Take This to Remember Me

Chapter Four

Germany thought about everything that happened to him. Things he wouldn’t and hadn’t been able to remember ever since he was a boy. That day stuck out like a sore thumb. That day made him hate himself for it more than anything else, more than all of the Second World War. Leaving Italy, he left Italy, The love of his life, and he left him all alone; and all because he went to war with France. He hadn’t ever felt betrayed by family, never until now. Germany hated Prussia for hiding something so important from him. He must have known that he loved Italy, he always had. It wasn’t true he knew Prussia wasn’t a bad guy he couldn’t be; Prussia had a reason to hide something like his childhood from him. The other nations stared at Germany

“Doitsu,” Italy whispered. The Italian’s face was painted over in fear that something had happened to Germany. He stared at Germany who was staring in space with dull, nearly lifeless eyes. Germany was frozen in time and space staring in complete disbelief. He felt nothing around him saw nothing but memories in his head, and heard nothing but his own thoughts. “Doitsu, Doitsu look at me!” Italy yelped, shaking his lover.

There has to be something, a reason Preußen didn’t tell me who I was, or tell me about my past; but what is it? It couldn’t be the reason that he doesn’t like Italy. If that were the case he’d never let Italy stay over. And it just can’t be the fact that he didn’t want me to die. Ugh this is so aggravating! Germany thought. He couldn’t understand what was going on in his head? He was angry, frustrated, upset, scared and happy all at once. The monstrous blonde stood up as if he were in a trance and stared at the wall. He slumped over and threw his fist through it.

“GERMANY!” Italy cried. The small Italian attempted to stand, only to be thrown against the couch by Prussia. Germany screamed as if he were in pain, his screams, rough and hoarse; he slides his arm over the mantle sending the contents standing to the floor, shattering in pieces. He growled again and punched the walls again, smashing large bloodied holes in the jip-rock.  Italy’s expression changed dramatically, from worry and sadness to fear and sorrow; he could only imagine how his lover was feeling.

Italy began screaming and sobbing hysterically staring in fear and sorrow at the blonde. “Germany, Ludwig, Luddy?” He begged. Italy took a deep breath and cleared his throat wiping his eyes. “Holy Roman Empire,” Italy said, attempting to keep the wavering out of his voice. Germany stopped, realizing what he was doing and looked at his knuckles. He frowned and looked towards Italy.

“Italia…” He whispered. The man, who had seen so much bloodshed, and warfare, in his entire life and had been the cause of it just stood there in sorrow and looked at the Italian. Italy’s eyes, red and puffy from sobbing, also meaning that his cheeks were stained with tears. Italy looked at the German, attempting to smile; though it was forced and seemed as though it was pained, it managed to calm Germany down. Germany’s eyes wandered to the Italian until his eyes stopped at Feliciano’s face; the German man ran over to Italy and gathered him in his arms. Finally the large man who never showed any emotion other than hate and anger broke down and started sobbing in the smaller Italian’s arms. Italy’s eyes widened, but he smiled softly and hugged the German.

Italy didn’t know what better to do, he wanted to help Germany, but he didn’t even know how upset or emotional the German was. He felt guilty for not knowing and hated himself so much because he didn’t know how his own lover was feeling or felt. How could Italy have been so foolish? Was Germany that good at knowing, was that why Japan had asked him how he was and if him and Germany were fighting last week? Italy wanted to be like Japan, and sense the mood like he did often.

That however would be nearly impossible for the little Italian, he was too naive to even try and do that, he wouldn’t be able to be as smart as Japan, and sense the mood like he could. How was Feliciano supposed to know what was going on in Germany’s head, he wasn’t exactly smart. Not that he was dumb but he wasn’t exactly smart either. Italy was the nation everyone else perceived as weak or pathetic and all because e was always in tears.

He always went to Germany when one of the other nations was picking on him or something else. He had always thought that his lover was the strongest nation in the entire universe however, even the strongest people, even nations have their limits; this, this was Germany’s limits. Italy wrapped his arms around the German’s neck and lets the blond sob heavily.

Today was one of those days where Germany needed Italy most. In the Herman’s head he heard the screams of the people he killed. Begging for him to stop, seeing the piles and piles of dead body after dead, lifeless unmoving bodies. The only movement was their hair that blew gently in the ash stained skies. All Germany could hear were their screams, their pleas, seeing small children’s expressions; desperate to escape to get out of their own private hell. He watched them pull away from the fences as he watched the ash blow through the wind like dust. Germany hates himself; he truly does, but that, that’s why he loves having Italy around him, though sometimes he doesn’t exactly like to admit it.

“I don’t care about your past Doitsu…” Italy whispered. “All I care about is that you’re home, and you’re safe. Even if you may hate yourself, I never will,” He mumbled. The small brunette looks up at the German who towered over him. “I love you too much.” The Italian’s voice was surprisingly calm, and quiet; it was unnatural for Italy to carry a tone like that. Germany squeezed Italy’s shoulders, but the boy only smiled and hugged back.

“Thank you Italy,” Germany whispered. Italy smiles, and kisses Germany’s cheek. Out of all the other nations, Germany and Italy had been together and were probably the cutest couples there was. Italy was shorter, and smaller than the German. Italy smiled up at the German, and stood on the tips of his toes to place a sticky kiss on the German’s cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it Doitsu, but you know, you really shouldn’t bottle your emotions up like that, it’s not healthy; for you, me, or the walls and furniture.” Italy couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. Germany smiled and nodded, and kissed Italy’s forehead. Germany smiled and let out a small soft unforced chuckle. He leaned down and kissed Italy’s cheek and then another one directly on the lips. Italy’s eyes widened, as he blushed madly. The Italian didn’t pull away, but instead he closed his eyes and relaxed, this was their first kiss as Italy and Germany; not their first, first kiss but it was still special for both parties.

Italy relaxed, practically melting into the kiss and into Germany’s arms. It was as if the entire world had stopped spinning completely. And revolving around the two nations, that was how special it was. Like everything, and everyone had just stopped just for them because they wanted to see what would become of them. The kiss seemed to drag on for forever and Italy was so relaxed against Germany, and didn’t seem to care who saw the two. Finally, the sparks died down and the two lovers pull away from each other gasping for air.