"Ve, Germany, can I ask you a question?"
"Hm?" He glanced towards the Italian, sitting with his legs to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, chin resting on his knees. The bright stars of the night sky sparkled in his eyes, which, he noted, were carefully avoiding making contact with his own. "Sure, what is it?"
Italy could feel his stomach twisting, and he bit his lip, trying to delay the tears welling up behind his eyes. "W-what would you say if I said I couldn't love you any more?"
"Couldn't love me…?" he echoed quietly, gazing blankly into space, his mind slowly stumbling to process the words.
Italy nodded, pressing a hand to his face, choking back his sobs. He felt terrible. Really. He could feel warm tears trailing over his hand. It was true, though…He just…couldn't love Germany anymore. It wouldn't be fair to him.
"Ve, I'm really sorry, you know."
Germany shook his head silently. Flashes of memories, little snapshots of a time now passed, danced across his vision. Italy, smiling brightly and reaching to hold his hand; Italy, pressing their lips together under a heavy shower of rain; Italy, skin flushed, looking so damn hot in his bed; Italy, stepping into the UN meeting with his head held high, hand in hand with himself. He felt sick to his stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away.
A very different group of thoughts passed through Italy's mind. It hurt him, badly, to see Germany this upset, and he tried to shoo away the pain, tried to replace it with the opposite – joy, home, love. Romano, showing him how to tend for a tiny, potted tomato plant, "accidentally" grabbing his hand as he did so; Romano, quietly creeping into his room in the middle of the night, crawling into bed with him, no questions asked; Romano, one hand tenderly lifted to stroke his curl, his fingers lightly passing over it, the other hand on his face, pulling him close for a kiss. He almost smiled – almost.
But when he lifted his head, Germany was still there, face pressed into his hands. He could practically feel his heart tearing in two, crinkling like paper, shattering like glass. "Ah, I really am sorry, you know," stuttered, climbing to his feet. He stumbled back a few steps, blinking and watching Germany for a second, then he turned and sprinted away, leaving Germany behind him. Running from the past. Running towards the future.
And Germany simply sat there. Alone. Shell shocked. Hah, of course this would happen to him. Good things never seemed to last for him. He stood up, wiping the tears from his eyes, gazing into the sky, feeling tiny, lost, alone among the stars.