Farewell.

Sometimes it was the little words that hurt the most...

Italy wiped a large tear from his eye. Sometimes he would get like this. He would remember something from his past, re-live the pain, and then get depressed. Of course he could never show it. He was Italia Veneziano, he wasn't supposed to be depressed. He was the happy-go-lucky pasta lover that everyone knew and adored. Whenever he got into that mood, he would have to hide it. He would on put on a fake smile and say things like "ve" or "pasta", and nobody questioned him. Everybody thought Italy was the most cheerful country on Earth and there wasn't a single thing that could make him sad. But the truth was, he wasn't cheerful. He wasn't happy. He wasn't the Italy most people knew.

Goodbye.

His childhood was taken away the day Holy Roman Empire left him. He was broken, but he kept a straight face. He had to keep strong. With the help of his brother, , and Hungary, he got larger and became more successful. He turned into a "major" country, while he watched others wither away. So many people had died around him and Italy just watched; because he could never do anything to help. He was useless.

He winced at the name he's been called so many times before. Useless. Hetare. Inutile. He would just get in the way and mess things up. At least that's what they always said.

Whimpering, Italy looked around for his fratello. Seeing that the house was empty, he slowly walked over to his storage closet and reached for the light switch. Silently letting several tears fall, he turned on the light in the closet and searched for a certain box towards the back. Tossing aside several military uniforms, pasta boxes, and slightly rotten tomatoes, the country reached a medium-sized box labeled "Before Renaissance". He picked it up with slight effort and stumbled to the door, setting the box down on the floor outside the closet.

Italy crouched next to it carefully teared off the tape holding the box closed and slowly opened it. What he saw first made him go into a mental breakdown. Sobbing loudly, he picked up an oil painting of his childhood love.

"Holy Roman Empire," he whispered while stroking the picture softly. He remembered his sky blue eyes, golden blonde hair, his determined nature. He had wanted to get stronger, more powerful.

Italy regretted letting him go. If he had just agreed to join him, he could have protected him. He wouldn't have died. He hugged the painting tightly and wiped his eyes. The salty tears burned his face and fell to the floor, forming a small puddle around him. Dammit, why was he so stupid?! Why didn't he say yes?! It was his fault Holy Roman Empire fell, and he knew it. And all he was doing now was crying like a baby and being useless, like everyone said.

He immediately perked up when he heard a door slam shut. "Idiota! I'm home!" Oh, his brother was home. Standing up quickly, he closed the box, slid it into the closet, and shut the door at record speed.

"Bastard, I bought some pasta for you. You better be grateful, dammit, it's the expensive kind." Romano walked into the room with a bag full of pasta, tomatoes, cheese, and olive oil. He stopped in his tracks when he saw his brother sitting on the couch, unnaturally quiet and formal.

"Oi, idiota! What's wrong with you?!" He looked over at his brother, trying to look indifferent, but he let a look of worry cross his face. Italy had his head down so his reddish-brown hair was covering his eyes and his hands where folded in his lap. Even his usually happy, bouncing curl seemed to fall and curl slightly inward. He sniffed, while forcing a smile on his face, and looked up to his fratello.

"Nothing, Romano!" Italy felt his mouth twitch with fakeness and hoped his brother hadn't noticed. But of course he did. Romano set the bag on the floor and walked over to his brother. He grabbed Italy's face with both hands and observed it.

"Then why is your face all red? Why are your eyes all puffy? Why is your mouth twitching?" Romano stared his brother in the eyes. "Don't lie to me, Veneziano..."

Italy pulled his face away, and turned to the side. He had been caught. Romano heard small whimpering. Sighing, he looked around the room and saw the painting Italy forgot to put away.

"Idiota, you've been thinking about that bastard, haven't you?"

Italy suddenly stood up. He couldn't sit there and let his brother insult Holy Rome like that. "You-you...tomato-loving bastard! Don't say that about Holy Rome! He was the best friend ever! I loved him!" He collapsed on the sofa, sobbing again. Romano, surprised by his sudden outburst, stumbled back and fell on the floor. Okay this was not the brother he knew, and he was greatly concerned now. He crawled over to his brother and patted his back, gently but awkwardly.

"I miss him, fratello!" Veneziano cried in between hiccups. Romano sighed again and got up. He walked into the kitchen and took out his cell phone from his pocket.

"Yeah, bastard, just bring everyone. ...No, no, not...dammit, just get everyone's ass over here right now!" He hissed into the phone and ended the call. Italy looked up at his brother curiously, tears streaming down his face.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, no one. Listen, some people are coming over right now, so I want you to get your act together; go upstairs and change!" Romano glared at his brothers. Sure they weren't the best words to comfort a crying sibling, but it was South Italy, and his brother wasn't expecting much support. Italy nodded and ran upstairs.

After awhile, there was a knock on the door. Romano walked over and opened it, revealing several countries led by Germany.

"Hallo, Romano. Why did you need us so urgently?" He could tell Germany was trying to be polite, but was in fact actually quite annoyed. He bit his lip to avoid choking the blond country right there.

"It's Veneziano. He's been crying about Holy Roman Empire."Germany's eyes widened and he roughly pushed past Romano inside.

"Where is he?!" Romano suddenly realized that his brother had not left the restroom for forty-five minutes.

"Oh mio dio! He's been in the bathroom for the last forty-five minutes!" He cried and ran up the stairs towards the bathroom. Germany motioned to the other previously irritated, but now concerned countries to follow him as he dashed upstairs. When he reached the hallway, he was greeted with a angry Italian pounding on the door.

"VENEZIANO! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW. I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU ARE HURTING YOURSELF IN THERE-!"

"Move." Germany pushed him aside again and knocked on the door softly. "Italy, would you please open the door?"

"...Germany?" He sighed and put his forehead on the door. "Ja...please open the door for me, Italy." He replied gently.

"...No, you're just going to say that I'm stupid for this!" Germany looked at Romano who then nodded.

"I didn't want to have to do this." He stepped backwards a few steps, and then ran forward, slamming his shoulder against the door forcefully. The door almost immediately burst open due to his massive strength. The door swung open to reveal Italy on the floor with a knife in his hand.

"I'm sorry!" He sobbed, dropping the knife and throwing himself into his arms. Germany blushed for a second and then hugged the Italian back, rather tightly.

"Italy..."Germany sat down on the floor and pulled him off. He changed his position so that he was sitting cross-legged across from him, their knees almost touching. He reached across and wiped some of his friend's tears off of his face, and smiled warmly. "Italy, you are a wimp, an idiot, and a sissy." Italy frowned and looked down. "But, you are cheerful, friendly, compassionate, loving, caring, and wonderful." Germany gently grazed the area on the shirt where Veneziano's heart would be. "You are a splendid person, and you know that at heart. Don't blame yourself for Holy Rome. It wasn't your fault. Nothing could have stopped it. Don't think that ending your life would be a way to end your guilt. We all care about you, Italy, everyone of us." He motioned to the countries behind him. He then gently slid on a yellow bracelet onto Italy's wrist. Romano stepped forwards and crouched next to Germany.

He blushed a little. "Veneziano...uh, I know I might seem like an asshole to you all the time, but I love you, fratello. If you killed yourself, I don't know what I'd do. Grazie, fratello, for being there for me all those years and putting up with me for so long." Italy looked up, sniffling, and gave a small smile. He had never heard his brother say something like that before. It felt good to know that he really did appreciate him. Romano put a red bracelet on his brother's wrist before standing up.

Japan stepped forward. "Italy-san...I may seem to you that I am a little indifferent, but actually, I am quite fond of you. You always go sightseeing with me and I always learn new things from you. You are too wonderful of a person to be hurting yourself like this." He gave Italy a brown bracelet.

France was the next one to step forward. "Oh, Italy~. He hugged him tightly. "Don't do this to yourself. If you are hurt, who will cook with me? Certainly not the Angleterre?" Italy giggled and sniffed again. "Even though we are not blood-related, you have always been like a younger brother to me, and you hold a special place in my heart." He slipped a blue bracelet onto his wrist.

Surprisingly, England stepped forward, muttering an insult to France as he passed. He sat down in front of Italy, and blushed. The Italian flinched as he got closer, causing England to sigh. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you alright? I just wanted to say that you are a very good person and I also wanted to thank you..for always celebrating my birthday with me...You never let me spend it alone and..I...always wondered why, but now I know it's because you're so kind and cheerful, you never want to see others unhappy. Although we don't really know each other well, I would hate to see such an amazing person end their life so quickly." He looked away from him as he handed him a green bracelet and walked away.

One-by-one, each country came over and talked to Italy, and stated why he was special to them. By the time they finished, Italy's arm was full of several multi-colored bracelets. "W-what are these for?" He finally asked.

"Whenever you are feeling down, just know that each bracelet represents someone who cares about you, Italy." Germany explained, smiling at him. He was silent for a moment. Those moments turned into minutes. Those minutes turned into hours. All of a sudden...

"I love you guys so much!" Italy went around hugging everybody individually. "I didn't think anyone cared. That maybe I would be doing the world a good thing. But..." He burst into tears again, but this time, of joy. "I'm so happy!"

Germany let out a sigh of relief and chuckled. "I'm glad. Now, I'm a little hungry aren't you?" Italy nodded furiously. "How about we make some pasta and we can have a giant feast with everyone?"

"That sounds delicious. I want pasta!" He twirled around. Everyone started making their way into the kitchen downstairs. The whole time, several "ve"s were heard. And never did anyone think that one little syllable could make them so happy.