We're all piled in my army truck, with the majority sitting disgruntled in the truck bed. Romano and Italy sit in the rear seats, Italy having (more or less) recovered from the blow. His legs are tight to his chest, and Romano is trying to console him. "Feliciano, are you alright?" he asks pitifully. He's asked that already. This is the twelfth time he's asked. Just great.
Italy doesn't answer, because he can't. My one little word, 'silence', has cost my only true friend his voice. In the rearview mirror, I watch his eyes drift from his brother to me. I've said I'm sorry a dozen times, despite Italy's silent pleading for me to stop. I mouth the two words in the mirror, and hope he catches it.
"Hey, West, why can't I sit up there?" Prussia asks me. I glance in the mirror and see his head poking through the window in the rear of the cab.
"You're blocking my view, bruder," I say forcefully. He doesn't relent...he's such a pain.
For a moment, I think about what France said to me at the square. 'If my baby brother doesn't get his voice back, you're dead meat.' He was as serious as the plague. I dread him actually carrying through with it. Like his brothers, France can be strong if he wants, and, unlike the wiry strength of Italy and Romano, France and Spain have some brute strength, sometimes even matching mine.
We're driving to Austria's house on his instructions. I would have liked to take Italy back to his house, but my cousin was adamant, as was his ex with her frying pan. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, but Vienna is quite a way from the waterways of Venice.
"Hiya, West!" my brother shouts in my ear. I jump a little and curse at him in German.
"HOW THE HECK DID YOU GET UP HERE?!" I shout back. Prussia smiles, the little bird on his head chirping.
"Thank him," he says, pointing at the back. I look back and see Romano waving. I also see that, despite my jump and Prussia's silly actions, Italy is still downcast.
"We're not that far off, Italy," I say reassuringly. "Not that far."
ǂ
When we arrive at my cousin's house, Italy brightens slightly. He scribbles a smiley face on his hand with a pen and shows it to me. There has to be an easier way for him to communicate...
Italy grew up in this house, and, for a short period of time, so did Romano. The elder puts his arm around Italy, who is still a bit tearful. Austria walks past them, and ruffles Italy's hair in passing.
Once inside, Italy and his brothers all sit on the sofa, and Italy buries his face in Romano's coat. France puts one arm around him, and Spain is muttering something. They're an odd bunch.
Wind and rain begins outside, and Prussia jumps at the boom of thunder, his red eyes going huge. His bird, who he named Gilbird, chirps loudly as the lights go out. England's green eyes seem to glow, even in the absence of light, so he aids Austria in finding some candles. At the next crack of lightning, I see Italy holding onto his brothers, who comfort him in his fear. Fear is something I have rarely felt, and I really only feel fear at the wrath of his older brothers.
England and Austria come back with two candelabras and two separate candles. My cousin has something tucked under his arm, which he hands to Italy. It's a whiteboard, so Italy can talk to us. He smiles, and immediately starts scribbling on it. When he shows us, it reads 'Thanks, Austria. And, Prussia, you scream like a girl.'
Laughter ensues at his little comment, and in the glow of the candles I see my brother go red. He's been around longer than me, yet he acts like a college student. Right now he looks like someone just told his frat' brothers that he has a pet 'birdie.' It's hilarious, and I can't help but laugh as well.
Spain messes up Italy's hair, and Italy playfully swats his hand away. He writes something on his whiteboard, but shows only his brothers. Whatever it is, it makes them all giggle like schoolchildren. Spain turns as red as his coat.
"Hey, dude, why don't we try to figure out a way to get your voice back?" America asks. For once, I agree with him. But this is gonna be a long night. Oh, great joy.
AN: Hey guys! New chapter up! Technically, it's like two chapters, as evidenced by the line of double daggers. This is actually Germany's symbol for his perspective. Italy's is a '*', Romano's is '', and so on. I'll explain more symbols as more characters give their perspectives. Anyway, Lovi's next to give his opinion. No, he will not curse in here, I pretty much have a rule against that. The worst he'll say is 'hell' and 'pissed', and he won't say that until part two. Or unwritten rants in Italian, but, again, part two. So... I do not own Hetalia~! *spins* Or else all of this would be true and the Buon San Valentino strip would be scrapped. No GerIta for me, SpillSomeInk and I have our own pairings for each of them with OCs. Enough ranting from me, bonavitaetgaudium out~! PASTAAAAAAA~! *Italy run into the sunset*