I suddenly got a kick for 2P, but then I got hit by feels and GerIta, so this is the love child of my 2P!GerIta headcanon feels that somehow happened. Honestly, I'm nursing a bit of a writer's block, so this helps. Since there's so many headcanons for the 2Ps, I present my concoction of headcanons and thigns for my 2P Universe!
~Inspired by 'It Took Me By Surprise' by Marie Mera and 'Not Gonna Die' by Skillet~
-'It ToOk Me By SuRpRiSe….'-
It was never supposed to be like this. He had never felt resentment, or seen such anger from him. The amount of pure hatred that seemed to stab him from afar hurt worse than getting shot. The pure cold burns of resentment hit him harder than the Allies' weapons. The betrayal hurt worst of all. Their friendship was done. He hated him with all he had, purple flashing into dark ominous shades. Words filled with deadly poison and searing flames hit him in stride, chipping away at his heart. They stood far from each other yet it felt like he was up in his face. Others deftly listened and watched. One of them shouted in defense, protecting him perhaps. He couldn't tell. He was too numb to his heart, only aware of the words cutting and stabbing into him like poisoned daggers.
One step back and then another. The house hushed down to a whimper. Everyone was looking at him, staring with softness that he could not register. All he could see was hatred and anger, rage and pain.
What did he do to earn such things?
"Lutz…."
He took another step away from them. He could only watch Germany's eyes start to darken in disgust of his words, his face, everything pertaining to him. More words hit him hard, a tongue of acid burning through him. He bit down the sudden wave of feelings, the first being heartbreaking betrayal and fear. This wasn't Germany, it couldn't be. He didn't have a viper tongue. He didn't yell such wounding words at him. He never hated him.
"Why the fuck should I follow a man who won't even listen to him own heart?!"
This was a monster in Germany's skin.
Another few steps and he had nowhere else to go, backed up like an abused, captured animal. Tears too small for him to control started to fall down his face, and the house went from a sudden uproar to a grave-like silence. All eyes were on him as a hiccup of a sob escaped his throat, four small tears falling down his face in once abandoned trails. Even Germany stopped in his tracks, but the insensitive look in his eyes stayed, as if the tears he saw fall were jokes to him. Still, all he could see were purple eyes darkened in revulsion.
Who pushed who too far?
Swallowing up all his sorrowful and hurt emotions, he composed himself, letting the tears that had yet fall be sucked back and away. Weakness would be letting Germany win this. He would not show him more of the mental and emotional toll this fight had put on him. He shivered the last of his fear away and looked finally to the other people in the room. Romano, Hungary, Prussia, Austria and Japan all stood waiting. Romano was looking at him with kindness, bordering pity, while one eye kept darting to Germany with his own poisonous gaze.
Italy did not say anything. He did not respond to Germany's ugly words pointed at him. He simply swallowed up any feeling he had from it and moved on like the fight had not impacted him at all. He simply walked up the stairs, passing Hungary and Germany without a look back and headed for his room. He knew all their eyes would follow him. He could feel Germany's heated gaze scorch into his back but he kept moving. The tears started to fall again when he had walked into his room and closed the door behind him. The house behind the door seemed to explode into fighting and yelling, hateful words exchanged like Italy could not hear them. Even as he retreated away, Germany spoke venomous words at and about him. He rested himself on his door, the tears and sobs escaping him without permission.
Why wasn't he defending himself?
He curled up in pointless defense, feeling his fear and distress take hold of him for the first time. Everything hurt with Germany's words and hateful eyes. He was always the thing Germany wanted and now he was the person to be hated upon.
"Why is it my fault?" he sobbed.
"It's your damn fault I'm like this Luciano! You're the fucking reason! This is why the Axis is falling apart! You're the fucking rotten egg in this place!"
"Why am I at fault?" he sobbed again. He sat down against his door, actually crying into himself as he listened to Germany's words bit and tear into him.
"He is blind to what he does! He's been hurting and torturing us for too long! He's manipulating you!"
"You stupid bastard!" Romano shouted back. Italy whimpered at the edge of his voice. "You actually made him cry! Can't you see you're wrong?"
"So what if he cries?! He barely shows any emotion besides anger and irritation and wrath! He doesn't care if we're hurt by his words and actions! He needs to taste his own medicine for fucking once!"
Italy curled up tighter, letting all his anger and built up dark emotions come alive and let them slide away without another thought. He wouldn't fight anymore. He knew what he could do now, to escape. He wanted it to go away. He wanted this all to end. He wanted his Germany back.
-}'ThE hAtReD iN hIs EyEs'{-
"Italy please come out"
Italy didn't want to come out. The last thing he wanted to do was get up and get close to Germany and everyone else.
"Luci, please come out…."
"Stefano….please go away"
Italy had no intention to go out of his room. He wanted to be in here, away from the fake Germany. He wanted to keep a distance so he didn't get hurt again. He never wanted to be yelled at like that. He wanted no part of the fight anymore.
"Can I come in at least? Germany's still asleep so…."
Italy scooted away from the door and sat up on his bed, keeping himself curled up in defense. He feared what would come next. He called out for his brother to enter and watched as his brother slowly stepped in as cautiously as possible. His brother's normally smiling disposition was displaced with a blank, neutral expression which quickly changed to something of melancholy. He seemed unattached from his life.
"Bro-"
He stopped there as they made eye contact, and his face went from dreary to afraid and concerned. He rushed up to him, grabbing his face with both hands, staring at him like he was a freak.
"What happened?" Romano whispered. Italy did not respond.
"Brother, what the hell happened?!" he demanded this time. Italy shook his head.
"What?"
Romano grinded his teeth and dragged his brother up in front of him, staring into his dresser's mirror. Italy didn't see what was so wrong; his face was dirtied by leftover tears and signs of exhaustion. He leaned forward a bit and saw what his brother was worried with suddenly, like a light in the pitch dark.
His eyes were no longer fuchsia. They were a golden brown, a sort of brown-tan mix of color. They weren't his eyes. His hair was even a lighter shade, and less fuchsia shaded. He almost didn't recognize himself, but something seemed familiar, good about his new features.
"What's wrong?" he asked his brother, unable to really see the issue. So he looked different, and he felt different.
"It isn't you fratello, look at you. You look not like you" his brother fussed. "You look like that shitty, slap-happy copy of you remember?"
Italy knew what his brother was talking about. They had learned that they had a reverse version of themselves, 'copies' they called them, and they were near exact opposites of them. His new look reminded him of his copy who was close to his current look, with a constant smile on his face and his eyes closed. His copy was really close to copy Germany, who was stronger than Italy's Germany. He hated his copy. He was too happy, too all smiles, too close to…
"I kind of do, don't I?" Italy chuckled. "It's funny…."
"No it's not fratello! Can't you see you're turning into him?!"
Italy did not reply. So what if he did? Maybe Germany would like him better like this? He hated him when he was himself, saying he never took anyone else into consideration. He yelled at him that he needed to taste his own medicine of being isolated away because he ruled like a king. Maybe for once he could open his heart and let his feelings free. Germany could get used to it right?
"Maybe it's for the better" Italy whispered. His brother gave him the biggest bewildered look he could muster.
He felt it before he registered that Romano had slapped him. He immediately grabbed his throbbing cheek, unable to react any other way. Tears fell quicker then he thought, something not of his mind taking over his thoughts. He couldn't make out his brother getting up and leaving, shouting about him and the change. He felt suddenly powerless.
'It's okay Luciano…..you have me'
Italy looked up from his crouched position to see his other side kneeling down in front of him, smiling like he usually did. He had his fuchsia eyes and his hair had his fuchsia tint. Why did he have it?
"You look like me" Italy whispered to his copy, who looked at him with a tilt of his head before laughing.
'No…you look like me. You took some of me to help you'
"You're lying…..I can help myself"
'But you're crying over your brother hitting you. You usually hit him back, stab him, and not cry like me'
Italy looked down at his hands, seeing his tears start to drop on them. He was right. He was acting like his copy, all tears and submission. He wasn't him anymore. Germany was the reason for it right?
'Your Germany isn't nice is he?' Italy looked up to his copy, now sitting cross-legged in front of him. Something said that he was hallucinating, but he liked the comfort of his copy right now.
"H-he is, silent but kind. He's funny too but….but he was so angry and wrathful all of a sudden. He….I don't know why but it hurt to hear him say all of it. God, where am I?! Why am I turning into you?!"
I'm not myself anymore, Italy thought. If I'm not me, then who am I? His copy did not answer his question, but the same neutral expression stayed on his face.
'Germany is in the same situation as you'
"No…he…he finally snapped, that's all. I pushed him to do this, I know it. It's my fault! It's always my fault!"
His copy looked at him sadly, watching as he curled up in his lap. Italy didn't care if he was seeing things or not, he was a mess now. Everything of last night came rushing up. He was silenced now and no one seemed to care. He felt so lost. Was he himself or his copy? Was he hurt or simply taking it too hard?
Who was pushed too far?
'You should get out of your shell Luciano….Germany is upset because of that'
"I won't. I never will. He made sure of that last night. He hates me, he'll never….he…he'll never return my feelings…."
'You like him?'
"I will never admit it out loud to anyone"
Italy didn't notice that his copy had left until he had sat up again, seeing nothing in front of him beside his dresser. He sighed sadly and stood up, looking into the mirror again. His eyes had a tint of fuchsia but it was still majoring brown. His hair had some fuchsia shine again. He fingered a small finger hold of hair, watching it shine under his dull bedroom lights. He would have to get out of the room sooner rather than later. He took one more sigh and moved to change, simply throwing on a different pair of army pants and a grey tank. He didn't feel like dressing up so much.
He peeked out of his door at first, hearing the laughter and snappy chatter the Axis house usually had in the mornings. Everything seemed calmer from last night's yelling. He took several seconds to think about what to do if he ran into Germany before he stepped out, tugging on his jacket loosely for an added measure. He was chilly for some reason.
The house quieted a bit as he made his way downstairs, Hungary and Romano stopping their cooking to watch him walk down the stairs with his head down just a bit. Something quickly changed in Romano, seeing that his brother looked more like himself, and he smiled.
"Hey fratello. Good to see you up" Romano greeted him, pulling out Italy's usual coffee mug. "Coffee?"
"Si" Italy took a seat at the island in the kitchen, holding his steaming cup of coffee in both hands, staring into his reflection in the black sea of his cup. He still looked like his copy. He took a tentative sip of it, looking up to the balcony just in time for Germany to step out. As soon as he saw the door open, he looked back down.
Hungary sighed and patted his shoulder, calling Germany down. Italy not once looked up as he drank away his cup. He didn't want to see the hate sitting patiently in Germany's eyes for him.
'He never hated you'
His copy was lying to him. His copy had his love returned by his Germany. He was stuck with a Germany that not only hated him but wanted him nowhere close.
"Good mornin' Lutz" Hungary called out.
"Morning….."
Italy looked up at last and met Germany eyes as they wandered in his direction, and found no solace in them. They looked taken aback at first.
"Italy, what the hell happened to you?"
He noticed his change. He shook his head, unsure himself. All he knew that he could see and speak to his copy and take his personality in stride. He had no clue how but he did.
"Still bitter as usual" Germany mumbled coldly as he passed.
Italy snapped. He jumped off his spot on the island and chucked his mug at Germany, who dodged the flying porcelain cup and let it shatter on the far wall.
"I am not bitter! I'm not as cruel and horrible and sickening as you always think!" he yelled at Germany. "I don't always put myself before you, do you not understand that?"
The house silenced, and even Germany stood stunned for a moment, eyes locked on Italy.
"I have been hiding behind my cold mask because I'm afraid okay? I have always been afraid of trusting myself completely in someone because it was shattered before! If I hurt you with something I said, I'M SORRY!"
Italy cried unshed tears of so long ago as he yelled out his suddenly flooding feelings. The tears did not stop when he wiped at them and they did not stop when he continued his ranting.
"Why did I deserve to be yelled at last night Ludwig?! WHY? I know I can be difficult and cold but I'm only doing it to protect you and me and everyone! If I'm not cold, I'm vulnerable and I never want to be again! Your words hurt more than I ever thought and I know you hate me! If you had just told me you were disgusted with me I would have stopped loving you!"
Italy clapped his hands over his mouth as soon as he finished, unable to react in an instant. He let it slip. He let his heart slip into his words. He let his guarded secret out to the man who would never receive them or accept them. Everyone started to speak, but all he could hear was silence from Germany. He spoke of nothing and all he did was stand in a petrified manner, face conveying embarrassment but his eyes spoke for him. They spat at him in hatred, complete revulsion.
No words needed to be spoken, and Italy bolted from them all.
-}'I'vE pUsHeD tHiS mAn As FaR aS hE cOuLd Go'{-
He didn't know where he was running, but it was somewhere where he didn't see Germany's hate filled eyes haunting him behind his eyelids. It was raining this morning, the sun barely able to see through the dark heavy haze of storm clouds rumbling defiant against the light. Far off lightning struck hard, a loud burst of thunder clapping down around him. He winced at the closeness but kept running with all he could, wiping the tears that blurred his vision away as best he could. The deafening rain masked his footsteps as he continued on in the dark depressive morning.
He never wanted to look back. Even over the slicing sounds of rain hitting pavement and cement and housing, he could hear the others trying to catch up and find him, shouting against the weather's primal calls. He ignored them, blindly turning left and slipping just in time to roll and hit a tree, instantly bruising his right side as it dragged and slammed into the tough soaked bark. He was given little shelter from the storm, the loose leaves and spaced out branches letting rain still clash into his face. He curled up in the crippling sorrow taking hold of him, using the tree's cover as his home.
It was silent excluding the rain's constant plummeting to the ground and structures around them. It was until boots and pounding of feet came up close to him, overwhelming shouting following them as they tried to make it through the storm. It was the Axis still searching for him. He could make out Germany's voice, shrill and desperate.
'He realized his mistake'
Italy looked up at his copy, who sat on his hindquarters, picking at his laces of his boots. He looked more like himself again.
"You lie…" he said weakly in rebuttal.
'I don't lie well. He at least understands'
"He….looked at me like before….he still hates me with all his power. He doesn't accept me anymore…"
His copy looked down at him again, running a translucent hand through his hair. His copy's look started to take on his own, the fuchsia tint and color appearing all over him. He smiled and curled up with him, their faces close.
'Do you know why I'm here?'
Italy shook his head numbly. He looked over to the Axis again, seeing Germany shout at the rest of them and what looked like tears fall down his face. He looked back to his copy.
'Because Germany's here…'
Italy quickly looked back to Germany just as he looked in his direction and saw the impossible. The once purple eyes now looked at him in shades of blue, ones that did not contain one hint of hate of anger, but love and longing. He never thought he would see such emotions, but they were there, seeking his. He blinked to clear the rain from his eyes and saw once more the purple he knew, still haunted by hate but clouded with concern and confusion.
'We just want to help you'
"How do we help you then?" he suddenly asked his copy, keeping his eyes on Germany's rapidly whipping head as he searched with the others.
'We don't know but….you helped me fight. Your Germany helped mine be open a few times. The other I'm not sure….'
"Lies…"
'You have also helped me do that'
Italy looked at his copy again, seeing the brown eyes now completely fuchsia. His copy was him. He was looking at himself all of a sudden. It was a mirror of him, usual scowl and all but the scowl slowly went away and the copy started cry and turn away as if in despair. Was that him now?
"Wh-what are you…."
'You called me because you were hurting. You thought I could hold your pain'
His copy turned back to him. Looking like the copy he should be but was covered in sickly blush and spotted in blood and dripping in tears, scratch marks covering his hands and face.
'I am no more secure than you are Luciano. You must realize that I can't hold all of this. You've hurt too long'
-}'BuT hE lAcKeD tHe WoRdS tO lEt Me KnOw'{-
"How long?"
"Germany, he's been out for three days. All that's changed, almost on a daily basis, is his eye color and hair. Something with the copies is happening and I have no clue what triggered it. I also have no clue when he will wake up, if he ever will" Hungary responded for the tenth time that day. Ever since finding him unconscious under a tree after running in the storm, there had been no response from him. No eyes opening, barely a rise and fall of his chest. His eyes when forced open would change and flicker from fuchsia and brown, and his hair from rich brown to the tinted fuchsia and dark brown they knew. Something involving the copy of him is what they could come up for a reason. With Romano's claims backing it up, it was the only thing they had.
Germany stood in the threshold of his room, looking around Hungary and at the still figure that was Italy on the bed. He knew why he was like this now. He was at fault for this. He snapped. He let the stress of being pushed away and watching Italy throw away his feelings take control. He yelled out everything at him, and made the steel-hardened Italy cry. He crushed any feelings he had, drove him to this.
'Stop blaming yourself'
Germany quickly slinked back into his room, closing his door and leaning on it. He looked up and saw his copy sitting on his desk, picking absent-mindedly at a few papers littering his work place.
'He didn't talk about it. He pushed himself too far'
"I yelled at him and pushed him off that cliff! The truth of it caused your Italy to come and fuck it up!" Germany argued at his copy. Said copy stood ram rod straight, pointing and accusing finger at him.
'Feliciano did nothing wrong! He did what he thought was best for him!'
"So he knocked him out? Put him in a coma to help him?! What kind of logic is that?!"
Germany growled out something and slid down the door. Weaving his hands through his hair and tugging it loose, he looked up at his copy as he appeared in front of him.
"I snapped first. I was tired of faking my hate for him. Now because I couldn't handle it, Italy sits fighting…..recovering I don't know with your Italy…..Feliciano. I just want him back"
His copy looked at him with a blank observation until he kneeled down with a smile, placing a hand on his head. Germany looked up at the copy with stinging tears building in his eyes.
'Didn't he say that he did love you? Before he ran?'
Germany thought back to that day, trying to think about what was said in the kitchen. He couldn't pinpoint it, it was rather cloudy, or blocked from him. Something broke through the fog in his head.
"If you had just told me you were disgusted with me I would have stopped loving you!" Italy yelled at him before clamming up.
Germany closed his eyes again, lowering his head enough to cover the tears falling down his face. A weak minuet smile crossed his lips.
"I guess he did. It's all pointless now though….after this he'll hate me like usual. Heh…
"I guess we were just meant to hate each other, blocking any other feeling under it and letting it fester. It's the opposite that you and Feli went through right?"
His copy did not answer. He simply shook his head, smiling with whispered sorrows.
'We both pushed our feelings away for safety. If we had….god why am I telling you this?'
Germany shrugged. "Maybe because we're both fuck ups in love?"
'Sounds right. If we hadn't hidden it, we would have never gotten the chance. We would have been separated longer then we already were. I never would have seen him again'
Germany gave a sour chuckle, still unable to lift his head and give his copy the needed eye contact to tell him he was listening. He didn't want to show weakness to his copy. He didn't want to let him know that he was torn to the bone.
"At least you got a happy ending. All we do is fight and scream and trade blows"
'I seem to recall you didn't like violence. Weren't the times you did fight back a surprise to your Italy?'
Germany this time did not respond, sticking this time with silence. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He was already accepting that he had lost his chance again to make amends and finally get his wanted happy ending like his copy. With a weak sigh, he lifted his head to look at his copy, letting his tears be shown.
"Maybe. It doesn't matter now anyway. Italy's good as dead and I'm no better. I shattered his heart and in turn my own did as well. The never-ending cycle of our never-ending life"
'Maybe you're closer to Luciano than you think'
Germany's head snapped full front, trying to find his copy. All he could find was his empty desolate room. His copy had left with his cryptic, thought-consuming last words. He wiped away his tears with an arm, only to find himself crying again. The weight of his words suddenly smashed down on his like tons of bricks, shattering his heart again. He opted out of letting other know of them and bit into his gloved hand, giving a choked sob to his deadly silent chamber. Tears fell without announcement. Choked cries found their end between his teeth.
His world splintered and split at the seams. He wanted his Italy home.
-'He AcTeD oUt NoW i CaN sEe It Is My FaUlT'-
'Please wake up!'
"Go away"
Italy had no clue where he was. Was he just floating? Where the hell did he go? It was dark and numbing, mute and threatening. He didn't like it here, but it was better than being in range of Germany.
'I won't leave Luciano'
"GO AWAY!"
'You need me to get back to Germany'
"He hates me"
'You're lying to yourself, and I'm near done with you. He misses you, regrets ever snapping but he was at the end of his rope'
"Where's your information coming from?"
'My Germany. He just finished talking with Lutz. My Germany would be here but it's impossible'
Italy sighed, looking to the unknown to his left. Was he telling the truth, trying to help him like he did? Or hurt him? Was Germany wrong or hurt to the point of hurting him?
As always, who pushed who too far?
He screamed out in his dark labyrinth, unable to fight free of the coursing black web of his mind. He was stuck here, trying to realize something, anything here. What was he looking for? What the hell was he doing here anyway? He yelled out until he couldn't bring himself to anymore, tired of straining his voice to a deaf audience. He curled up, fighting back shivers.
He wanted Germany.
'He never wanted to hurt you. He wanted you to know that he wanted you to open up more'
"I could hurt myself again…."
'Aren't you always saying behind closed doors and away at deaf corners that he's perfect? The quiet, open collection of love to your explosive, detained feelings, the one you need?'
Italy looked out, and thought he saw specs of white. He smiled wide, the walls and chains around his heart coming loose and falling, the sound of them echoing around him like ancient drums of ceremony.
"We pushed each other away….."
'Luciano!'
"Now I'll pull him home"
-'I mAdE cHaNgEs ThAt WeNt UnNoTiCeD'-
When Italy woke up, he shielded his face from the bright light that he knew came with the new morning. The first question on his mind was 'Where is Germany?' and the second being 'How long was I out?'. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. As he shimmied off the bed and stood in front of his mirror, pulling at his hair to straighten it, he finally looked at himself.
He was himself again. All fuchsia eyes, shiny fuchsia tint to his hair. He didn't see a single hint of his copy in his reflection.
'Good luck'
A flicker of his copy appeared next to him and flickered out of existence. He smiled, relieved he had survived with his copy over his shoulder like a guardian angel. He was quickly over the burst of excitement when he realized he was clad only in boxers. He quickly threw on his usual uniform, tying the knot of his tassels on his belt tighter. He cautiously peeked out his room and found the usual morning banter playing along like usual, though it did sound strained, as if they were trying not to be happy.
Taking a steadied breath, he opened his door and walked out. The voices stopped and the heat of other eyes on him burned all around. He looked over the balcony, a blank expression plastered on his face. He could see Hungary stop mid-chew of her breakfast, Romano stop cooking though he started again when he heard his eggs sizzling. Japan stopped mid-sip of coffee.
Germany had dropped his breakfast toast. As Italy looked him in the eyes however, he was startled to find them still filled with anger, sitting there waiting for his return. He was still hated after all of this. He still was a piece of shit in his eyes, literally. He swallowed down the nervous bubble building up and kept walking, although each step came with minor shakes.
"Italy, you're okay!" Romano shouted. "Thank god!"
Italy kept a calm demeanor as he walked down the stairs, keeping his eyes on Germany the entire time. As he came close, he diverted his course and grabbed for a mug, pouring a cup of steaming coffee. He was hungrier and thirstier then he first realized.
"God, what the hell happened to you Italy?" Japan asked, taking the pot from him as he finished.
"I'm not sure…..my copy was involved though. Can't remember much else besides that. How long was I out?"
"Just about three…four days I think" Japan replied, sipping at his coffee as he poured in sugar.
The morning got silent again, until Italy finished drinking his cup and finally looked toward Germany again.
"Hi Germany….."
Germany did not respond, or even look his way. He simply shook off his surprise, disposed of his wasted toast and continued on like he wasn't even there. The others watched painfully as Germany moved on, disappearing into the depths of the house without a look back. Even as Italy stood frozen, the rest of the Axis moved as if he wasn't there either. Romano quickly stopped cooking and Hungary and Japan left for their duties and personal things. Romano left a plate for his brother and moved on as well, grabbing a fedora and leaving out the front door. Only then did Italy unfreeze, grasping at his chest as if he were struck through it with an arrow. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, making his ribs ache from its movement.
It was like they hit rewind. Nothing changed, and he was still alone in his dark corner of his world. He was abandoned.
He simply threw away the breakfast Romano made and leaned heavy into the counters, unsure of what to do now. Would he chase after Germany, or would he wait for him?
He sighed and looked up, meeting Germany's eyes as he walked back in. They weren't purple though, but the cerulean blue he saw before. Hate still bubbled in the corners of them, but something else resided in the main suites of them. Not love, not really warmth, but nothing cold either.
"Germany! Look, can I please talk to you?" Italy asked, walking his way up to Germany. "I just wanted to apologi-"
Once again, he couldn't comprehend what was happening until he could feel the sting of cold steel against his neck, making his heart leap into his throat. The cold sting of steel, the crushing grip of Germany's hands on his shoulders, keeping him pinned. He opened his eyes and only found deep purple to stare into and hate seemed to jump from them, clawing and nipping and attempting to hurt him. The blue of his copy's eyes had disappeared. Italy squirmed under the pressure of the blade at his throat, gripping at Germany's arm, trying to push him away. All Germany did was push it closer, just about ready to slit his throat.
"W-what are you doing?" Italy whispered in demand. Germany's steeled eyes did not give any clues besides the possibility of killing him and facing his wraith after he regenerates.
"Why?" Germany spat at him.
"W-why…what?" Italy was utterly confused.
"Why are you like this? You're not silent or soft spoken in the mornings. You are still not the Italy I know, and until I find actual proof that your copy is long fucking gone, you are the prime target. Now, what the fuck happened to you?"
Italy stayed frozen, heart pounding a mile a minute. What had elicited this now? Was he really acting that different? Did he really push Germany beyond a point of no escape?
His confusion dissolved into pure fury, anger boiling like melted iron through every vein and bloodstream in his body. He could feel his hands twitch, looking for a handle or something sharp to stab the shit out of Germany for pinning just because he was blind to the truth. His vision clouded in red blood haze, turning his world into his bloodied playground. He snarled at Germany like the animal he was becoming, and grabbed hold of something from his side pocket. He was given just enough slack from Germany's stunned reaction to his snarl to break away, slamming into him and knocking him to the ground, pulling his knife to full front, holding the blade downwind. He thought it would be different, but if Germany was going to play with knives, he will expect to get the serrated edges of his combat knife.
"Nothing has fucking happened to me! I am the same Italy Veneziano you've damn well known since I came here and offered you a place! I'm the same Veneziano who sewed up your fucking face after you took a blade and a nail through your cheek!" Italy surged forward as he ranted, trying to strike Germany as hard and as brutally as he could muster. Germany held his own as best he could, getting near misses every time, unable to block them to a full extent. Blow after blow, steps after step, they danced and attacked in sickly harmony, fighting against the attacks of both mind and heart.
As Italy flipped away from a forward attack from Germany, he twisted and jumped to the side, slashing out at Germany and just catching his shirt only to tear into the cloth and not into solid flesh. With a growl Germany repeatedly lunged out at Italy, who dodged at his best, breaking away as Germany's flash anger died down.
"I'm the same person who pushed us both over the mental edge because of miscommunication and failure to understand our feelings! The same Luciano you fucking fell in love with!" Italy jumped forward again, dodging a hastily wide thrown swipe by Germany. He jumped up again, slamming his head into Germany's forehead, knocking him back and nearly getting him to the ground.
"And I'm the same Italy who foolishly called upon the copies because I thought I had lost my chance with you for good!"
Italy slashed out at Germany face as he tried to hit him, forgetting to guard himself. The knife hit its mark, making Germany swing wide to his right, gripping his face as he fell to his knees, blood dripping down his left cheek. Italy puffed out angry gasps for air, staring down Germany as he pressed his fingers against the reopened wound of long ago. Bitter tears built up in the corners of Germany's eyes, one falling down from the perch it rested on. Like lightning, Italy's fury hit a blinding end and faded, fear and despair quickly replacing it. The knife fell from Italy's hand, clattering to the ground near Germany's other hand press down to balance him. Germany barely looked up in reaction, seeing tears fall from Italy's face as he backed up, covering his mouth as if to lock away any words or sounds he refused.
"I'm sorry….."
Germany's eyes widened, the tears building themselves in his eyes dropping like flies. Italy continued to back away slowly, afraid of what now lay before him as a result of his actions.
"I'm so sorry….I…."
Germany let go of his cheek, letting the blood flow without restrictions. He reached out for Italy, who only shook his head.
He kept whispering the same thing until he turned and bolted away, forgetting all about his pride again, and abandoning the house once more.
-'SaNg SoNgs FoR dEaF eArS tOo'-
He once more did not know where to run. He just needed to get away, and stay away, from the house and the Axis and Germany for as long as he could survive. He needed air, he needed time, he needed forgiveness, he needed…
'You need him, go back!'
He barely gave a sideways glance to his copy as he ran alongside him, well more like floated alongside him. He continued to run, even with the sound of thunder pounding like hammers overhead. He ignored it all, and all he did focus on was running away.
'Stop running! You need to face it for once!'
"I don't want to! Running away is something I needed to do!" he argued at his copy.
'Now is not the time!'
"I ran after Holy Roma's death, and it will work the same now! I won't hurt myself by reliving the same events again! I'll get Germany killed like I got Holy Roma killed!"
His copy disappeared, fading with such a hurt and sorrowful look on his face. He didn't look back and ran on, ignoring the faint vibration of his phone in his pocket. He could chuck it, let it shatter into pieces and never be found. He could burn it, watch it melt into molten metal and plastic. He could do anything with it, but for now ignored it. He needed to go away, run away from it before it haunted him forever more.
The rain came quicker and harder then he thought, soaking him to the bone. He needed to take it off, his jacket. He was getting too hot and he didn't care if he got sick. He shrugged his jacket off and tucked it under his arm, not stopping once. He ran until his lungs began to burn, and ran even more. He couldn't tell where he was, but saw the quick blur of brick and humans until heavy protection of umbrellas and raincoats. He could make out lights illuminating his path. He didn't care, he ran. He took a sharp left down a darkened, trash-littered alley, and all he could do from not completely falling into a heap mid-run was press up against a wall, sliding down quickly and gasping out in great loud bursts, trying to get the air his lungs desperately craved. His lungs were burning in complete protest of his who-knows-how-long-endless run.
Where was he, how far from home was he, would he survive the rest of the day?
He couldn't get enough air, he could feel it. Just sitting here, he could feel his lungs still protest so badly, he had to curl up and gasp like a child in an asthma attack. He couldn't get any air. Tears blurred his already blurring vision. He flattened out on the wall, still desperately trying to breathe right. He was swaying, he was dizzy, was his brain out of oxygen?
"Hey, are you okay?"
No. Go away!
Italy shuddered, suddenly able to get something like oxygen in his lungs, and clawed at the ground. He couldn't get up, he still couldn't breathe enough. His vision was outright messy, unable to get solid shapes but a mess of color. He could see something blue and pink in front of him. He could feel the familiar feel of his jacket press up to his chest, and he shivered by the soaking feeling that absorbed into him.
"Italy, what happened?"
Before he could answer the person however, his body shut down in protest of the low oxygen, knocking him into blissful unconsciousness. His body's oxygen was at such low levels that it couldn't support itself anymore. Everything went dark and cold again. He couldn't see or feel around in his darkness. He had no connection to the real world.
Would he ever be found?
-'MiStOoK mY sIleNcE aS pUnIsHmEnT'-
Air.
He could breathe when he woke up again. He could breathe easy, feel his lungs slowly inflate and deflate. He could register his heart beating again. He could also make out the clear outline of a breathing mask on his face, feeding him the air he was taking in. He watched it for a while, seeing it clear and fog up with each of his breaths. It seems to be that he was saved, and given help.
His chest hurt for some reason. He didn't like the burning he felt in his chest. He tried to touch his chest but found his hands to be as heavy as gold bars. He lay still, taking easy breaths. He had no clue where he was either.
"Hey, you're awake! Thank goodness~"
England. He was near the Cupcake Freak.
England finally came into his field of vision, smiling like he always seemed to be, and waved. Italy on an impulse smiled. The breathing mask was pulled up off his face, and England let a breath of relief loose as Italy breathed normally.
"Good you can breathe again. I was worried for a while that your lungs wouldn't ever work right again. What were you thinking, running so much?! I even know you'd rather burn then run, even when retreating!" England chastised him.
Why was he here in his sworn enemy's house?
"Why am I here?" Italy asked. England looked confused for a moment, his expression changing into something serious after a moment's thought.
"I know we're enemies, if you're trying to figure out why I took you to my house. Just because we are doesn't mean I can't show some compassion toward you. Why do you think I chase Germany?"
"Leave him out of this" Italy yelled weakly, tears suddenly building at the mention of Germany. "Don't you dare say his name!"
England watched as Italy suddenly broke down in his presence, turning away from him as the worst of it began, trying to sniffle it all away. Italy was up in arms about Germany and that he was showing it to England hurt alongside his woes. He tried to curl up and away, but only sunk into the back of the couch he realized he was laying in.
"So you were running…..from Germany?" England asked. Italy shook his head. He was stuck, and he needed to let so much out, and England seemed willing to listen, but the devil on his shoulder told him to hurt England for helping him without permission and putting pity on him.
"You would never understand what has happened to us England….."
"Then make me understand. You have time anyway. You're probably in no place to be moving"
Italy flipped over to face England, flushed face and tears in all. He slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness of his chest. England helped he lay on the back of the couch, and fixed his sitting position so he could face Italy. He shuffled with something over behind his back and pulled a glass of wine and a cupcake in blood red icing.
"I thought you would be hungry and thirsty. I didn't do anything to them besides adding something familiar I promise"
At first, Italy gave England a looked that said 'Do you think me an idiot?' but it softened, understanding that it would be pointless for England to poison him in such a weakened physical and emotional state. Italy sighed and grabbed for the wine glass, picking up the cupcake at the last second as he drew away. He set the cupcake to his side and took a long sip at his wine.
It tasted like Germany's beer.
He promptly did a spit take, unable to even swallow it. He wiped his mouth free of it and slammed the glass down. The cupcake squished in his other hand, staining the borrowed grey button-up shirt he wore.
"Why the hell would you do that?!" Italy demanded, gasping as his breathing did a funny spike.
"I thought…..maybe it would help"
"Help me be nostalgic of the things I've lost maybe!" Italy spat, tears falling again. He fell silent again, staring into the shiny red sea of the glass, seeing his reflection. His dirtied, flushed reflection. It made him look even more pitiful, and the gates began to break.
"I was stupid, pure idiotic. I pushed both of us to the brink England. I fucked up any chance I had….I…I had…."
"You love him don't you Italy?" England spoke up for him. Italy didn't blush but he did nod slowly, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"But I lost my chance to ever admit it to him. He hates me, all he wants to do is hate me and hurt me and I can't stand it, I feel alone again!"
"….again?"
"The last time I loved someone, something, anything, he died! He died because we loved each other! I was all at fault!" Italy was in hysterics at this point, trying to curl up and scream like a child. "His death was in my hands and I had to live with that fact that everything I grew connected to would die! I haven't admitted it to him because I was so afraid of his death! If I ever spoke of my feelings, he would meet his end and I would have to live with my curse!
"Why do you think I hate you?! Why do you think I hate everyone who got love and peace? I lost my chances, I've never had it! I thought…..I thought somehow that the copies, the reverse us, could help me. I thought they could help me get through this and get Germany to stay alive but….but all they've done is SAT AND STARED AND DID NOTHING!
"My copy just pushes me to be my old self and look where it got me! I'm physically and mentally weak, and Germany….GERMANY TRIED TO KILL ME! HE THINKS I'm fake me and I don't know what to do and…"
'You need to go to him Luciano!'
"SHUT UP!" Italy shrieked, curling up and ignoring his pained chest. "SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE FELICIANO!"
Feliciano sat patiently on his knees in front of Italy, looking sadly at the hysterical mess that had become Italy. England looked down at Feliciano and gave a sad smile, unable to explain.
"I would trust your copy here Italy….." England patted Feliciano's shoulder, earning a smile from the translucent copy. Italy's eyes widened.
"You….you can see him. You can see him right there?"
England nodded. "Magic user, remember? The copies apply to this as well"
"I'll let you figure things out. Just holler my way when you want to go back to the Axis house"
England walked out of the room, heading into the kitchen. As his figure disappeared, Italy threw all he could into a glomp at Feliciano and sobbed in the solid shoulders he could grasp, the shields and dams all breaking at once in a grand flood. It was in this moment of complete weakness and vulnerability that Feliciano copy took a blind risk and dove into the open mind of Italy, showing him what Ludwig, Germany's copy, had shown him. Italy saw only the short film, and could not move from his crouched place as he watched Germany, his Germany, freak out and grow angry at the others, apologizing to everything and everyone for his mistakes, giving up all he did like he was confessing to sins.
He was mistaken. He never hated him. He just was annoyed that he had to hold in his feelings for him.
No more bitter tears fell from Italy's fuchsia eyes, but happy, relieved ones fell instead, laughing for the first time in years. Feliciano kept a hold on Italy, smiling as he was proud that his job was complete. Italy did not hurt anymore, even with residue of it residing in his heart. He was glad to know he was not forsaken. One more thing gone with.
Now he had to face the possibility of his death.
"I'm still cursed….He'll die like Holy Roma did. He'll die like Grandpa. He'll die like the old empires before him. Everyone I grow attached to or love will die….."
Welcome back bitter tears, Italy thought with an audible whimper, all happiness drained from him as he thought himself into darkness once more. Feliciano held him tighter, unsure now of what to do. He couldn't convince Italy that he never the reason that Holy Roma died, or that Grandpa Rome died. He had to figure that out himself. He could tell him over and over again but he would block them.
'Holy Roman Empire never died because of you Luciano…he fought his best, for you…..'
"That's why it's my fault. His actions were fueled by me. It was my fault all along! He disappeared and left me with the guilt that his death was on my shoulders! Our love was the reason he failed and fell off the map" Italy sobbed.
'He fought for you. He fought to make sure you were safe. He still lives on Luciano….you'll figure this out on your own. He still survives, like Prussia, even without a spot on the map. Do not ever forget this Italy. Love never killed a nation. In both our universes, Prussia survives by visiting Fritz's grave and loving him. Am I right?'
Italy nodded deftly, listening to Italy's speech without a sound.
'Somewhere, Holy Roma lives on. You never were the reason he died. He choose to love you, he chose to seek you out to become one with. His death….do you know who killed him?'
"Big brother France…..but it's my fault"
' ! Dammit, Luciano, open your ears and heart please! The longer this goes, the longer you'll never realize that the one you need is waiting for you to speak up! Holy Roman Empire fought to make sure that you would live on and remember him! You would keep him alive! Please realize Luciano that you just need to see that Holy Roma's alive because of you, and that…..that he's waiting for you to come home'
The words hit home and Italy's tears increased as he realized his foolishness. Was….was he really alive? Did….did Feliciano just call…..
'Germany may never remember, but he's been waiting for you since the 900's….'
Feliciano called Germany Holy Roma. Was Germany really the rebirthed Otto he came to love? Was he really waiting for him for so long, living without him noticing? He was alive….
He never died because of him. He, Italy, was his reason for living.
'I didn't realize this for a long time. You'll see and believe it soon. Go. He's waited enough'
Feliciano disappeared without another word and would not come back. Italy sat on his knees for a long time, crying without a single sound, figuring out everything. His mental storm was clearing. He could start to see clearly.
"Italy…..you okay?"
Italy looked up at England as he kneeled down to his level. Italy wiped his face with a sleeve. England sighed and set Italy's dried clothes down at his hands.
"You want to head home now?"
Italy looked down at the clothes for a moment, then to England. He knew it was stupid to do this but he grabbed England into a hug, whispering sharply never to speak of this moment. He hugged him for a few seconds before shrugging off the borrowed shirt, and tugging on his own things.
"I want to go back to Germany, if that's okay England"
-'As It HaD bEeN aLl ThEsE yEaRs'-
As he watched the scenery and landscape pass by in grey-covered blurs, Italy's mind was trying to wrap around the possibility that Germany…Germany was the Holy Roman Empire. It seemed impossible, completely far-fetched. Holy Roma was said to have died on the battlefield by France's hands. It was their love, Italy's and Holy Roma's, that made him lose. He never saw Holy Roma again and the large empire disappeared off of the map. It didn't see possible that he survived and became Germany. It could be even possible that his copy had lied to him about it, to make him feel better. It didn't match up though, because he copy claimed he didn't realize it for a long time.
It clicked instantly as England got to the Axis house.
His copy's Germany was HRE. Italy's couldn't because they were opposites. His copy lied to him.
He walked up to the house cautiously and admittedly a little saddened. His hopes built so high only to crumble. He waved England off and watched him drive off. Italy had a feeling the house would have to be on high alert if they saw England drive so easily up. He skirted the front door and began to climb up to the roof. Italy had no intentions to just waltz into the front and see everyone. As got to the top, pulling a small knife he borrowed from England, he was glad to see that no one was up here, and the hatch into the second floor hallways was still open. He slid in, careful of his steps.
As he looked about the empty hallway, he could tell something was amiss. He slowly snuck down the hall, peeking into rooms as he passed. No one was up here. He looked around the last wall, seeing the open banister spread out before him.
Everyone was congregated downstairs, pacing or sitting or in Germany's case silently weeping. He was on his ass, heavily leaning his head into his hands, unannounced tears falling without sound. Hungary and Japan were pacing, as if trying to figure out why Italy had ran. Romano was packing up a first aid kit, wiping semi-dried blood off his hands.
"There, all stitched" he announced as he pushed the kit away. "….Do you know why Italy did this Germany?"
"It was my fault again, I snapped. I was this fucking close and I fucked up"
"Don't be bitter" Romano reminded him.
"He's gone because of me, this whole fight started because of me. Nothing has ever gone right for us. I'll never make it up to him"
Germany refrained from speaking anymore, curling up with a single sob escaping him. Romano gave up his efforts and stood up, popping his neck to massage out the kinks in it.
"We just have to wait. Maybe when he comes back, he'll forgive you" Romano added the last part quickly, hoping that it could help. Germany looked up at him for a quick moment before looking to the side, averting his eyes.
"Have you ever known Luciano to be forgiving?" Germany bitterly responded. Romano sighed and moved up along Hungary talking in whispers. Italy sighed, clawing at his neck for the Iron Cross hidden underneath. He pulled it out, rubbing the golden outlines. He never forgave, just moved on like it was nothing.
What would he do now? He was afraid of the death he could cause yet he wanted to throw risk to the wind and have this relationship so long pushed away.
He didn't know what to do.
'You know…..your copy is right'
Italy looked up quickly, gasping as he caught eyes with the copy speaking to him.
"That's not possible…."
It was Germany's copy, Ludwig. He was seated against the door across from Italy, looked down at Germany. Ludwig looked at Italy with uncertainty, but it softened.
'Feli wasn't lying when he said that Germany had waited for a long time'
"Lies" Italy hissed softly. "You may be Holy Roma grown in your universe but mine isn't! We're opposites, we're not supposed to be so alike!"
'He doesn't know it yet, but he will. You have to do something or say something, and then it will show itself. A very acute piece of it but it shows he is Holy Roma'
"I….."
Italy looked around the corner again, keeping his eyes on Germany. He was left alone in the kitchen as the others left, most likely to search for him again.
'Afraid of him dying again?'
"So much so…."
'Don't. It's completely pointless. He's survived this long with you hasn't he?'
"You make a good…..point" Ludwig disappeared and Italy was left the sound of Germany's soft cries. He let a string of sighs out, unsure still of what to do. He slid his Iron Cross back underneath his clothes and stood up, looking down still at Germany. He tightened his hands into fists, fighting back the want of shouting out for him.
He walked calmly into the open, taking the steps downstairs silently one at a time.
When he reached the bottom step, and the wood underneath his boots creaked, Germany looked up at instantly locked eyes with him. Dull, near lifeless purple looked at him with hidden curiosity then disbelief.
"How…"
"Roof, if you're wondering how I got in…."
Germany stood up quickly, wiping at the tears still clinging to his face and the ones freshly falling. Italy stepped up to him, wiping away a few of the invading drops of water. Germany froze up, his left hand grabbing Italy's hips on a random impulse. Italy did not fight against it, or even think about moving the hand, but stroked Germany's flushed cheek with a gloved hand. The purple gaze he stared into now reflected what he wanted, what he hoped for, no longer captured by hate's grasp.
"I'm afraid of this, of you, of me…but…
"I want this too much to care for my fears!"
-'Don't you give up on me'-
Italy fought back against the aching pain as he stretched up, pushing as hard as he could on the front of his feet to reach up to Germany's level. He loathed the fact that Germany was taller than him. He went as high as he could, and finally hit high enough to press his lips on Germany's. He was given a near instant reaction, as if Germany was waiting for it to happen, and was given his kiss back in full, even with interest. Italy's arms moved on instinct around Germany's neck, bringing him closer and almost off his feet. He tilted his head farther to the side, trying to get the most access as physically possible before crossing into the French kiss territory.
As mouths detached and hands roamed the back of Italy, curious ears pressed themselves closer. As the heads of Hungary, Romano and Japan poked out into the open foyer, Germany and Italy pressed close once, lips crashing and melding like puddy. The peeping toms quickly jumped away, rethinking the plan to return to the kitchen, and leave without a single sight of what was happening. Germany and Italy went on without a care about them, dominance the only issue now between them. Tongues, lips and teeth fought for the top, and Italy was slowly losing his edge. When his back hit a counter, he let it slip, Germany taking advantage of the weak moment, dominating Italy's open mouth.
"Air" Italy whimpered as he got some distance, his lungs on the verge of collapse again. "I need air"
Germany back off and let Italy have some air, but backed off too much for the Italian's liking, and he was pulled up to his chest.
"I just needed your tongue out of my throat Lutz. I didn't need a bubble around me" Italy told him, resting himself on Germany. Germany kept close hold of him, although he couldn't believe this was Italy right now, doing this.
"If you want to know…I was like this when I was young. I was…weak and small and opened my heart to everything. I never worried about being hurt. I fought when I had to, and hurt people when they needed to be hurt. I abandoned it all thought….when he died…"
"He?" Germany asked.
"He was my first, and until you, only….love. I lost him so long ago, I can barely remember what he said to me when he left me…..and died fighting for me…."
"Luciano…."
"You remind me of him…."
Ludwig stayed silent. He kept his arms encircled around Italy, just breathing and keeping them in rather comfortable silence. Italy was glad he was silent. Holy Roma liked to stay silent when things like this came up. He still couldn't believe his old self came back to the surface. As soon as he began thinking back to earlier times, Ludwig was dragging him up the stairs, down the hall and into Italy's room. He flipped around to face Ludwig as the door closed behind the German.
"What the- mmph!" Ludwig captured Italy's month and silenced him, hands roaming once more down his backside where they rested with ease into the small of his back. Italy's arms braced themselves on his chest, keeping some semblance of control in his favor. Slowly, step by step, Germany led them to Italy's bed, hovering over Italy as he flopped on the bed, looking up at him.
"That's because I am him, really I'm hurt you didn't realize it Italy…I thought you would never noticed. I'm glad that you did"
Italy's eyes widened, tears falling out in the corners of them. The one thing he forgot, the one thing about the copies he missed. Ludwig didn't remember for a while with Feliciano, so for Italy, Germany already knew. Italy was the one who did not realize. Germany wiped away both small creeks of tears, chuckling as more replaced them.
"I've missed you….." Italy whispered. "I'm sorry…."
"Luciano….there's no point anymore to be sorry. All you need to do though is truly answer me this: Do you feel the same as I?"
Italy's answer didn't miss a beat as he lifted himself up to Germany's lips, kissing him with a bitter-sweet mixture of desperation and excitement. As soon as Italy pulled away, he grabbed on to Germany's shoulders, letting joyful tears fall.
"I've always, even though I hid it from you for so long. I love you Ludwig Otto Beilschmidt and that's the damn fucking truth" Italy confessed as he looked into Germany's eyes. "And I never want this to end"
Germany's smile widened, and quickly their lips were together again, Italy being pushed farther into the bed.
"Neither do I, Luciano. Neither do I" Germany whispered against Italy's lips. "So let's start with forever with this"
-'This is how it feels when you take your life back'-
Soft musical humming woke Italy up the next morning, stirring him from his warm embrace and his gentle dreams. He curled up closer to Germany, fingers lingering over the multitude of scars of his chest, skirting on the edges of them. The humming continued, a little higher as Italy ignored it. As it got finally to his nerves, he turned in the warm arms he was kept locked by and looked at his dresser, finding his copy, Feliciano, and Germany's copy, Ludwig, waiting him.
'We were about to leave, just to let you know' Ludwig informed him, pointing to the mirror behind him. 'Good luck'
'Luciano…..you probably won't see us again…..ever….never ever….' Feliciano informed him as well.
"It's for the best. Thank you…..for your help"
'We really didn't do anything' Feliciano sighed, leaning on Ludwig. 'We just nudged and pushed you'
"You were right Feli…."
'It's all the same! We're just a bit….reversed. Don't hesitate to call us again!'
Ludwig added in quickly: 'No seriously, it's actually really boring in our dimension right now. Go ahead when you need us'
"Alright, I will. Good luck you guys"
'Good luck to you Luciano!' Feliciano cheered.
And before Italy's head hit the pillow again, the copies disappeared into thin air. Italy knew they helped him get here, and would be eternally grateful, but now….now he had to keep this going. He pulled his abandoned blanket up from his feet and pulled it over him and Germany's arms, more warmth and comfort enveloping him. With one last content sigh, and a quick wiggle to get closer to Germany, he let himself fall asleep again, taking in the bliss that came with his new found weightless shoulders.
Germany woke up quickly after Italy fell asleep against him. He pressed Italy even closer, ruffling his hair lightly with his free hand. Italy's eyes fluttered open.
"Stop that, it tickles" Italy groaned.
"Good morning to you as well" Germany chuckled, "Are you okay?"
"Copies visited for the last time" Italy yawned, "Still tired…."
"Alright, whatever you say Luciano" Ludwig whispered, getting up with some reluctance and from some crying from Italy. He walked up to their blinds and shut them closed, blocking away the sun and plunging them into darkness once more. Germany crawled in with Italy again and both took bliss in sleeping longer. The Axis house let them, choosing to let the new couple take in each other.
Italy thought let a stray thought come to voice as he started to fall back into sleep.
"I'm not afraid of myself anymore"
Probably the longest thing I've ever written in one go. 11k words and 21 pages in Word document. I probably will never write something this long again...maybe.