It was dark in the tent, nothing but the soft glow shining in from a small tear illuminating the space. It was so peaceful that night...so peaceful it made Italy afraid to go outside. Not that he wanted to, it was the first night that things had been calm enough that Germany hadn't taken post outside. He was supposed to be doing it, but after the blonde had fallen asleep next to him he just hadn't had the energy to move his eyes from the man's face, much less move his legs to leave the tent. He just wanted to watch him...
No one talked about it, in fact each nation avoided the conversation as if it were a plague, but everyone knew. They had all thought after the second war that this would be over with, but just as they had thought the first would end all wars it just never worked that way. Now here they were all fighting again, only this time no one seemed to be on anyone's side and each nation spent their time with the nation they didn't want to live without. It was their bosses' war after all, no one supported it, but that didn't matter to anyone anymore, their leaders wanted war and they got it. All they got to do was watch as the world was torn apart bit by bit...and they all knew; there truly would be no more war after this. No more war, because there would be no one left to fight.
They were as good as dead, and all Italy wanted to do in his last days, years, however long it took for his weak country to be destroyed for good, was be with Germany. He watched him seeming more attentive right then than he ever had before, just memorizing his face. It might be the last time he'd ever see Germany relaxed, even asleep. Soon their people would be killed in too many numbers for them to take, and it would take their toll on them.
There was a soft sigh, and Italy barely recognized that it had come from his own lips, he didn't care. He reached out slowly and very carefully brushed along the blonde bangs hanging in his face not noticing the tears that prickled and fell down his face any more than he had the sigh. Nothing reached him, he felt jaded but maybe he always had been and had never noticed because at least before he had held hope. Now there was nothing. Nothing but a man he'd longed for since he'd met him back during the First World War, and couldn't have.
He cursed himself, not for the first time, for not having ever told him sooner. He had wanted to, he really had...but as always he was too scared to ever really get anything accomplished. He was just as useless for himself as he was to everyone else, just as much of a letdown. He was supposed to be the best lover, and yet he couldn't even stand up to tell the person he was in love with how he felt. Now it was too late, even if he tried to tell him he would only hurt him more. If he accepted him, then they would mourn over lost time, and if he rejected him...well then what would life mean anymore?
That had always been what stopped him from telling him to begin with. He would be alone if that happened, and he couldn't take that. It was what had always stopped him; he wouldn't make it on his own. He just couldn't.
Italy didn't realize that blue eyes were watching him his eyes only focused on his own hand as it traced down Germany's face memorizing the strong jawline. That was, he didn't notice until a large hand covered his stopping it at his neck.
Light brown eyes rose to meet blue ones and he smiled softly looking as if he weren't doing anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't as if it were odd that he got touchy, and even if it annoyed Germany sometimes...at least he just thought he was this touchy with everyone. That way he never knew why he really did it.
"Why aren't you outside?" Germany's voice was rough from sleep and Italy just looked at him as if he'd been kicked before he sat up smiling at him again as if he weren't hurt. His heart was aching, and he wondered if it were normal to feel as though he couldn't breathe. Maybe it's just my people dying, he thought but there was a voice in the back of his mind that told him it was really because it was times like these that he didn't want to breath anymore. Tears began to fall faster down his face and he curled up a bit forgetting why he'd ever sat up to begin with. He couldn't think...it all hurt too much.
Strong arms wrapped around the smaller boy though slightly awkwardly as they rubbed his back but he didn't notice. Italy gripped at the fabric of his shirt burying his head into the man's neck soft tears falling and he curled closer. He wished he could get Germany to hold him like this when he wasn't crying...but at least the blonde wasn't yelling because he wasn't doing what he was supposed to. Maybe Germany realized it didn't matter so much anymore either. They could watch all they wanted, it wouldn't change anything.
"Ti amo..." His voice was soft and he froze for a moment after he said it thinking he was going to get a bad reaction... or maybe Germany would just think he was saying it as a good friend...
"I know." The German's voice was soft, and he pulled the small Italian closer letting the small boy relax against him. He sighed softly as big brown eyes looked up at him with surprise and slight fear and he shook his head cupping his cheek gently. "Ich liebe dich Feliciano."
Italy knew how romance worked, if not from his own experience then at least from listening to big brother France talk, and he knew when Germany kissed him he was supposed to melt into it. Only, when he felt those lips close over his own it seemed as if all he could do was sit there and listen to his heart pound in his ears his mind shutting down and everything in him thought he was just going insane. This couldn't really be happening...after so many years... He was just imagining it, but when Germany pulled back a soft embarrassed blush across his cheeks the knot that had started in his stomach loosened and he felt warm all over.
Everything prickled when he leaned forward kissing Germany again one arm going to wrap into the short locks letting them fall through his fingers as he ran them through it while the other hand stayed placed perfectly over Germany's heart. He wanted to feel it as it raced; he wanted to feel it just beat beneath his fingertips just to know that the blonde was still alive. For so long as that heart continued to beat, his own would never stop.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there in Germany's lap, didn't know how long he was kissing him, not even when the gunshots and the sounds of bombs began to go off around them again. Time was meaningless. The war was meaningless, but what did he care?
Let them have their war, he didn't care, for so long as he died in his arms then he couldn't have experienced or even imagined a better time in history.