Ok so this is my first story…so please…Critique is asked for…But no flames please….. ^-^
Summery: He died long ago. Italy knows that, but it doesn't stop the pain and the empty feeling sense Holy Rome died Italy has fought with depression. Not that anyone knows about it, He hides it well after all. One day he finds out that Germany doesn't remember his childhood, and that his first memory is of Prussia sitting at his bedside and him covered in bandages.
...line brake...***...***...***...
I sat bolt up right in bed, tears streaming down my face. That dream again….. Well memory really. The memory of the last time I saw him, my beloved Holy Rome.
I guess I should tell you a little about what's going on, huh? Ok for starters, my name is Feliciano Varges, but I'm also known as Italy Veneziano…..or just Italy for short. I'm the personification of the northern half of Italy. Holy Rome is…..was…. my first love, he died…many years ago. 1806 to be exact. And these nightmares of mine are of the last time I saw him.
I got out of bed slowly, not wanted to wake Germany, and started walking to the bathroom. I had to feel my way there, because my tears blinded me and because the house was pitch black.
I felt myself trip and bump into the dresser. I froze in place as I heard Germany stir. I didn't dare so much as breath.
Finally he rolled over and laid still. I smiled slightly when I noticed he was cuddling my pillow to his chest.
Fresh tears ran down my face when I thought of how much he reminded me of Holy Rome. It was a curse and a blessing.
He looked so much like him, same ice blue eyes and blond hair. They even had the same personality, but I know they couldn't be the same person. France killed Holy Rome, squired him through with a sword.
When I finally made it to the bathroom I locked the door and slid down to the floor. There I sat for who knows how long with my face buried in my knees as I cried till my voice was gone and no more tears wold flow.
Slowly I stood back up, legs shaking, and walked over to the sink.
I looked at myself, eyes red and puffy, bags underneath them from lack of sleep, face damp from tears, hair messed up; even my curl was bent out of shape and sad looking.
O-well. I started to get ready, brushing my hair and teeth and washed my face.
Slightly better
Next I reached under the sink to the far back corner and pulled out a bottle of concealer and putting a good bit under my eyes to hid the bags there. As for the redness from crying, that had faded a bit already and would be gone soon enough.
Sighing to myself I headed down stairs to make some pasta for breakfast, after all I do need to keep up my happy-go-lucky air-headed pasta loving act for Germany.
I plastered on my fake smile and bounced down the stairs.
'Well time to start another day of lies and empty smiles'
...line brake...***...***...***...
yay for first chapter!
Just a quick peak into Italys mind for now….. now one ve~ …wow. Don't worry there will be plenty in the next chapter
So what do you think? Any good? and sorry its so short