A/N: I highly suggest you read the doujinshi first if you haven`t already. Not only it`ll help you understand this story better, as it`s also one one the best pieces of fanwork I`ve read/seen in a while.
Enjoy.
Germany looks at the drenched boy standing a few feet away from him.
He is able to hear the droplets of water roll off of Italy`s skin and clothes and hit against the old but sturdy wooden planks underneath them. Germany listens into the lull of the waves and the seagulls` cries in the distance. He takes a deep breath, as he tries to contemplate all these things happening at once when a heavy scent of salt and seaweed suddenly invades his nostrils.
The other nation`s expression is indecipherable and his eyes are piercing but nonchalant. Germany chuckles at the sight. How couldn`t he? This is the closest thing to reality that he is going to get and the state in which Italy is presented, somewhat amuses him.
The smile never leaves his face as he turns his attention back towards the ocean. For almost four decades his mind has been playing tricks on him. But it was especially after that doppelganger encounter, that he had actually felt himself getting worse.
He listens to the waves crash against the rocks and looks up.
Seeing him again after so long is interesting, to say the least. Instead of it being delivered as a final blow to his sanity, it only feels like an half-hearted slap to the face. He is sure that something rather unforeseeable and much worse awaits him in the future, that this is just the beginning.
A storm is coming.
Germany knows Italy has always loved Venice, even as it is. It`s his homeland and his favorite place in the whole country, for some reason. It only made sense that he`d want to stay here forever. Germany, on the other hand, hates coming to Venice (or Italy, for the matter) whenever he has business meetings.
If he has to go through a suspiciously empty looking corridor, there`s a waft that carries ou his scent. The homemade food some of the locals prepare for him tastes just like his. It reminisces simpler times. The sun rays caressing his skin remind Germany of his energy and warmth. The rain, his tears, before he jumped.
The chilly Winter breeze, how cold it must have been underwater. The moonlight, the spark in his eyes, once lost. And the lack of inhabitants and tourists, how lonely he must have felt. (How lonely he still feels).
Then, there is the ocean. It`s ever looming presence allows it to never go unnoticed. It's the color of his eyes, Italy had told him. And that little orb...
The waves dance and resonate against Germany`s eardrums... they serve as a reality check.
They hit against the boardwalk.
Germany feels like this time, it`s different. It`s not a memory, thought, nor remembrance triggered by his senses.
It`s a high fever.
Forty years ago, Germany would not have wanted this for himself. But forty years ago, Italy had also been alive.
It begins to rain. And even as the tide grows higher and stronger, he can barely hear the waves over the sound of drops hitting heavily against his jacket.
The other countries are going to be up all on him, he assumes. But they won`t be able to understand his pain and all that he`s been through. They will probably try to hold interventions or find people who can actually help him. But Germany feels like he won`t need any of that. At least just yet. Maybe Romano is the best person he could talk to about this. But then again, Germany has also been avoiding him for a few years now, after the incident. He hasn`t been able to confront him ever since.
Germany knows it had been an asshole move, neglecting him the way he did. Romano certainly wasn`t one to blame nor did he deserve to suffer on his own. He knew he also needed support, a shoulder to cry on, one that wasn`t Spain`s, for once. But Germany couldn't bring himself to it. He felt pathetic.
But what`s done is done, as much as it saddens him. Even if he suddenly decides to go talk to him, it would be too late (and risky). He is certain that if the duo ever laid eyes on him, they would most likely turn him into a human pinhãta or make horchata out of him, whichever is worse.
His brother Prussia, on the other hand, although comprehensive and caring, would most likely still side with the others and beg him to seek help.
Now that he thinks about it, no one in their right mind would be able to take in Germany`s situation as lightly as he did. He tells himself that, unlike them, he`s just capable of seeing things in a better light now. That thought, however, is still highly alarming, even for him.
He places a hand against his own forehead. Just like the water pouring down on him, it feels cool.
So he tells himself that it`s an assurance. That Italy isn`t, in fact, gone forever, that Romano, himself and his own brother, who is slowly growing old, will all be okay.
He is afraid to look.
The again, Germany is almost certain that Italy had been bluffing about the whole thing. It`s the only plausible explanation. Veneziano could never really leave him, now could he?
He figured as much. He was such a pest.
Germany smiles.
It`s not like he still sees Italy as the same cowardly and lovable idiot that he had once met during a war. (A war that, looking back on, had been pretty pointless). In fact, the other nation had been able to show him just how wrong he had been about him, many times. (If anything, Germany is the scaredy-cat who`s too afraid to interact with people.)
This just proves that, in the end, there had always been more to Italy Veneziano than age-old stereotypes and biased assumptions. And it`s thanks to his latino blood, that Italy is just as stubborn as his brother. Determined and resistant too, much to his and everyone`s surprise.
He turns to him.
And so, he reaches the following conclusion: that even if Italy had been fully conscious of his own actions at the time, his body still tried to fight against the current. Germany likes to think this is the case, at least. It makes him happy knowing that Italy is still headstrong...
And he can no longer hear the waves.
