Italy rummaged through an old trunk that he found in his attic, not knowing what to expect. He didn't remember that he had the attic much less the trunk stored in there.
He found some old clothes and a couple of toys he may have once payed with when he was young, but still he wasn't sure. Then, at the very bottom of the trunk, lay a large canvas that rest benieth a cream color protective cloth. He pulled out the canvas to get a better look at it, and coughed slightly from the dust that flew into the air.
He pulled off the protective covering to see a painting of himself. He was really young, sleeping on a pillow. Then it came to him who gave him the painting. None other than his first love, Holy Rome. A sudden sadness had come over him, makeing tears form in the corners of his eyes. Holy Rome had promised to return to him centuries ago. Here it was, the 21rst century, and he still hadn't kept his promise.
Italy embrassed the painting and cryed-no sobbed into his sleeve. He put the painting against the wall and hugged his knees and remembered over and over again of the last time he saw Holy Rome.
Hours passed until Italy noticed that it was getting late, and retreated down his stairs, his alburn hair sticking to his wet face.
After changing into a pair of comfortable, light blue, pajamas, he had gone down the hallway to grab a blanket from his linen closet and decend down another flight of stairs to his livingroom.
The pasta-loving nation collapsed onto his couch, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, and burried his face in his arms.
Just at that moment, a knock sounded at his front door. He didn't want to answer it, but his body didn't obey his mind and answered the door.
Just outside his door stood the blonde haired, blue eyed, german. He smiled at Gemany sadly, and noticed for the first time how much he looked like Holy Rome. His blonde hair was combed back and his eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Holy Rome's. Italy's smile faded, and he hugged the confused German on his doorstep.
"What's the matter, Felici?" Germany asked, not knowing exactly why the Italian's embrace was so firm today. He looked at Italy's face that he mushed against his chest, seeing his eyes poor out tears and his cheeks red. "Did something happen?"
"No. Nothings wrong, Germany." Italy said and turned his face away. "Um... Do you want to come inside?" The blonde looked at him with a look of disbelief before he followed the Italian into the house. The German man kicked his shoes off of his feet before he continued into the building with the shorter man.
"Italy." Germany spoke calmly and cooly. "What's eating you?"
The Italian ignored his statement and opened his fridge. "Do you want some beer, Germany? I bought your favorite!"
"Italy!" The Italian froze. "What's the matter? You're hidding something from me and I don't like it one bit!" Germany looked at Italy through his deep blue eyes, and Italy could feel the intensity of his stare on his back.
The German's hands fell on Italy's sholders from behind and Italy started to babble. "I-'tknowwhybutI', Germany." The German's hands loosened a little and turned Italy to face him.
"What painting?" He asked.
"U-um...one that I got from my first love, Ludwig...a-and he kinda looked like you the last time I saw him..." Italy's eyes teared from the corners as he hugged the German man in front of him.
"Oh, Italy..." Germany said to him, running his hand through Italy's hair. "Wouldn't it have been easier to tell me at first?" Feeling the Italian nod into his shoulder, he pushed him back enough to look into his eyes. "May I have a look at it?"
Italy nodded and led him by the hand upto the attic. When they got up there, Italy sat on a box and pointed to the canvas that lay faceing the wall. The German took a look at it and his eyes widened in surprise.
"What's the matter, Germany?" Italy asked. The German looked at Italy sadly, with a smile on his lips.
"You know who gave you this, right Italy?" He smiled with a deep sigh, and spoke again. "I can't believe you kept it... all these years."
"Germany, I don't understand... What are you talking about?" He asked before the realization set into his brain. "Germany... Are you...Holy Rome?"
Germany smiled. "It's been over a century since I went by that name, but... yeah. I am."
Italy clasped his hands to his mouth before tears streamed down his face again. "Y-You kept your promise, Hol- I mean Germany." Italy looked at his hands with a huge smile on his face before he began to laugh. "All this time..." At that moment Germany walked upto Italy and cupped his cheek in his hand. "L-Ludwig?"
"Feliciano..." Germany leaned in and kissed him softly, just like that goodbye all those years ago. When they parted, Italy's smile was brighter than ever, and they leaned in for a deeper kiss.