Seven Day Flood {APH}

SUNDAY

The beeping monitor filled his ears in the early hour of 1 a.m. His eyes were wide and round like always. The golden irises glowing brighter than normal. His pupils were dilated and eyes glossed.

The male unceremoniously got out of bed and unplugged the heart monitor. The screen went black and he plucked the needles out of his left arm carefully as not to damage his fragile body. The insertions fell to the floor with a muffled thud and clink.

He looked at what sat on the chair close to the hospital bed. A pure white pair of undergarments, and a dress with a note resting onto of the neatly folded clothes.

The golden eyed male picked the note up and read it.

Dear Italy Veneziano,

It's your time.
Here rests the clothes you will wear.
White for the purity of your soul and heart.
An engagement ring, for the promise that was made centuries ago.

Sincerely,
The Ancients

Italy Veneziano folded the note neatly and threw it away. He stripped from his hospital gown and previous undergarments.

He slipped into his newer, fresher pair of white cotton underwear. Next was the beautiful dress. It was made of a semi-sheer material. It flowed down to his knees and a ribbon was tied about little ways below his chest area. The neckline and skirt was accented with lace trim. The long, loose sleeves were sheer with lace cuffs. Next was the sheer and lace cardigan going down to flood around his feet.

Lastly, the ring. The band was simple sterling silver with several tiny diamonds embedded in it. Veneziano felt as if his past love was there with him whispering to him to put it on. So he did. He slipped it gingerly on the left ring finger. It was a perfect fit.

The auburnette left the room, bare feet soaking up the cool tiles. The pitter patter of rain beat against the glass windows softly and the cool breeze brought the scent of ocean and sea salt.

The hallways were bare, strangely enough. The Italian didn't come across any nurses on their night shift. His feet lead him, and he obeyed. His wide eyes shone in the pale full moon and turned his tan skin a milky white and his auburn red hair a light chestnut brown, the color of dripping honey caressing the curly locks.

Veneziano's mind blanked. Nothing stirred. Just completely empty as he walked steadily, not caring about a thing as he did.

The outside was cold and the dress he was wearing immediately stuck to his petite form. The ocean's breeze lured him closer and guided his feet. The Treviso air held heavy, the gray clouds releasing the pent up water.

As Veneziano drew nearer to Venice, his heart, he was overcome by the stench of sea salt and the rushing waves beating against his home.

Overhead, he heard the thundering of the rescue helicopters.

Lips parted, he could taste the sea.

Veneziano stepped into the wet land of Venice, his feet guiding him once again. His senses ignored the water rushing at his feet from the waves as he neared the ground highest up. The howling winds billowed against the falling building and rolling ocean waves.

Wailing citizens cried for the heavens, tears streaming down their faces. Few only stared out into the emptiness with silent sobs racking through them.

Veneziano stopped before he reached the peek. The whopping of propellers sounding against the rough bricks of the building as it took off into the sky. Just in time too, because the final wave was strong and gigantic. It towered over him and the building.

Veneziano scrambled to the top and stood up high. Head raised in acceptance as the wave rushed down.

He closed his eyes and smiled, raising the ringed hand close to his lips so it just brushed against the engagement ring.

"I'm coming home."

\\

Weeks passed and the water still hasn't gone down to the previous sea level. Several history artifacts that was left behind was lost to the Mediterranean and well as bodies of those unwilling to leave or was caught in the harsh grasps of the waves.

Romano had cried terribly once he visited the following day from a hospital call saying that his brother was 'missing.'

Romano had cried harder than he expected when he found the folded note in the trash can. His depressed wails had caught the nurses attention and was told to try and calm him down. Romano struggled furiously, tears falling and drenching his red face from grief and loss. This earned him a tranquilizer dart in his arm.

Romano was alone in his house right now. A bottle of wine in his hand as he tried to keep it together. The feeling of emptiness in half of his soul ate him away little by little. They never found his body or any trace of North Italy Veneziano at all.

Nations came and went to express their condolences to the now sole personification of the Republic of Italy.

Romano tried his best at running the whole country by himself, but it seemed to be falling apart without his dear little brother. Spain had often come to help him cope with the paperwork and his loss.

The russet haired male lifted the bottle to his lips, took a long drink, and set it down on the table. Romano swore he could smell dinner cooking as Veneziano's scent of flowers, sea, and the richest herbs and pastas floated up to his nose. But it wasn't true. He was alone. Seborga went to hang out with his friends.

Tears slipped as Romano's body suddenly felt cold and he froze.

"You're not alone, big brother Italy."