He blinked as the man in front of him sighed in relief, running a hand through his slick blonde hair. "At least you're okay, right Italy?" Looking down, he saw that their hands were intertwined, and his hands felt so achingly familiar, like he'd held them all his life. The gloves he wore made an angry fire flare in his stomach and his face twist slightly in jealousy. I'm the only one who's allowed to touch his hands, he thought bitterly, suddenly adopting a surprised gaze at his own posessive feelings.
Flickering his eyes into icy blue ones, he gained an uncomfortable expression as the man looked so tenderly at him, a small frown painted on his pale face. Like a colorful clown with a frown and tears running down its face, it looked wrong. Out of place. Bad. Something to be changed. He lifted trembling hands to the man's face, watching as amusement and worry mixed on the formerly loving face, frown growing longer. He touched the man's lips, pushing up on the corners, standing in his booted tip-toes. He let go, accomplishment evident on his face when the smile remained, standing down as he lowered his hazel gaze.
"Sorry," he muttered, blush creeping onto his face. He shook his head. He didn't even know his own name, why was he forcing random people to smile. He cleared his throat, nervously shifting his feet on the dirt road. "Excuse me for asking, but... who are you?" Silence followed his question, thick and overpowering. Like French colone. He glanced upwards, face still lowered in embarassment. Shock plastered over the pale face, eyes wide, emotions flying through them like a flickering candle, mouth unhinged as his hands, previously frozen in the air, fell limply by his sides. "Are you okay?" His voice was quiet and dampened by confusion.
His words melted the frozen man, making his jaw snap shut. Paranoia flashed through his very expressive eyes, his fingers twitching as he grabbed the amber eyed male's wrist, marching in the opposite direction. He thought about struggling, but decided against it, choosing instead to trail obediently behind the stranger. If he were to kill me, he would've done it when I was defenseless. And he certainly wouldn't have let me touch his face. Willing away the flush he was sure would appear, he turned his attention to the buildings. They were small, mostly shops filled with trinkets and souvenirs, though a house or two could be seen in the distance. The shops, hardly anything to be proud of, were tiny and bland, painted an off-white color with grey trim above the doors and windows.
"Hello, Feli," called more than a few elderly women, waving to him while smiling kindly. A couple of men gruffly greeted him, making sure to steer clear to the man that was leading him along like a disobedient puppy at the park. He certainly felt like one. He awkwardly waved back, a sweet smile on his face that made a few girls swoon and sigh, doe-like eyes facing him, devouring him like a piece of chocolate.
"Why are those girls staring at me?" he questioned once they left, the girls standing in groups at the edge of town, all frantically waving goodbye, a few even crying at the prospect of him leaving. He felt the gloved hand tighten angrily around his wrist but ignored it, eyes staring imploringly at the back of the man's head, feeling the urge to skip along side him. After a few moments of stifling silence his companion let out an irritated sigh at his resilience, loosening his grip slightly.
"Your admirers," he answered, spitting the words out like poison. "Girls- specifically teenagers and widows- flock to flirt with you, saying such annoying things like 'I feel so safe in your arms'" he mimicked a woman's voice, accent blurring in strangely. "and 'You're so brave- going off into war. You poor thing.'" He marched determinedly ahead and, even though Italy- the name still felt weird; Feli slipped off the tongue much better- Feli couldn't see his face he instinctively knew the man was frowning, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a grim line.
He hummed in acknowledgement, watching the flowers growing on the side of the road sway with the breeze, as if they were dancing. Sure, feet shifting and barely moving, but still dancing. Kind of. Almost. Not really. He sighed, gaze moving to the dark green uniform the man wore. He skipped lightly, feet grazing across the ground. "What's your name? You seem to already know mine, so what's your's?" He resisted the sudden urge to play with the man's hair all of the sudden, ceasing his momentary skipping as he walked behind the other male, awaiting an answer.
"Germany." His- Germany's, he forced himself to think. Germany's Germany's Germany's- responce was quick and clipped, dripping with seriousness. "And, if you haven't figured it out yet, you're name is Italy-" Feli cut him off.
"Feli," he said with out hesitation, "I wish for you to call me Feli while I'm still clueless," panting lightly as his legs began to shake with exaustion. Thankfully, Germany seemed to be a mind reader, leading him gently to a bench on the roadside to rest. He felt so much more tired when sitting and ignored Germany most of the time they sat, absorbed in their own thoughts and to nervous to talk to one another.
"You made it," Germany spoke suddenly, earning a questioning "hmm?" from Feli. He elaborated. "We usually run or walk up and down this road, you usually running off and flirting with 'your admirers,'" he used two fingers on each hand to symbolize quotations, "and leave me to try to find you." Relaxing, just a hint of tension being let off his shoulders, he went on. "Last time, you ended up at Romano's house." Seeing Feli's confused glance, he explained. "He's your older brother, obsessed with tomatoes, and has a man named Spain for a lover. At least according to Spain, they're lovers. Romano doesn't like me, so we don't talk often." Rubbing his chin as though comforting a punch to the face, he delved into his thoughts once again.
A few minutes later, when he stopped panting, he stood, not quite seeing Germany's shocked expression as he walked a short ways down the road, stopping as he waited for Germany to catch up. He did, and they were off once more, although this time a small bit quicker than before. They walked side by side, Feli asking questions while Germany answered, and then repeated the information given to him, Germany occasionally correcting the names and dates he answered wrong. They did this until dusk, leisurely walking in the dark, listening to the crickets serenade each other with their chirps.
The rocks on the road, very few and far between, crunched under their boots, nearly completely in coordinated sync. Germany, Feli, Germany, Feli, Germany. It all felt so familiar; the chirping, the lulled conversation that swayed like the ocean waves, the gloved hand lightly brushing against his own. "Umm," he began uncomfortably, Germany's eyes on him and his full, undivided attention. "Were we, by any chance, lov-" He was cut off by a howl, long and deep-throated, belatedly realizing they had strayed off the path some time ago. He panicked, opening his mouth to let out a cry of fear, only for it to be covered by a large hand.
"Don't talk, don't move, don't do anything; they can hear you." His erratic breathing calmed as Germany held him. In the dark of the night, he could almost pretend that they were laying in bed, Germany holding him as the thunder rumbled, shaking the entire house, whispering sweet nothings as the storm writhed and moaned above them. In the dark of the night, he could pretend the silvery gaze of the wolf was just his nightlight. In the dark of the night, he could pretend this was just a nightmare. In the dark of the night, he was falling, tripping, tumbling, a loud voice calling his name.
"FELICIANO!"