It was that time of year again. That time when all Italy wanted to do was fall into a fortress of pillows and sob his heart out. That time of year when all his happiness walked away for a war. That time of year when all his happiness died. That time of year when his promise died. That time of year when Holy Roman Empire died.
Germany woke up at his usual time- 6:00 am, only to be disturbed by one sudden difference in his usual routine. No auburn curl. No "ve" sound. Just a cold, empty space on the other side of the bed. And of course, when Italy goes missing, so does Germany's sense to think straight for the next 5 minutes. "What if Britain kidnapped him? What if he accidentally strangled himself with pasta? What if he walked into enemy territory whilst trying to stroke a cat?" These thoughts would usually plague the German nation when the Italian had vanished, but luck may have it, none of these things have happened in a while. But Germany did go outside to look for Italy- he wasn't that heartless (okay maybe he was). Onnce outside the front door, he was greeted with small boot prints, following them up a near by montain and to close to a cliff for Germany's liking. That was when he saw it. Italy stood by the edge, ready to junp off at any second. Germany's instincts kicked in and he ran, grabbed Italy before he did jump of the side and carried him back home. Italy remained silent thorughout the entire journey, and eventally fell asleep in the blondes arms.
Later Italy awoke in Germany's living room, blankets covering his slender form, and his head resting on two pillows. That was when Germany walked in. He sat on the couch next to Italy, made eye contact and asked one simple question. "Vhy?" Germany's voice was laced with pain as he remebered the image of Italy ready to jump of the crumbling ledge. "Vhy vould you vant to end it all? To die, and leave us to vallow in pain at the thought that you died alone? As a complete mystery?" It was that moment Italy remebered. He remembered thinking of Holy Rome. He remebered running to the cliff. He remembered Germany stopping him, saving him. Italy began to cry as he latched on to Germany. He sobbed so many apolagies, but didn't want to explain why he tried to end it all. Of course, Germany asked why again. So Italy gave in. "When I was younger I fell in love. He was a small empire, one that wanted to rebuild what Grandpa Rome had lost. One day, he went of to war and I never saw him again, even after he promised to come back!" At this point Italy found it hard to continue, it was so hard through tears and chocked sobs. "About 50 years later I was told that Holy Rome had died in battle. Even then, I still waited. Over the years, I lost hope, and today marks the day he died. I just wanted to be with Holy Rome! Please don't hate me!" Germany was not expecting such a detailed and depressing story from Italy, he would have assumed he was scared or ran out of pasta. That was when he wrapped his arms around the shaking boy, holding him, telling him everything was going to be fine. Germany wasn't ever going to let Italy try something like that again, and Italy wasn't even going to think about trying something like that again.