Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia!
A/N - So this chapter is a bit short, at least I think it is. Anyways, sorry about this late-ish update, but school just started back up and I couldn't exactly find time. Also, I'd like to mention that I tried to stay as much in character as possible, and if it sounds a little OOC, I apologize for that. Thanks though and enjoy! I'll try to update as much as possible, but it might be slow-going, just a forewarning! Sorry!
Germany stretched out his long legs across the warm, white sand. He leaned back against his palms, a feeling of calm washing over him as the sound of splashing reached his ears. He wasn't smiling, but his expression was soft as he looked forward. He watched a certain auburn-haired man kick up and spray about some ocean water. However, there was no laughter and Germany felt the first pinpricks of anxiety deep in his stomach.
As if sensing the blonde's gaze on him, Italy spun around and plastered a small smile on his face. It wasn't like his normal ones though and suddenly, Germany's anxiety grew. He gave one of his usual frowns when he was stressing over something. Italy didn't seem to take notice as he turned back around, bending over to scoop up another handful of water to throw into the air.
He loved the water and he adored beaches, but today, Italy was in no mood. As Germany wondered why that was, Italy pondered over his reoccurring dreams.
Usually, Italy's dreams never bothered him. They were usually meaningless anyways, or silly. However, this dream was entirely different and it haunted him whenever he woke up. It was a dream about his past, during his time he spent at Austria's house. He couldn't shake the foreboding feeling and anxiety he got whenever he had this dream. He stirred countless nights as it played out in his head, making him relive his youth. And it brought back those painful memories, ones Italy had done well to keep buried in the back of his mind.
Italy dropped into the water, his knees sinking into the slippery bottom of the ocean's edge. Water washed over his stomach as he stared at his reflection in the sparkling water. The longer he stared, the more he believed he was looking into the very depths of his tortured soul.
"Holy Rome," Italy whispered.
"Italy?"
Italy jerked his head around with a cry. For a fleeting moment, he thought Holy Rome had come back. When he realized it was only Germany though, he relaxed enough to give a shaky laugh.
"Ah, Germany. What's-a wrong?" he asked his friend. Germany stared hard at the Italian male, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.
"You've been acting very strange." Germany began. "I was wondering, are you alright?"
There was a moment of silence. Italy looked at a lost for words as Germany waited for his response. When he got none, the German man sighed and waddled back out of the water.
"Come on. Let's go home." He said, glancing back at Italy, who nodded.
The two of them walked out of the water and Germany threw Italy a towel to dry himself off with. Italy caught it with a blank expression and stared at it, as if wondering what he was supposed to do with it. Germany would have groaned inwardly if he wasn't so worried about Italy not acting like himself.
He silently took the towel back from Italy's hands and began to dry Italy off himself. Italy didn't say a word and as Germany worked, he couldn't help as his eyes strayed over Italy's exposed torso. His heart sped up. Something stirred inside him and he imagined gently running his hand over Italy's neck and chest. He was so lost in what this would feel like, that he didn't notice that Italy had returned enough of his common sense to notice Germany in a daze.
"Germany?" he spoke loudly. "Are you feeling well?"
Germany blinked and found himself staring into the confused, amber eyes of Italy. His cheeks suddenly felt warm as he blushed. He quickly pulled away and dropped his hands to his side, feeling like he had just been caught in a dirty act.
"I'll be waiting in the car," Germany murmured. He then walked off, his own legs still wet but he didn't care. He was too embarrassed to notice much anyways.
Italy followed after his companion more slowly, taking a moment here and there to glance back at the lapping water behind him. He then walked off the beach and climbed into the passenger side of Germany's four wheel vehicle. Germany was cursing underneath his breath as he jammed his key into the ignition. He was glaring at the dashboard of his car where it revealed the current time. It was already 4:30 and Germany forgot all about the meeting with Japan. In essence, they were late.