Darling

IV.

The loud drumming of rain abusing the beautifully stained glass window echoed around the church, sounding as if the little drummer boys of war were nearing.

Vatican mumbled soft words of prayer kneeling before the crucifix, the eyes of his savior boring down at him. "Padre nostro che sei nei cieli,
Sia santificato il tuo nome—"

He continued reciting his prayer through closed eyes, not even bothered by the church doors slamming open. The gust of wind made the candles surrounding him dance, the roaring sounds of angry thunder drowning his words out. "Venga il tuo regno, sia fatta la tua volontà, in terra come in cielo."

"We need to talk."

"How long has it been since your last confession? A year or two, perhaps?" He hummed, getting up from his knees before bowing to his savior and straightening his back. "I could perhaps assist you in your confession."

"I don't have anything to confess," Italy hissed, expensive shoes leaving puddles across the carpet. "just talk. We need to talk."

Vatican looked up at the angry Italian, a look of indifference in his eyes. "And how long has it been since you wanted to talk to me? Five years, a decade?"

"We don't have fucking time for this." He nearly yelled, quickly taking a breath and subconsciously moving his hands around his chest for his words. "I fear it's getting worse."

"And pray tell how?"

"It... it's moving to other people. I've been getting nightmares—"

"Visions."

"of it. I fear something terrible is about to happen."

"Oh cugino, you worry too much! Terrible shouldn't be in your vocabulary. I'm sure your pessimistic mind is blowing things out of proportion!"

Italy shrugged the shorter man's hand of his arm, scowling. "It's not a blessing. It's moving onto different people, it's causing harm to others. It just attacked Ukraine last night."

"Are you sure you're not exaggerating things, Italia?"

"It attacked Ukraine last night. I think it's getting stronger. It's been with me this whole time, and now it just disappears? It looks like it finally got the power to leave."

"Italia, there are many things we don't understand. Why, I myself sometimes wonder what the Lord has planned for me, but I never doubt Him. Maybe it's for a reason, to deliver us from sin. Or perhaps..." Vatican paused, looking down at the wine red carpet, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What? What are you thinking?"

"...you're just jealous. You're jealous that this blessing left you for someone else." He said in mock surprise before tutting in a condescending tone. He always hated the idea of jealousy, it was perhaps the one sin he hates most. "Aye, Italia, you know jealousy is a sin. Here, I will walk you to the confession—"

Italy broke away, rage evident in his eyes. "I'm not jealous! If anything I'm happy it left me! I'm concerned for our fellow fucking countries, goddamnit!"

"Do not say the Lords name in vain." His cousin warned lowly, walking up the steps where his Bible rested on the pillar. "I think you should go."

"What? Aren't churches open for all at any time?" He sneered, straightening the labels of his high fashion suit jacket.

"I think you should go Italia." Vatican repeated with a more emphasis, glaring at him from the corner of his vision.

He stood there on his stool to reach his Bible, only staring at the words as footsteps retreated. He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. He could feel his eyes sunken in, his cheekbones more prominent than it was months ago.