Italy's Nightmares.
Everything had a place in Germany's house. Everything, right down to the forks and spoons. The tables were clean and flawless, the counters gleaming. There was not a hint of dust – spills or messes were unthinkable. Everything must have a place.
Including Italy.
It had started one night, when Italy had shown up in tears. Germany had grudgingly got out of bed and unlocked the door to let the crying country in. A glance at the clock read 1:03 and he was not happy, especially when Italy's "huge problem" was a nightmare and his solution to the fear was hugging the life out of Germany. Germany didn't fall asleep again that night until three, and he did so on the couch with Italy's head on his lap. Next morning he awoke to a neck pain and sore back.
Soon it had become almost a weekly occurrence, and Germany was less annoyed and more worried for his short friend. Italy's eyes were circled with thick dark rings, and he showed up more than once screaming bloody murder and trying to tear down Germany's door until the latter threw it open. The next step was for Germany to have all the air crushed from him by two skinny arms.
Finally Germany found he had to ask: Were the nightmares getting worse?
Italy didn't answer for a moment, which worried the German even more because the feminine guy never EVER stopped talking, and Germany concluded that they were indeed getting worse.
But for some reason, he didn't ask what they were about. He could guess. Sometimes, as Italy fell asleep next to him or sprawled all over the floor, he heard bits and pieces from his mutterings. Phrases like, "don't hurt me" or "help" or even, "let them go" were common, as well as Germany's name. Finally, on the night of a particularly bad dream, Germany held Italy still and calmed him down, "Vhat is it, Italy? Vhat are your dreams about?"
Italy began to speak, and it was so fast Germany wasn't sure he hadn't switched to Italian. "''tlikemeanymoreor yourebeingtorturedandthen-" he paused for breath and Germany clamps a hand over his mouth, feeling the wet of tears roll across his fingers.
"Italy!" he says, and Italy takes huge gulping breaths to try and calm himself. "Those are not things to be scared of." he told him. Italy turned up his face and water runs quickly down his cheeks. He blinked open those huge amber eyes pitifully, looking akin to a kicked puppy.
"But-" he began, voice a mere whimper.
"No, Italy! I promise I vill alvays be here. Vether I like it or not, I vill be near you." he ruffled the trembling country's hair.
Italy sniffled a few more times and then threw his arms around Germany, soaking the white undershirt Germany was wearing with tears. "I love you, Germany! Yaaay! You are so awesome! Best friends! Best friends!"
Germany sighed. "Ja, Ja, I know."
"What's for breakfast?" Italy asked, smiling.
"Wurst."
"Awww but Germany..."
END!
A/N: Okay, this is the last sort-of happy thing you'll get for a few days, due to something really really depressing that happened at my school. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Review!