/whispers into your ear
IIIIIIII ooooowwwwwnnnn nnnnnooootttttthhhhiiiiinnnngggggg
It seemed as if it was only yesterday, all those years ago.
"Holy Rome!" A childish, feminine voice rang throughout the quiet fields. Wind pushed his blond hair from his eyes as he strode towards his beloved Italia. "I-Italy! What are you doing here?" His voice was coated with confusion. "You'll get in trouble if you don't finish your chores! Did you get lost? Are you hurt? Do you want me to-" Soft laughter interrupted him, a warm hand in his, and the scent of flowers filled his nose. "Oh, don't worry Holy Rome, I came here to see you!" He looked down at the purple flowers, petals flowing in the wind. "I picked these for you, I hope you like them." A hand in 'hers' and sweet words like music in 'her' ear.
"Thank you."
Feliciano stared at the wilting flowers in the windowsill. It seemed like everything he tried to do was never good enough. He had watered them, put them outside, sang to them, anything he could think of to make them grow. He moved his hand to one of the petals, and quickly drew back as one of the petals broke off and fluttered downwards. He sighed, deciding to give them fresh water and place them in a spot with a bit more sunshine.
Sunshine. The sun had been bright that day.
"Swear to me you'll return, won't you?" The 'girl' dressed in green begged, eyes brimming with tears. "Promise me you'll be safe!" And he did. He told her he loved 'her', and sealed the deal with a kiss. A happy parting, and both had hoped a happy reuniting.
But promises can't save lives.
Feliciano grabbed a pitcher and filled it halfway, removing the plant from it's vase and emptying out the water. The auburn haired Italian poured the water down the glass, watching the water flow down the side like a waterfall of tears.
He had been crying that day.
"You should stop wasting your time, you've been hurt enough haven't you?" Francis stood, grunting in pain as his bandages moved in rhythm with his body. "The Holy Roman Empire is dead, you should just go home."
"Eh?"
"You heard me. Holy Rome is dead and gone, and he isn't coming back." He said it nonchalantly, but his eyes told the truth. Regret was what he had felt right then, regret and guilt.
"Y-You're," Feliciano stuttered, trying to find the words. "You're lying-" a dark, bloodstained fabric hit his face. He looked down, confused thay first, horrified the next.
It was Holy Rome's cape.
"He's dead Feliciano. Dead." The words pierced his skull, hurting each syllable. "I know it because I-" Francis couldn't keep it together anymore, "because I killed him!"
Feliciano put the flowers back into the vase, setting them on top of a table sat beside a window, which view was overlooking the beautiful town where Feliciano was currently staying at. He often moved, it was important for a country to hide his/her status from everyone but their superiors. Countries never aged, so in order for the humans to not become suspicious, countries constantly moved, not returning to the previous town for a couple of decades. But, Feliciano liked this town a lot, and planned to stay another few years before looking into another town. Countries were immortal after all, and could never die of sickness or old age.
But that was not entirely the case.
"A country can only die if his or her own culture dies!" Francis tried to wipe away the tears. "Holy Rome never had an official culture, so it was easily destroyed!" He looked over to Feliciano.
"Napoleon told me to shoot, so naturally I did what I was told, and shot him dead to the ground." The auburn had tears running down his cheeks, eyes in disbelief.
"You must hate me right? Of course you do, everyone does! The French, as yes, that's me! You must think I'm a good for nothing piece of-"
Feliciano slapped him across his face.
"Shut up." He said, "shut up, shut up, shut up!" He looked up into Francis' eyes, blue eyes meeting brown. "I won't allow you to talk shit about yourself! It's obvious you didn't want to hurt me or Holy Rome, and you must know how this feels! You yourself had to witness the death of the one you loved, right?" Painful memories shot through Francis' mind. A girl. Screaming. Flames. All these things happened in a single day to a single girl, a girl he loved more than life itself, and her life had slipped away so painfully that all the blond could do was cry.
"Francis'," Feliciano's voice oddly quiet, "there's a part of me that want nothing more than to kill you where you stand." Francis gasped, looking down at the younger who was clinging to him, and had his face buried in his chest. "But you didn't stab Arthur, nor did you want this to happen." He looked up, the fakest smile stretched across his face. "And more importantly, I forgive you."
"Bullshit!" Francis hugged the smaller, his slightly muscular frame squeezing the life out of the auburn. "Nice try Feliciano, but even a child couldn't fall for that."
And all Feliciano did was cry.
Feliciano sat on the porch of the house, watching cars go by at insane speed limits that made them look more like blurs then cars. The wind blew through his hair, and Feliciano took a sip of his drink.
"What lovely weather, so sunny," Feliciano thanked God that Lovino was at Antonio's, as salty tears fell onto the ground. "Lovi would call me a crybaby," He sniffled, brushing the tears aside as more fell down from his eyes. "But he would also comfort me, what a nice big brother I have…" he looked at the cloudless sky, sun bright and yellow on this summer day.
It was August 6th after all. And as much as Feliciano hated to admit it, it had been sunny that day.