Authors Note: Hey guys! So, this is kinda based off a story I never finished (So sorry!), Broken Promises, and I'm sorry if you are one of the loyal reader but im probably not going to finish it. I took it in a dead end direction, and there where so many mistakes it's humiliating, (granted there is most likely a surplus of mistakes in here too, but…) Anyways, this is going to go in a slightly different direction but I hope you like it!
Enjoy~
Chibitalia ran happily towards the Holy Roman Empire, intending to embrace his friend with an exuberant glomp, "Good morning, Holy Rome!" he cried, giving his friend a five second warning before impact. The blond boy turned just in time to halt his friends attack, holding out his hands he shouted "Stop!" in his squeaky childlike voice, a voice befitting of one so young. Though they are both hundreds of years old, and or a nation, they're both mere children. Chibitalia halted his movements, his little hair curl bobbing slightly with the force of it. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, "Huh?" he questioned in his simple way. Romisches and him where very close, spending as much time in each other's company as possible. Never before has his friends denied him the right to an exuberant greeting. The poor child had a right to be baffled. The auburn haired nation watched as his friend seemed to fight for words, shaking with the effort it took not to show his internal struggles outwardly.
"Italy…" The blond boy sighed in defeat, hi words almost inaudible at first, "Why, why do you run when I chase you, yet chase me when I run?" He said, every ounce of pent up childish frustration and pain evident in his words. Chibitalia took a step back, not quite understanding what had come over his dear friend. "H-holy Rome?" he questioned, the weak and fragile Italian nation already tearing up. Black cloak flowing, the young empire stepped toward his misty eyed friend, guilt fueling his actions as he laid a comforting hand on his frightened companions shoulder. "Listen Italy." He began, his voice somber, "There's something I need to tell you." He took a calming breath embracing his friend tightly, "Im sorry, for everything. Im leaving. Don't try to talk me out of it, I have to, so you can feel at ease." He pulled away and looked into Chibitalia watery eyes, watching as his friend began to cry. "W-what do you mean? I don't understand, Romisches." He said, voice cracking, as he tried to stem the flow of his tears. Fratello had always said that crying wasn't fit for boys. Holy Rome looked at his feet, unable to watch his friend cry any longer. "I mean exactly what I say, Italy." He murmured.
"You're leaving? W-why! It's all so sudden, Oh Holy Rome please don't go!" Italy sobbed, ignoring all boundaries and launching at his friend. Italy pulled away, looking around frantically for something unknown to the bewildered blond boy. Seemingly out of nowhere, the auburn haired child produced his push broom, which he had used many times to clean his master Austria's home, and that had been present nearly every time the two boys interacted. "Take this Holy Rome, as a token of our bond, and my affection for you. Take it with you and think of me." He said, pushing the object into his friend's chubby hands. Italy had finally stopped crying.
"HOLY ROME! WE BETER GET GOING!" One of Holy Rome's human guards called out. The blond deflated slightly, turning to the man who was loading the carts carrying all of their weaponry and supplies, calling out "Okay!" in reply. "Well then, I wish to give you something in return before I leave." He said, "What do people in your country do for one which they like?" he said, his voice much too formal for one his age. Italy blushed and bowed his head in a very feminine manner, "I t-think, they kiss." He stuttered, looking up at Holy Rome through his thick lashes, looking all too innocent. Holy Rome would have choked on his breath, had it not stopped a few moments upon looking at the object of his childish affections, blatantly asking for something his Vati had deemed so intimate.
"I see." He answered. He leaned in closer, words he longed to say aloud running through his brain as his lips made contact with Italy's. 'They're so soft' he thought as he kissed his male friend, though he knew not his companions true gender. A kiss so slow, so innocent and at the same time so earth shattering, a beauty like this never again seen on our planet. He pulled back, and looked Chibitalia in the eyes. "I love you, Feliciano." He said, blushing as he realized his confession. Italy stared wide eyed at his longtime friend, tears once again bubbling in his eyes. "Really?" he questioned, not believing his ears. Holy Rome merely smiled and pulled Italy into another warm embrace. "Of course, I have since the tenth century." He smiled. Italy lit up, and returned the embrace full heartedly, overjoyed that this wasn't some joke, though he knew his friend was not known for his humor. "Im happy to hear that." He whispered.
"Holy Rome! We really must be going!" the soldier yelled again. The aforementioned nation nodded somberly in the direction of his troops, before turning and flashing a loving smile to Italy. "Well, see you Italy. You know? When the war is over, I will make it my first duty to come back and see you again." He proclaimed wistfully. Holy Rome began his decent to his soldiers, his advisor and boss bringing him his white stallion, ironically named Blackie. The tears Italy had been holding back dutifully began to fall again, as he chased after the caravan in vain, shouting promises that would never be heard, "I'll be waiting! I'll be waiting for you, when you come back, I will have made lots of sweets for you. Don't get injure, or sick! And I promise I'll have the sweets ready! Promise you'll come back for me Holy Rome!" he screamed, trapping over a rock and falling, just as Holy Rome reared Blackie up on his hind legs, and made a vow he believed with all his heart would be kept.
"I will always return for you, Italy! I ill conquer any nation, brave any stormy sea, if it means coming back for you!" he cried joyfully.
Not for the first time, Feliciano awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up and feeling his cheeks streaked with tears. Without even thinking, he grabbed the quilt off his bed, wrapping it around himself and shuffling to the room next to his. He didn't bother to knock, simply pushing the door open and slipping into bed next to the man, so much like the boy from his nightmares, but not the same. Italy snuggled closer to the German as a fresh wave of tears washed over him. 'Romisches is dead. The Holy Roman Empire died in 1806.' Italy chastised himself internally. He knew this was bad, he knew that Ludwig isn't the same as Romisches, but he took away the hurt, and filled the gaping hole that throbbed in his chest, and that's all that mattered.
End Note: Thanks for reading! A new chapter should be up soon so please follow and review! Check out my other works, Such as Once upon Hetalia which is a series of complete one-shots (and my personal fav.), or even A Night at Hetalia University which is complete, and leave me some reviews there too!
Oh right! and if you didn't know, Romisches is Holy Rome's human name!
Danke fürs Lesen!^J^
PrussianBitch345