"Zah training starts NOW!" Germany shouts at North Italy. Feliciano scrunches up his face in disdain.

"But I don't want toooo," he cries, darting the other way. For a lazy Italian, he's actually quite fast. Japan sighs as the not-too-bright country runs into a tree, falling unconsciously to the soft green grass. It's the same colour as your uniform.

Unsuccessfully, you stifle a laugh. Ludwig shoots you a glare.

"You sink zis is funny?" he asks frostily, his icy blue eyes flashing. You are unintimidated.

"Germany, you can't blame him. He was raised with pasta and love. Not anger and work." You roll your eyes, arching an eyebrow and looking at your nails. You wonder how your seemingly perfect Thursday is now filled with aching training.

Oh right, you think blandly. To be with Germany. The dude seriously can't take a hint. Every smile you threw at him was interpreted as a friendly gesture, nothing more. The vacation you took to visit him was basically a business meeting in his eyes. You made him wurst. Wurst. And still, his face didn't twist up into a happy emotion. All he said was "danke," with his same, angry, accent coated voice. Yes, Germans are basically geniuses. But when it comes to love for this guy... it's not in his dictionary. So, you stopped with the grins. If he didn't like them around Italy, he wouldn't like them around you, and went to a bitter sort of state.

It still doesn't change your feelings.

Japan gives another one of his signature-sighs. "I tink I'r go home and crean," he says, whispers really, walking his slow stride to his comfy little house. Now, it's just you, Ludwig, a very unresponding Feli, and the breeze reminding the two of you of the nature all around.

"It's such a nice time of year around here," you murmur, your best bet at striking up a conversation. Germany shrugs, and surprisingly, lies down the the grass. This is the first time you've ever seen him in a non-excersizing state. You stare at his perfect muscles through the black tank top he has on.

"Ja, it's okay." Your blood now begins to boil. The scenery is not "okay." It's gorgeous. It's perfect. A few bluebirds tweet happily on the branches, the smallest one singing a lovely little mating call. The trees are greener then they'll ever be, the tulips dotting the grass in warm colours, the sky as blue as Ludwig's eyes. And it's "okay?"

"It's 'okay?' That's all you can say? Just okay? DUDE. WHY CAN'T YOU TAKE A GODDAMN MINUTE APPRECIATE THE THINGS AROUND YOU INSTEAD OF WORKING ALL DAY? 'OH, ITALY, GO DO SOME PUSH-UPS. JAPAN, WRITE A PLAN FOR WHEN BRITAIN COMES TO INVADE YOU.' LOOK AROUND YOU! EVERYTHING'S BEAUTIFUL! YOU KNOW WHAT THEY HAVE IN RUSSIA? SNOW. THAT'S WHY HE ALWAYS HAS A SCARF. SO JUST TAKE A BREAK FOR FIVE MINUTES FOR ONCE AND APPRECIATE LIFE!" You take slow, steady breathes. The rant has left you feeling like you just ran a kilometre. You bang your head on the bed of grass, wishing it were a soft blanket of fabric. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Ludwig's look. It's a mixture of confusion, and something else you can't put your finger on.

"Maybe you're vright, (y/n)." His voice shocks you deeply. It's not mad or loud, just... tired.

"What?"

"I said you're vright." Ludwig puts his rifle down, and runs a hand through his slicked-back blonde hair. "I vurk too hard. But, I have to, when Italy's alvays in trouble, or my bruther has gotten into a mess again." The corners of his mouth raise, signifying an extremely small smile. "So I can't exactly 'relax.' But, Gott, it vould be nice to do so."

You flash him a grin. "So then let's relax." You pat his hand comfortingly. "See? Doesn't that feel nice?"

To your surprise, Ludwig laughs. It's bellowing and it makes you smile. So you laugh along too.

"Ja... it does actually feel nice." This is the kindest you've ever seen him. He looks serene, and peaceful, and... different.

You both lay on the grass for a good hour, staring up at the sky, the whipped creme clouds resting in it gently. You listen to the sounds of his calm breathing, and timidly, inch closer to him. You wonder if he notices. He cranes his neck to look at you, your faces so close.

Finally, you get up quickly, tightening your (h/c) ponytail. "Vhere are you going, (y/n)?" Germany asks, sounding disappointed you're not near him anymore.

"Out for a jog," you say, stretching out your legs.

His face falls. "But I thought ve vere relaxing."

"We were." You give a flirtatious grin. "But we can't afford another Italy on our hands." You giggle as he darts after you, running around the dirt path, squealing as he catches up to you, and pulls you into his strong arms.~