For the past few weeks, Ludwig was planning on a very important moment, one that would change his life for forever. A soft smile, quick heartbeat, and countless prayers had accompanied him during that time— and they weren't gone yet.
Two days ago, he invited his boyfriend, Feliciano, to a week long summer getaway in the most exquisite hotel that had a beautiful water park and which, from there, was a six minute walk from the beach. The fun-loving Italian happily obliged. These kind of offers done by Ludwig were not very rare—and Feli (surprisingly) agreed to pay for every other trip— but he was never invited to one of this stature. Usually they would just take a few days trip to the Alps or Greece, so he knew something was happening when he was invited to a, quote : "...five star luxury hotel with 10:30AM breakfasts, $350 per night stays, plus a single pay-off of $1.000 for an all-inclusive membership (per person)... beautiful crystal clear beach six minutes away from the water park with 3-story slides..." (read from the website because he knew how much luxury hotels cost and begged to pay for at least 1/5 of the stay at the hotel. He ended up paying for 1/8).
The flight there was on 7th October, 2016, and the return flight was 15 October, 2016 (one day over a week). He calmed himself with the knowledge that they were both countries and that Ludwig served part-time as the German UN ambassador's right-hand man and made good money. Feliciano, was a country, too, and sometimes played the piano for an orchestra that travelled nationally for concerts. To make a bit of extra money, he painted— not in the new popular art style which people called 'modern art', but the older 'Renaissance' style. He did not believe modern art should be called 'modern art', but that a more suitable name would be "modern shit". Ludwig was obviously surprised when he heard the Italian angrily mutter a curse, but he knew that the topic of art was something his lover was very passionate about— and he specifically hated the modern stuff.
On the eighth, they arrived at the hotel. Germany was tired from the adrenaline rush in his veins that wouldn't cease and allow his avid mind to sleep on the plane. He envied the magical ability Feliciano had to sleep nearly anywhere, and slept on the plane as if he had lived there his entire life. He had been contemplating on whether he should get a double or a single bed bedroom, which he knew would be more convenient since Feli didn't sleep in his own bed anyways. In the end, he went for double beds because he didn't want to look strange at the hotel's check-in or to the courier that took their suitcases to their room, and after allowing them to 'settle in', showed them around the rest of the hotel. They soon found out that there were many different restaurants at the suite, consisting of Mediterranean cuisine, steak, Asian cuisine, European pastries and of course, Caribbean cuisine, and were all free (tips aside).
After the tour, they were taken back to their large room that had a balcony on it's west side. "Ludwig? You looka tired."
"Ja, I am. I can not sleep on planes, zhey are too loud for me to sleep," He partly lied.
Feli became concerned.
"You can sleep ifa you want to. We donta have to eat now."
He waved away the Italian's suggestion.
"Ve can eat first."
Italy's eyes closed, and eyebrows furrowed as he stood in front of Germany, who was sitting on a bed at the left of the room, and tried to look more ferocious and give himself a Germany-like appearance. He attempted to deepen his voice and cover up his Italian accent with a German one as he said: "Nein, you needa to sleep. Sleep is good for you. If you do nota sleep, you vill get sick." He caused Germany to smile and quietly giggle.
"Okay, okay," he said, smiling and pat the Italian's head. He then attempted to give himself a higher voice and Italian accent," I villa do what you say, cap-i-tan!" He saluted Feliciano. They were both equally bad at doing each other's accents. He still got a 'hehehe!' "How about I sleep, und you can go eat?"
Feliciano nodded. "Sure, but I will still be lonely without you."
"Oh, ve can order food to zhe room."
"That-a sounds great!" Italy smiled and stood fully erect, "Vee~ I'll go do that. You can sleep."
Ludwig nodded, changed his shirt to a black tank top, took off his pants and plopped down onto the bed as his boyfriend ordered food on the phone. He turned onto his side. 'I can barely wait!' He thought, trying to look calm on the outside, but couldn't keep a wide grin from slipping. He turned his eyes and looked out of the balcony to the clear blue sky. 'I'm so happy!...' A few tears formed at his eyes, but he held back the need to cry.
"Ack, verdammt!" He muttered to himself, "I'm not going to be able to sleep like zhis..."
"What Ludwig?"
"N-nozhing! Heh," he was such a terrible liar and he knew it. A knock on the door stopped Italy from asking any further questions.
"Feliciano Vargas, room 102?"
"Si, that's me!"
"You ordered pasta with Alfredo, is that correct?"
"Si."
A woman drove the food cart into the main room and placed a platter of delicious smelling Alfredo pasta onto a glass table. "Thank you, bella."
"You're welcome," she replied, driving the cart back out and closing the door behind her. Feliciano was starving, not having eaten for eight hours, and took the platter into his and Germany's room and sat on his bed that was to the right of the German's.
He heard a slight creak from the bed next to him, and then a mumble. "Vhat're you eating?"
"Alfredo pasta."
"Zhat smells gut."
"Do you wanta some?"
"Nein, I'm just thinking. The cooks must be good here."
Italy twisted the noodles onto his fork, and took in a mouthful. "Si! Shmit's wonderferl fewd."
Ludwig nodded. "Vell, I'm going to try to sleep." The smell of Alfredo sauce had calmed him down, reminding him of the smell in Italy's house when he cooked. After a few minutes of the smell drifting into his nostrils he slipped into his calm, deep sleep