Paint It Red

{1}

The sun was bright in Italy, and the sky was cloudless. Italy and Germany were on the field practicing grenade throwing.

"Now, throw!" Germany commanded.

"Ve~!" Italy obeyed his command, letting the grenade fly out of his hand. It was followed by a deafening BANG!

"Finally!" sighed Germany. "I thought that you would never learn how to do it..."

"Can we go have lunch now? Can we pleaaase?" pleaded Italy.

"Ja, go ahead."

"Ve-ACK!" Italy's shriek pierced the air.

"What? What is it?"

Italy was paralyzed as he stared at the active grenade at his feet. Tears were leaking from his eyes; he didn't know what to do.

"AH-THROW IT YOU FOOL! THROW IT!!"

Italy stood there, trembling. "I-I..."

Germany rushed over to Italy and flung the grenade up in the air as fast as he could, right above them. The grenade blew up in mid-air, just as he had hoped.

~~~

England pouted behind the bush he was hiding behind, unimpressed with how his grenade attack failed. He yelped as France took him by the shoulders and shook him around angrily.

"H-hey! Get off me you bloody wanker!"

"Why would you do that?" France shouted. "Italy is good! What did he ever do to you?"

"He's Germany's ally, so he has to go down! Let go of me, frog!" Britain yelled back.

Unaware of the constant, loud noise they were making, they continued to argue, not noticing Germany come up next to them. They were caught by the stern man, who had an expression so frightening, it should be left to the imagination.

~~~

Germany and Italy walked away, leaving both France and England to weep in their sorrow and pain, both with bruises and scars.

Italy kept his head down. He was on the brink of tears, shaking the whole walk back to the house. Germany looked at his from time to time, a guilty look on his face. It was the fourth time this week that England had attacked Italy. The fragile Italian was starting to lose his cool, but he knew that he would just get beaten up if he stood up against the strong island nation.

Suddenly, voices began to ring in his head.

You shouldn't have to put up with this shit. Take control, fight, you moron!

"...Romano?" Italy whispered.

"What?" asked Germany, hearing what he said.

"Hm? Oh! It's nothing..."

"Italy," Germany began. "Are you alright? This is the third attack this week." Germany was worried about how Italy was handling all this.

"No...it's fine."

Germany knew he was lying. "Italy..." he said sternly.

"I-I guess I'm just a little scared, that's all!"

Germany let out a large sigh as they continued to walk back to the house in silence.

No, Italy, you're not fine.