Ciao, Italy...

Germany was a rather young nation compared to all the others. Though he had definitely suffered through his fair share of wars, he didn't necessarily have the whole "country wisdom" that the more older nations shared. It was rather bothersome, as they could seemingly communicate silently about something he desperately wanted to know about. He had finally decided that it would come to him when it necessary. Though, on that day, he wished it had come a bit sooner.

Germany slowly walked up to a tombstone that was behind the house that now just belonged to Romano, though he was hardly there. He couldn't bear to be in the house full of his deceased brother's paintings. The sun was setting, shining it's last bits of light on the perfectly shaped rock. It took all of Germany's strength to simply approach the tombstone. Tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes, he read the words carved ever so carefully into the tombstone, words that he had read many times before.

R.I.P.North Italy
a.k.a. Feliciano Vargas
"Blessed are the pure in heart
for they will see God."

That day, those chain of events... they were forever etched into his mind. He could, much to his woe, recall it very clearly. It was when all the nations discovered who the true personification of the Italian Republic was.

The World Meeting was about to begin, and no one had seen the Italy brothers. Though both of them weren't exactly the keenest on being on time, they were never this late before. Even whatever-his-name-was had gotten there before them! Germany, the host country of the meeting, was getting tired of hearing France and England bicker, so he was about to start the meeting early (despite the missing Italians), when he heard the door slam open. All conversations had abruptly stopped, for everyone had turned their heads to see the just-in-time Italy brothers.

Something seemed off, however. Romano didn't look as pissed off as usual. Hell, he actually looked worried, which caught many nations off guard; he was never one to clearly display his emotions. As for Italy, he looked like it took all his energy to drift tiredly behind his brother. The two sat beside each other in their designated seats with Italian flags on them, Romano beside India and Italy beside Japan.

"Italy-kun, are feeling alright?" Japan asked, murmuring of other nations starting around him. "You look pale."

Italy lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. He didn't open them, as usual, but instead just faced towards Japan. "Ve~, I'm fine! Just tired..." He yawned, giving a slight cough afterwards. "I -" yawn "- just need a siesta..."

It was so strange. Italy was always so lively at meetings, even when he didn't need to be. Taxes weren't that exciting, after all. He didn't even need to travel that far to get there! There were many other jetlagged nations who had a reason to be tired. Then there was Romano, who was notably not arguing with anyone for whatever reason. He was too busy giving at Italy worried glances that carried a hint of something else... sadness.

Despite his concerns, Germany had started the meeting. Slowly, nations seemed to forget the out-of-character Italians as they got caught up in heated conversations, most of them completely irrelevant to economics and world issues. Italy, who at this point would already be out of his seat and talking to Germany, was sitting in his seat, clutching his arm to his stomach. It was normal for him to have stomach cramps every once and a while, but this was different. It was a sickening feeling; the feeling of emptiness.

Or, rather, it was the feeling of actual sickness, because just seconds later Italy had jumped out of his chair and ran over to the trash can, vomiting whatever was left in his stomach from breakfast. Even when there was nothing left for him to throw up, he still sat, leaning over the trash can, breathing heavily. When he opened his eyes (or tried to, at least), his vision had blurred drastically, and just as quickly as he ran over to the trash can he passed out.