The Silencing

It all Started with a Call

 

You don't remember my story. You haven't walked my path. You haven't seen what I've seen.

-ReMoved

                                                                                   ___--==***==--___

Spring was just around the corner for Europe. Flowers were blooming, the animals waking up, and the world ready for a new start. A fresh beginning. As of most of the people were ready, especially a certain Hungarian lady who loved the spring.

Hungary was sweeping Austria's study, listening to the music being played downstairs. The echoed noise was pleasant, combined with the sound of the birds chirping through the open window, and the broom sweeping across the wooden floor boards. Hungary's green skirts swayed slightly to the music as she hummed along. Suddenly, Austria's phone started to ring.

Honestly, Hungary could have gotten Austria from downstairs, but that seemed like a wasted effort if she's already standing here. Besides, she needs to prove to Austria she can do political matters just as well as he can, thinking of last night's small argument.

Hungary walked over to the birch wood and metal desk and picked up the black phone. She glanced behind her one more time, only seeing bookshelves, before saying, "Hello?"

"Is that you, Hungary?" The person on the other line asked, Hungary recognizing Germany's voice. But, why did he sound so stressed and worried? It's just a Saturday afternoon, what could possibly be wrong?"Is something bothering you, Germany? Do you need me to go get Mr. Austria for you?" Hungary set down the broom and held the phone to her ear with both hands.

"That won't be necessary, Hungary. I actually was calling for you anyway. I thought you could help me," Germany said, with his volume slowly decreasing. What is he worried about? The Germany she knows can handle even the craziest situations, much less call for help. Remember, he's still has the pride of a German. He is Gilbert's little brother, after all.

"It's about Italy, actually." Germany continued. "Is something wrong with Italy?" Hungary asked. the last thing she wanted is her precious Feli being in some kind of mortal danger. "But that's the problem. There isn't something wrong with Italy." The woman stared at the phone, confused. "I don't understand," she replied. "What do you mean there isn't anything wrong with Italy?"

"It's hard to explain," The German said, nervous. "As you know, Italy has always been a bit... lopsided, if you know what I mean. He's constantly complaining in training, doesn't listen, only cares about impressing girls with his charm, making pasta, you know, Italian stuff. But, ever since yesterday, he's been acting different."

"Recently, he's been paying more attention to training, participating, having a great deal of manners, staying away from any kind of wine. He's even been reducing his eating habits, and almost never eats pasta anymore. He has this strange aura around him, like the air around him changed. I'm glad he's being serious and everything, but it's starting to freak me out. Today, we were running laps, and Italy beat me. Beat me! I asked him if he skipped any laps, and when he said no, I made him do them again. But instead of whining, he saluted and said 'yes general'. Then just did his laps without fail! I'm not sure what's going on, but I thought you would know since you raised him."

...

Who the hell did this German just describe? It obviously wasn't the Feliciano Hungary knew. Italy was always so care free and easy going, always smiling whenever his friends were around. Always having that one stray curl sway whenever he hopped around. Knowing him since his childhood, Hungary naturally expected to know the Italian very well. After all, she did raise the boy along with Holy Rome. But Italy never liked Germany's weekly training, so what's gotten into him?