The World I Live In (Crazy Hetalia Fanfic)

Eleven

Hi! I haven't put an Authors Note on this book yet, so I'm doing one now! Taa Daa!~

Um, Anywho, I would love to thank everyone (HerBestFriend, mostly, because she COMMENTED. I love commenters. :D ) Who asked me to update. I actually have a decent amount written, I'm just waaay to lazy to ever update ._. I'll try updating more, I PROMISE! (:

Also, I am going to be adding one music video per chapter, for songs I believe fit the chapters to an extent. If you want to see the past songs, I will be updating some and I will be fixing any typo's for the earlier chapters. You can go check them after this if you want. I'm so freaking happy that people are enjoying this; I love writing it!

(I'm actually already thinking about making it a Trilogy. Shh don't tell!)

Sorry if this chapter is really short too. I felt I needed it to be small.

Au revoir!

Laurenn

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                “Hey…” I ask when we reach the car, “Where’s Germany?” Italy shrugs.

                “It’s okay, he’ll know when we’re done. He always does.” Strange, but I don’t question.

                “So…” I try and think of something to small talk about, and remember Germany’s story. “What was your childhood like?” Italy grins.

                “I grew up with my grandpa Rome!” He explains. I nod, figuring that the thought of him being Germany’s childhood lover was false. “He was really nice. I was friends with France and my brother Romano, and Holy Roman Empire, but then Papa Rome took me away.”

                “Holy Roman Empire?” That was Germany’s old name. Does that mean…?

                “Oh, yeah. But anyways, I was taken away by my Grandpa Rome, and then after a few decades, he took me back home. I had learned to read and write and draw, and to sing! But when I got back, everyone was mean. France kept picking on me, and Holy Rome wanted me to join him in war, but… I didn’t want to. I was finally kidnapped by Austria-“

                “Austria? He didn’t happen to let you listen to his piano music, did he?” I question.

                “Oh yes! He was such a magnificent player! I would hum his songs afterwards while cleaning…”

                “Was Holy Roman Empire there too?” I ask.

                “Yeah! He softened up around me, but at first, I don’t think he recognized me. It might be because Hungary would dress me in her childhood clothing…” So that’s why! Germany, back when he was Holy Roman Empire, liked Italy, who he didn’t recognize and thought was a girl! Wow… That’s incredibly weird…

                “Really? So you wore girl clothes?” He nods.

                “Yeah!”

                “When was the last time you saw Holy Rome?” I ask.

                “Back as a kid… The day he left… He was going to fight in the war. He wanted me to join him, he had asked the day before, but I declined. I told him I didn’t want to fight. I knew I would lose. He ran away after that, and I didn’t see him until the next day. Hungary had known I liked him, and told me that he was leaving that day. I begged him not to go, but he went anyways. He said we’d meet again, but… It wasn’t meant to be…” He trails off, and I look at him. He has tears going down his cheeks.

                “Hey,” I say, stepping towards him, “There’s no need to cry. I think you two will meet again!” He sniffs, and looks at me.

                “…You think so?” He asks softly, wiping his face off. I look behind him to see Germany finally breaking through the crowd, heading towards us. I smile.

                “I know so.” I reply softly. He turns to see Germany. Before I could blink, Italy is in a big bear hug with Germany. Germany is blushing.

                “Germany! I missed you!” Italy cries happily. Germany awkwardly pats Italy’s back.

                “Yeah… I missed you too… Why the hell did you two run off like that!? I was worried for you two!” He shouts. I blush, and Italy explains how excited he was to go shopping with his new friend.

                Every love story is different, I think to myself, which makes every love story difficult in its own way. Love is never easy. Then, with an adding thought, I answer my question with another one. When did I think it was?