A hand made its way toward the rough bark of one of the many trees around him. He hadn't seen a tree like this before. He retracted his hand like the tree itself was burning like hot stones. He gripped some of his gold locks; he grunted as another wave of pain radiated through his body. Countless years of sleeping had, without a doubt, taken a toll on his body. Otto simply shrugged this off after the pain had dulled a bit; he had experienced worse.

Like being whisked away into battle after their goodbye.

He started walking again, becoming faster when he saw a light through the thick foliage. His mind started wandering off, and soon the sounds of crunch of the leaves under his feet and the occasional squeak from his little rodent friend (Why did it continue to follow him?) were drowned out of his ears.

What had kept him alive after all of these centuries?

Was the Holy Roman Empire raised from the ashes of defeat?

Was he, Otto, alive because of the sheer willpower of his people?

Or could it be that he was –

"Woah!" Fair skin collided with earth. The blond stood up, wincing as he tasted blood from his cheek. "Ow…" A squeak came from the mouse beside him. Otto smiled at the animal and wiped the crimson liquid with the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm fine." He looked at a rather large rock behind him (Maybe it had been the cause for his fall?)

The mouse squeaked again.

"I really am. I'm fi – "

The Holy Roman Empire was cut short by the sight before him. He was out of the "forest". Green grass was to be seen around him. Not a lot of people were in the area, just a few who were chatting or lying asleep in the grass. Wooden benches surrounded the area, most were under trees like those in the "forest".

Otto facepalmed. He wasn't in a forest, that fact he realized. He was in a park of some sort, judging by the looks of it. No, it wasn't because of the huge sign about two meters from him that read "Park". Yep, certainly not that.

He started walking farther from the "woods" that he came from. He was slow and steady, carefully looking where he was stepping. He did not want to land face first into the ground again. Besides, he would get himself dirty, and it wasn't like he could get another change of clothes on such short notice.

Grrrrrrr…

Otto blushed. Country or not, he was sure that his stomach needed food.

Wait… does that mean he could die of hunger?

But he slept through centuries without food, right?

Had he actually –

GRRRRRRR…!

Okay. Enough thinking. He was pretty sure he saw some people eating a… what exactly are they eating? He'd never seen a food that was… how could he describe it? It was spherical in shape… they came in many colors… placed on a brown cone shaped thing? What was it? He had also seen cherries on top… and weird line shaped things with the colors of the rainbow.

A man passed by him. He was holding one of those weird concoctions. Holy Rome's stomach grumbled again. He tugged at the man's sleeve.

"Excuse me dear sir," he started, he was always the one to use manners in front of strangers, "But what is that?" he said, pointing at the object in the man's right hand.

"You mean this ice cream cone?" the man asked, his blue eyes filled with something like disgust. Otto merely nodded in reply.

The man stood there standing, and then he started to smile. Soon loud laughter filled the air. Otto stared in confusion. Why is he laughing…?

A tan hand made its way to his face, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "Duuuude… " the man said in between chuckles, "Do you live under a rock or something? I can't believe you don't know what ice cream is!"

"I beg your pardon?" the young blond man asked. Were people in this era uncivilized? He had only met one since he woke up, and unfortunately he wanted to mark the humans of the "modern times" as rude idiots. Did they not have manners?

The man continued on his way, away from the once powerful nation. The man was still laughing; and Otto felt like he wanted to shrink into nothing or kill the nearest breathing thing he could see. To him, it was an insult to his profile.

'Patience, Otto… patience…'

He regained his composure and tried to look for the source of the alleged popular ice cream. But it got him thinking: 'Why would anyone freeze cream? Let alone eat it?' He shrugged it off, however, when he saw a vehicle (or what he assumed to be one) and a man handing out the bizarre item.

OoOoOoO

"What flavour would you like sir?"

Otto blinked thrice before he understood the question. So these ice cream-thingies came in flavours? But what to choose… he didn't know what flavours were to be had. He tried to think of possible food this thing came with, but couldn't think of anything.

"Hurry up," a woman said angrily behind him, "You're holding the line! Just choose something already!"

Otto decided to ask the man in front of him what he would recommend, and came up with three choices: chocolate, vanilla, and pistachio. He did not know what the latter was but it looked green, which turned him off. Chocolate and vanilla, on the other hand, were prized back then. Chocolate he had eaten were always far too bitter, so he went with vanilla instead.

The stout man laughed, which earned another huff from the woman beside him. Really, Otto could feel that the woman was ready to strangle him. He could already feel her hot, murderous breath at the back of his neck.

The man gave him a cone (or whatever he called it) of white ice cream. The former nation felt a bit reluctant to take the strange food item, but with the woman behind him, he took it. Then something hit him.

This costs money! How and what am I going to pay him? What do they even use nowadays?! Please don't let it be gold… Please don't let it be silver either… But don't let it be bronze! What is the Holy Roman Empire to do?

Unknowing to him, another man came up next to him and put a few paper notes in the vendor's outstretched palm.

"There. Now stop standing like a statue and move already." A commanding voice spoke to him. Otto snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the man. He was taller than him and had no other qualities that distinguished him from the crowd except for his muscular build and formal get-up.

"Well? There are other people in the line too you know."

Otto moved. The man started walking away from him and the people seemed to become happier and relaxed. Licking his ice cream cone, he moved on to his next task. His feet were tired and felt like they were about to break, and to add insult to injury, most of the benches around him were already packed with people. So trudging along, he made his way towards north.

OoOoOoO

He kept on walking (in agony, mind you) he saw a bench occupied by one person. His spirits immediately went up, and it wasn't because he found an empty space, but rather the person that occupied it. Brown locks, fair skin, and golden eyes: his long lost love.

But surely it is her, right? No one else has that stubborn curl sticking out the side… surely no one else has it? But why has she kept her hair so short? She could easily be mistaken for a man!

Ice cream, hunger, and sore feet forgotten, the Holy Roman Empire dashed toward the bench, toward the woman, toward his love.

"Italy!" Otto said, his arms wrapped around the other nation's neck, his head buried in hers, "I missed you so." White hot tears flowed down his face, tears he didn't know he had. The other person in his arms however, was stiff as marble, and as silent as the night.

The receiver of his hug could only blink in confusion. Who was he?

Otto could feel that something was off; he felt that something wasn't right. "Italy… don't you remember me?" Saying that sentence nearly broke his heart; the possibility that his childhood friend and love forgetting him nearly broke his heart.

And it only crushed it further when he didn't receive a reply. Holy Rome buried his head amongst the auburn strands.

"Let go of Italy!" the same commanding voice from earlier boomed, "He doesn't know you!"

Otto's head shot up at the mention of that one word.

He…?!

"Who are you to order me around like that?" he replied, letting go of Italy. The confused nation hurriedly raced into the other man's arms. "And what do you mean he?! Italia is a woman!"

The man, blond locks, blue piercing eyes and all, flinched at both the touch of the golden eyed person hugging him and the lunatic cries of the other man he had met earlier.

Italy… woman?!

"You obviously do not know about us nations, assuming you are a smart enough idiot to know what we are. And Italia is a man."

The words stung Holy Rome's heart and mind. He felt like he was about to burst in that very moment. "That's it! This time is complicated, hurtful, heart-breaking!" he yelled, causing the other two to stand in surprise and fear (for Italy at least). "If Italy doesn't remember me, then shoot me dead; let me sleep forever so I can dream about the little girl in the green dress I had known before as Italia!"

And with that, he ran away. He didn't bother to look at their reactions; they could be laughing for all he cared. He was crushed.

Why had I been woken up… to see that Italy had forgotten me, that our promise was broken, that she – he was with someone else?

Why did I have to see?

Why did I have to hear it – I've been forgotten.

Why did I hope?

Why did I try?

Why did I have to experience heartbreak again?

Why am I alive?

Unknown to him however, Italy had been screaming his name.

OoOoOoO

Yeah. I planned on posting this up a week ago, but school is stealing my time. I also planned on updating all my other fics a week ago, like Madhouse and Winter. Well same reason as above.

Tell me again if HRE was OOC, not OC. I failed last chapter by putting OC. OTL.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.