Bad Dream

Little Italy outstretched his hand to the vast horizon, as if reaching for the stars that dusted the skies, as if trying to grasp shattered dreams, and as if grabbing for someone long lost. His grandfather, perhaps? His brother who's somewhere out there? That boy who still hasn't come home?

He withdrew his hand, the horizons still out of reach. So were the dreams. So were they.

A sigh, a window closing, and a chair pushed away. Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it's time to believe that they were right all along. Maybe it's time to stop.

Little Italy trudged along the darkened halls of a house too big, mindlessly running his fingers along the wall. The steps he took have long lost their bounce; almost like how his paintings have lost their colour.

Then suddenly, at the end of the hall, there stood a person he knew so well. Holy Roman Empire. His back was turned and he was so far away, but not out of reach. Italy could still reach out and someone would be at the other end to grab his hand.

His mouth twitched into a smile and Italy ran. The bounce was back and the colours were bursting. Then, Holy Rome turned to face him.

A smile returned, a tear dropped, and a crash. Little Italy threw himself on the other nation and Holy Roman Empire caught him.

"You're back!"

"Italien..."

"I waited for so long; I thought you wouldn't come home."

"Listen,"

"But everything's fine now, you're here! You're home, and that's what matters. Please don't leave again, Holy Rome. Promise me, okay?"

"I'm sorry, mein Italien."

"Hm?"

"I love you. I wish I told you that more often when we were together."

In Little Italy's arms, Holy Rome began to fade, his face becoming a blur along with the rest of him. Italy fought to keep him still, to keep him grounded, but still, even when in reach, Holy Rome was far just too far away.

A scream, a shake, and a jolt. Italy was awake. He frantically searched around, the dream still lingering.

"Italy, are you alright?"

Germany sat beside him, patting his back in a soothing manner. There were no windows, no halls, and no Holy Rome. Just him and the German.

Italy tightened his grip on the blanket and forced out a sheepish grin. "Ve, it was just another bad dream."

Just another nightmare.