Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Chapter 2
Far away, long ago,
Glowing dim as an ember,
Things my heart
Used to know,
Things it yearns to remember...
And a song
Someone sings
Once upon a December
Germany sat up on his bed, sighing tiredly, running an irritated hand through his hair. This really had to stop. Really.
How many nights had it been that he hadn't been able to sleep properly? He didn't even know why he was having such a hard time sleeping, either. Germany just knew he hadn't been able to sleep more than, what, an hour - three, four?- every night, all for some dream, vaguely remembered, vaguely recalled even now, in the dark night, regardless of the heartfelt pain it brought. Regardless of that strange aching yearning, that loss, that regret and guilt. Blue eyes unintentionally glanced at the vacant spot where Italy usually slept, the spot having been unknowingly, yet almost forcibly taken over by the Italian.
Or rather, he concluded, where he thought the Italian usually slept.
Prior to this phase of insomnia when he had been able to sleep, he hadn't realized Italy's habit of waking up at random hours of the night, leaving for God knows how long to God knows where, only to show up again and crawl back under the covers. Italy had always been a very clingy person, but now, at night, after returning from his little walk, he would be even worse about it, leaving no room between himself and Germany. If the Germanic nation dared to so much as move half an inch away from the smaller man in his "sleep," Italy would immediately wake and curl even closer, if that was at all possible. At times he would even take his arm captive in an amazingly strong grip and cling to him the entire night.
He might have been annoyed and brought the subject up if it hadn't been for the expression on Italy's face.
It damn near tore his heart in two to see such a painfully sad and broken expression on that normally smiling face. And, judging from the faint remnants of dried tears, he had been crying as well.
Where the hell was Feliciano going, or doing for that matter, that made him so sad?
Seeing as he was never going to be able to sleep this night, Germany decided it was about time he found out.
Putting some proper pants on, but not bothering for shirt (he was accustomed to this degree of cold, going out in a muscle shirt wouldn't kill him), he made his way through the house. With no sign of the Italian in question, he concluded the nation must be outside.
Italy hated being out in the cold for so long, though...
Shaking his head, Ludwig made his way outside, then out to the back, seeing as Italy wasn't in the front yard.
The stars are bright tonight… was the vague thought that crossed the German's mind until a quiet sniffle brought him back to reality.
There, sitting in the large backyard by himself, hugging his knees and most likely crying if he hadn't imagined that pitiful sniffle, was Italy.
And for some painful reason, the sight of Feliciano, sitting by himself in a vast expanse of green and dark, dark blue, looking so small, so fragile, brought to him a sense of nostalgia that flooded him so violently he didn't know how to respond.
A vague, fuzzy memory, like that of a badly worn and faded picture, attempted to come back to him, but it was much too far in the recesses of his mind to grasp it, to coax it out so that it could be remembered. Too fleeting to be caught, it disappeared, but not without the scene in front of him warping and, for a tiny instance, changing.
There the sky was a light blue, the sun shining gently, the breeze softly swaying the blades of green grass of the field they were in. Instead of Italy, however, there was a little girl in a light green dress, who, as if sensing she was being watched, turned to face him. With a smile uncannily similar to Italy's, she waved happily at him, giggling.
"Hi! Welcome back -" but the name was muted, although her mouth certainly did not mouth 'Germany.'
And then he was back in the present, the quiet cries of his beloved Italian having brought him back.
Quietly he made his way to the smaller nation, his presence unnoticed by the other even when he was kneeling at his side. Only when Ludwig laid a gentle hand on a trembling shoulder, softly calling out "Italy," did Feliciano become aware he wasn't alone.
Startled beyond belief, Italy jumped, gasping, completely tense and sitting up as straight as he could. Frightened brown eyes found worried sky blue ones, and almost instantly Italy seemed to calm down, relieved it was Germany who was at his side.
But then that's when he realized the German could see the tears.
"O-oh! H-hello, Germany!" Italy greeted nervously, ducking his head, hoping the other hadn't seen the tears or heard his cries. The large, warm, gentle hand that tenderly wiped away the few remaining tears that dripped down his face crushed those hopes entirely.
"Italy, what's wrong?" So gentle and warm was that question full of worry. It made Italy's heart flutter, and a light blush settled on his cheeks. Thankfully, he could blame the pink hue on the cold.
But there was nothing he could blame these tears on without lying. Instead, the small male tackled the larger man in a hug, startling Germany.
"Italy?"
"…it's nothing…" was all Italy was willing to say.
A bit irked, yet understanding that he could never force the Italian to say anything he didn't want to say, Germany let it go.
"It's getting cold, Italy," Germany murmured, gently trying to pry the Italian off him.
"Don't go!" was the near desperate response.
Surprised, Germany looked down at the small country, his response dying in his throat.
He'd never seen such a panicked look on Italy's face, never felt such a strong grip from him as those small hands latched themselves onto the front of his shirt with no intention of letting go, never heard such a pained, desperate tone from that mouth that usually spewed a bubbly accent.
And suddenly it was the little girl that was in front of him, desperately crying for him not to go, her tiny hands clinging to him in the same fashion.
"Italy…" Soon after that name was said, his voice was not alone; there was another, a child's, that spoke in time with him, and his line of vision was split: in one half he saw his Italy, and in the other, that girl who looked so much like Italy.
"I'm not going anywhere." "You know I have to go."
One expression was relief; the other, pain.
"Good," came the muffled reply from Italy as he embraced Germany tightly, burying his face into the crook of the other's neck.
"Please…don't go…I don't want you to go!" Tears were falling down that pretty face, something that shouldn't be.
"I'm not going to leave you," Germany said, tentatively returning the sudden embrace.
"I don't want to leave you either," the boy murmured, embracing the crying girl.
Why couldn't Holy Rome had said the same? Why couldn't he have just stayed...
"Not ever?" came the childish question Germany couldn't help but find endearing.
"No. But if I ever do, I'll always come back to you."
"Don't worry, Italy. I'll come back to you, always."
Germany's eyes widened. Italy?
That girl was Italy? Then…is that boy…who was that boy? Was he the reason Italy was crying, why he had been so frightened when he thought he was leaving, why he was suddenly asking him if he would never leave him?
He felt Italy freeze in his arms, slowly pulling away to face him, eyes full of confusion at that last sentence uttered.
"Really, Holy Rome?" So hopefully asked…it tore the boy inside to have to lie to her like this.
Oh...
"Really," Holy Rome murmured, leaning down as she rose up.
He understood now.
That was the only kiss ever shared, a kiss of farewell.
He had been the one to make him cry.
There was never one of welcome.
He had been the one to say goodbye...
There was never going to be one in the first place.
Because he was once Holy Rome...
After all, he had lied.
The one who had lied.
A/N: Longer chapter, yes~ I'm literally just shoving out the chapters, because it's a finished product ^J^
But really. Reviews, constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Tell me what y'all think! I swear guys, this one actually has a happy ending...