Germany was relaxing in his office. In three days it would be Italy's birthday, and he couldn't wait for the chance to give him his present. He turned his gaze to the window. It was a beautiful day.

His phone started to ring. A smile came to his face; it was probably Italy wanting to talk to him. He eagerly picked up the telephone.

"Hello?"

"Germany!" cried out the pasta-loving country's frightened voice. "I'm trapped in Austria's house!"

Germany sighed. These calls were all too familiar. "I'll be right over." He said.

He quickly rose from his seat and grabbed his gun. It was about time he did something; he had been unproductive all day.

Luckily, Austria was nearby. All he had to do was hop in his jeep and drive over.

Maybe after he saved his friend, they could get pasta or something together; just the two of them!

Within minutes, he arrived at his neighbor's estate. He quickly drove in and parked his jeep. He leapt out and ran into the mansion.

As soon as he burst through the door, he knew something was wrong. No noise came from anywhere in the house. After a moment, though, he heard a small cry of pain. Germany froze for a second; it sounded just like Italy!

Germany ran towards the sound. He heard another cry of agony as he drew closer to his best friend.

Walking into that room was the worst mistake of Germany's life. What he saw there brought tears to his eyes.

Austria hovered over Italy, a bloody knife in his hand. Italy's coat was soaked with his own blood, and so was Austria. The pianist looked up and saw Germany in the doorway. Quickly, Germany drew his gun. His hand shook in anger and pain. He pulled the trigger and missed the musical, murderous country by a mile. After this, Austria ran out of the room, leaving him and Italy alone.

Germany looked over at Italy and ran towards him. The dying country turned his head to see his lover. "You made it…" his voice shook.

Germany took his hand. "You're going to be fine, don't worry. I won't let you die… You can't die…" Germany voice quavered as he looked into Italy's eyes, wide open in fear and pain.

"Germany…" Italy said quietly. "It's okay. You don't have to be sad."

"Don't talk like that!" he yelled, tears streaming down his face.

"Please…" Italy lifted a hand and touched his face. "Don't cry. I don't want you to do that…"

Germany knew he couldn't save his friend. It was already too late. His blood was spilling onto the wooden floors, turning them a deep red he had seen too much of over his many long years of life.

He didn't know what to do. After everything they had done together, after everything they talked about, after the war they fought together, how could it end like this?

"Germany, take me to your house." Italy looked up at the ceiling, his voice an unnerving, wistful calm. "I need to go there. When I die."

"I will." He whispered, looking into Italy's amber eyes.

Italy smiled and looked into Germany's soft blue eyes. He carefully pulled Germany into a final kiss. A tear fell from his amber eyes as he felt Germany for the last time. A shuddering breath came as he pulled from the embrace, his eyes wide in pain.

His chest stopped rising. His amber eyes were like glass, staring into nothingness. His kind heart stopped beating.

Germany began to panic. "Italy… come on… this isn't funny… wake up… I need you… ITALY!" he shouted, shaking his friend's body.

"You're not allowed to die! Come on, please wake up!

Italy didn't reply. Germany knew it was pointless to do this, but he didn't want to accept his friend dying. But one cannot bring the dead to life, and one must accept the passing of loved ones.

Germany collapsed into tears, holding Italy's dead body in his arms, trying to let go of his only friend.

He sat there for what seemed like eternity, feeling the warmth of Italy's body being replaced by the stone cold touch of death. He silently let go of Italy and closed his eyes.

Italy's final wish was for Germany to take him to his house. He wasn't about to let him down. Not after everything they had been through. Germany quietly picked up Italy and carried him to the jeep. He put his body into a large piece of cloth and folded him up inside of it, so that no passing country could see his face.

He started the jeep and moved forward slowly. Tears clouded his vision as he drove down the road.

Soon, he reached his house. He quietly went and picked up his dead friend and carried him inside.

"Prussia?" he called to his older brother, trying to keep his composure, feeling another wave of tears coming.

His older brother came rushing into the room. His brother's voice hadn't sounded like this in a long time. As soon as he saw the body in his brother's arms, he knew what had happened. There was only one country whom could make his little brother cry.

Without saying a word, he lifted up Italy's body from his brother's arms and carried it to the old sofa, opening the cloth so that he could see his body.

Prussia grabbed a nearby blanket and covered Italy completely, his head bowed in respect and sadness. Germany felt tears fall down his face once more, once again faced with the undeniable truth.

Finally, his older brother spoke. "Germany, you should go and call the others to let them know about… you know…" Prussia said quietly, not wanting to mention the fact that Italy was dead.

Germany nodded, choking on his tears, and went to his office.

Prussia looked at Italy and grabbed a special pendant. "I didn't know this would be so hard. I hope for Germany's sake this all goes as planned."

NOTE: Okay, this will be a pretty short fanfic. I hope you enjoyed Italy's death! It took some work to get it just right, but I think it is really good! HAVE FUN BEING ANGRY AT ME, ITALY LOVERS! LOL