I gasped as I woke up from yet another nightmare. Why did they keep coming back, I thought I buried those memories a long time ago.

"Feliciano, are you okay?" Germany asked as he rolled over to face me. I guess he had gotten used to me sneaking into his bed at night. It's not that I would ever tell him, but I needed somebody to be beside me to chase away all the bad memories of my past. I just let him think that I was just a carefree person when in reality, I was trying to hide from myself

"I'm sorry I woke you up, I just had a nightmare about England making me pasta." I lied as I shivered from the memory of my actual dream and blinked away tears. For once, I was thankful that it was dark so he wouldn't see me at my weakest.

"Whatever. Now, if you would be so kind, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BED!" Germany commanded as he yanked the blankets off of me.

Guess he wasn't used to it...

******Time Skip******

I sat on the edge of my own bed in Germany's house, mulling over my dream. It was a very painful memory that kept coming back to haunt me. Ever since France told me that Holy Rome was gone, I've tried to hide all the pain I felt. Yet, in my dreams, I was still haunted by our final goodbye.

There was so much I should have said, something I should have done to keep Holy Rome from going to war. I didn't think that countries so young could die, I didn't try hard enough. People told me it wasn't my fault, that I was still so young and couldn't have possibly known what could happen.

He was the one thing that kept me going while I was trapped with Austria and Hungary. He kept me happy when I was feeling the lowest. Then, it was all ripped away from me.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and stared at the wall. Germany acts so much like Holy Rome, that it is painful to even look at him. Everybody wonders why I cling to Germany even though he puts me through hellish training. I won't tell anybody, not even my brother, the real reason.

I put up with the training because it keeps my mind occupied. When I was still young, I would cut myself, on my hips so that nobody could see, for every day that I thought about Holy Rome. Then, Romano found out and forced me to stop. The scars are still on my hips, to serve as a reminder that I should have done more.

Rumours went around about my cutting. So, I put up a bubbly façade to fool everybody into thinking that everything was fine, that I had finally put the past behind me. Then I met Germany.

Germany was so grumpy and mean, I couldn't stand him at first. That is why I stayed close to him, to punish myself. After a while though, we became friends. It might be because of his remarkable resemblance to Holy Rome. One day, I asked him about his past to kill a suspicion that had been eating away at my mind. Germany told me that he remembered none of his childhood, which only made the suspicion burn stronger.

Could he be Holy Rome? Is it possible that Holy Rome didn't die, that he just lost all of his memories through a terrible accident? I couldn't ask anybody because that would mean that I would have to tell people about my doubts. I'm too scared that the world would condemn me for even thinking it.

But I must know, I must ask somebody. Would anybody help me? Would anybody even know the truth?

I laid back on the bed and put my hands behind my head. There must be a way to find out without letting the whole truth out. Maybe, I could ask somebody tomorrow. Somebody I don't know very well, so they can't judge me. Poland, or China maybe? I don't know...I guess I'll figure it out tomorrow.

A/N 1: If everybody likes it, I will continue to write...please review and let me know :) I will try to update whenever I get the next chapters written.