Dear diary, sometimes I wonder if Holy Rome was only a dream…

Italy closed the book he was looking through, it featured memories of when he was little and happier with… him.

He had this way about him; it was adorable how shy the little black clad boy was around the Italian and how he did these little things for him every day mostly.

"Veh~ I miss those days," Italy mumbled under his breath before standing up, placing the book into the spot it had left and headed out from the ancient Roman styled library to head up to his bedroom.

The room was decorated differently than one would think of him. Italy's house in Venice was brightly coloured, much like a painter's pallet, and it tended to amaze everyone that stepped inside. His bedroom, however, was rather dark. Black, midnight blue and a dark blood red, it coated every wall and was the scheme of every piece of furnishings. The bed was a four poster in mahogany with red drapes that he tended to let down, veiling his vision of outside the cosy bed, the covers were in the same red with white sheets underneath.

Around the room was blue furnishings; chairs with blue colour, a sofa to match and a midnight rug laid out with a mahogany coffee table on top.

Italy looked around, gave a sigh while falling on top of the bed, eyes closing as he was hugged by the plush covers. His mind whirled around in a daze, flashes of images displaying on his closed eyelids as if he was in a cinema. A wild blur of colours roughly lulled the nation into sleep in which he fitfully dreamt.

Little Chibitalia was just returning to Austria's house after filling the little pail with fresh spring water before seeing Holy Rome just a little ahead, holding a canvas in his small hands.

"Hm?" Chibitalia turned his body over as he caught full sight of the young nation.

"Ah…" Holy Rome blushed gently, looking down at the canvas he was holding.

"Hm?" Chibitalia repeated again, looking closely at the conflicted boy before he registered what was going on and put the canvas behind his back, blue eyes going wide.

"Good morning, Holy Rome!" The excited boy exclaimed, hurrying towards his childhood love.

The boy in black leaned forward, looking slightly tormented, as he shouted, "S-Stop!"

Chibitalia stopped dead in his track, mouth forming the tiniest 'o' shape. "Huh?"

"Why do you run when I chase you and yet chase me when I run?"

"Holy Rome…"

"Listen, Italy. There's one thing I need to tell you." The boys eyes were tinted in sadness as the loud marching of soldiers caught Italy's attention. Looking up, the nation saw many men moving from the stone archway.

"I-I'm sorry about everything," his face turned down, hands still holding the canvas as dullness clouded the normally bright blue. "I have to leave, so you can feel at ease."

"Wh-What do you mean?" Chibitalia had left the pail on the ground a few steps behind, hands in front as looking at the saddened boy.

"I mean exactly what I said."

At the moment, two men turned around, dressed in a tan green tunic and brilliant red capes. "Holy Rome, we'd better get going."

Holy Rome turned slightly, his sight never fully leaving Chibitalia's. "Okay," he then turned back, a slightly hardened setting of his face. "See you, then. Take care."

With those words, Holy Rome and the two guards turned around to march off with the rest of the army before the tiny voice interrupted Holy Rome's movements for the briefest moment.

"Ah… Are you really leaving?" No answer was given. "No… I don't want you to, Holy Rome. Wait! Wait! Oh no! What should I do?" His little hands waved, trying to grab the other's attention. "Holy Rome!"

Tears cascaded down Chibitalia's cheeks as he tried to shout for his childhood love, the bonnet making his voice sound a little croaked. This finally made the black dressed boy turn around to find the Italian holding his beloved push broom with big tears welled in his eyes.

"I… I'll give this to you. This… Think of it as me and take it with you, Holy Rome." The broom was very simple, nothing big or extravagant, just a little wooden broom with thick grey bristles.

This surprised the little boy, blue eyes widening in delight. "A push broom… Why are you giving me such a thing?"

Because I love you, Holy Rome. It was what Italy wanted to say, with all his heart and was about to before Holy Rome gasped.

"Italy…" the boys eyes turned softer, more gentle as he whispered the name, taking steps toward the nation in the green dress to reach forward and grab hold of the broom. "Thank you. I accept your feelings."

Chibitalia let out a soft smile, saddened though it may be. The wind blew, causing their clothing to flutter about, a sweet bitterness to the invisible wave.

"Well then, I'll give you something, too. What do people do for someone they like at your home?"

He… Likes me? The little nation thought as soft words left his lips. "K… Kiss, I think."

A faint blush played on the black dressed boy. "I-I see."

He lent forward, whispering softly. "I've always liked you since the tenth century, you know."

Then, in a daze at those words, Chibitalia left small and gentle lips press against his while a hand curled around his arm to pull him in closer. For a moment all Italy could do was freeze up in shock, his mind whirling around the fact that Holy Rome –his first ever love –actually liked him in return. Slowly, Chibitalia relaxed, a few lone tears escaping as he wished that this moment could last forever. It was bittersweet however when Holy Rome pulled back.

"R-Really?" He needed to know, so badly.

"Yes really. I'm not lying."

Chibitalia perked up a little, smiling ever so gently which in return caused Holy Rome to smile softly. "I'm happy to hear that."

"W-Well, see you, Italy. When the war is over, I'll definitely come to see you…"

The dream started to waver as Italy felt someone shaking at him.

"You stupid idiot, get the hell up!"

Italy blinked his eyes open, glaring up at his brother. "What do you want, Romano?" Contrary to popular belief, the north half of Italy was a much meaner person upon waking up.

"You were crying and screaming in your sleep, fratello." Romano's darker hazel eyes were full of concern for his little brother.

"I-I was?" Italy raised a hand to his cheek, finding it wet. "What was I screaming?" He asked, looking at his moist fingertips.

"That 'he lied, he's a liar. He never came back.' Do you want to talk about it?"

Italy shook his head, moving to sit up with his knees against his chest.

"If you do, I'll be downstairs cooking a nice big bowl of pasta."

Italy lifted his head. "With lots of fratello's special tomato sauce?"

Romano nodded. "Si. Si, fratello. I'll make the sauce."

"Grazie," Italy gave a soft smile which he kept up until he was sure Romano would not turn around and was downstairs.

His head dropped back onto his knees, a small hiccup leaving him as he allowed tears to fall down his cheeks and fall to the bed covers.

"H-Holy Rome… Wh-Why didn't you c-come back?" Italy whispered into the empty, quiet room while sobs racked him. "I-I've been w-waiting all this t-time… Were y-you just a dr-dream? Please… T-Tell me…" He lifted up his head, eyes becoming puffy from the crying, bloodshot from the salty sting before he let out a semi-loud wail.

"Holy Rome! Don't tell me you were just a dream!" Italy screamed, pretty sure his brother could hear him from the kitchen yet he gave no thought as he went back to crying large, heartbreaking sobs.