A/N: I hadn't watched this episode by the time I began writing this, so I apologize if the words are not the same as either the Japanese original nor the English dub. I just came up with them based on the numerous fanfictions I had read about Holy Roman Empire leaving, so I just assumed. (By the way, I'm only 13, so sorry if it's terrible.) I've been trying to work on making my stories longer, but it's very difficult for me to focus on most things.
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"She's perfect," sighed the blond boy as he leaned on his arm, a dopey smile lighting his features. Flowers, she was picking; more specifically tulips. Waddling around in her green maid's dress, she leaned fully over, tush in the air and underwear showing. Blushing madly at the sight of her bloomers, he hid his face in his arms, listening to the loud cry of triumph as-
he stood, purple tulips successfully gathered in his arms, a bright smile spread across his lightly tanned face. Germany shook his head, not having time to ponder what he just witnessed before being glomped by the Italian. Trying to catch his breath, he floundered like a fish out of water, mouth flapping uselessly as he awkwardly flailed his arms. Stiffly resting his arms under Italy's armpits, which were shaved, he dully noted.
Releasing him, the effeminine male stared him straight in the face, or at least he thought so, his companion's eyes being forever elusive to his own. His heart beat loudly, palms sweating, and face growing warm as-
lips touched his own, soft and moist with tears. Golden eyes looked into his own, glazed over with sadness and fear. Lips parted as if to speak, but quickly snapped shut as he lifted a trembling hand. With such gentleness that the girl's eyes were soon awash with fresh precipitation, he wiped the smooth cheeks free of wetness. "I'll always return... Ich liebe dich, Italien."
He took a few steps back, clumily raising his left hand in some vague form of salute, a sign that was soon returned by his friend. "When you come back, I will be here with pasta, cake, cookies, candy; whatever you want I shall make." A happy, slightly doubtful smile crawled onto his lips, a grin that was bounced back tenfold by the small girl. He turned to leave, but was stopped by the felling of wood in his previously empty palm.
"So you don't forget me," was his answer, feet shuffling nervously, flushed face, and cast-down eyes, but he didn't push it; it had been only recently that he had managed to become friends with the other childlike country, so he learned not to question Italia's reasoning for doing what she did. Broom clutched tightly in his small hand and heart heavy in his cheast he left the only place he'd ever known, only daring to wonder what would happen during his time in war. He may have been a child, but he at least had a small understanding of death and what it took to achieve it...