BOOM!
Italy cried out at the booming thunder, hands clapped over his ears as tears fell unrestrained down his cheek, eyes screwed shut as he trembled. Even hidden under the bed's thick quilt, the poor redhead could still hear the thunder, loud as a gunshot and a thousand times more frightening. He was terrified and alone; there hadn't been a storm this bad in a long, long time.
He was also alone.
Romano had gone off to Spain's house earlier in the afternoon, and now the midnight hour approached with no sign of the elder Italian's return. Italy knew hat Romano was probably waiting out the storm at Spain's house, but Italy merely shivered in his hiding place and wished that the storm would end soon.
Another crash of thunder rang out, louder from a gunshot and shaking the house and lightning flashed simultaneously, bright enough to illuminate under the covers. The air felt charged with electricity and Italy huddled down farther beneath the covers, another sob tearing its way from his throat.
.~*~.
Germany woke at the sound of thunder crashing close by and he turned over, sighing as the covers settled around him and closing his eyes once again. He had to be up early the next morning for training, and didn't want to be tired all day. But something was nagging at the German nation as lightning lit up his room. Something tickling at the back of his mind and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.
With a sigh, Germany sat up, abandoning the thought of sleep for the time being. He slid out of bed and shuffled past the sleeping dogs, stepping carefully over the Golden Retriever puppy Aster sleeping sprawled out in his doorway.
The German made his way downstairs, the thought of making a cup of warm milk for himself to help him fall back to sleep, as another flash of lightning illuminated what seemed like the entire house. Germany crossed the kitchen to the stove and went to turn the burner on, but frowned at the sound of gas. It seemed as though the storm had damaged some power lines somewhere.
"Of course…" Germany muttered, sitting down heavily at the table. "Damn car doesn't work, now the power goes out…"
With a deep sigh, Germany stood, exiting the kitchen and going back upstairs, stepping back over Aster sleeping in his doorway, slipping back underneath the covers and settling his head into the pillow. The house shook with thunder, and Germany noted that the storm was getting worse. Despite being the only person at home that night (Prussia was out with France, no doubt doing something illegal), Germany stayed on his half of the bed, feeling that it would be almost taboo to encroach on the space that was usually taken up by—
Germany's eyes shot open.
"Italy." He breathed.
.~*~.
Italy continued to sob, his throat and head both beginning to ache from the relentless tears, terror and loneliness clenching like a vice around his stomach, still huddled beneath the quilt like a frightened child, tears soaking the blanket around his face and doing nothing to block out the crashing thunder that was sounding right overhead.
Italy peeked out from under the covers and, through his tear blurred vision, spied the closet, made of wood and thick enough to drown out the thunder some. He hoped.
The redhead wrapped the quilt tight around his shaking frame and stood, knees trembling and sobbing so hard he could barely stand, and stepped towards the closet. At that first step, his foot became ensnared in the trailing quilt and the redhead tumbled to the floor.
.~*~.
Germany was out of bed in half a second, yanking on his jeans and boots and almost flying down the stairs, his mind a whirlwind. The power was out, the phone lines were down, the car wouldn't start. The only way Germany could get to the Italian was on foot. In what was almost a tropical storm strength storm.
There was no question in Germany's mind. The blonde nation yanked on his raincoat and pulled up the hood, and then flung the front door open and headed out.
The wind was so strong that it even knocked the sturdy German off balance, flinging rain sharp as needles into his face and eyes as the blond tightened the drawstring of his hood to keep it up and started jogging briskly in the direction of Italy's house.
The night was so dark and the storm was so bad that Germany knew that he could cut through Switzerland's territory safely without threat to his life. Even so, he sped up subconsciously through the gun happy Swiss man's territory and let out a small breath of relief as he crossed into Italy's territory.
Germany tracked down Italy's house with ease and let himself in, using the key Italy had given him long ago and he had never thought that he would actually use. Without even stopping to take off his boots, Germany ran up the stairs and down the hall to Italy's room. He slammed the door open, and the bang of the doorknob hitting the wall was drowned out in a simultaneous boom of thunder that positively shook the house.
"Italy?" Germany called into the room at large.
At first glance, the redhead's room appeared to be empty, and Germany felt his heart drop like a stone. In the very next second, however, he spied the edge of Italy's quilt peaking around the side of the bed. Germany removed his raincoat and let it fall to the ground as he approached the shaking mass of blankets.
In an uncharacteristic show of gentleness, Germany pulled the blankets away until Italy's face was exposed; eyes and cheeks red, tears glistening on his skin and such terror in his eyes that Germany felt a rush of pity. The redhead's breath came in shuddering sobs that shook his entire body.
.~*~.
Italy peered up through teary eyes, vision so blurred that Germany was only a smear of blonde hair and twin pools of blue and next thing he knew, Italy had been lifted up off the floor and placed back on the bed.
The mattress was cold beneath him and he shook along with the house in a boom of thunder, a whimper escaping his lips before suddenly, warmth encompassed him and the smell of rain and wurst and a meadow on a sunny day flooded his senses. The redhead had been pressed close to Germany's chest, and he could hear the blonde nation's breathing as a feeling of safety stole over him.
.~*~.
Germany felt Italy's wrenching sobs shake his own body as the redhead that was wrapped in his arms buried closer to Germany's body, not caring that the blond nation was partially soaked from the rain. Thunder crashed again, and a small wail forced itself from between Italy's clenched teeth.
"Sh…" Germany murmured softly, rubbing Italy's shaking back gently. "Don't be frightened Italien… The thunder can't hurt you."
Italy merely whimpered again at the words and Germany sighed very softly. Italy didn't really respond well to logic when he was scared.
So Germany just held the little redhead tighter to him, making little shushing sounds in the redhead's ear and continuing to rub his back soothingly. "You're okay, Fels…" he said, his voice a quiet rumble. "It's okay, I'm here… And listen, the storm is stopping."
Indeed it was. Already the thunder was quieter, the lightning flashes no longer illuminating the room every other second, the rain slowing into a soft pattering against the windowpanes.
Against his chest, Italy's sobs were softer, no longer shaking his small frame, and his shuddering breaths slowed to little hiccupping sounds, and eventually even that stopped. Germany looked down, using a hand to brush away Italy's bangs, to see that the redhead was asleep, huddled down in a warm combination of the quilt and Germany's arms, breathing through his mouth softly and cheeks still glistening with tears.
Germany was exhausted. He seriously considered going back home for the remainder of the night but, looking down again at Italy's sleeping face, he knew he couldn't. It was warm here, with his arms wrapped around Italy's little body and his feet worked under a corner of the redhead's quilt. It was warm, and he felt to weary to move any more then laying his head down on the pillow, trying not to jostle Italy.
Besides, there was always a chance that the storm could start again.
End.