Don't Go

This is Goodbye

"Good morning, Holy Rome!" Italy greeted him merrily, running over to him with a big smile over his face, the water splashing in the bucket.

Holy Rome stirred. It didn't make any sense at all. He was staring at Italy - there was no way he could have forgiven him. It was impossible and unthinkable. But then again, this was Italy, the cheerful little 'girl' who could smile so easily after crying. "S-Stop!" Holy Rome yelled and Italy stopped immediately, his expression turning from cheerful to worried.

He looked up, the water stilling in the bucket. "Huh?" He asked and Holy Rome attached the painting to his back, the soldiers behind him, watching them attentively.

"Why do you run when I chase you and yet you chase me when I run?"

Italy was quiet for a while, not understanding how to reply to something like that, as it was never intentional. Nothing he did to hurt someone was ever intentional. "Holy Rome..."

He ignored this, brushing it off. "Listen, Italy. There's one thing I need to tell you." His army of warriors were beginning to move forward, waving a big flag as they passed. "I-I'm sorry about everything." He stared down at the ground miserably, focusing on the sounds of footsteps passing. "I have to leave... and you'll feel at ease. Whether it proves that I'm strong or not, at least I'll know that you'll be happy."

"Wh-What do you mean?" Italy asked nervously, watching him carefully.

He sighed. "I mean exactly what I said."

A soldier turned round and looked at him. "Holy Rome," he said firmly. "We'd better get going."

He glanced at them quickly before turning to Italy again. "Okay. I promise I'll come back for you. I have to go, to keep you safe." He sighed. "See you, then. Take care."

This was it. This was goodbye. He turned round, following the soldiers away. His steps feeling heavier than they were before. Italy had dropped the bucket on the floor and the water swirled in the bucket, but did not spill.

Italy stared, begging for him to turn back round and change his mind. "Ah... Are you really leaving?" He said nothing, still walking away. "No... I don't want you to, Holy Rome!" Italy remembered running up to him as usual, and Holy Rome would always be there to help him. When Holy Rome saved him from Austria, when he showed him wearing Hungary's dress, and when he had done painting with him... "Wait! Wait! Oh no! What should I do?!" Tears fell down his red cheeks, as he cried, "Holy Rome!"

Holy Rome turned round, looking back to see Italy panic behind.

Anything to stop him from leaving - Italy held out his broom, offering it to him. "I... I'll give this to you..."

Holy Rome stared at it.

"This..." said Italy tearfully. "Think of it as me and take it with you, Holy Rome."

He stared, eyes widening. "A push broom... Why are you giving me such a thing? How will that remind me of you?" Then, the memories flooded him again - the day he first saw Italy cleaning in the living room, the push broom in his hands. Almost every time he saw Italy, the broom was there. "Italy..." he said softly, taking the broom from his hand and holding it in a careful manner. "Thank you. I would be honoured to have this from you."

"Wh-Why a push broom?" One of the soldiers asked.

The other soldier replied, "Who knows?"

"Well, then," Holy Rome said slowly. "I'll give you something too, before I go..." Italy was watching him intently and he gave him a small smile. "What do people do for someone they like at your home?"

Italy's tears were clearing away. "K... Kiss, I think..."

He swallowed. "I see..." This was his last chance, one kiss before he leaves... a goodbye kiss...

Holy Rome leaned forwards, feeling the breeze blow past them, his hair whipping his face. "I've always liked you since the 10th century, you know." Their faces touched and their lips met, one over the other as Italy breathed in the sweet scent of his cologne, everything seeming not quite so normal around them. The two soldiers watched them awkwardly, and tilted their heads away.

Then, Italy pulled back and looked at him, searching for something in his eyes. "R-Really?"

Holy Rome smiled, resisting the urge to cry for having to leave. "Yes, really. I'm not lying. I've always loved you, and I'll love you until the end."

Italy smiled back, the tears drying. "Yay! I'm happy to hear that!"

He looked back quickly at the soldiers who were waiting. "W-Well," he started reluctantly, "see you, Italy. Be careful when I'm gone. When the war is over, I'll definitely come to see you. I'll prove I'm strong for you. I - I won't let them win. I'll defeat them to protect you. I'll always protect you, Italy! But until we meet again, I will think of you!" He held the broom Italy had given him tightly, the picture on his back. "I can't wait to see you again!"

Italy blushed. "O-Okay," he said quietly, voice saturated with love and admiration. "I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting for you." Holy Rome nodded and turned round, following the soldiers away. "I'll make lots of sweets and wait for you! You'll have to come back to have them! Or I'll eat them...!" Holy Rome smiled, slowly dragging his feet away, not turning back. He had to go to war and there was no going back. "Oh," Italy added, "and don't get injured or sick! We'll see each other again for sure, okay? We will, okay? For sure, okay? I know we will!"

Holy Rome turned back round and waved, his blue eyes big and round, the light dancing in his eyes as he grinned widely, his teeth shining and cheeks blushing. "No matter how many years pass, I like you the most in the whole world!" Tears began falling down, but he wiped them away, because he had to be strong for Italy. "Ich liebe dich!"

Those last three words echoed in his mind, embedded in his memory. I love you.

Then, with that last wave of goodbye, he disappeared, hidden amongst the other soldiers as they entered the Battle of Austerlitz.