[ Part of him is wondering if Germany is going to eventually just migrate into his sweater. He wouldn't be surprised, but he wouldn't let him hide away for long. Because life is cruel, Germany. The part of him that is very invested in the discussion is...fascinated. And horrified.

Like an out of body experience. It wasn't really a thing for nations to harbor this much anxiety with relationships. At least ones that slept with France -- so maybe that isn't saying much. His brow raises and he turns in his seat, looking at him full-on. ]

You were intimate. Honestly, Germany, there is no shame in sharing a bed with someone. You must care about them if you are putting yourself through so much stress.

[ Yes. A jab on himself. You're welcome. ]

Breathe, because I'd hate for you to hyperventilate and miss what I have to say here. I understand why you might have an issue with the timing. You hear about love confessions in movies and literature being this sweeping gesture and... that is not always how it goes, or how it should go.

[ That's not to say he doesn't fawn over a good romance. Oh God no. France will cry to a good romcom. He shrugs and clasps his hands, leaning in toward Germany a bit. Get out of your sweater burrito. ]

Life is full of poor timing though. It's okay. Perhaps you felt cornered because you were ah...preoccupied when you first heard those words and couldn't properly process them. That's okay, too.