[Fanfic] Living Wish - chp 02
Second chapter :) I'm really thankful to everybody who commented, it makes me really happy ^^ I am sure you will not expect what happens in this chapter, so... er. I guess, enjoy, please!
Author: me
Pairing: Germany/Italy, HRE/Chibitalia, HRE/Italy, mentions of Hungary/Prussia/Austria
Characters: Germany, Italy, HRE, South Italy, Hungary, Prussia, Austria
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: confusion, wishes, a bit of angst...
Summary: A wish upon a star, if done by three people, might have enough power to turn the tables around in ways one couldn’t expect… Austria, Prussia and Hungary wish for Italy’s happiness, and…
Living Wish
Chapter 02 - What you wish for
Once again, Germany woke up feeling off.
Being it the second day in a row, he was quite disgruntled by it, but with sleep clinging at him like a web, what he wanted was to just stay a bit more in his bed and be done with it; the previous day had been so uneventful that Germany had found himself terribly bored, even with the small bird belonging to his brother chirping and fluttering around to distract him.
During the course of the whole day, he had stopped himself from calling Italy five times, and had actually forced himself to not go visit the Italian thrice, too.
When evening finally rolled by, he’d called over, his fingers slipping on the keyboard twice in his haste, but no one had answered, and he had ended up dropping a message on the answering machine, feeling silly, useless and vaguely angered.
And now, the morning after… his uneasiness had yet to disappear.
Groaning slightly, Germany pushed himself up to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and feeling definitely more tired than he should. He was going to try and call Italy’s house again this morning and not because he was worried, of course.
Looking to the side, Germany registered the presence of another person in his bed, a head popping out from the blankets, and stood up, stretching his back and getting his shirt from the chair.
Then froze.
Another person was in his bed.
“It-”
Turning around in a flash, Germany grabbed the hem of his blanket and shoved it away; what was revealed caused his body to freeze instantaneously.
Yes, there was Italy in his bed.
But he was not the only one there.
Another person -blond hair of the same colour as Germany, propped up on his elbow with his back turned towards the German, dressed with black, ample clothes and with a strange styled hat on the headboard- was there. One arm wrapped around Italy’s body, holding him close.
When the unknown person felt Germany stand up, he turned around, staring at him with eyes that were similar in colour, if only a shade darker than his own, and his arms tightened their hold on the sleeping Italy.
“Guten Morgen,” he said, eyes narrowing a bit, a smile twitching on his lips.
Germany’s muscles tensed at the sight, his mind reeling at the implication of what he was seeing -Italy in the arms of someone else, sleeping away as thought it was normal, and they were both in his bed and-
And the other man’s voice was so similar to his own, and even his appearance, and-
It felt like he was one of them. A Nation.
Yet, the feeling was somehow incomplete, Germany’s senses unable to come to terms with the presence in his bed.
“You” Germany hissed, pushing away his first instinct to grab Italy and hold him in his arms instead, and kick this guy away. “Wer bist du? ” he growled, hands clenched into fists.
The man -again, Germany felt his mind spin around with the knowledge of how similar to him that guy was- shook his head gently, almost as if to hush him. His eyes returned to the sleeping Italian, warming up instantly.
Germany felt his anger bubble up again; what was this guy thinking -coming into his bed, hugging Italy like he owned him, acting as if everything was well in the world…
“Get away from him” he hissed, ready to fight.
All his instincts were yelling at him, screaming of how wrong the scene was, but he could do nothing as long as this unknown person was holding Italy in his arms…
It was then that Italy opened his eyes.
He’d been clinging to unconsciousness for a while, feeling warm and protected and safe, and he hadn’t had any kind of nightmare either, so Italy tried in vain to keep sleeping, but there was noise around him, which roused him away from the comfortable darkness.
Without opening his eyes, he snuggled more into the heat, feeling a pair of strong arms embrace him, and silently thanked Prussia -the older German had probably thought of dropping him off in Germany’s bed…
There again, Germany had never truly hugged him in bed, so…
Slowly blinking his eyes open, Italy looked up, sight focusing on familiar blond hair and blue eyes that were looking down at him.
He smiled a bit, humming. “Ve~ Buongiorno, Ludwig…”
A small chuckle that vibrated through his body as well. “Guten Morgen, Italia…”
Italy yawned, still rubbing his chin against the broader chest, and frowned slightly; the voice was a bit off, softer -Germany never spoke this gently to him- and something was wrong.
“Italy, get away from him!”
Ah, there it was -Germany’s voice. Commanding, authoritarian, that send a soft shiver through his back. Why did it sound so distant…?
“Hmmmmn” he murmured, not really wanting to get away from the warm embrace. “Is something wrong, Ludwig?”
“Feliciano! Open your eyes! You’re not… he’s not…” Germany’s voice seemed to hesitate and stutter there, so Italy opened his eyes properly and took a good look at the person above him.
“Ve…?”
Blond hair, and blue eyes and… were the eyes a shade darker than they were the previous day? and why was Germany dressed in dark silk clothes…?
“It’s been a long time, my Italia… but now I’m back,” Germany… was leaning closer now, only that this was not Germany, and Italy’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and had barely enough time to grasp what was happening that soft lips pressed against his brows.
Gently, the person holding him kissed his eyes, a feathery, warm touch, then kissed his forehead and cheeks, still holding him close, and Italy could barely breathe out of shock, eyes wide.
The same eyes, but darker, filled with a different kind of maturity, the same face, grown up, without the chubbiness of childhood, the same clothes as before…
One of Italy’s hands slowly moved up to the man’s face, gently tracing his cheeks, his lips, those blue eyes staring at him, that same familiar smile…
“Sa… Sacro Romano…”
His gasp was interrupted by those same lips pressing down against his own.
Then nothing mattered anymore -he was clutching at the body on top of him with all of his strength, those soft, familiar lips kissing his own, then his forehead again, and his cheeks and again his lips…
“You’re back” he murmured, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You’re back -you’re back, you’re back…”
“Yes… my sweet Italia, I’m back” the Holy Roman replied, still holding him close to his body. “I’m back to you”.
“F… Feliciano?!”
The sight of Italy’s tears, that look in his eyes, the familiarity with whom that unknown person was treating the Italian, the kisses -everything darted through Germany’s chest like a sharpened blade.
Italy knew him, of that he was certain -more than that, he was being kissed, held and coddled, and they were murmuring softly, in a tone so low Germany couldn’t hear what they were saying. Yet, by the sight alone, he felt his insides twist painfully.
The sight was… it felt like he was one too many in the room -in his own room.
Hearing his name, Italy turned around, eyes growing wide as he noticed Germany standing there, cheeks aflame, and fists so clenched his arms were trembling in strain.
“V-ve?! L-Ludwig?!”
There was a look of utter confusion in his face as Italy disentangled himself from the man’s arms, who let him go and sat up straighter on the bed. Much to Germany’s anger, though he couldn’t understand why he felt this furious, Italy kept one hand intertwined with that of the strange man.
“Y-you… him…” almost frantic, tears still rolling down his cheeks, Italy didn’t know what to think.
There they were -both Holy Roman Empire and Germany. How could that be possible, if the territories…
Wiping his eyes, Italy blinked, trying to calm himself. There was probably some sort of explanation… or was it all a dream? Pinching his skin caused a sharp pain to flare through his arm, so no -this was not a dream.
Then…
“I’m here because of you, Italia… or should I call you… Feliciano?” that name, purred in Holy Roman’s deep tone, made Italy shiver. It was the first time Holy Roman had ever said it. “I was allowed to return by a wish. They wished your happiness, all of them” gently, the blond tugged Italy’s hand, making the Italian fall back against his chest. “I kept thinking about you, and only you”.
Unable to understand, but feeling like his heart could implode any second now, the Italian hid his face in the man’s chest, breath coming out in sharp, rapid gasps, shoulders trembling.
Completely ignoring a frozen Germany, Holy Roman leaned forwards, holding Italy’s hands in his own and bringing them up to his lips.
“I still love you, Feliciano. With all my heart. I’ve loved you all this time, even if I was unconscious, and I’ve wanted to see you again so badly…”
Italy felt his eyes fill with tears again, and sobbed into his hand. A rush of pain mixed with happiness washed over him; he’d wanted, craved such words of recognition, of love…
“B-but what… I mean, how…” again, Italy’s eyes flew to Germany, whose face had turned into a mask of steel. “Y-your territories, Holy Roman… how can you exist here-”
“I’m not made of territories anymore, Feliciano” hands still holding him, Holy Roman Empire let his eyes flicker to the frozen German as well. “I’m… I’m just here. I’m not… I’m not Holy Roman Empire anymore, because there are no territories with that name either…”
Brown eyes widened, hands clenching on the silk covering his shoulders. “What… what should I call you… now?”
“Heinrich,” he stated, nuzzling at Italy’s chest, flushing crimson at being allowed such intimacy. “That is my name, Feliciano”.
Cheeks burning red, Italy moved his hands from his shoulders up to the mop of blond hair, messing it with his fingers. It was soft, just like Germany’s was.
Heinrich.
Not Holy Roman Empire anymore, just… Heinrich.
He was back -he’d said he loved him… that he’d loved him all this time, even if he was no more… this was what Italy had been waiting for, this sort of feeling -falling from the highest spot in the world, exciting, it made his fingers itch and his heart jump in his throat.
His eyes fell on Germany, though, and he couldn’t think about anything to say. He loved… he also loved… but the German had never shown anything, not even a flicker of something in return other than kindness, other than…
Holy Roman Empire was back -somehow, he was back. All that love Italy had buried deep inside himself was suddenly resurfacing with the strength of a tsunami, threatening to destroy his sanity. He wanted nothing more than bounce, dance and yell and sing, and cling at Holy… at Heinrich’s body, and cry until he had no more tears.
But what about his feelings for Germany? Germany was also there. Had always been there.
Germany was so kind, and Italy had fallen for him on his own, not depending on his previous feelings for HRE; and yet, now -what could he do now?
Holy Roman was here, and so was Germany and… what did that mean?
“V… ve…”
“Feliciano” once again, Italy couldn’t read anything in Germany’s tone. He just couldn’t understand him, and for that reason he had never revealed how strong his feelings for the blond were -and now… “Who is this guy. What is happening?”
Still clutching at Heinrich’s bigger frame, Italy forced himself to search for… something, anything, in the German’s expression, but found nothing. Slowly, really slowly, he removed himself from HRE’s hold, and stepped towards Germany.
He didn’t really know what to do or think, but any thought he could have had was shoved aside because -HRE was back he was back andohGodhecamebacktohim…
From behind Italy, the once HRE stared impassively at Germany, eyes filled with expectation, unmoving -almost teasing. Germany had yet to shift from his tense position.
“T-this was… this is…” a quick glance behind (to make sure he was still there) and Italy was once again looking at Germany, a smile stretching on his lips. It was a bit empty, though. “Ludwig, this is Holy Roman Empire! He was… he… my first love”.
Germany’s body almost shook, but he managed to keep it as still as stone.
He had not expected this. At all.
He remembered Italy telling him that he’d crushed on a boy once, but… he’d not expected him to reappear -to be one of them- and what was that speech about not having territories? If he was a Nation like them, how could he function without being…
And more importantly, how could he reappear after so much… and have Italy throw himself in his arms without second thoughts?
Italy should have… he should have…
‘What? It’s not like he belongs to anyone’ his rational conscious stated in a clipped tone. ‘So what?’
Indeed. And yet-
‘I thought I should protect him,’ some other part of Germany replied. ‘I… that guy…’
He shouldn’t touch him like that.
He shouldn’t be allowed to hug Italy -to kiss him- and act as if they were so close, his face so smug as if that guy, that Heinrich, owned Italy or shared with him something private…
Which he was, Germany thought.
They had kissed. Not a simple peck on the cheek.
A loving kiss…
Something inside Germany clenched painfully, but he just dismissed the feeling, because there wasn’t time to feel sick right now -not that he was disgusted by Italy kissing a male.
He wasn’t sure why, yet, but it wasn’t important, at least not in the present moment.
“What is he doing here?” he demanded to know, voice so icy that he inwardly felt bad at the Italian’s wince.
“Uh… ve~ I don’t really know, Ludwig” he almost whimpered, cowering a bit. Germany didn’t know why, since he wasn’t really angry at him -why should he be angry if Italy was being kissed by someone else? “He… I don’t know… but he’s there, Ludwig!” what was that tone in his voice? Despair? Why would Italy be-
“Feliciano” Heinrich stated, and Germany felt his eyebrow twitch -that guy was trying to call back Italy’s attention to him! “You wouldn’t mind telling me more… ah, about this time, right? And is… is this your house?”
Germany felt words bubble in his mouth, and he almost said them aloud -that no, it wasn’t Italy’s house, but that it could as well be since he came around every single day anyway, to sleep, spend some time, cook…- but bit them back.
Why would he say that? It wasn’t a race of any sort.
“Ve~ this is… Ludwig’s house, Heinrich,” that subtle tone-shifting, sweeter, maybe even warmer, Germany felt his insides clench again. “I have my own house!” once again he was bubbling up with happiness, returning at the other man’s side, grabbing his hands into his own. “I became strong, see? I have a house for myself and brother now!”
Germany bit back another harsh retort ( “You’re not strong at all, Feliciano, you keep weeping and crawling to me whenever one of my dogs scares you!” ), feeling somewhat spiteful and not knowing the reason why, but watched in dismay as the once HRE tightened his own grasp on Italy’s hands, smiling gently at him.
“That is splendid, Feliciano! I knew you had it in you…” Italy’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always been strong”.
Germany almost snorted. Almost.
“I’ve waited and waited and…” Italy sniffled, but it was HRE who wiped his renewed tears away. “It was painful and I wanted you to come back so much… but you were… and then…”
Once again, it felt as if the two had forgotten they were in Germany’s bedroom, with Germany there, staring at them. And once again, Germany felt the odd one out.
“Shh… it’s ok. I’m here now. Will you show me your house? Will you cook for me your delicious pasta?”
“Ah… o-of course, Holy… I mean, Heinrich!”
Germany knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like he’d bitten something bitter, yet he had the sudden need to vomit. And surely the fact that his blood was boiling had something to do with the new flu floating around, not with the sight.
Then Italy turned to him again, apparently hesitating, and Germany felt (a roaring heat in his belly, demanding Italy to ignore that other guy and stay, because he’d been the worried one the previous day, when Italy had not been at his side) almost smug, but then he steered himself.
He saw Italy was fine, and whilst glad about it, he was almost glowering in anger. He wanted that man out of his house, even though he wanted to shove him away whilst keeping Italy in… and if that couldn’t be done, well…
“I have work to do” he stated, clearing his throat and erasing any trace of blush he had on his cheeks. “You can go anywhere you please, why would you ask me about that?”
Italy’s look then -Germany could have called it disappointment, if he’d been looking at him at all.
He wasn’t.
“Ve… I’ll… I’ll see you later, Germany…”
Germany watched with the corner of one eye as what had been called Heinrich grabbed Italy’s hand, fingers intertwining, and dragged him out of the door.
When they were gone, and the noise of the front door slamming close echoed to him, Germany fell down on his bed, hiding his face in his hands.
Why did he feel so… stupid now?
……………………………
It was hard not to let confusion eat him away, and Italy realised just how truthful that thought was when he stepped out of Germany’s house, and Holy Roman, no, Heinrich, enveloped him in a hug.
The scents that came directly from his childhood wrapped around him, not fleeting memories anymore, and Italy felt fresh tears well up in his eyes again.
Holy Roman was back. He was back for him. There.
In his arms…
“I missed you… so much, Sacro Romano Impero…” he murmured, unable to separate from him -a statement of his presence. “I missed you. I tried fighting as well, I tried to be strong for you, but I really am not… I cried and ran away, and…”
Another kiss on his forehead, dark folds of silk covering his vision.
“You were so strong, my Italia… you didn’t crumble down, and instead you became a Nation… real strength cannot be measured by fighting, and wars do not make one strong at all…” that voice, lulling him, filling him with love.
The only person that could love him. Because Germany…
He’d hoped for so long. If there was something Italy needed, was for someone to love him. For someone to whom he could devote all of his love, too. Trying hard to give up on his Holy Roman Empire, moving on, only to fall for the remains of the same person that had been his first love…
And to not be reciprocated.
And now… and now…
“Feliciano?”
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Italy looked up into concerned, blue eyes. He smiled slowly, as if trying to make sense of the whole situation -it still felt far too unreal.
But HRE was here. Was there anything else Italy could think or hope for? His HRE was there with him. Hesitation was washed away, replaced with happiness.
“Ve, Heinrich… I have to bring you home now! I’ll cook for you! Delicious pasta! A-and… and tons of sweets, too!”
Hands intertwined still, Italy put behind his insecurities, and pulled the blond with him towards his house, smile gaining strength.
He could make this work. Somehow. No matter how his heart was beating painfully.
On the side of the road, bags of groceries scattered on the ground at his feet, Prussia stared at the retreating duo with wide crimson eyes.
“W-what?!”
Gathering the fallen bags in his arms again, Prussia ran inside the house, almost frantic. He didn’t know what was happening, but that had been West, dressed as… “the fuck did happen?! How could that be… and today, of all days? Was it… was…”
“Bruder?”
Prussia would deny it afterwards, but taken by surprise, his yell was almost as high-pitched as that of a woman. The groceries fell from his arms again, potatoes and apples rolling everywhere.
“W-West?! What… but you… and… that dress and…”
Prussia fell into an uneasy silence as he stared at the dishevelled appearance of his brother, his troubled expression hidden behind a mask of nothingness, and somehow felt like hitting him.
“I guess you saw Heinrich” the blond German muttered, voice bordering on venom when mentioning that name. “They just left, too”.
“Hein…” Prussia cleared his throat, feeling his mouth raw and dry. “Who… that was… I thought you…”
“He’s similar to me -probably one of the descendants of Germania” Germany continued in a monotone. “Feliciano said he was the Holy… Roman Empire, I think… he appeared tonight in my bed” a vague flush, barely noticeable. “He kissed Feliciano” he added as an afterthought, and his voice trembled slightly.
Prussia flopped down on the ground, sitting on a pack of already broken eggs and not noticing it. “West, how the fuck did this happen?! He shouldn’t be alive at all!”
Germany’s eyes weren’t looking at him at all, staring at the wall at Prussia’s side. “He said… something about wishes… I am not sure. That his love never stopped”.
“I… I need to call Roderich” Prussia muttered, arm seeking his phone. “There might be a problem”.
“He said he loved him” Germany continued, mechanically picking up the discarded groceries. “Clearly wanted to get a ruse out of me… I let them go, of course,” he stood up again, ignoring the look his brother was giving him, “what do you want for lunch?”
Prussia’s hands clenched around his phone.
At Italy’s house, Romano was busy preparing himself breakfast, the usual scowl gone from his face, sniffing the strong scent of coffee in the air and thinking about calling Spain; he’d received a call from Hungary telling him that his brother was still at Germany’s house, and despite being less than happy about that, he had been reassured that his brother was asleep and had managed to pass another one of those days.
Romano really didn’t know how he could stand that, year after year, visiting the grave of his lost love, and unable to make things proceed with the person he was currently in love with.
If it were him…
The door slammed open.
“Lovino! Lovino!”
Blinking in surprise, Romano placed down his wooden spoon and turned around, scowl already back in place -this was a first, for his brother… usually he spent the day at Germany, and…
Italy bounced in the kitchen, holding hands with Germany. Romano’s scowl deepened, even though inside he was feeling, if not quite relieved, at least appeased. It had taken enough as it was, and even though he disliked the potato bastard, his brother could be… happy…
His thought-process stopped as he took notice of the clothes Germany was wearing, an old style he could barely remember seeing when he was a kid, black and flowing, long boots, of a pure, resistant silk…
No, this was not Germany.
Romano realised this when he stared deeply into the blue eyes of the man at Italy’s side. They were darker and somewhat… softer, nicer, and not filled with exasperation, either. Different.
And the build, now that he looked at it better. This wasn’t as macho as Germany was. Yet, still stronger than both Italies.
Another potato bastard that he knew nothing of?!
“Who the hell is this guy, Feliciano?!”
“I’m Heinrich,” he presented himself, bowing slightly. He took his hat off, presenting a mop of blond hair to the older Italian. “I’m Feliciano’s”.
Italy flushed crimson at HRE’s words, whilst Romano’s frown deepened in confusion. “Who…?”
“He’s… he’s Holy Roman Empire, Lovino!” moving in a flash, Italy’s nails dig into Romano’s wrist. Romano backed away, shocked at the look in his younger brother’s eyes -a mix of hope, pain and happiness, all rolled into one. “He… he appeared just like this and… and he’s back!”
South Italy took a moment to connect everything together. When he did, his eyes widened in shock, staring at the blond man in front of him.
It couldn’t be possible. The Empire’s territories had been divided between Switzerland, Italy himself, Austria… how could it be that he was standing there, smiling and…
And holding Italy’s hand.
Romano backed away, too surprised to speak -but that was ok for Italy, who was speaking again, a bubble of brightness.
“I’m going to show him the house and then cook for him!” dancing around, Italy seemed to remember something, because he rushed out of the kitchen, muttering about paintings under his breath.
Left alone in the same room as that man, Romano backed away from him slowly, eyes never leaving his form.
“You can’t be back” he muttered in Italian, shaking his head.
“I am,” was the soft reply. “I was brought back to life for the sole purpose to bring Italy happiness. That is the reason I am here”.
“What brought you here? Are you… are you going to leave again? Will you hurt…” Romano cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth. “What are you, Holy Roman Empire?”
A soft chuckle, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I love Italy,” he murmured, smiling. “That’s the only important thing. I’ve always loved him, and always will”.
Then he turned around and left, following Italy’s bubbling laughter upstairs.
……………………………
Germany stared down at his far too cooked potatoes with a grimace; this had never happened before -usually he could cook his dishes perfectly, yet he’d let the potatoes boil too much, resulting in a mushy pile of food that was far from being edible, and had even roasted his wurst too much, which made them black and probably carcinogenic.
With a start, he realised he’d been holding his spoon so tightly that the wood looked ready to crack in his hand, and let it go, watching it roll on the ground without moving.
He didn’t know why he was feeling so off, or angry, but definitely cooking was not an option, either.
Besides, Prussia had disappeared somewhere, and he had no one to blame for the cracked eggs in the corridor, either. Germany flexed his fingers, almost surprised by his own anger.
It had been years since he’d felt a similar rage run through his veins, and it usually was related to Italy somehow -during the war, flirting with cute girls, not following his orders, being generally idiotic…
His brow twitched.
‘That stupid guy -appearing in my bed and ranting about stupid wishes… it’s illogical! No one can appear like this, especially in someone else’s bed, and hug Italy like that! And that whole thing about being in love…’ cheeks turning red, Germany grabbed a mop and tried to clean the mess he’d made.
The cleaning didn’t help, which was also strange.
‘And Feliciano? He didn’t have to follow him around. Not after being gone for the whole day, yesterday… and presenting himself in my bed, too… acting like the world had just ended, or something…’
It made his blood boil again, but why would it?
Italy was his own nation.
‘Hah. Strong. Yes. Crying to me every time he needed consoling, every time something scared him… that is not strength’ he continued his inner rant, unmindful of how spiteful he was. ‘It’s not like I can spend my whole day worrying over that useless Italy. Besides, he was looking happy…’
Yes… happy.
With someone else.
Germany had no rights to feel cheated, right? Because it wasn’t like Italy belonged to him, or anything of that sort. Certainly he didn’t want to own Italy. So what if he’d grown accustomed to being with him, to sleep in the same bed and cook for him, or have Italy cook for him… or have Italy annoy him to rest and take it easy…
Or make him take a walk, massaging his back, telling him silly tales, and demanding kisses, and hugs and…
‘And that… Heinrich. He kissed him. On the lips,’ throwing the mop in the sink, Germany slammed the wasted food in the bin, growling under his breath. ‘That… that was…’
Why would someone want to kiss Italy like that?
He wasn’t the most beautiful person ever, nor the most attractive; he had not many qualities, he was loud and far too cheerful, knew nothing on how to be practical, only thought about pasta, all day, and siesta, too…
Who would want to kiss him?
Yet that Heinrich clearly wanted to. Germany couldn’t judge by watching only, but he felt, in some part of him, deeply buried, that the guy wasn’t lying about his feelings. The way he held Italy, as if he were the most important thing in his life…
Germany felt close to punching the wall, and he could not understand why, either.
If Italy was happy -and he had been happy… crying, but not out of fright (like when Germany had yelled at him… guilt curled around his heart, making him flinch at the thought)- then Germany had nothing to say, right?
So what if he was currently spending time with that guy who came out of nowhere?
Kissing him, being held by him -maybe demanding kisses and hugs like he did with Germany…
Germany surely wouldn’t go and protect him. He had to take care of himself, he was a Nation, he had to look out for himself. No matter how illogical the whole situation was. Germany had absolutely nothing to do with that.
Trying to get Italy away from that guy was useless. Also wanting to punch that Heinrich wasn’t worth… wasn’t worth…
Why was he still thinking about it?
A fleeting image of a broken, crying Italy resurfaced to his mind -a memory belonging to the war, right after his humans had decided to switch sides- and once again the blond Nation’s hands clenched around the spoon, barely aware that the wood almost cracked in his hold.
Back then, he’d promised Italy they wouldn’t allow any human to separate them -Germany thought of Italy as a friend, right? Then he would always act as a good friend would.
This was not a human. This was one of them. A Nation -territory-less, but still a Nation.
He was taking Italy away.
Germany didn’t want that. He wanted to have Italy sleep in his bed again. Have the Italian cook lunch, dinner, breakfast for him, demanding pasta at the most random moments of the day, falling asleep on his shoulder and force him to take the breaks that Germany would never admit needing…
He wanted Italy to keep asking for hugs and kisses. To come running to him for reassurance and love, and anything he could think…
He wanted to kiss Italy, too. Hold him close, protect him from others and never let him go…
Blue eyes widened.
---
done. one more chapter to go. how was it? did you like it at all? please do say!
Guten morgen (German) - Good morning
Wer bist du? (German) - Who are you?
Buongiorno (Italian) - Good morning
Sacro Romano Impero (Italian) - Holy Roman Empire
bruder (German) - brother
Author: me
Pairing: Germany/Italy, HRE/Chibitalia, HRE/Italy, mentions of Hungary/Prussia/Austria
Characters: Germany, Italy, HRE, South Italy, Hungary, Prussia, Austria
Rating: R-ish
Warnings: confusion, wishes, a bit of angst...
Summary: A wish upon a star, if done by three people, might have enough power to turn the tables around in ways one couldn’t expect… Austria, Prussia and Hungary wish for Italy’s happiness, and…
Living Wish
Chapter 02 - What you wish for
Once again, Germany woke up feeling off.
Being it the second day in a row, he was quite disgruntled by it, but with sleep clinging at him like a web, what he wanted was to just stay a bit more in his bed and be done with it; the previous day had been so uneventful that Germany had found himself terribly bored, even with the small bird belonging to his brother chirping and fluttering around to distract him.
During the course of the whole day, he had stopped himself from calling Italy five times, and had actually forced himself to not go visit the Italian thrice, too.
When evening finally rolled by, he’d called over, his fingers slipping on the keyboard twice in his haste, but no one had answered, and he had ended up dropping a message on the answering machine, feeling silly, useless and vaguely angered.
And now, the morning after… his uneasiness had yet to disappear.
Groaning slightly, Germany pushed himself up to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and feeling definitely more tired than he should. He was going to try and call Italy’s house again this morning and not because he was worried, of course.
Looking to the side, Germany registered the presence of another person in his bed, a head popping out from the blankets, and stood up, stretching his back and getting his shirt from the chair.
Then froze.
Another person was in his bed.
“It-”
Turning around in a flash, Germany grabbed the hem of his blanket and shoved it away; what was revealed caused his body to freeze instantaneously.
Yes, there was Italy in his bed.
But he was not the only one there.
Another person -blond hair of the same colour as Germany, propped up on his elbow with his back turned towards the German, dressed with black, ample clothes and with a strange styled hat on the headboard- was there. One arm wrapped around Italy’s body, holding him close.
When the unknown person felt Germany stand up, he turned around, staring at him with eyes that were similar in colour, if only a shade darker than his own, and his arms tightened their hold on the sleeping Italy.
“Guten Morgen,” he said, eyes narrowing a bit, a smile twitching on his lips.
Germany’s muscles tensed at the sight, his mind reeling at the implication of what he was seeing -Italy in the arms of someone else, sleeping away as thought it was normal, and they were both in his bed and-
And the other man’s voice was so similar to his own, and even his appearance, and-
It felt like he was one of them. A Nation.
Yet, the feeling was somehow incomplete, Germany’s senses unable to come to terms with the presence in his bed.
“You” Germany hissed, pushing away his first instinct to grab Italy and hold him in his arms instead, and kick this guy away. “Wer bist du? ” he growled, hands clenched into fists.
The man -again, Germany felt his mind spin around with the knowledge of how similar to him that guy was- shook his head gently, almost as if to hush him. His eyes returned to the sleeping Italian, warming up instantly.
Germany felt his anger bubble up again; what was this guy thinking -coming into his bed, hugging Italy like he owned him, acting as if everything was well in the world…
“Get away from him” he hissed, ready to fight.
All his instincts were yelling at him, screaming of how wrong the scene was, but he could do nothing as long as this unknown person was holding Italy in his arms…
It was then that Italy opened his eyes.
He’d been clinging to unconsciousness for a while, feeling warm and protected and safe, and he hadn’t had any kind of nightmare either, so Italy tried in vain to keep sleeping, but there was noise around him, which roused him away from the comfortable darkness.
Without opening his eyes, he snuggled more into the heat, feeling a pair of strong arms embrace him, and silently thanked Prussia -the older German had probably thought of dropping him off in Germany’s bed…
There again, Germany had never truly hugged him in bed, so…
Slowly blinking his eyes open, Italy looked up, sight focusing on familiar blond hair and blue eyes that were looking down at him.
He smiled a bit, humming. “Ve~ Buongiorno, Ludwig…”
A small chuckle that vibrated through his body as well. “Guten Morgen, Italia…”
Italy yawned, still rubbing his chin against the broader chest, and frowned slightly; the voice was a bit off, softer -Germany never spoke this gently to him- and something was wrong.
“Italy, get away from him!”
Ah, there it was -Germany’s voice. Commanding, authoritarian, that send a soft shiver through his back. Why did it sound so distant…?
“Hmmmmn” he murmured, not really wanting to get away from the warm embrace. “Is something wrong, Ludwig?”
“Feliciano! Open your eyes! You’re not… he’s not…” Germany’s voice seemed to hesitate and stutter there, so Italy opened his eyes properly and took a good look at the person above him.
“Ve…?”
Blond hair, and blue eyes and… were the eyes a shade darker than they were the previous day? and why was Germany dressed in dark silk clothes…?
“It’s been a long time, my Italia… but now I’m back,” Germany… was leaning closer now, only that this was not Germany, and Italy’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and had barely enough time to grasp what was happening that soft lips pressed against his brows.
Gently, the person holding him kissed his eyes, a feathery, warm touch, then kissed his forehead and cheeks, still holding him close, and Italy could barely breathe out of shock, eyes wide.
The same eyes, but darker, filled with a different kind of maturity, the same face, grown up, without the chubbiness of childhood, the same clothes as before…
One of Italy’s hands slowly moved up to the man’s face, gently tracing his cheeks, his lips, those blue eyes staring at him, that same familiar smile…
“Sa… Sacro Romano…”
His gasp was interrupted by those same lips pressing down against his own.
Then nothing mattered anymore -he was clutching at the body on top of him with all of his strength, those soft, familiar lips kissing his own, then his forehead again, and his cheeks and again his lips…
“You’re back” he murmured, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You’re back -you’re back, you’re back…”
“Yes… my sweet Italia, I’m back” the Holy Roman replied, still holding him close to his body. “I’m back to you”.
“F… Feliciano?!”
The sight of Italy’s tears, that look in his eyes, the familiarity with whom that unknown person was treating the Italian, the kisses -everything darted through Germany’s chest like a sharpened blade.
Italy knew him, of that he was certain -more than that, he was being kissed, held and coddled, and they were murmuring softly, in a tone so low Germany couldn’t hear what they were saying. Yet, by the sight alone, he felt his insides twist painfully.
The sight was… it felt like he was one too many in the room -in his own room.
Hearing his name, Italy turned around, eyes growing wide as he noticed Germany standing there, cheeks aflame, and fists so clenched his arms were trembling in strain.
“V-ve?! L-Ludwig?!”
There was a look of utter confusion in his face as Italy disentangled himself from the man’s arms, who let him go and sat up straighter on the bed. Much to Germany’s anger, though he couldn’t understand why he felt this furious, Italy kept one hand intertwined with that of the strange man.
“Y-you… him…” almost frantic, tears still rolling down his cheeks, Italy didn’t know what to think.
There they were -both Holy Roman Empire and Germany. How could that be possible, if the territories…
Wiping his eyes, Italy blinked, trying to calm himself. There was probably some sort of explanation… or was it all a dream? Pinching his skin caused a sharp pain to flare through his arm, so no -this was not a dream.
Then…
“I’m here because of you, Italia… or should I call you… Feliciano?” that name, purred in Holy Roman’s deep tone, made Italy shiver. It was the first time Holy Roman had ever said it. “I was allowed to return by a wish. They wished your happiness, all of them” gently, the blond tugged Italy’s hand, making the Italian fall back against his chest. “I kept thinking about you, and only you”.
Unable to understand, but feeling like his heart could implode any second now, the Italian hid his face in the man’s chest, breath coming out in sharp, rapid gasps, shoulders trembling.
Completely ignoring a frozen Germany, Holy Roman leaned forwards, holding Italy’s hands in his own and bringing them up to his lips.
“I still love you, Feliciano. With all my heart. I’ve loved you all this time, even if I was unconscious, and I’ve wanted to see you again so badly…”
Italy felt his eyes fill with tears again, and sobbed into his hand. A rush of pain mixed with happiness washed over him; he’d wanted, craved such words of recognition, of love…
“B-but what… I mean, how…” again, Italy’s eyes flew to Germany, whose face had turned into a mask of steel. “Y-your territories, Holy Roman… how can you exist here-”
“I’m not made of territories anymore, Feliciano” hands still holding him, Holy Roman Empire let his eyes flicker to the frozen German as well. “I’m… I’m just here. I’m not… I’m not Holy Roman Empire anymore, because there are no territories with that name either…”
Brown eyes widened, hands clenching on the silk covering his shoulders. “What… what should I call you… now?”
“Heinrich,” he stated, nuzzling at Italy’s chest, flushing crimson at being allowed such intimacy. “That is my name, Feliciano”.
Cheeks burning red, Italy moved his hands from his shoulders up to the mop of blond hair, messing it with his fingers. It was soft, just like Germany’s was.
Heinrich.
Not Holy Roman Empire anymore, just… Heinrich.
He was back -he’d said he loved him… that he’d loved him all this time, even if he was no more… this was what Italy had been waiting for, this sort of feeling -falling from the highest spot in the world, exciting, it made his fingers itch and his heart jump in his throat.
His eyes fell on Germany, though, and he couldn’t think about anything to say. He loved… he also loved… but the German had never shown anything, not even a flicker of something in return other than kindness, other than…
Holy Roman Empire was back -somehow, he was back. All that love Italy had buried deep inside himself was suddenly resurfacing with the strength of a tsunami, threatening to destroy his sanity. He wanted nothing more than bounce, dance and yell and sing, and cling at Holy… at Heinrich’s body, and cry until he had no more tears.
But what about his feelings for Germany? Germany was also there. Had always been there.
Germany was so kind, and Italy had fallen for him on his own, not depending on his previous feelings for HRE; and yet, now -what could he do now?
Holy Roman was here, and so was Germany and… what did that mean?
“V… ve…”
“Feliciano” once again, Italy couldn’t read anything in Germany’s tone. He just couldn’t understand him, and for that reason he had never revealed how strong his feelings for the blond were -and now… “Who is this guy. What is happening?”
Still clutching at Heinrich’s bigger frame, Italy forced himself to search for… something, anything, in the German’s expression, but found nothing. Slowly, really slowly, he removed himself from HRE’s hold, and stepped towards Germany.
He didn’t really know what to do or think, but any thought he could have had was shoved aside because -HRE was back he was back andohGodhecamebacktohim…
From behind Italy, the once HRE stared impassively at Germany, eyes filled with expectation, unmoving -almost teasing. Germany had yet to shift from his tense position.
“T-this was… this is…” a quick glance behind (to make sure he was still there) and Italy was once again looking at Germany, a smile stretching on his lips. It was a bit empty, though. “Ludwig, this is Holy Roman Empire! He was… he… my first love”.
Germany’s body almost shook, but he managed to keep it as still as stone.
He had not expected this. At all.
He remembered Italy telling him that he’d crushed on a boy once, but… he’d not expected him to reappear -to be one of them- and what was that speech about not having territories? If he was a Nation like them, how could he function without being…
And more importantly, how could he reappear after so much… and have Italy throw himself in his arms without second thoughts?
Italy should have… he should have…
‘What? It’s not like he belongs to anyone’ his rational conscious stated in a clipped tone. ‘So what?’
Indeed. And yet-
‘I thought I should protect him,’ some other part of Germany replied. ‘I… that guy…’
He shouldn’t touch him like that.
He shouldn’t be allowed to hug Italy -to kiss him- and act as if they were so close, his face so smug as if that guy, that Heinrich, owned Italy or shared with him something private…
Which he was, Germany thought.
They had kissed. Not a simple peck on the cheek.
A loving kiss…
Something inside Germany clenched painfully, but he just dismissed the feeling, because there wasn’t time to feel sick right now -not that he was disgusted by Italy kissing a male.
He wasn’t sure why, yet, but it wasn’t important, at least not in the present moment.
“What is he doing here?” he demanded to know, voice so icy that he inwardly felt bad at the Italian’s wince.
“Uh… ve~ I don’t really know, Ludwig” he almost whimpered, cowering a bit. Germany didn’t know why, since he wasn’t really angry at him -why should he be angry if Italy was being kissed by someone else? “He… I don’t know… but he’s there, Ludwig!” what was that tone in his voice? Despair? Why would Italy be-
“Feliciano” Heinrich stated, and Germany felt his eyebrow twitch -that guy was trying to call back Italy’s attention to him! “You wouldn’t mind telling me more… ah, about this time, right? And is… is this your house?”
Germany felt words bubble in his mouth, and he almost said them aloud -that no, it wasn’t Italy’s house, but that it could as well be since he came around every single day anyway, to sleep, spend some time, cook…- but bit them back.
Why would he say that? It wasn’t a race of any sort.
“Ve~ this is… Ludwig’s house, Heinrich,” that subtle tone-shifting, sweeter, maybe even warmer, Germany felt his insides clench again. “I have my own house!” once again he was bubbling up with happiness, returning at the other man’s side, grabbing his hands into his own. “I became strong, see? I have a house for myself and brother now!”
Germany bit back another harsh retort ( “You’re not strong at all, Feliciano, you keep weeping and crawling to me whenever one of my dogs scares you!” ), feeling somewhat spiteful and not knowing the reason why, but watched in dismay as the once HRE tightened his own grasp on Italy’s hands, smiling gently at him.
“That is splendid, Feliciano! I knew you had it in you…” Italy’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always been strong”.
Germany almost snorted. Almost.
“I’ve waited and waited and…” Italy sniffled, but it was HRE who wiped his renewed tears away. “It was painful and I wanted you to come back so much… but you were… and then…”
Once again, it felt as if the two had forgotten they were in Germany’s bedroom, with Germany there, staring at them. And once again, Germany felt the odd one out.
“Shh… it’s ok. I’m here now. Will you show me your house? Will you cook for me your delicious pasta?”
“Ah… o-of course, Holy… I mean, Heinrich!”
Germany knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like he’d bitten something bitter, yet he had the sudden need to vomit. And surely the fact that his blood was boiling had something to do with the new flu floating around, not with the sight.
Then Italy turned to him again, apparently hesitating, and Germany felt (a roaring heat in his belly, demanding Italy to ignore that other guy and stay, because he’d been the worried one the previous day, when Italy had not been at his side) almost smug, but then he steered himself.
He saw Italy was fine, and whilst glad about it, he was almost glowering in anger. He wanted that man out of his house, even though he wanted to shove him away whilst keeping Italy in… and if that couldn’t be done, well…
“I have work to do” he stated, clearing his throat and erasing any trace of blush he had on his cheeks. “You can go anywhere you please, why would you ask me about that?”
Italy’s look then -Germany could have called it disappointment, if he’d been looking at him at all.
He wasn’t.
“Ve… I’ll… I’ll see you later, Germany…”
Germany watched with the corner of one eye as what had been called Heinrich grabbed Italy’s hand, fingers intertwining, and dragged him out of the door.
When they were gone, and the noise of the front door slamming close echoed to him, Germany fell down on his bed, hiding his face in his hands.
Why did he feel so… stupid now?
……………………………
It was hard not to let confusion eat him away, and Italy realised just how truthful that thought was when he stepped out of Germany’s house, and Holy Roman, no, Heinrich, enveloped him in a hug.
The scents that came directly from his childhood wrapped around him, not fleeting memories anymore, and Italy felt fresh tears well up in his eyes again.
Holy Roman was back. He was back for him. There.
In his arms…
“I missed you… so much, Sacro Romano Impero…” he murmured, unable to separate from him -a statement of his presence. “I missed you. I tried fighting as well, I tried to be strong for you, but I really am not… I cried and ran away, and…”
Another kiss on his forehead, dark folds of silk covering his vision.
“You were so strong, my Italia… you didn’t crumble down, and instead you became a Nation… real strength cannot be measured by fighting, and wars do not make one strong at all…” that voice, lulling him, filling him with love.
The only person that could love him. Because Germany…
He’d hoped for so long. If there was something Italy needed, was for someone to love him. For someone to whom he could devote all of his love, too. Trying hard to give up on his Holy Roman Empire, moving on, only to fall for the remains of the same person that had been his first love…
And to not be reciprocated.
And now… and now…
“Feliciano?”
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Italy looked up into concerned, blue eyes. He smiled slowly, as if trying to make sense of the whole situation -it still felt far too unreal.
But HRE was here. Was there anything else Italy could think or hope for? His HRE was there with him. Hesitation was washed away, replaced with happiness.
“Ve, Heinrich… I have to bring you home now! I’ll cook for you! Delicious pasta! A-and… and tons of sweets, too!”
Hands intertwined still, Italy put behind his insecurities, and pulled the blond with him towards his house, smile gaining strength.
He could make this work. Somehow. No matter how his heart was beating painfully.
On the side of the road, bags of groceries scattered on the ground at his feet, Prussia stared at the retreating duo with wide crimson eyes.
“W-what?!”
Gathering the fallen bags in his arms again, Prussia ran inside the house, almost frantic. He didn’t know what was happening, but that had been West, dressed as… “the fuck did happen?! How could that be… and today, of all days? Was it… was…”
“Bruder?”
Prussia would deny it afterwards, but taken by surprise, his yell was almost as high-pitched as that of a woman. The groceries fell from his arms again, potatoes and apples rolling everywhere.
“W-West?! What… but you… and… that dress and…”
Prussia fell into an uneasy silence as he stared at the dishevelled appearance of his brother, his troubled expression hidden behind a mask of nothingness, and somehow felt like hitting him.
“I guess you saw Heinrich” the blond German muttered, voice bordering on venom when mentioning that name. “They just left, too”.
“Hein…” Prussia cleared his throat, feeling his mouth raw and dry. “Who… that was… I thought you…”
“He’s similar to me -probably one of the descendants of Germania” Germany continued in a monotone. “Feliciano said he was the Holy… Roman Empire, I think… he appeared tonight in my bed” a vague flush, barely noticeable. “He kissed Feliciano” he added as an afterthought, and his voice trembled slightly.
Prussia flopped down on the ground, sitting on a pack of already broken eggs and not noticing it. “West, how the fuck did this happen?! He shouldn’t be alive at all!”
Germany’s eyes weren’t looking at him at all, staring at the wall at Prussia’s side. “He said… something about wishes… I am not sure. That his love never stopped”.
“I… I need to call Roderich” Prussia muttered, arm seeking his phone. “There might be a problem”.
“He said he loved him” Germany continued, mechanically picking up the discarded groceries. “Clearly wanted to get a ruse out of me… I let them go, of course,” he stood up again, ignoring the look his brother was giving him, “what do you want for lunch?”
Prussia’s hands clenched around his phone.
At Italy’s house, Romano was busy preparing himself breakfast, the usual scowl gone from his face, sniffing the strong scent of coffee in the air and thinking about calling Spain; he’d received a call from Hungary telling him that his brother was still at Germany’s house, and despite being less than happy about that, he had been reassured that his brother was asleep and had managed to pass another one of those days.
Romano really didn’t know how he could stand that, year after year, visiting the grave of his lost love, and unable to make things proceed with the person he was currently in love with.
If it were him…
The door slammed open.
“Lovino! Lovino!”
Blinking in surprise, Romano placed down his wooden spoon and turned around, scowl already back in place -this was a first, for his brother… usually he spent the day at Germany, and…
Italy bounced in the kitchen, holding hands with Germany. Romano’s scowl deepened, even though inside he was feeling, if not quite relieved, at least appeased. It had taken enough as it was, and even though he disliked the potato bastard, his brother could be… happy…
His thought-process stopped as he took notice of the clothes Germany was wearing, an old style he could barely remember seeing when he was a kid, black and flowing, long boots, of a pure, resistant silk…
No, this was not Germany.
Romano realised this when he stared deeply into the blue eyes of the man at Italy’s side. They were darker and somewhat… softer, nicer, and not filled with exasperation, either. Different.
And the build, now that he looked at it better. This wasn’t as macho as Germany was. Yet, still stronger than both Italies.
Another potato bastard that he knew nothing of?!
“Who the hell is this guy, Feliciano?!”
“I’m Heinrich,” he presented himself, bowing slightly. He took his hat off, presenting a mop of blond hair to the older Italian. “I’m Feliciano’s”.
Italy flushed crimson at HRE’s words, whilst Romano’s frown deepened in confusion. “Who…?”
“He’s… he’s Holy Roman Empire, Lovino!” moving in a flash, Italy’s nails dig into Romano’s wrist. Romano backed away, shocked at the look in his younger brother’s eyes -a mix of hope, pain and happiness, all rolled into one. “He… he appeared just like this and… and he’s back!”
South Italy took a moment to connect everything together. When he did, his eyes widened in shock, staring at the blond man in front of him.
It couldn’t be possible. The Empire’s territories had been divided between Switzerland, Italy himself, Austria… how could it be that he was standing there, smiling and…
And holding Italy’s hand.
Romano backed away, too surprised to speak -but that was ok for Italy, who was speaking again, a bubble of brightness.
“I’m going to show him the house and then cook for him!” dancing around, Italy seemed to remember something, because he rushed out of the kitchen, muttering about paintings under his breath.
Left alone in the same room as that man, Romano backed away from him slowly, eyes never leaving his form.
“You can’t be back” he muttered in Italian, shaking his head.
“I am,” was the soft reply. “I was brought back to life for the sole purpose to bring Italy happiness. That is the reason I am here”.
“What brought you here? Are you… are you going to leave again? Will you hurt…” Romano cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth. “What are you, Holy Roman Empire?”
A soft chuckle, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I love Italy,” he murmured, smiling. “That’s the only important thing. I’ve always loved him, and always will”.
Then he turned around and left, following Italy’s bubbling laughter upstairs.
……………………………
Germany stared down at his far too cooked potatoes with a grimace; this had never happened before -usually he could cook his dishes perfectly, yet he’d let the potatoes boil too much, resulting in a mushy pile of food that was far from being edible, and had even roasted his wurst too much, which made them black and probably carcinogenic.
With a start, he realised he’d been holding his spoon so tightly that the wood looked ready to crack in his hand, and let it go, watching it roll on the ground without moving.
He didn’t know why he was feeling so off, or angry, but definitely cooking was not an option, either.
Besides, Prussia had disappeared somewhere, and he had no one to blame for the cracked eggs in the corridor, either. Germany flexed his fingers, almost surprised by his own anger.
It had been years since he’d felt a similar rage run through his veins, and it usually was related to Italy somehow -during the war, flirting with cute girls, not following his orders, being generally idiotic…
His brow twitched.
‘That stupid guy -appearing in my bed and ranting about stupid wishes… it’s illogical! No one can appear like this, especially in someone else’s bed, and hug Italy like that! And that whole thing about being in love…’ cheeks turning red, Germany grabbed a mop and tried to clean the mess he’d made.
The cleaning didn’t help, which was also strange.
‘And Feliciano? He didn’t have to follow him around. Not after being gone for the whole day, yesterday… and presenting himself in my bed, too… acting like the world had just ended, or something…’
It made his blood boil again, but why would it?
Italy was his own nation.
‘Hah. Strong. Yes. Crying to me every time he needed consoling, every time something scared him… that is not strength’ he continued his inner rant, unmindful of how spiteful he was. ‘It’s not like I can spend my whole day worrying over that useless Italy. Besides, he was looking happy…’
Yes… happy.
With someone else.
Germany had no rights to feel cheated, right? Because it wasn’t like Italy belonged to him, or anything of that sort. Certainly he didn’t want to own Italy. So what if he’d grown accustomed to being with him, to sleep in the same bed and cook for him, or have Italy cook for him… or have Italy annoy him to rest and take it easy…
Or make him take a walk, massaging his back, telling him silly tales, and demanding kisses, and hugs and…
‘And that… Heinrich. He kissed him. On the lips,’ throwing the mop in the sink, Germany slammed the wasted food in the bin, growling under his breath. ‘That… that was…’
Why would someone want to kiss Italy like that?
He wasn’t the most beautiful person ever, nor the most attractive; he had not many qualities, he was loud and far too cheerful, knew nothing on how to be practical, only thought about pasta, all day, and siesta, too…
Who would want to kiss him?
Yet that Heinrich clearly wanted to. Germany couldn’t judge by watching only, but he felt, in some part of him, deeply buried, that the guy wasn’t lying about his feelings. The way he held Italy, as if he were the most important thing in his life…
Germany felt close to punching the wall, and he could not understand why, either.
If Italy was happy -and he had been happy… crying, but not out of fright (like when Germany had yelled at him… guilt curled around his heart, making him flinch at the thought)- then Germany had nothing to say, right?
So what if he was currently spending time with that guy who came out of nowhere?
Kissing him, being held by him -maybe demanding kisses and hugs like he did with Germany…
Germany surely wouldn’t go and protect him. He had to take care of himself, he was a Nation, he had to look out for himself. No matter how illogical the whole situation was. Germany had absolutely nothing to do with that.
Trying to get Italy away from that guy was useless. Also wanting to punch that Heinrich wasn’t worth… wasn’t worth…
Why was he still thinking about it?
A fleeting image of a broken, crying Italy resurfaced to his mind -a memory belonging to the war, right after his humans had decided to switch sides- and once again the blond Nation’s hands clenched around the spoon, barely aware that the wood almost cracked in his hold.
Back then, he’d promised Italy they wouldn’t allow any human to separate them -Germany thought of Italy as a friend, right? Then he would always act as a good friend would.
This was not a human. This was one of them. A Nation -territory-less, but still a Nation.
He was taking Italy away.
Germany didn’t want that. He wanted to have Italy sleep in his bed again. Have the Italian cook lunch, dinner, breakfast for him, demanding pasta at the most random moments of the day, falling asleep on his shoulder and force him to take the breaks that Germany would never admit needing…
He wanted Italy to keep asking for hugs and kisses. To come running to him for reassurance and love, and anything he could think…
He wanted to kiss Italy, too. Hold him close, protect him from others and never let him go…
Blue eyes widened.
---
done. one more chapter to go. how was it? did you like it at all? please do say!
Guten morgen (German) - Good morning
Wer bist du? (German) - Who are you?
Buongiorno (Italian) - Good morning
Sacro Romano Impero (Italian) - Holy Roman Empire
bruder (German) - brother