"Hey, Germany~" Call out Italy suddenly in the middle of his pasta cooking.
"What is it?" Asked Germany sharply as he busied himself with document after document on his kitchen table, blue eyes tired looking as he sigh in frustration dealing with his Italian friend.
Oblivious to the sighing, Italy start on making his move. "Well, ve, we're the best of-a friend right, Germany?"
Shuffling of papers is heard, "Yes, of course Italy."
"Ve, you will always protect-a me, right?" Italy ask again, humming a merry tune as he cooked his pasta, his somewhat flustered face hidden.
More shuffling of paper on the German side, answering in a nonchalant tune of: "Ja, I will Italy."
"Does... Does that-a mean you l-love me, Germany...?" Germany could just feel that hopeful wave of feeling Italy has right now, finally stop working with his mountain of papers.
"...W-what?" With a perfect poker face with a hint of red, Germany raise a confused eyebrow to the Italian.
Italy is now a full blown flustered wreck, trying (as in keyword) to explain himself. "W-well, i-if you-a love me is fine Germany! C-cause I really, really, really, like you too! And I finally move-a on from Holy Rome! S-so...-!"
"Oh," Said the German, his focus unexpectedly is back on his papers, "Sorry Italy, I have a girl waiting for me."
And with that, Italy feel like an arrow just goes through his heart and now making him bleeding to death.
"E-excuse me? C-can you-a repeat that?" The Italian stuttered, for the first time ever could careless about his beloved pasta.
Germany sigh as he look up, surprised as his gaze meet with a watery, totally-pained-from-rejection hazel eyes. Gulp, now he definitely feel the guilt.
"Look Italy, I... I know this is weird, b-but I had this dream that I promised to a girl I have a crush on for like... I don't know, a century maybe? I promise that I'll be back for her and I still searching for her. My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I know that she's there, somewhere, waiting for me. S-so yeah... It's not you Italy, it's me. But thanks for taking a liking to me," Germany ended his kinda-nice-but-still-hurt speech about his loved one with a small yet soft smile, eyes apologetic hoping Italy would take the hint.
"Tell me Germany," Italy suddenly demanded, face cold. "Tell me what she's like."
Germany make a small frown, still feeling rather guilty, but answered nonetheless. "I guess my lost memory prevent me from knowing her name, but I do remember she usually sleep a lot. She love to paint, sometimes teach me how, and she clean a lot too. I dreamed that she give me this weird broom for whatever reason. Now that I'm talking to you about her Italy, I think she also have that weird hair curl like you! I-is she your relative?"
Italy ignored Germany hopeful look and just think, and everything just suddenly click.
(Italy badly wanted to smack himself on the head for not noticing, but decide against it cause it's hurt.)
What Italy decide to do next though, would make his fratello laugh to tear in pride.
"You... You-...! You idiota! That-a girl is-a me, you bastardo!"
Italy decide to just embrace his mafia side for a second, sniffling with an angry frown pretty much like his brother would do and cuss his heart out. Minutes later, Italy already fallen to his knee unknowingly, now sobbing pathetically.
"I-Italy...?" Germany froze, wondering if he mistaken Romano for Italy again and waiting to get a kick of 'Chigi!', but it (thankfully) never came.
Hearing him, the man sobbing on his floor only cry harder.
"Ah, umm, there there Italy," Germany pat the Italian on the head awkwardly, "Y-you don't need to lie to get my affection you know, we're, uhm, still the best of friend! Yeah... (Mein Gott, I need Japan for this)."
Not feeling comforted at all, Italy only get more hysterical. "No, no, no, no, no, no! I am her Germany! Hiks, b-believe me... H-Holy Rome..."
Germany nodded half-heartedly, "Uh, yeah, sure..."
"Whaaaaa...! Sob, you don't-a believe me are you...?!"
And the rest of the day is spend on them talking (for Italy: sobbing hysterically) on how Italy couldn't be the girl of Germany's dream.
The End.
A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm a sadist for torturing sweet little Italy, sue me, but it's so fun! Sorry if I get them a little bit OOC, I didn't watch Hetalia for a really long time, but I hope you guys at least enjoy it. (And sorry for grammar mistake also.)
This fic is written under the believe of Germany is Holy Roman Empire (is it canon yet? Please someone inform me if so!)
Oh yeah, I didn't own Hetalia, obviously.
So yeah, ciao guys! And remember, always eat a bowl of pasta when your heart is broken!
Buh-bye!