"Ok hey people since I'm too lazy to do the disclaimer I'm going to have Italy do it for me."

"PASTA!!!"

"Uhm Italy…disclaimer…if you don't mind…"

"HC does not own Hetalia or any of the characters! She just is a lover of Hetalia and yaoi and is currently paying me to do this!"

"I am?! With what!?!?"

"PASTA!!!!!!"

In the eyes of many countries, there really wasn't all that much too say about Italy. In fact none could say all too much about Italy. That is, none could say too many positive things about Italy. But when it came to complaints, there were far too many. The sad truth was Italy didn't have too many friends, in fact Germany, aside from being his best friend, was his only friend. Germany was the best friend Italy could ask for really. And even though stubborn to admit it, Italy was Germany's best friend as well. Even though he hated to admit it, he could tell you all sorts of things about Italy, especially the good things. He could tell you how when in a good mood Italy would cook pasta for him or try to get him to sing songs. To Germany it seemed, that Italy was always in a good mood. In the morning Italy would wake up and would usually make breakfast for himself and Germany. To kill time between breakfast and lunch, if there was no work to be done, would spend his time talking with Germany. To Germany, it was surprising how intellectual and interesting Italy's conversations with him were. They would talk about art, history, music, and so much more. At lunch, of course, Italy would make pasta usually light as to not ruin his appetite for dinner. Italy usually at four in the afternoon would be outside painting while singing joyfully to him. Italy would be sitting outside Germany's house, paint palette in one hand and brush in another, dancing to his own song, and stroking the brush as in some sort of dance. Italy's painting's were always beautiful and showed a slice of his joy and contentment with life. He even drew Germany a couple times and Germany secretly was beaming on the inside. After he finished painting, which was usually around six in the evening, he would prepare dinner, for himself and of course Germany.

No matter how many times Italy cooked dinner; he always stared as Germany took the first bite of food for reaction. Italy would always have the look of uncertainty and hopefulness every single night. And no matter how much Germany hated to admit it, he always found the look on Italy's face absolutely and utterly adorable. At first Germany always smiled at Italy and told him it was delicious, but Germany also found it amusing to tease Italy every once in a while. He would sometimes pretend to spit it out and act disgusted and Italy would look like he was about to cry. Of course Germany would start laughing and reveal he was only kidding and that Italy's pasta was indeed superb. In the evenings Italy would stay late and sing to unconsciously both of them quietly by a warm fire. Germany often fell asleep and would wake up with a blanket over him and a painful cold absence, subliminally wondering when Italy would show up.

But today something was the matter. Italy was not singing or painting. He showed no interest in making pasta and let alone talking. Italy, who would always come to Germany's house early in the morning, today came around noon. Germany was very busy and had really no track of time so he took no notice. By about two in the afternoon he realized something was wrong for one reason and one reason only. He stared blankly at the pile of papers on his desk and asked himself," I'm done?" He looked at the clock that confirmed that it was indeed only two in the afternoon.

"I'm always done at six but today two? How did I finish so quickly?" He then noticed another strange factor.

"…It's quiet…"

He listened very carefully and only heard the gentle blowing of wind and the ticking of a clock. At this time of day Italy was singing outside loudly painting. But today all he heard was silence. That's why he finished so early; it was so quiet that there was absolutely nothing to break his concentration. This was obviously not normal. He wondered absently if Italy was even in the house. He stood up from his desk warily and called out nervously.

"Italy?"

There was no response. A wave or nervousness brushed over him as he heard nothing.

"ITALY?"

He called this louder than the first time and still heard nothing. He began to worry since Italy always responded by the first time he called out his name. And if he was taking a nap the first call would have woken him up and he would have responded drowsily by the second time. But never, not ever did Italy not respond.

Germany opened the door of his office and looked into the hall. Empty. It was completely empty and barren. Germany didn't like it; it was making him even more nervous. He exited his office completely and went into the entry room where the couch and fireplace was. He still saw only empty. And the rest of the rooms were empty as well. The kitchen held no sign of Italy, as did the bed rooms, the bathrooms, and even closets. Germany became even more worried and started thinking of what could have happened to him.

"Other countries are always after Italy and he allows himself to be bullied so easily. He could have been captured so easily and could be being tortured right now! What if his house accidentally caught on fire while he was making pasta and he's stuck inside?! Oh God what if his older brother killed him to make himself the only Italy!?!!?!?"

Germany had transitioned from a state of worry to a cold sweat panic.

"Ok, if anything bad has happened to Italy his house would be empty! So the best thing to do would be to check his house right?!" He asked himself this as he was shoving his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and ramming his shoes on his feet. He burst through the front door and surprisingly also burst right into Italy's open arms.

Germany, not expecting this of course, lost his balance and they both fell over. Germany yelped a little bit while Italy fell silently. Germany tried to break the fall but didn't do much good. He closed his eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt and more importantly, hoped he wouldn't hurt Italy. When he felt the jolt of hitting the ground and the grass between his fingers, he opened his eyes to see Italy staring back at him with blank depressed eyes. Germany's face was red and he felt too awkward to move. So instead he chose to yell at him.

"Italy where were you?! I was worried!!!"

Italy just stared back into Germany's eyes with the same blank expression.

"I was here…" He said quietly and in a soft tone. Germany's hard expression softened and he looked questionably at Italy.

"You were here all day?"

"Yeah I was here since seven in the morning."

"Seven?! But surely I would have-"

"You were working and I didn't want to make Germany mad so I stayed outside and watched the sky…"

"But Italy if you came here at seven then you've been watching clouds for seven hours!"

"I guess I was thinking too…"

Germany noticed the sad and exasperated tone in his friend's voice, as he said this. It sounded as if Italy was actually sad and upset. Germany had only known Italy to be happy and joyful but never upset. This surprised him and made him worry even more than he had earlier. And that sad look in Italy's eyes, it almost broke his heart to pieces when he saw it.

"Italy…"

"Germany you're hurting me…"

Germany then noticed how they had landed. Germany was on top of Italy, who was smaller than he was, with his hands on both sides of Italy's shoulders. His knee however, for clarification his left knee, landed in a spot that was probably indeed uncomfortable. Germany's right knee landed on the other side of Italy's left so that Germany's knee was on the ground. His left knee however, was resting right on Italy's groin.

When Germany realized this his face went blank and red.

"I uh I uh uh uh…"

"Germany… you're hurting me…"

Germany quickly got off of Italy and sat on the grass next to him.

"Italy uhm I was just uh…"

Germany was far too stubborn to admit that he was actually worried about his friend Italy. Germany didn't want to admit that he was worried but he also didn't want to seem like a cold unfeeling jerk. Germany was trying to think of the right words to say to Italy but they weren't coming to his lips. He was trying to think of the right words to say when Italy heaved a sad sigh and sat up with his head down. And just as Germany was about to say what he thought was perfection, which was actually crap, he noticed something and a wave of fear swept over him.

Italy, sweet lovable Italy, who had never been sad a day in his life, had tears flowing over his cheeks.

Germany's heart was breaking into little pieces at the sight of this and his chest felt like it was imploding in on itself. Germany was at a loss at how to bring a smile of joy back to his dear friend's face. Italy just sat there with his head hung and more and more shimmering teas fell from his eyes and soaked into the earth. Germany longed for…for…

But instead of just longing and hiding what he wanted on the inside he finally gave up and surrendered his stubbornness and finally let his feelings flow.

"Italy?"

"Yes German-"

But before Italy could even finish those two words, filled with sadness and desperation, Germany was leaving a soft and loving kiss on Italy's soft lips.

Germany had locked away his yearning for Italy for far too long. He wanted to wake up not to an empty house, but to Italy lying next to him against his warm chest. He wanted to make Italy breakfast too and share every moment he could with what he wanted to call, his sweet lovable Italy.

All his emotions poured from his heart and into that kiss and Italy, though shocked and surprised felt something as well. He felt Germany's emotions and longing but he himself felt something quite different. As Germany was kissing Italy, Italy's mind immediately brought him a name.

"Holy Roman Empire…" And even more tears flowed over his cheeks…

To Be Continued…