Silences [2/?]
anonymous
July 16 2009, 14:53:47 UTC
[[CHANGING TITLE BECAUSE AUTHORNON HATES CLICHE'D LOVE STORYS ABOUT EYE COLORS orz orz orz. Please forgive herrrr ;-;]]
Romano’s house was very cozy. It felt like home to both the Italy’s, considering it’s where their grandfather now lay to rest. Italy found himself inside and seated comfortably on the couch, Romano shutting the door behind him
“Ne, Romano, we should visit Grandpa’s grave soon, don’t you think?”
“What? Yeah, sure. Listen, Veneciano… what are you doing strolling around these streets at night? You know about the Mafioso…”
“Oh, well…I’m not sure, I was just walking home, and I didn’t want to cut through Switzerland’s yard so…”
“…So you walked all the way past your house, and now you were thinking about checking out mine?”
Italy paused. He hadn’t thought about that. Now that he thought about it, if he had gotten to Rome, he HAD to have cut through Venice. Everything else was surrounded by sea… It was weird, how caught up in his thoughts he gets when he thinks about Germany. Italy laughed, realizing his mistake for the first time.
“Ahahaha, you’re right Romano…aaah, I’m sorry, did I worry you? I was just caught up in some thoughts…”
“And why did you need to avoid Switzerland? Where were you that made you decide not to cut through his yard?”
“Oh…well, uh, you see-“
“No, don’t even answer.”
His glare was deep and angry, as it had always been when the very mention of Germany was even hinted at. Why did Romano hate him so much? He wasn’t that bad of a guy.
Yeah, not bad enough to break you heart and run, now is he?
Italy had to lower his head in order to drop out the voices that taunted him such.
“Listen, why the hell do you still hang around that God damn wurst-fucking bastard? How many times have I told you that he’s no good? You know, one day, its coming back to nip you right in the ass, and really Veneciano, I won’t be there for you when it does. You’ll keep on saying how right I was…” Romano nagged on, as his little brothers attention slipped out from under the radar.
‘It means what it means’.
And what did it mean…?
After only a few years of friendship with him, it had not been very long before Italy had come to his full senses on who Germany really was, and just how dead Roma was. It was an amazing feeling. It was…yes, amazing, knowing for sure that your first kiss was alive and well. It had been such elation, that Italy had put on his shirt and was about to bolt through the door, shoot right through Switzerland’s yard, and pounce right into the arms of his long lost love. And then…
“Does he even remember me….?”
As soon as the thought sparked in his head, Italy stopped dead in his tracks. …It’s not true. It couldn’t be true. Roma said…Roma said he would love him. He would love him no matter how many years passed. Yes. Roma said that. Who’s this new man? Not Roma. This is Germany. Even if Germany was Roma…something happened. He obviously didn’t remember Italy. And there was always that obvious fact that Roma had always mistaken Italy for a girl. What about now? Italy has changed too. He was…useless to Germany. There wasn’t a single good reason for Germany to love him back. He was a boy. Well, its not like he wasn’t a boy before, but this time, it’s noticeable. This couldn’t be happening. Italy had been frozen at the door for a good four minutes, thinking things over. Germany…Roma……He couldn’t tell them apart any more. Germany…was his friend. He is his ally. He is the guy that always gets him out of jams. He is the great, strong man that’s always there for him……that he has done nothing in return for, except waste his time, and tread on his nerves. Germany would never love Italy the way he did before. Back when he was Roma. No, now Italy couldn’t possibly be good enough to be considered his lover. He was his friend though…right? They should still be friends even though...Italy hasn’t been holding up a good end… Yes…so long as they were still friends…Italy was okay with that...he wanted to stay as close as possible to him. He wanted to just love him, to feed it slowly to him until he realized…until he remembered. When was that going to be? Realize it, please…I want you to love me again…
Silences [3/?]
anonymous
July 16 2009, 15:04:40 UTC
“…NICIANO!!”
Italy snapped out of his day dream and back to attention as his older brother stared him dead in the face. Italy smiled in return.
“Ehehe, S-sorry Romano, you just say such boring things. I can pa-“
A warm hand reached up and brushed his cheek.
“You’re crying, idiot.”
Italy looked shocked as he had only just realized that his cheeks had been moist. He watched as Romano pulled away his hand, one of his little brothers tears sitting promptly on his finger. There was a short silence after that, a kind of stunned silence. The kind where you repeat the scene you just saw over and over again in your head, to make sure it really happened.
“Ah, w-well that’s…”
“What did that sausage-eating Kraut do to you?”
“N-No, Romano, he didn’t do anything…”
“Why are you crying while you’re thinking about him?”
“What?! You can read my mind?!” His voice cracked, more tears dripping down his face.
“It’s easy to find out what you’re thinking about. What did he do to you to make you cry?”
“H-He didn’t it’s…”
Italy’s voice cracked again, this time choking him in mid sentence. He only succeeded in crying more. God, he didn’t even know why he was crying. Germany couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t…He didn’t make me cry …It’s my fault; it’s my fault… Italy broke down and started sobbing in his hands. Why? Why was he getting so emotional? It hurt…it hurt a lot… And then the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around him. He bolted his head up, just to have Romano kiss away a few more of his tears.
“Frattelo…Christo mio, stop trying to act. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Italy held his big brother back, feeling….warmer. And maybe….just a little bit safer. Almost like how he felt when Germany held him. Almost. Italy stained the shoulder of Romano’s shirt with his tears and Romano could only stroke his hair and sigh in response.
“…Stay over tonight, ‘kay? I don’t want you sneaking off to that potato-bastards house, dammit.”
Silences [4/?]
anonymous
July 17 2009, 15:09:28 UTC
Romano’s bed wasn’t the biggest or most comfortable, but God save him right then and there if it wasn’t the greatest bed he ever slept in. It had this warmth about it that was only found in a family. Romano had always told him, ‘We’re the same person. Your pain is my pain,’ but Italy knew that wasn’t true. They were different people. Romano wouldn’t understand why his younger brother was so torn up about Germany. Why? Because Romano wasn’t Veneciano. Romano was Romano. He had his own problems to deal with, and one of them was defiantly not Germany. Still. It really was great that his older brother loved him enough to help when he was hurting.
Italy was lying on his side, cuddly and well tucked in with the mass of blankets. He sniffed and burrowed his face into his wet pillow, calming down. He tried to think tonight over.
It was Buon San Valentino. I gave him red roses, and he stared acting weird for about a week. I just thought he was just being a good friend, and then he got mad at me for flirting with some girls. And then he…proposed to me. And then he started beating me up, and then hugged me. And then he ran off.
Absolutely none of this scenario made any sense at all. What was Germany thinking? He could never tell. Was he making fun of me? Did he find out how much I really did love him?
Or was that his really awkward way of….flirting?
Italy pondered the thought for a moment… …only to slap himself internally for thinking that. Why would Germany have any reason to hit on Italy? He was such a serious guy. He never really enjoyed Italy anyway. Italy was useless, remember? He sighed and sniffled once more into the pillow. Romano came back from brushing his teeth, and he sat on the other side of the bed, his back facing Italy’s. He turned his head around.
“…Veneciano. Don’t let that bastard get to you, alright? Whatever he did, it was stupid.”
He didn’t do anything.
“You know, I’m still here for you. I…I really don’t want you to hurt like this. Your pain is my pain, you know…”
I don’t want you to hurt either. Please stay out of it.
“...Listen, I’m sorry for nagging at you earlier. I didn’t mean it. I’ll always be there to help you, no matter what that macho-douche does.”
But he didn’t do any thing. And that’s why I’m upset. I can’t blame him. I can’t even blame myself.
“…Veneciano?”
“…….”
Romano sighed and got into bed next to his sibling, kissing him once on the cheek and snuggling in the covers, lying on his back.
“Buono Notte. Please get some rest.”
“…….You’re a good brother when it counts, Romano. You know that?”
“Sh-shut up, damnit….”
Veneciano smiled, and leaned over to return the kiss.
Silences [5/?]
anonymous
July 17 2009, 15:16:17 UTC
Within twenty minutes, Romano was already out like a light. His little brother had no such luck.
Italy couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking. Mostly all he was thinking about was how much he was in love with Roma. But Roma changed. And now he’s an entirely new person, a scary one at that. Maybe thinking about all the things he hated about Germany would help him. He was way too scary and loud. His sausages sucked, he works too hard, he works ME too hard-
He’s strong. He’s tall. It feels safe when he holds me in his arms. He’s my closest friend. He’s my first love.
…This was absolutely of no good use. For every excuse his brain made, his heart spit one right back at it. It was depressing. It was way too depressing.
This man was a hard working God, and all he’s ever done for me was carry me on his back across the river.
Italy got up from the bed. He needed water. In the kitchen, he poured himself a plastic cup full, sipped, and placed it on the table. The kitchen was dark. There was no need to turn on the light, the moon shone through the windows with a gentle blue hue. Leaning back against the counter, he rubbed his face. He could feel tears forming in his eyes again. It hurt so God damn much.
Knowing that you’re better off hated by the one you love.
…...He glanced over to a kitchen knife sitting beside him on the counter, like it was waiting.
…Like it was waiting…for what…? To be picked up…?
Italy hesitantly fulfilled the request. He stared down at it.
…..This is Germany’s eye color. The blue moonlight mixed with the sharp grey of metal.
“……”
A blue that you can never look into again without feeling sick. Sick to your stomach.
“……..….”
Because you know he hates you. He’s never going to love you like you do him.
It’s cold…
“………h-hhn…”
Roma lied. He never loved you. He just wanted to get your panties, apparently.
No…it hurts….
“….Hnnngh…ehh…”
Now that that’s accomplished, what’s the point in staying in love with you?
“Nnnngh…..Haahnh…!”
You’re useless. You will never be any good to him. You don’t even deserve to be his friend.
It hurts….it hurts…!
“Hhaah..! Ah!”
Do you even deserve to live...?
IT HURTS!!
“AH--!!”
The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter.
~
The next morning when Romano woke up, there was a kitchen knife on the floor.
There was also a splatter of blood everywhere, and a missing roll of gauze from the medicine cabinet.
Veneciano wasn’t there.
------- [DUN DUN DUUUUUN oAo!!! Eeeeh, Authornon is sorry if that isn't what OP wanted;;; Authornon loves dramatic flair. Sorry....; It doesn't end here though. Stay tuned~]
Romano’s house was very cozy. It felt like home to both the Italy’s, considering it’s where their grandfather now lay to rest. Italy found himself inside and seated comfortably on the couch, Romano shutting the door behind him
“Ne, Romano, we should visit Grandpa’s grave soon, don’t you think?”
“What? Yeah, sure. Listen, Veneciano… what are you doing strolling around these streets at night? You know about the Mafioso…”
“Oh, well…I’m not sure, I was just walking home, and I didn’t want to cut through Switzerland’s yard so…”
“…So you walked all the way past your house, and now you were thinking about checking out mine?”
Italy paused. He hadn’t thought about that. Now that he thought about it, if he had gotten to Rome, he HAD to have cut through Venice. Everything else was surrounded by sea…
It was weird, how caught up in his thoughts he gets when he thinks about Germany.
Italy laughed, realizing his mistake for the first time.
“Ahahaha, you’re right Romano…aaah, I’m sorry, did I worry you? I was just caught up in some thoughts…”
“And why did you need to avoid Switzerland? Where were you that made you decide not to cut through his yard?”
“Oh…well, uh, you see-“
“No, don’t even answer.”
His glare was deep and angry, as it had always been when the very mention of Germany was even hinted at. Why did Romano hate him so much? He wasn’t that bad of a guy.
Yeah, not bad enough to break you heart and run, now is he?
Italy had to lower his head in order to drop out the voices that taunted him such.
“Listen, why the hell do you still hang around that God damn wurst-fucking bastard? How many times have I told you that he’s no good? You know, one day, its coming back to nip you right in the ass, and really Veneciano, I won’t be there for you when it does. You’ll keep on saying how right I was…” Romano nagged on, as his little brothers attention slipped out from under the radar.
‘It means what it means’.
And what did it mean…?
After only a few years of friendship with him, it had not been very long before Italy had come to his full senses on who Germany really was, and just how dead Roma was. It was an amazing feeling. It was…yes, amazing, knowing for sure that your first kiss was alive and well. It had been such elation, that Italy had put on his shirt and was about to bolt through the door, shoot right through Switzerland’s yard, and pounce right into the arms of his long lost love. And then…
“Does he even remember me….?”
As soon as the thought sparked in his head, Italy stopped dead in his tracks.
…It’s not true. It couldn’t be true. Roma said…Roma said he would love him. He would love him no matter how many years passed.
Yes. Roma said that. Who’s this new man? Not Roma. This is Germany. Even if Germany was Roma…something happened. He obviously didn’t remember Italy. And there was always that obvious fact that Roma had always mistaken Italy for a girl. What about now? Italy has changed too. He was…useless to Germany. There wasn’t a single good reason for Germany to love him back. He was a boy. Well, its not like he wasn’t a boy before, but this time, it’s noticeable.
This couldn’t be happening. Italy had been frozen at the door for a good four minutes, thinking things over. Germany…Roma……He couldn’t tell them apart any more. Germany…was his friend. He is his ally. He is the guy that always gets him out of jams. He is the great, strong man that’s always there for him……that he has done nothing in return for, except waste his time, and tread on his nerves. Germany would never love Italy the way he did before. Back when he was Roma. No, now Italy couldn’t possibly be good enough to be considered his lover. He was his friend though…right? They should still be friends even though...Italy hasn’t been holding up a good end…
Yes…so long as they were still friends…Italy was okay with that...he wanted to stay as close as possible to him. He wanted to just love him, to feed it slowly to him until he realized…until he remembered.
When was that going to be?
Realize it, please…I want you to love me again…
Reply
“…NICIANO!!”
Italy snapped out of his day dream and back to attention as his older brother stared him dead in the face. Italy smiled in return.
“Ehehe, S-sorry Romano, you just say such boring things. I can pa-“
A warm hand reached up and brushed his cheek.
“You’re crying, idiot.”
Italy looked shocked as he had only just realized that his cheeks had been moist. He watched as Romano pulled away his hand, one of his little brothers tears sitting promptly on his finger.
There was a short silence after that, a kind of stunned silence. The kind where you repeat the scene you just saw over and over again in your head, to make sure it really happened.
“Ah, w-well that’s…”
“What did that sausage-eating Kraut do to you?”
“N-No, Romano, he didn’t do anything…”
“Why are you crying while you’re thinking about him?”
“What?! You can read my mind?!” His voice cracked, more tears dripping down his face.
“It’s easy to find out what you’re thinking about. What did he do to you to make you cry?”
“H-He didn’t it’s…”
Italy’s voice cracked again, this time choking him in mid sentence. He only succeeded in crying more. God, he didn’t even know why he was crying. Germany couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t…He didn’t make me cry …It’s my fault; it’s my fault…
Italy broke down and started sobbing in his hands. Why? Why was he getting so emotional? It hurt…it hurt a lot…
And then the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around him. He bolted his head up, just to have Romano kiss away a few more of his tears.
“Frattelo…Christo mio, stop trying to act. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Italy held his big brother back, feeling….warmer. And maybe….just a little bit safer. Almost like how he felt when Germany held him. Almost.
Italy stained the shoulder of Romano’s shirt with his tears and Romano could only stroke his hair and sigh in response.
“…Stay over tonight, ‘kay? I don’t want you sneaking off to that potato-bastards house, dammit.”
Reply
I love this, keep it up!
Reply
(And I like the new title a bit more, so~ >w<)
Italyyyyyyyyyyy ;A; I agree with the above-- so heartbreaking...
Can't wait for the next part. Writer!Anon, thank you!~
Reply
Romano had always told him, ‘We’re the same person. Your pain is my pain,’ but Italy knew that wasn’t true. They were different people. Romano wouldn’t understand why his younger brother was so torn up about Germany. Why? Because Romano wasn’t Veneciano. Romano was Romano. He had his own problems to deal with, and one of them was defiantly not Germany.
Still.
It really was great that his older brother loved him enough to help when he was hurting.
Italy was lying on his side, cuddly and well tucked in with the mass of blankets. He sniffed and burrowed his face into his wet pillow, calming down. He tried to think tonight over.
It was Buon San Valentino. I gave him red roses, and he stared acting weird for about a week. I just thought he was just being a good friend, and then he got mad at me for flirting with some girls. And then he…proposed to me. And then he started beating me up, and then hugged me. And then he ran off.
Absolutely none of this scenario made any sense at all. What was Germany thinking? He could never tell. Was he making fun of me? Did he find out how much I really did love him?
Or was that his really awkward way of….flirting?
Italy pondered the thought for a moment…
…only to slap himself internally for thinking that. Why would Germany have any reason to hit on Italy? He was such a serious guy. He never really enjoyed Italy anyway. Italy was useless, remember?
He sighed and sniffled once more into the pillow.
Romano came back from brushing his teeth, and he sat on the other side of the bed, his back facing Italy’s. He turned his head around.
“…Veneciano. Don’t let that bastard get to you, alright? Whatever he did, it was stupid.”
He didn’t do anything.
“You know, I’m still here for you. I…I really don’t want you to hurt like this. Your pain is my pain, you know…”
I don’t want you to hurt either. Please stay out of it.
“...Listen, I’m sorry for nagging at you earlier. I didn’t mean it. I’ll always be there to help you, no matter what that macho-douche does.”
But he didn’t do any thing.
And that’s why I’m upset.
I can’t blame him.
I can’t even blame myself.
“…Veneciano?”
“…….”
Romano sighed and got into bed next to his sibling, kissing him once on the cheek and snuggling in the covers, lying on his back.
“Buono Notte. Please get some rest.”
“…….You’re a good brother when it counts, Romano. You know that?”
“Sh-shut up, damnit….”
Veneciano smiled, and leaned over to return the kiss.
“Buono Notte, mio Fratello.”
Reply
Italy couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking. Mostly all he was thinking about was how much he was in love with Roma. But Roma changed. And now he’s an entirely new person, a scary one at that. Maybe thinking about all the things he hated about Germany would help him. He was way too scary and loud. His sausages sucked, he works too hard, he works ME too hard-
He’s strong. He’s tall. It feels safe when he holds me in his arms. He’s my closest friend. He’s my first love.
…This was absolutely of no good use. For every excuse his brain made, his heart spit one right back at it. It was depressing. It was way too depressing.
This man was a hard working God, and all he’s ever done for me was carry me on his back across the river.
Italy got up from the bed. He needed water.
In the kitchen, he poured himself a plastic cup full, sipped, and placed it on the table.
The kitchen was dark. There was no need to turn on the light, the moon shone through the windows with a gentle blue hue.
Leaning back against the counter, he rubbed his face. He could feel tears forming in his eyes again.
It hurt so God damn much.
Knowing that you’re better off hated by the one you love.
…...He glanced over to a kitchen knife sitting beside him on the counter, like it was waiting.
…Like it was waiting…for what…? To be picked up…?
Italy hesitantly fulfilled the request. He stared down at it.
…..This is Germany’s eye color. The blue moonlight mixed with the sharp grey of metal.
“……”
A blue that you can never look into again without feeling sick. Sick to your stomach.
“……..….”
Because you know he hates you. He’s never going to love you like you do him.
It’s cold…
“………h-hhn…”
Roma lied. He never loved you. He just wanted to get your panties, apparently.
No…it hurts….
“….Hnnngh…ehh…”
Now that that’s accomplished, what’s the point in staying in love with you?
“Nnnngh…..Haahnh…!”
You’re useless. You will never be any good to him. You don’t even deserve to be his friend.
It hurts….it hurts…!
“Hhaah..! Ah!”
Do you even deserve to live...?
IT HURTS!!
“AH--!!”
The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter.
~
The next morning when Romano woke up, there was a kitchen knife on the floor.
There was also a splatter of blood everywhere, and a missing roll of gauze from the medicine cabinet.
Veneciano wasn’t there.
-------
[DUN DUN DUUUUUN oAo!!!
Eeeeh, Authornon is sorry if that isn't what OP wanted;;; Authornon loves dramatic flair. Sorry....;
It doesn't end here though. Stay tuned~]
Reply
ITALY OAO
Damn it I will never stop refreshing this page. EVER.
(Aaaa Romano is such a good big brother)
(And I'm totally fine with the dramatic~ So totally fine <3)
(reCaptcha: MD--Memorial anacreon
Oh dear. I hope that's not foreshadowing.)
Reply
She's been busy with things like cleaning her shite hole of a room, summer reading and others~~~~~~~~ oTL
Could you forive her?
She promises to post up another part soon~~~ ;^;
Reply
(Summer reading, you say? *looks at the pile* That might be a good idea...)
If the next part is anywhere near as lovely as the previous ones, OP can wait. :3
Reply
Leave a comment