Broken Promise
"Why is it that you run when I chase you, but you chase me when I run?!"
"I don't know…"
"You don't have to change, Holy Rome! I like you how you are!"
"Here, take this to remember me!"
"A push broom? Why would that make me think of you? …Oh."
"I feel like I should give you something in return… What do people normally give people they care about?"
"Well… a kiss!"
"A kiss? Well… I suppose."
"I've loved you since the 900's… Italia."
"Promise me you'll come back, Holy Rome."
"I promise."
. . .
Italy opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "Mmm… It's been a while… since I last had that dream."
Most of the Nation's dreams were confusing and full of color, due to himself, and his citizens, being creative and artistic above all else. It was rare for him to have a completely coherent dream, especially about the past. When it did happen… it was usually because something important on that day. Most of the time something bad.
With a sigh, he glanced at the calendar, then did a double take. Today was circled in red with a note. 'World Meeting Today!'
He froze, then his mind caught up with his thoughts. "Oh no. Nononononono! I can't go, I don't want to!" He didn't want to do anything, he didn't want to see any of the others. Even Germany.
Especially Germany. A thought whispered. His best friend, who looked so much like his lost love.
Maybe the others won't notice me missing. It was a false hope, he knew that for certain. If nobody else, Germany and Japan would notice. And Romano, of course. But his twin would understand. Maybe he would cover for him.
Italy sat up and gazed out of the window. The sky was reflecting his mood, of course. He was the land, and the weather usually reflected his mood. The normally blue and sunny sky was now cloudy with impending rain.
With some effort, he pushed himself out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He finished his normal morning routine, and wandered down to the kitchen. After browsing the food he had, he simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, then out. He wasn't very hungry, for once. Then again, he never was today.
His amber eyes turned to the calendar hanging on the wall. August sixth, the day that Holy Rome had died on, over two hundred years ago.
"Holy Rome…" A quiet whisper broke the silence.
A sudden knock on the door shattered the tranquil silence that had descended after the two words.
The brunette jerked in surprise, whipping around to stare at the door. Heart pounding, Italy made his way to the door. He unlocked it slowly and opened it cautiously. His eyes widened at the person standing there.
"G-Germany! Ve~ What are you doing here?" He was fighting to keep his voice steady.
The blue-eyed blond raised an eyebrow. "Picking you up. Ve agreed zhat I would, remember?"
The Italian laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I forgot! Hehehehe…"
"I see…" Germany shook his head with a sigh, unsurprised. "Vell, are you ready to go?"
"A-Actually… I'm really not feeling very good… I was just going to stay here."
The German immediately frowned. "Italy, you can't just miss zhe vorld meeting. It's too important to miss, too many zhings are decided and done!"
Since when? Italy though wryly. Today always brought out his sarcastic and cynical side of him that he ignored the rest of the time.
"I just… don't feel good." Go away, just accept my excuse and go away.
Germany glanced up at the sky. "No vonder it looks like it's about to rain." His gaze moved back down to Italy. "But you can't miss zhis meeting. I'm sorry zhat you feel bad, but zhis really is too important to miss. I'll give you tomorrow off, if you need it."
That won't do much good. I'll feel better tomorrow. Italy sighed, but lethargically agreed. He wouldn't win this argument. Plus, it was incredibly difficult to argue with someone who looked so much like him.
As he pulled on clothes similar to his normal ones, but in black, he glanced back out of the window at the gray sky.
He closed his eyes and allowed a single tear to trail down his face.
. . .
"Alright everyone listen to me! As the hero, I shall now assign your roles! You are–"
–all my backup. Italy finished in his head. America said the same thing every time. And right now–
"That will never work you bloody idiot!"
–Cue England. And there was–
"I agree with America."
–Japan, as always. Now–
"You always agree with him! Speak your own mind, aru!"
–Bingo China. Next was–
"Oh, let him support his friend! All will become one with me, da?"
–Russia, obviously. And of course–
"Ah, Angleterre. Let him speak."
–France couldn't keep his mouth shut. Italy sighed as everything dissolved into a fight. Glancing over at the irritated German, he sighed again and buried his head in his arms.
At the sensation of eyes on him, he raised his head and amber eyes met gold. Romano raised an eyebrow, worry in his gaze. Italy gave a slight shrug, feeling a headache coming on at the noise.
"Everyone shut up and sit down!"
The Italian flinched at the sudden shout of his friend. Germany was standing up after slamming his hands down on the table.
"Everyone gets one turn at a speech and eight minutes to complete it."
Italy rested his head back down and allowed his breathing to even out and his heart to settle from the startle. Slowly, the others' conversations faded away and he felt himself slip away into his own world.
The young dress-clad boy hummed as he swept the courtyard. He couldn't disappoint Mr. Austria or Miss Hungary! Maybe Mr. Austria would even let him listen as he played on the piano!
Italy paused as he saw the front gate open and a small figure slip in and close it behind him.
"Ve~ Holy Rome!"
The figure froze, turning around slowly in surprise. "I-Italia!"
Italy felt a pang of loss as he stared at the boy in the black cape. "Holy Rome…" His voice barely reached a whisper.
Somewhere, a bell tolled. Once, twice, three times it rang.
The other tilted his head in confusion. "Italia…?"
"Italy!"
The brunette's head whipped up and his eyes met blue ones… so similar to the small boy in his dream. He vaguely heard London's bell tower tolling, the bell that had somehow reached his dream, as he felt a tremor go through him and suddenly it was hard to breath. He just needed to get away had to get awaygetawaygetaway!
Italy lunged to his feet and raced away. Bursting through the doors he ran down the hallway.
Back in the room most of the counties were staring at the door in confusion and surprise, with four countries being the exception.
"What… just happened?" America's voice was filled with bewilderment.
"Veniciano just had to get away from everyone. I'm amazed he came at all." Surprisingly, it was Romano who answered.
"Oh… Today is…" France stopped and a weight seemed to fall on him. His shoulders slumped and his face fell.
"Yeah. August sixth."
England looked back and forth between them. "What's so special about today?"
"You all know about zhe Holy Roman Empire, correct?" Austria spoke up.
Germany frowned in thought. "It sounds familiar."
"It vas made up of zhe territories of present-day Germany, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, Czech Republic, Austria, Slovenia, Belgium, and zhe Netherlands as vell as large parts of Poland, France and Italy."
"I remember him," Switzerland added his two cents. "He was only in control of Liechtenstein and I for a little while."
"Right," Hungary agreed. "He was in control of those countries at his strongest. When he died, he was only in control of core German territories and smaller parts of France, Italy, Poland, Croatia, Belgium, and the Netherlands."
"Huh, history lesson. So what's so special about him?" America raised his eyebrow.
"He and Italy vere… close," Austria explained.
"That's an understatement," Hungary sighed.
"Ja. I remember zhat vhen Holy Rome came to visit me, all he ever talked about vas Italy. It vas 'Italia' zhis and 'Italia' zhat," Prussia smiled wistfully at the memory.
America tilted his head to the side slightly. "Uh huh… So what happened?"
France flinched, folding his hands in his lap and looking down. "Holy Rome… Did what we've all tried to do at one point or another in history–expand territory and take over other countries. He started with me, but his army was defeated by my own Napoleon in the Battle of Austerlitz. I… was the one who killed him." France closed his eyes. "August sixth, 1806. The dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire."
"Italy forgave you," Hungary murmured.
"I know. That doesn't mean I've forgiven myself, for what it did to him."
"O…kay? So this Holy Rome and Italy were close friends… and Italy is still really upset over the fact that he died?" America looked slightly surprised.
"No… It's more zhan zhat, isn't it?" Germany looked to Austria for confirmation.
"Correct." Austria nodded at Germany. "It vas a great deal more zhan zhat."
"Hmm? What do you mean, aru?" China was frowning.
Austria shook his head. "I don't zhink zhat you understand zhe relationship between Italy and Holy Rome. The vere more zhan friends. Zhey loved each other."
"What?" England raised an eyebrow.
"It's true." Hungary agreed. "Holy Rome loved Italy long before he left, though Italy didn't know it. And, though neither knew it at the time, Italy loved him too. Holy Rome confessed right before he left."
Austria sighed. "He told Italy zhat he vas leaving for var, and Italy tried to convince him to stay. Vhen he failed, he gave Holy Rome his push broom, and told him not to forget him."
"Push broom?" Russia interrupted.
"Yes, push broom. Italy vas a servant at my house at zhe time." Austria answered, crossing his arms.
"Holy Rome said something along the lines of–'But I have nothing to give you. What do people usually give to people they care about?' and Italy responded with, of course, 'A kiss!'" Hungary smiled sadly.
"Typical Italy," Germany murmured.
"Indeed," Hungary sighed, glancing out of the window. "I hope he's okay…"
"Maybe we should go look for him." The quiet voice was, for once, heard, thanks to the silence of the room.
Everyone started in surprise and looked at the unfamiliar voice. The polar bear the blond nation was holding looked up at him. "Who are you?"
The quiet nation sighed and opened his mouth to answer, but was beat to it.
"He's Canada!" Prussia and America announced in unison.
Canada blinked in surprise for a moment, then smiled. "That's right. As I said, we should probably go look for Italy."
"That's a damn good idea. Who knows what that idiot could do while he's like this," Romano spoke up.
"Yes… but where would he go?" Spain was frowning at the cloudy sky outside.
"Hmm… maybe…" France trailed off, then continued. "I think I have an idea."
. . .
Italy sniffed as he sat down in the meadow. It was a small place in a forest in the eastern part of France, out of the way of anything major. In the center of the meadow was a gravestone. It was simple, about waist high with a normal semi-oval shape. It had Holy Rome's name on it, along with how long he ruled.
Italy wiped away his tears and managed a smile. "Ciao, Holy Rome! It's been a year, huh? Time really does fly…"
He kneeled down in front of the stone, setting the mixture of forget-me-nots, red roses, and white lilies. "Here… I brought you some flowers. You always did like flowers… especially lilies."
He pushed himself back and sat cross-legged in front of the stone, just looking at it. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift, remembering better times. Back when he was a kid, when everything was so clear and white… so pure and beautiful. Now… after two hundred of wars and pain, Italy knew better. They thought he didn't, but he did. All too well, he knew. He could still remember the feel of the battles of the past, could still hear the songs of the Italian resistance from WWII.
"Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao," the brunette sang under his breath, with a bittersweet smile on his face.
"I wonder… Whose side would you have been on? Would you have been one of the Allies? Or would you have been with us in the Axis Powers? No, wait, I know the answer to that. Neither! You would have been a side of your own! And I would be right there beside you. Never running, or surrendering. I would be at your side, supporting you in any way that I could. I wonder what you would think of Germany… And what he would think of you. I think you would have gotten along really well! You are a lot like each other… You even look alike! Blond hair, and those beautiful blue eyes…"
Italy stared up at the sky, comparing the two. Germany was who he would imagine as a grown up Holy Rome, and sometimes he wondered at the similarities. A thought that had been growing in his mind for a while pushed itself forward. What really happened when a nation died? Prussia was still alive, thanks to New Prussia in Canada and various 'German' families who still considered themselves Prussian. But Rome, Germania, Ancient Greece, and Holy Rome were all dead. What happened to them? Their minds, bodies, and souls? Rome had made several appearances in WWII. On the island, and with Germany.
Italy had pretended to be asleep while the two of them had talked, and had heard everything. He'd had to suppress a smile when his grandfather had teased his best friend, and his parting words had had a profound effect on the brunette Italian. After Holy Rome, he saw the meaning in Rome's words immediately.
But if he could still come… then what about Germania and Holy Rome? Why had Prussia and Germany never seen Germania? And… Why had Holy Rome never come to him? If he could… then why? How did it work? What happened to them?
The Italian had thought of reincarnation, but… he was scared. If he got his hopes up, and Germany wasn't Holy Rome… no. It would hurt too much. He didn't dare. Reincarnation wasn't possible. Germany wasn't Holy Rome. His feelings were safer that way.
Italy closed his eyes, imagining the tiny blond nation's face, hearing his voice, remembering the feel of their intertwined hands, feeling his lips against the other's.
I've loved you since the 900's.
Hot tears gathered in his eyes. "Holy Rome…"
A sob forced its way from his throat and he leaned forward, unfolding his legs and pressing his forehead and hand against the grave. The Italian's whole body shook with the sobs emerging from his throat.
He felt arms wrap around him and pull him close, allowing him to bury his face into their shoulder. The person smelled like tomatoes… tomatoes and pizza.
"Fratello," Italy whispered. The arms tightened slightly as he clenched the back of Romano's shirt with his hands.
"Oh, Italy…" Another arm wrapped around his shoulder. He caught the slightest scent of flowers. Hungary.
He fought to control his raging emotions. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. In, out, in, out.
He pulled back, wiping his eyes. "I–I'm okay. I'll… I'll be fine."
"Italy…" Hungary was staring at him with concern.
"I'll be okay, Miss Hungary." I always am.
Italy took another deep breath, then let it out and turned back to the grave. He could feel the others' eyes on him, but he ignored them in favor of kneeling down in front of the gravestone.
I've loved you since the 900's.
I'll love you forever, Holy Rome.
. . .
Meh ending is meh. I couldn't figure out a good way to end it, so there you go.
Fratello- Brother
I think the HRE/Chibitalia is adorable. And so is Gerita. So yeah. Here it is.
Yeah… I really have nothing to say to this one… Oh!
I was listening to very sad music while writing this. What music?
HetaOni vocal music by Sapph on YouTube. And A Thousand Years. And Bella Ciao (Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart, anyone?).
Yeah… sad music for a sad theme.
That's all~!
Ciao, everyone!