Here's a really short Hetalia one-shot fanfic about how Italy won't eat his Pasta. I thought that I would kind of leave the ending up to you but I hope you still enjoyed it! Thanks!
Italy looked down at the full plate of Pasta. He didn't really know why but he wasn't excited that he had this Pasta, but at that moment, he just really didn't care about it. Acting almost like he had eaten to much Pasta. "What is wrong Italy?" asked Germany, practically yelling at him as usual. "Do you not like you Pasta?"
"No. It's just... I don't know," he responded to Germany, sadness in his voice. "Maybe I've had to much Pasta... I don't know," said Italy once more. Geramany had never seen Italy like this.
"Maybe if you eat your Pasta, you will realize that you still like it and want to continue eating it," suggested Germany in a calmer voice. "Or maybe you will never like Pasta again because you have eaten to much,"
Italy's head shot up. "Never liking Pasta again!?" he shouted, sending Germany to fall out of his chair. "I'm Italian. I have to like Pasta. It is my main food. Why would you say such a thing, Germany!?" he yelled putting his hands into his face and sighing.
Germany sat back on the chair, rubbing his head. "I'm sorry Italy. Then why don't you just eat your Pasta?"
"You don't understand Germany!" Italy yelled. "I cannot eat the Pasta because I've eaten to much Pasta, but because I am Italian that is all that I can eat! You will never understand!" Italy stood from the chair and walked out of the kitchen, screaming things in Italian.
'What has gotten in to Italy? He has never yelled at anyone, ecluding me, before". thought Germany. 'I should probably go console him'. Germany stood from the table and brought the little bowl of Pasta with him.