wouldn't even have to be a date. Friends watch movies together all the time.
A friend asked me to see the movie tomorrow, and I am still very excited for it, so it looks like I'll be watching with my friend instead. I still wish I could watch it with him, though. I don't think it would be the same seeing it with a friend, especially after we've talked about the book so much.
On the bright side, if the movie turns out to be very bad, at least it won't be devastatingly awkward. I can't even imagine trying to make light of a bad movie while on a date with him. As sweet as he is, he never seems to take my jokes very well.
I wonder if he will ever watch this movie? No, that's silly. Of course he will, he loves this story too much. I wonder if he'll watch it with anyone?
Why didn't he ask me to watch it with him? He understands that I would want to, doesn't he?
"Thanks for inviting me to see this movie," Finland said as they queued to buy a movie ticket. "I'm surprised, though. I thought you'd want to see it with Iceland or Denmark."
"Hm?" Norway blinked and glanced at Finland. "Oh. Yes, you're right."
Finland tilted his head. "Or have you watched it with them already? Is it any good?"
Norway shook his head; he still seemed distracted, as he had since Finland met him at the cinema. "No, that's not it. I forgot to tell you."
Finland frowned. "Forgot to tell me what?"
"NOR! FIN! 'EYYYY!" Norway grunted and Finland screeched as they crumpled under the weight of an arm going around each of their shoulders. "Man, big turnout at the cinema this season eh? Huge movie releases this month! Hey Nor how about you go buy some snacks while we wait?"
Norway shrugged the arm off himself. "I'm buying tickets, Dan, you buy snacks." He rescued Finland from Denmark's enthusiastic one-armed hug and pushed Denmark toward the snack stands. "Sorry, Finland. Forgot to tell you we weren't seeing the movie alone."
"We're not?" Finland was still trying to catch his breath but couldn't help smiling despite himself. "That's alright! Don't worry about it!" Norway still looked a little distracted, so Finland elbowed him amicably. "Hey, if you're worried about me being a third wheel, it's okay. I can be really discreet."
Norway shoved him instead of replying, his face turning a cute rosy colour. "Not worried about that." Then he seemed to see something over Finland's shoulder and waved toward it.
Finland barely had time to register the sound of heavy footsteps before a large, warm body was bumping clumsily into his. "Uh. Sorry."
Finland nearly jumped out of his shoes. "Sweden! What?"
Sweden looked down, and his glasses slipped down his nose, showing widened eyes. "Fin?"
"I'll go help Dan carry the drinks," Norway mumbled, and escaped into the crowd of cinema patrons.
Finland gaped at the spot Norway had disappeared into, and then exchanged shocked glances with Sweden. "Did you know about this?" he asked breathlessly.
Sweden fidgeted. "Came with Dan. Was tricked."
Finland laughed, because he couldn't do anything else. "I came with Norway. Oh man, they set us up!"
The crowd shifted a little and they caught a glimpse of Norway and Denmark at the snack bar, watching them. Finland stuck out his tongue at them.
Sweden coughed. Finland met his eyes.
"Glad, though." Sweden pulled his scarf over his nose, and his face turned pink under it. "Wanted to see this with you."
Finland's chest swelled with breath and he pointedly stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Y-you did? S-so did I."
Sweden gazed intently into Finland's eyes, and then pulled his scarf back down to reveal a smile.
I had a great time at the movie.
However, I was tricked by my friend. Two of my friends, actually, because it seems they were scheming behind my back with this the whole time. They went and invited him. My friend pretends that it had simply slipped his mind that there would be more people watching the movie with us, but he's terrible at lying.
I am a little miffed about my friends tricking me like this, but at the same time, I was really happy that I got to see the movie with him after all. It seems he wanted to watch the movie with me as well.
I would write about whether the movie was good or not, but I missed a very crucial scene in the middle because he and I reached for popcorn at the same time and his fingers got tangled with mine. Even now, as I write, I can feel my fingers tingling where they were between his. He even kept our hands that way for quite a while afterwards, and I couldn't follow the rest of the story after that. (They did change the ending from the book, because I didn't understand what was going on by then. The special effects were very good, though.)
After we watched the movie, we went to a small restaurant that my friend really liked, which was excellent because it was at his house. I sat across from him and we ignored the other two the rest of the evening. I think his knee bumped against mine once. It was all very sweet.
Right before we went our separate ways, D one of my friends took me aside and asked me if I had plans over the weekend. I could probably guess why he wanted to know, but I was so happy from how much fun I had that I told him I was free.
I think my friends are planning another trick on me.
How pathetic am I for wanting to accept their meddling help?
I suppose I should be ashamed of myself for not doing these things myself. It's sort of nice this way. It's very heartwarming to know my friends are willing to go to these lengths to make me happy.
When I remember seeing him smile at me, I feel like I could never be truly unhappy again. Above all else, the thought that he still enjoys spending time with me is more uplifting than I had ever imagined. Maybe there is hope for me yet.
How embarrassing would it be to make a wish on a star for future romantic happiness?
Probably a lot.
I went and did it anyway.
Finland nearly crumpled up the note in his sweaty hand in a fit of frustration and nerves, but controlled himself because he needed to use the simple map that had been doodled on it.
Estonia had dropped by his house again that morning and handed it to him with a bemused expression on his face, and no wonder because he had apparently gotten it from Denmark, with some specific instructions to make certain that Finland read it and followed through with it. Meddlesome as he was in Finland's life, as soon as Estonia learned it was an arranged date with Sweden, he was immediately on board and went so far as to imply blackmail if Finland didn't go. As Finland was rather looking forward to seeing Sweden again anyway, it was a highly compelling method of persuasion.
The note was very obviously written by Denmark, who had been so enthusiastic about his scheme that his handwriting had gone all over the place. Finland's head spun from reading so many exclamation marks.
He was to meet Sweden in a little sweetshop cafe, which Finland would recognize with the help of Denmark's map and by the sight of an extraordinarily tall man lurking around inside. Once Finland found the appropriate streets and located the area, he was able to further pinpoint the shop by the sight of intimidated couples hurrying out from its doors.
By the time Finland had entered the shop, Sweden had secured a table by the window and was gazing out at the streets with an intensity which Finland had learned to discern as wonder. Sweden's eyes followed every passing couple who walked hand in hand, or leaned against each other as they strolled idly through the streets.
Finland greeted him by tapping him lightly on the shoulder. Sweden seemed so startled by the action that Finland started to apologise, but Sweden saw that it was Finland and he smiled again, like the other day, and thanked Finland quietly for showing up, and Finland couldn't have left the cafe if it had been burning down.
"Ordered a cake for you." Sweden pulled his scarf over his nose again, and he stared intently at the little table between them. "Strawberry?"
Finland smiled. "You remembered how much I like strawberry cakes. What about you?"
Sweden blinked. "Forgot about me."
Finland laughed and went to the counter. "I'd like to buy him a chocolate tart. Sprinkle it with coffee powder."
When he returned to their table, Sweden was staring intently at him again. "You remembered too."
"Don't be silly, of course I did."
They sat at the small table and didn't look at each other. Finland looked out the window and noted the couples passing by. Why were there so many of them? Suddenly it seemed as though families and friends no longer frequented business districts. Even the shops in the area seemed to cater to couples; across the street was a chocolatier's and beside it was a crafts store.
"This street. . ." Finland turned to look at Sweden, whose sentence trailed off from the sudden attention. Sweden's lips pressed together tightly and he looked away again.
"What about the street, Sweden?" Finland asked gently.
Sweden turned his head from side to side, looking all around him, before leaning forward to whisper to Finland. "Popular dating district."
Finland sat back against his chair, his face turning hot. "Is it? That would explain where everyone else went."
Sweden nodded slowly. Finland crossed his fingers on the table and looked out the window again; it could have been Valentine's Day the way it looked out there.
"Whatever happened to us, huh?"
"Hm?" Finland turned to Sweden, who had leaned over on the table again and had a dour shadow to his eyes. "No, just. . . we don't talk to each other much anymore."
"We talk." Sweden wasn't looking Finland in the eye; he seemed to be looking Finland in the nose, or perhaps in the chin. Finland ducked his head a few times trying to catch Sweden's gaze, but it always slid down again.
"We're a lot different now than we used to be. What's wrong, Sweden?" Finland tried again to duck his head into Sweden's gaze and again failed. "Sweden?"
"Nothing." Sweden's voice halted, as though he were damming up words he didn't want to escape. "Just . . ." He stumbled over the sentence that had started to form and took a deep breath. "Didn't think you wanted to talk about. . ."
Finland waited for Sweden to finish, but Sweden didn't continue the sentence or start again. Finland leaned back against his chair, barely hearing the soft clink sound as a quiet waiter placed two trays of cake on their table. "Have you been. . . avoiding topics with me, Sweden?"
Sweden's hand reached up to pull his scarf up, but Finland reached over and clasped Sweden's hand before it could get there. "Sweden, why don't we talk anymore?"
Sweden's face was starting to look truly terrifying, but Finland had stopped flinching at those expressions long ago, as intimidating as they still were. Finland drew Sweden's hand toward the table, guiding their arms around the cakes. "It's okay. Don't be scared, I just want you to explain to me why." Finland finally caught Sweden's gaze and did his best to hold onto it. "What are you scared of, Sweden?"
Sweden's eyes were trembling, back and forth between Finland's left and right eyes, his pupils contracting and dilating alternately. Then he broke away, smearing cake frosting all over the arm of his coat; he scooped up a small bag from his chair and had vanished out the door of the shop before Finland had time to realize what was happening.
"Sweden!" Finland called. He knocked his chair aside standing up from it; he whipped his head out the door and looked both ways down the street; just couples, some looking winded but many so lost within each other that they noticed nothing amiss at all. Sweden could have run in either direction or into a shop.
Finland huffed in frustration and returned to their abandoned table to grab his own bag. Pity they never had the chance to enjoy the cakes. What was that on Sweden's chair?
Finland's bag slid absently off his shoulder as he went to Sweden's abandoned chair to inspect it. Something had fallen out of Sweden's bag in his haste to run; it was a small, pink, leather-bound journal with a heart emblazoned on the cover.
Finland flipped open the book and read the title page. "What's a 'Romance Diary'?" he said.
So my friend visited me just now with a very unsubtle suggestion. He gave me a small note and told me he had found a sweetshop that serves delicious strawberry cakes. How he ever knew about strawberry cakes I don't dare to speculate, because I would only get myself into a mood. He was as blatant as ever in his teasing of my feelings, and kept asking me how my progress in this diary was going. I cannot believe I even write in here after all the things he puts me through about it. No, I lie; embarrassing as it is, I do find great relief in being able to write out my thoughts.
When I read the note that he gave me, I noticed that the sweetshop is located on a popular couple's lane. I know that my friend and. . . another friend are always visiting shops there on Valentine's Day. I almost wanted to say something to my friend about that, but decided it would be petty, and said nothing.
Too often do I say nothing. I couldn't even ask him to see a movie with me. If only I could speak as eloquently and easily as all others seem to.
Speaking with him is harder than with others. I know in the early past he would speak my mind to me, or I had believed him to at any rate, but then I would discover from word of others that he had in fact felt differently. That he would never voice any negative thought he had of me from fear of what I might do to him. That he sometimes resented learning Swedish. . .
No. I cannot get stuck on that again. He has shown nothing but interest and thoughtfulness toward me in recent years. Surely whatever grievances he had toward me have faded by now. He has shown that he doesn't mind spending time with me or talking to me.
I must forget about those things of the past. There is no context in which it will win me his favour.
When I see him tomorrow, I will speak to him only about trivial matters. That should keep me in line. In fact, perhaps it would be better if I didn't speak at all. Terrible speaker as I am, our relationship has always flourished better with him as the speaking mouth for us both.
I dearly hope that I do nothing to warrant his ire on this – may I be so bold as to call it – romantic date. Wish me luck, diary.
"Finland! Really, three times in so many days? Maybe I should just move in!"
Finland dashed out of his chair and pushed open his study door, but Estonia was already outside it, waving something in his hand. "It's okay, I stole your spare key the other day. Was starting to suspect something like this might happen."
"Estonia!" Finland cried, pulling his friend into a tight hug. When the pulled apart, he snatched the spare key back. "Next time you should ask for it."
Estonia rolled his eyes as they settled down in their usual seats; Finland at the desk chair, Estonia in the computer chair. "So, what am I here about this time? Did you need help putting my photos into your Nordic books?"
"Sorry, no." Finland reached opened his drawer and pulled out the book he had been writing in the other day. "It's about this scrapbook I was making a few days ago."
Estonia pointed wildly at Finland, gasping dramatically. "I knew it! You were up to something in here that day!" He clapped his fist into his palm, imitating a mannerism he had seen Japan use. "I knew Sweden wouldn't phone you for an entire hour!"
"Oh, shut up!" Finland waved vaguely at Estonia, face hot. "It was just really embarrassing, okay, after you had been teasing me so much!" He put the book into his lap and opened it.
Inside were carefully trimmed photographs, some held in place with paperclips, some already glued to the pages of the book. The glued photos were carefully labelled with a nice pen, sometimes with an understated sticker beside it.
Unlike the other scrapbooks, Finland was not in any of these photographs. In fact, most of the people Finland normally put in his scrapbooks weren't in the book either. The entire book was full of only photos of Sweden, collected and preserved over the last century.
Sweden packed for a trip to America. Sweden tilling a large farm, then standing in front of a large harvest of potatoes. Sweden visiting a factory.
Sweden turning away from ambassadors. Sweden meeting up with Norway on a dark night, bundling someone under his large coat. . . Sweden picking up a gun. Sweden standing in the snow. Sweden making a salute at the camera, something like a smile gracing his face.
The last one had an entire page devoted to it, with no caption. It had been glued fussily and at a perfect angle, with no glue-prints anywhere on it.
Finland shut the book there, in Estonia's face. "Okay, I think you've seen enough of that! You. . . you get the idea, right?"
Estonia rubbed his nose where the book had bumped it. "Oh yes. I don't think I needed to look at this to get the idea, though; it's always been pretty obvious how much you like Sweden."
Finland's face turned bright red and he put the book back into his drawer rather loudly. "It's one thing to just make assumptions by yourself, and another thing entirely to have me admit it to you, okay? Just. . . can we move on?"
Estonia covered his mouth with his hand so his laughing wouldn't be as obvious. "Yes, my apologies. Please continue."
Finland growled, but continued. "The other day, I. . . I picked this up." He held up the Romance Diary.
Estonia raised an eyebrow. "I swear each new book you get is girlier than the last."
"Just read it, you!" Finland threw the book into Estonia's lap.
Estonia picked it up and flipped to the first page. He read, and then read and read. Finland bit his lip watching; no doubt this is what he had looked like last night when he had first taken the book home and started reading it.
Finally, Estonia seemed to have finished the last written page, and he closed the book slowly, mouth ajar. ". . . This isn't your book, is it?" he asked quietly.
Finland shook his head.
Estonia flipped through the book again, then looked back at Finland. "How did your date yesterday go, again?"
Finland sighed, putting his head in his hands. "It mostly didn't. It was little more than a meeting; we ordered cake, I talked and he didn't, and then he ran away and dropped that."
Estonia rolled his computer chair toward Finland and smacked Finland on the head with the Romance Diary. "Ow!" Finland cried. "What did you do that for?"
"Because he's an idiot and you're an idiot and you don't deserve a genius like me for a friend," Estonia said primly, adjusting the angle of his glasses and dodging Finland's swipe at him. "Honestly, Finland, you have something like this in your hands and your first reaction was to call me over? Really?"
Finland frowned. "Then what should I have done, genius friend?"
Estonia rolled his eyes and pulled Finland out of his seat. He pulled his struggling friend down the hall and out the front door until they stood at the front of Finland's yard, where Sweden was on the other side of the fence, carefully tending his roses.
"Sweden!" Estonia called. Sweden acted like he hadn't heard. "Sweden!"
"Please stop, Estonia," Finland pleaded, trying to hide himself behind his friend. "If he won't talk to me he definitely won't talk to you."
Estonia looked at Finland, then at Sweden, and then he dashed back into Finland's house quickly, leaving Finland baffled in his yard, ducking under his fence to avoid being seen.
Estonia returned with a slingshot and stuffed pockets. He aimed the slingshot, shouted "ROVIO!" and shot something at Sweden's head.
When Sweden turned around curiously at the strange attack, Estonia pulled Finland up to face him. "Talk," he groaned at them both, and then left with his arms in the air. "I should be a Nordic. You guys need me."
Sweden stood at the fence, looking around the yard, and then passed something to Finland. "You dropped a. . . bird."
Finland took it back. "Uh, thanks. Sorry about that." Sweden nodded and started to turn away. "Wait! Um, you dropped something too."
Sweden's face reddened up to his ears when he saw the pink notebook, and he turned away. "Not mine."
Finland placed the journal on top of their fence. "Sweden. . . I know it's yours. I. . . I read it. I'm sorry."
Sweden said nothing, but he hadn't shut himself into his house yet, so Finland took that to be a good sign.
"Sweden. Please talk to me." Finland bit his lip; how to word this? He couldn't think of what to say. "The things you wrote in there. . . um. . ." No, that sentence leaded of strangely. Now he needed adjectives that didn't make him sound creepy.
Sweden reached out a hand, took the journal, and put it into his pocket with a nod. "Forget it. Never meant to tell you anyhow."
"That's not it," Finland said. Sweden turned his back and was looking down; Finland couldn't see his expression at all. "I liked it," he said suddenly, desperately. "I kind of actually related to most of it."
This got his attention; Sweden turned his head slightly, looking at Finland from the corner of his eyes. Finland marched on, fighting through the wall of embarrassment that had really started to hit him. "I've really missed you over the years, Sweden. I love spending time with you. I. . ." he burst into nervous laughter, "I kept waiting, waiting for you to ask me to see that movie with you, when you called me. I thought you would, but you just hung up."
Sweden turned around completely and was looking at Finland head-on. "You did?" He sounded so surprised.
Finland nodded. "I thought you were being so obstinate, after I dropped all those hints. I got my fingers tangled with yours at the cinema because I wanted you to hold my hand, but you just struggled out of it."
Sweden stepped closer to the fence. "Didn't wanna hurt you," he said.
Finland laughed. "I was so confused. I thought you might want to spend more time with me, but I wasn't sure what you thought of me. Then when we met up, you remembered which cakes I liked, but you wouldn't talk to me!"
Sweden's hands hovered delicately over Finland's face. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't know. Didn't wanna hurt you."
Finland shook his head. "Estonia's right. You are stupid. And I'm stupid too." He put his hands over Sweden's, pushing Sweden's hands against his face.
He waited for a minute, but Sweden just stood there blankly, staring into Finland's eyes and stroking his face with his thumbs. "Oh, for crying out loud!" Finland cried, rolling his eyes, and pulled Sweden's head down toward his own.
Had a great night.
Missed this bed.
Breakfast smells good.
Finland smiled at the small leather book.
"Writing in my book?" Sweden said as he put a breakfast tray in front of Finland and planted a tentative kiss on his cheek. Finland laughed and gave him a bigger one in the mouth.
"Thought I'd give it a go," Finland said when they pulled apart. "Since you seemed to get so much out of it."
Sweden sat on the bed beside him and read his words. "Don't write much," he said.
"Well, I haven't always been too eloquent with my written words," Finland admitted, putting the book on the nightstand. "It's so permanent, you know? It's so much easier for me to just say what I'm thinking right out my mouth."
Sweden's lips twitched upward as Finland dove into his breakfast. He reached to the nightstand and scribbled something into the book, then passed it to Finland during coffee.
I lived many centuries with this truth guarded prudently within myself, and I feel relieved to finally be able to declare openly: that I love you, and I do not use that word lightly, and I would do anything to make you happy. I would be proud to call you my wife.
Finland laughed and kissed Sweden again, then smacked him lightly on the cheek. "If you really want me to be happy, then you're the wife, okay?"
Sweden smiled. "Okay."