Hetalia oneshots

✖UNKNOWN✖

There was something wrong. There was always something wrong. The other nations either didn't notice or didn't care, but there was always something off. No one else knew that, but Veneziano did.

However, just like the others, he had no idea what it was.

"Do you ever just feel like something's missing? You know, like something's just not right? Cause I'm pretty sure that's what's going on right now. Something's different. I don't like it."

The young man, known as Veneziano or Italy spoke softly to his cat that he'd fondly referred to as Pookie. He'd claimed before that she could understand every word he said, but currently, the only thing she was doing in response was rolling onto her back for tummy rubs from the Italian, a request to which he kindly obliged.

"I just don't know. Well, what do you think?"

The cat simply meowed, licked its paw, and purred at Veneziano's touch.

"Just continue on normally, huh? I see. Thanks, Pookie! What would I ever do without you?"

Smiling, he gently removed the cat from his lap and placed her onto the floor.

Checking his calendar and seeing that the world conference would be in his country today, he decided (of course, it wasn't exactly a decision) that his outfit would be his uniform. Saying his goodbyes to the cat sprawled out on the floor, he left for what he anticipated to be another chaotic and mostly unsuccessful conference.

And of course, he was right.

America rambled on as usual about being the hero, England and France were arguing, Germany had to constantly shout at everyone to shut up, and everyone else was either fighting or not paying attention to anything. Veneziano was the latter.

Originally, he had hoped that this meeting would help take his mind off of his internal conflicts, but currently, the outlook wasn't so great. He simply rested his head on the table and sighed, hoping that something or someone would help him. However, when he looked up, all he saw was an empty chair next to him, which made his stomach turn over, and he didn't know why.

Seeing the distressed Italian, the Spaniard in the seat on the other side of him gently ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"What has you so stressed, my friend?"

For a second, Veneziano considered simply not speaking to him, but that would only leave him alone with his thoughts, which would be worse.

"Spain... is there someone not here today?"

"Hm? No, not that I can think of. Why do you ask?"

"Has that chair always been empty?" Veneziano queried, ignoring the last question.

"As far as I can remember, yes. What's bothering you so much?"

He sighed, his reply barely audible. "Nothing, nevermind..."

"Are you sure? Because it really looks like-"

"I said it's nothing, alright? So just leave me alone, you bastard!"

Spain was shocked at Veneziano's snappish attitude that replaced his normally kind demeanor. It was strange coming out of him, but almost familiar for some reason. Although, it was quickly replaced with a look of remorse.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that I just... I really don't want to talk about it anymore. E-excuse me!"

Without giving the other a chance to respond, he snuck out of the meeting room, into the hallway, and into some random room that happened to be a closet. He closed the door, locked it, and slid down against the door, covering his face with his hands. What was wrong with him? He would never call Spain a name like that! So, why did he?

There was some part of him that was angry at Spain. Hated him, to be exact. This part felt that he should know exactly what it was that disturbed Veneziano, and the fact that he didn't make him utterly furious. He should've known. He was the closest to the issue, after all! He wanted to slap him, yell at him, swear at him, anything!

Problem was, he still didn't know why.

No matter how hard Veneziano tried to push it all away into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, he couldn't, and these poisonous thoughts followed him throughout the meeting and all the way home.

Opening the door and voicing his hellos, he didn't find his cat laid out near the door like usual, but he was only somewhat concerned. His thoughts were so occupied that he could hardly register anything that was going on around him. And it was only getting worse. He stumbled into his living room, only to find his cat, along with a box toppled over, its contents spilled.

"Oh, Pookie! How many times have I told you not to play with my stuff!"

She seemed sorry, but Veneziano only shook his head at her and bent down to clean up her mess. Looking down, he noticed that it was a box of old photos from who knows how long ago. Being a very sentimental person and wanting something else to take over his thoughts, he decided to sit down and look through them. He sighed in delight as he reminisced over them.

Even so, those feeling of hatred and emptiness grew ever more at certain pictures. Ones that contained a man he didn't know. He looked similar to Veneziano, only tanner, with green eyes, and had a more irritated look. He was so familiar, so much that it physically pained him that he couldn't place a name to that face.

He hated it.

Fresh tears streamed down his face as he looked at them. It was almost torturing to see this person, but he so desperately wanted a name. He craved to know everything about him.

However, seeing this person also made Veneziano... happy, in some way. He remembered that he was important and that he loved him. As if he were... family. It seemed that this mysterious man thought the same.

In every single picture, he looked a little happier when they were with each other.

And Veneziano could smile through his tears

Bye hope you liked the story 🐣