Hello everyone!
This story is a cumulation of farfetched headcannons I've had regarding Hetalia, its characters, and my OC for this fandom (whom does not appear in this chapter.)
I ask that you please give it a chance, partly because of my pride in developing this character and the story, and partially because I personally think it's a fairly unique presentation of a tried-and-true bundle of concepts.
Regarding romantic inclinations, I'm a diehard Gerita fan, so I'm sure there will be some present eventually. It's not planned- I intend to let it form organically if it does. There will be no Mary Sue action, although there will likely be sexual content regarding my OC. (It will make sense, and will not infringe upon the integrity of established canon history. Context will be required.)
Thank you very much!
NOTE: Do not read this chapter alone in a dark room. You'll thank me later.
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Where am I?
It's light, it's all light and I don't know where I am, but I'm not afraid.
I'm not afraid and I'm not happy and I'm not sad or scared or angry. I just am, and I don't know where this is.
There is light...and there is more light. I can see something by my feet...but I'm blinded.
Go on...
What? Go where?
Forward. Go forward.
I go.
I do not trip, though the ground is full...I move forward.
And the more I move, the more light there is, it gets brighter. I do not blink, but I do not see.
Go on.
I go forward. It's bright. I feel strange, everything tingles, everything's numb. I feel that I have no control over myself.
More and more until I'm overwhelmed. I can't move anymore.
Touch it.
Touch what?
Touch.
I put my hand out.
...And everything EXPLODES with absolutely GLORIOUS sensation beautiful sound and heavenly music and sight that would make the angels weep and every feeling that anyone could ever experience crashes through and an existensial overwhelmingly powerful moment at the crossroads of nostalgia and excitement overcomes me like a wave in the ocean of time and space stars shine and shoot through me as the planets spin and waltz and I'm confronted with every notion and every idea and every concept that ever was and could be and already existed in the plane of potential because they've always been there waiting for someone to grasp it and take it until the womb of the infathomable mind and produce it and hold it up for the world to see and christen it in the waters of understanding and passion and celebration and I'm so vemently vemently ve-
"Why are you in my bed!?"
"Ve?" Italy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was covered in crisp white sheets and a heavy but practical quilt. It was dark outside- Italy checked the clock on the plain nightstand and he saw it was quite late.
Germany was sitting next to him, covered from the waist down in the same said bedclothing. His hair hung loose and his face was in his palm. "I asked you why you were in my bed...AGAIN."
Italy thought for a moment. "I don't really know...I guess my body wanted to sleep here so it took me all the way to Germany's house!" He broke a wide smile. "I'm glad, because I really wanted to sleep here too, after all!"
Germany gave Italy an incredulous look. "You sleepwalked all the way over here? How were you not shot by Switzerland?"
Italy happily opened his mouth to respond. "You know what?" Germany interjected, "Nevermind. I don't want to know the answer to that." He rolled over grumpily and settled in.
"So... I can stay, si?" Italy requested with a hinting air.
A sigh. "It's too late to kick you out."
"Wah! Grazie, Germany," Italy cheered as he burrowed happily into the blankets. He snuggled up into Germany's back, but in the event of literally being shrugged off ("Nein!") he opted to curl up in the middle of the bed as close as possible to the other without actually touching him (and took a good majority of the blankets with him.) Content in his position, he began to fall into a sweet and placid slumber.
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Hello, Italy.
Italy waves at me, then turns and skips ahead.
I follow behind him. We're in a field. There are white flowers. The sky is white.
Italy turns to face me. He says something I can't understand, but I know what he says. He told me that I better watch out and Hey Germany wake up-
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Germany opened his eyes.
Groaning a little, he sat up and checked the time. He was shocked- it was past 7am! How had he managed to sleep in so late?
He dashed out of bed and began to prepare for his shower. "Italy! Are you awake?"
Of course, the answer was no. The Italian was still slumbering away in the mess of blankets.
Germany came over to his side of the bed and pulled the blankets off. "Italy, wake up NOW! We are late for training!"
Italy groggily opened his eyes and slowly shifted his body. "Mamma mia," he moaned, "I'm so tired..."
Germany ignored him. "Up now! We have to catch up on our schedule!" He gathered towels and clothing and went off to shower.
Ten minutes later, he returned clean and ready to go just to find Italy asleep again in the same position as before.
Germany drew a breath and bellowed, "ITALY!" This scare tactic usually was more than efficient in quickly raising even the deepest sleeping Italy out of bed.
But not so...Italy groaned and shifted again, before asking piteously, "Germany... would you let me sleep today? Per favore... I'm so tired...I can hardly keep my eyes open..."
"Nein! We must train! Get out of bed!"
Italy thus drew his drooping body out of bed and proceeded to inch through preparations for the day.
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It was usually that Italy would perk up around breakfast, and after a bit of coffee and a cornetti he was his typical bouncy, energetic (and insufferable) self.
However, rather than catching the wind in his sails, it was as though he had no sails at all. He sat, sipping at his cappuchino and taking small bites of the pastry off of it's gilded saucer.
The rest of the day was no different. Feet dragged through the dirt at a snail's pace. Training was fruitless. Cats were ignored. Attempts to aggravate situations by not reading the mood failed to occur.
"God verdammt," Germany thought, "He's even more useless than usual. I would think that capping that energy would be a good thing, but now he's become dead weight. I should never have thought I would say this, but I should appreciate it when he takes his siesta."
Three o'clock rolled around. Unfortunately (and perhaps again) the unthinkable happened.
"I don't think I'll siesta today," Italy mumbled.
Germany started. "What?!" he practically shouted. "You've been a hapless slug all day, and now you have a chance to redeem yourself and you're going to skip out?"
Italy looked even more tired in the moment, but he nodded his head. "It will be better for me to stay up and...be present..."
"Tch," Germany snorted. "This is hardly the prime example of alert and at the ready. Look at yourself, you're about the fall over! I absolutely insist that you-"
"NO."
Germany was taken aback by the sudden force from Italy. Italy stood there, shaking a little from defying Germany's order (and exhaustion,) but he was resolute. "Si prega di," he mumbled apologetically, "...I don't want to."
Germany considered this. Whatever reason he had for foregoing his "one true Italian quaility" was obviously a more overwhelming force than the threat of German punishment. But why skim over what typically was one of his favorite daily activities? Especially considering his current state? It made no sense.
Germany sighed. "Fine," he finally conceided. "But you will be bringing your morale up to speed at once! We will begin training for this effective immediately."
Italy just sighed, and gave a defeated nod.
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Morale training proved purposeless. Italy's exhaustion got worse. As mornings went by, Germany would find himself more and more having to pull an unconscious Italian's face out of his cappuchino before he drowned in his shifting conscious state. Cornetti and biscotti remained untouched.
Days passed. Dragged feet became collapsed knees on the cround. Training ceased to exist. Friends and neighbors were ignored. Conversations were aggravated with concern for Italy's low energy and decreasing health.
And still, he avoided siestas. Germany realized quickly on that trying to press the siesta issue was pointless. As destructive as it was, it seemed that Italy would sooner let himself be destroyed than to actually succumb to the natural function that was sleep.
Another absolutey strange thing that occurred was that Italy ceased to stop sneaking into Germany's bed. At first Germany was confused, but after some time and a bit of thought he realized quickly exactly what was happening.
Italy was not sleeping. At all. He'd simply stayed awake for days on end without resting once. It was insanity. And so he himself pulled an out-of-character move.
"Italy," Germany said, "I insist that you sleep in my bed tonight."
The Italian was immediately on guard. "Wh-what? No, I'm afraid I can't...I-I-I promised I'd sleep at-"
"At whose?" Germany asked.
"At France's house."
Germany glared. "You shouldn't be sleeping in France's nest of depravity."
"Uh? W-Well then I-I mean Spain's house..."
"No better. Cancel those plans."
"I mean, I'm staying at...Fratello's house..."
"That's YOUR house, you idiot!" Germany grabbed his shoulders. "Why are you avoiding sleeping with me? What are you hiding? You used to come over incessantly, invited or not, and now..."
"I just don't want to impose!"
"I promise, it's no trouble," Germany said sarcastically. "Be there at seven p.m sharp."
"But Germany-"
"Seven p.m."
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At nine-thirty Italy arrived, a wreck as usual and fully clothed.
Germany glanced at him. "What, do you plan to sleep in your uniform? Take that off and lie down."
Italy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I mean...I wasn't planning to stay long, so I figured I shouldn't get naked right now..."
Germany had enough. "Italy," he growled, "Get in bed right now and go to sleep or I will put you there myself!"
Italy shook like a leaf, but remained defiant. "N-n-n-no! No no! I don't want to! I d-don't want to!" As he did, frightened, overwhelmed tears brewed and bubbled over from his eyes.
"God verdammt, Italy, why?!" Germany strode over, grabbed his shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "Why are you not sleeping? It's so unlike you to forgo sleep. Why now? Why will you not sleep?"
Italy looked at him squarely back. "I'm scared."
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At nine-thirty Italy arrived, a wreck as usual and fully clothed.
Germany glanced at him. "What, do you plan to sleep in your uniform? Take that off and lie down."
Italy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I mean...I wasn't planning to stay long, so I figured I would crack open your ribs and render your ever beating heart from your carcass ..."
Germany had enough. "Italy," he growled, "Get in bed right now and go to sleep or I will put you there myself!"
Italy shook like a leaf, but remained defiant. "N-n-n-no! No no! I don't want to! I d-don't want to!" As he did, frightened, bloody tears burned his cheeks and bubbled over from his eyes.
"God verdammt, Italy, why?!" Germany strode over, grabbed his shoulders, and looked him in the eye. "Why are you not sleeping? It's so unlike you to forgo sleep. Why now? Why will you not sleep?"
Italy looked at him squarely back. "Help me."
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At nine-thirty Italy arrived, a wreck as usual and fully clothed.
Germany glanced at him. "...Wait. What did you just say?"
Italy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I mean...I wasn't planning to stay long, so I figured I shouldn't get naked right now..."
Germany shook his shoulders. "No, not that- what did you say before that...after that?"
Italy shook like a leaf, and giggled incessantly as he mocked, "N-n-n-no! No no! I don't want to! I d-don't want to! Help me Germany, help me help me HELP ME HELP ME!" And he stared Germany down, he gave a long, soul-chilling howl of laughter and steaming acid tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Italy, what-?!" Germany found himself clinging to his shoulders, though he did not recall moving towards him. He tried to pull away, but he was sealed in place. The vitrirolic tears dripped off of Italy's jaw and onto his hands and wrists, where they bore caustic holes into his skin. His skin tingled and went numb.
"Germany, help me please!"
Germany looked over to the bed. Italy was there, lying flat on his back. His body position looked peaceful, and he appeared to be sound asleep. It didn't even seem that a voice could come that way. But the bleeding tears that dripped from his resting eyes and stained dark on the white bedclothes were the sole chilling indicator of truth.
Germany slowly looked from the Italy on the bed to the one that his hands clung to, and his heart nearly dropped out through his stomach.
He had no face.
Italy had no face. He had a blank impression of a face, like fabric stretched over a skull. But there was absolutely nothing there at all.
And then it was like watching stop-motion animation, the inhuman speed of individual action and the choppy connection of movements as this abomination of Italy twitched his arms up and slapped his hands to his face and began to pull out pieces of his skin. The result was inhuman, inconceivable terror- a wide grin of reflective, razor sharp fangs that stretched from ear to ear, shrouding a black abyss into hunger and terror.
And as Germany stood, frozen by fear and some unearthly power by this demon incarnate, the creature jerked its way out of his grasp and, contorting its legs into steps only achievable by insects and the possessed, climbed its way onto the bed where the true Italy lay sleeping. Sleeping paralyzed. Stuck. Unable to flee.
Germany couldn't move. Germany couldn't speak. Germany could not create a single indication of intention or emotion or anything that could possibly save Italy from sure destruction in the most macabre and unfathomable death in this life and beyond that could possibly be conceived.
And the creature knew it. This demon that wore Italy's visage in pieces, that crawled in its stop-motion fashion on top of Italy's paralyzed chest and laughed and howled and spewed bitter tears and bore glinting fangs and threw his head back and opened his chainsaw jaws and threw himself down onto-
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"hhhHRAAUUUGHHHH!" Germany bolted upright. He was hyperventilating, and his heart was beating several times as fast as it ought.
He looked around, gauging his surroundings. He was in his bed. It was almost six in the morning. Light was starting to peek through the window.
He pulled off the blankets and found Italy lying there, breathing peacefully. There were no blood to be seen or- he brushed it with his fingertips- felt.
Germany breathed a sigh of relief. "Just a dream," he mused. An incredibly deranged, beschissen dream, but a dream nonetheless. It must have been the stress from worrying about Italy, he mused. Ah well, at least he finally got some sleep and this nonsense was stopped.
Germany decided to let Italy sleep in a little, to regain his health. He bathed and dressed, and prepared breakfast for the both of them. Around eight, he returned back upstairs to check on him. He was still asleep, so Germany let him be.
After about nine, Germany began routinely checking him at staunch fifteen minute intervals. At ten, unwilling to delay training any further, he stifled his growing irritation and left. It continued much like this after he came back. Having to monitor Italy's rest regularly made it a very inefficient day for Germany.
Finally, at three o'clock, Germany had enough. "If he wants to sleep all morning and afternoon, then he shouldn't need a siesta as well," he thought, storming up the stairs to the bedroom. "Really, he brought this affliction upon himself, trying to stay awake for days on end for who knows what reason. I should be disciplining him on maintaining his health, not catering to his eccentricities!"
"Italy, that's enough! You can't sleep your life away," Germany called, flinging open the bedroom door. "Get up now!"
Italy continued to sleep.
Germany resorted to his typical tactic of volume. "ITALY!"
Oddly enough, still nothing.
Germany strode over and began shaking his shoulders and bellowing right into his face "ITALY, GET UP NOW!"
But it didn't work.
Germany began to get a small tingle in the pit of his stomach. As he slapped Italy's cheek, threw cold water on him, and threatened him with death scenarios in a panicked yell, that tingle grew to a sick feeling and his stomach turned to ice.
Italy didn't wake up.
Italy wasn't going to wake up.
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And that's chapter one! More to come, including OC. I promise most of it will be lighthearted, or at least not so macabre.