GerIta 1943

1

                I came home to a frantic Italian, who was babbling incoherently and in a terrified state about his fragile government.

                With some gentle coaxing that I was almost way too tired to attempt, I managed to get him to sit down semi-peacefully on the couch with me, where-after several more minutes of him mumbling in an inconsolable manner that almost broke my thinning patience after a trying day-I got him to calm down somewhat and explain what was agitating him so much.

                In stuttering stops and starts that were punctuated by mild meltdowns between, he told me how his boss was unlikely to retain power, and how the Allies would come for him afterwards, and how this had been the plan for several months now, and how my boss was suspicious and likely to attack, and how he wasn't even supposed to know any of this, but he had overheard his king talking to some of the members of his Council about the whole thing earlier that day, and how they were going to arrest his boss very soon, and then he was back to crying and clinging to me fiercely as I sat for a moment in shock before belatedly wrapping my arms around Italy as well-he barely seemed to notice the delay, however.

                My mind was racing, rapidly processing everything Feliciano told me, and already formulating a plan when I understood all the implications of what I had been informed.

                "Feli," I muttered, and I quickly had his attention with my serious use of the nickname. "You need to leave."

                His eyes welled up with more tears at my words, and he began to shake as he suppressed a sob, though his face was scrunched up like he was about to explode into a mess of more weeping, this time even worse than a moment ago. Realizing my obvious error, I drew him back to me, stroking his hair-excusing the curl-and whispering, "Oh, no, no liebling, not like that, no…" over and over again in his ear as he let a few drops of salty moisture slide out from under his closed eyes, though his trembling stopped as I held him against me.

                At last, I could pull back without being met by depressed eyes, and I explained as I pulled Feli into my lap and cradled him against my chest, looking down at him as his big brown eyes looked up at me. "Feli, I just mean you need to get away from here, from my land. I still love you, which is why I'm doing this-to keep you safe. My boss will not react kindly when he learns of this, and I need you far away when he does. You need to go and stay with Romano, alright? Will you do that for me?" Sniffling, he nodded. "Okay, then you need to leave right now. Come on."

                I helped him to his feet, and together we swiftly made our way up the stairs to my room, where-let's face it-he had slept every night and opted to keep all his stuff. But I couldn't pause to be sentimental-we were running out of time with every minute that went by.

                Working together, we had a fair portion of his things packed in short order, and we were running down the stairs to the front door hardly seconds later.

                Once there, I pulled out a passport and I.D. for Feliciano-complete with a German name and slightly altered photo that appeared more Aryan-which I was swiftly altering Feli's face with all the products in the house available in order for him to match-and, with hardly a final kiss, I sent him out the door and watched him sprint away. I just hoped his tears would not ruin the concealer I had applied at the last minute to lighten his skin tone, or wash out his blue-colored contact lenses.