A/N: This story is really beginning to grow on me. Thanks to all that read and review! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Italy's story

Italy rested from his work for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. He was extremely tired lately, the effects of the war making him greatly weakened. His people were being picked off, one by one by disease and famine. The glorious days of heaping plates of pasta were gone. He was lucky because he got food. His people were not.

The letters he had sent to Holy Roman Empire had stopped coming back. Italy was worried, but only a little bit. Holy Roman Empire was strong and intimidating, he would bounce back from this war and return home to scold Italy. He had promised too. And Italy had promised to wait for him, working diligently each passing day. He missed the young boy following him around and scaring him while he did his sweeping. In the past, whenever Italy opened his door, he was always surprised when he saw a glimpse of black cloth disappearing behind the corner. Or sometimes a scent of the woods, crisp and clean.

Italy even missed Holy Roman Empire's forceful pleading to join with him to become a stronger empire. Even if Italy would never do it, it was still nice being asked every day. He wiped his hands on his skirt, deciding that the floor in the foyer was clean enough and skipped out, humming softly.

"Italy!" Turning around the small nation headed for the living room where Hungary was calling him. She looked just as weary as him but managed to pull together a soft smile. She was wearing a grown-up version of his outfit, expect she had ribbons in her brown hair while Italy did not.

"Yes, Miss Hungary?" Italy replied, smiling eagerly up at her.

"We're going to be having some pasta tonight for dinner." She said smoothing out a crease in her skirt. Italy's small heart bloomed in excitement. Today was going to be wonderful, he absolutely loved pasta. His smile stretched so big it threatened to fall right off of his face. He ran to her and jumped up on the couch beside her.

"Really, we get pasta? Can I make it?" Italy asked happily. Hungary let out a small sigh, which he was momentarily confused about. Shouldn't Miss Hungary be happy too? Pasta was such a treat surely she would be as excited as him. But looking sideways at her, she seemed almost depressed, not happy.

"Hungary, I need the-" Austria walked in the room, prim and proper as always. He had an air of power and grim sternness that always made Italy prepare himself for a lecture. But today Austria didn't even look at the small nation, instead exchanging a glance with Hungary.

"Prussia's in the kitchen, getting drunker by the minute." Austria frowned. This usually meant that Hungary would grab her frying pan and Italy's ears had to be covered for fear he would learn some inappropriate words. But again, today was different. Hungary just sighed and walked out of the room, towards the kitchen.

Italy was now alone in the same room as Austria and he tried not to cower in the presence of his temporary master.

"I polished the banister again, Mr. Austria." He piped up quickly. Austria finally turned to look at him.

"Did you? That's nice." Austria said noncommittally. He began pacing much to Italy's surprise.

"Italy there's something I need to tell you, and well," Austria took off his glasses and began fiddling with them. "it's not exactly the kind of news I wish to share."

Italy was worried now. Mr. Austria never spoke to him as if he was an equal, he always had self-importance in his voice and a disapproving face on.

"What is it, Mr. Austria?" Italy asked quietly, his face written with puzzlement. Just as Mr. Austria placed the glasses back on his head and looked Italy straight in the eye, a loud noise was heard from the foyer. Austria looked up and immediately stalked out, searching for the cause of the noise. Italy quickly followed intrigued.

Laying on the floor were two figures that were currently in the middle of a fight. Hungary was standing beside the door, her hand still on the doorknob a look of shock on her face.

"What happened?" Austria demanded.

"I was trying to get Prussia to bed and someone knocked on the door. I opened it but Prussia suddenly leaped out and tackled the visitor to the ground." Hungary explained, shutting the door. Italy looked at the two battling figures and recognized Prussia with his white hair. To his surprise, he also recognized the other figure, a flash of bright blonde hair and elegant clothes appearing every so often under Prussia's frame.

"Big brother France?" Italy chirped. What was his big brother doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be fighting in the war? No, the war had just recently ended, Italy remembered. Hungary had told him that morning. Another smile came on his face. That meant he'd be able to see Holy Roman Empire soon! He glanced at the door, half-expecting the blonde-haired nation to be there.

"Bastard! Have you come to finish the job?" Prussia's voice came out over the sounds of vigorous fighting.

"Prussia, please let me go, I haven't come to kill you too. I've come to speak with-" France's voice was cut short with another punch.

"That's enough!" Austria said and nodded at Hungary, the two of them reached down and pulled the two nations apart. "Prussia is drunk as he is, and France you should know better than come here."

France looked much worse now that Italy could see all of him. His clothes were muddied and slightly ripped and his face was bloody and his right eye swollen. "Je suis désolée. I'm sorry, but I felt obliged to come here anyways."

Austria frowned. "Whatever for? And how did you even get here seeing as we're technically enemy territory."

"Not anymore, with the treaty that happened yesterday." France pointed out, if not a bit weakly. Austria just crossed his arms sternly.

"Bastard." Prussia spat out, from where he was nursing his hand. Hungary was looking at him with wearied disapproval. France dipped his head towards Prussia. "I agree, I have been that in my day. But I've come here to hopefully help remedy that reputation."

He turned to Italy and got down on his knees, so that he was level with Italy's face. Italy watched as his big brother's Adams apple bobbed up and down. He was incredibly confused as to what was going on around him. He hoped that they would be able to eat their pasta soon, but sadly it looked like France wanted to speak with him.

"What is it big brother France?" Italy asked the bruised nation.

France licked his lips nervously. "Italy, I have something to tell you."

That's exactly what Austria had said to him a few minutes ago. What was going on? Italy wondered. Surely they all weren't going to try and tell him that they were having pasta for dinner? Hungary had told him that already. A small feeling of emptiness crept into Italy's heart. Maybe France was going to tell him something big. Something that had to do with Hungary's strange sadness and Austria's less stern presence and Prussia getting drunk.

"Holy Roman Empire is dead, Italy." France finally said. Austria sighed and Hungary had a look of anger on her face. Prussia just glared at France.

What? Italy thought. Surely he hadn't just heard what he thought he had. Holy Roman Empire couldn't be- There was no way, none at all. He had been strong and healthy the last time Italy had seen him. Plus the war was over, so he couldn't be dead. No, no, no. This was all wrong.

"I'm really sorry, Italy." France went to hug the small country but he was backing away slowly.

"No, you're wrong. He promised he'd come back." Italy mumbled trying to ignore the look of guilt and pity on France's face. "You can't be right. He told me he loved me. People don't say that and just die." Italy cried out, his breaths coming suddenly faster.

"Italy," Hungary ventured out, stepping away from the wall. "It's okay to cry-"

The small nation ran to the door and pulled it open with strength he didn't know he possessed. He had to get away her reaching arms, from France's sad smile, from Prussia's dead eyes, and Austria's lost face. Running through the fields he had laughed and played with Holy Roman Empire. Running across the road he had watched him ride away into the distance. Running from the house that had kept him safe while out somewhere Holy Roman Empire was killed.

He kept running, his chest puffing out and his short legs moving at breakneck speed. It was said once that Italians were the quickest at running, but only away from something. Italy couldn't help but be grateful for his running skills. It would take a long time for any one of them to catch up to him. For anyone to find him. Maybe, if he ran fast enough, he'd be able to leave this world and find Holy Roman Empire.

But reality soon crashed into him, as Italy collapsed on the ground, somewhere in an open field. The boy could only run so fast and far before his lungs needed reprieve. Italy lay in the grass and stared at the devastatingly beautiful sky, imagining eyes to match it. His breathing slowed and then hitched as the first few tears fell. Italy just let them run out, covering his face in warmth and burning his throat. Holy Roman Empire was dead. He was dead. That meant he wasn't going to follow Italy around anymore. Nor was he going to paint with him. Or yell at him. He wasn't going to be doing anything with Italy.

Why God, why? Italy weeped. You didn't let him keep his promise.

He tried to block the image before it came, but it came anyways. Holy Roman Empire with eyes as blank as Prussia's. With a chest that no longer rose and fell with each breath. Blood staining the ground beneath him crimson. Italy choked and pushed the image away, but it kept coming back. In desperation, he tried to think of anything but that. All the times he had spent with Holy Roman Empire, and his life at Mr. Austria's house. The image still lurked in the back of his mind, but he refused to think about it. Instead he focused on the vibrant boy in his mind, the eyes alive and full of love. The words, I've loved you since at least the 900's. Yes, he'd focus on that. Italy decided. He didn't want his last memory of Holy Roman Empire to be a sad one. Grasping onto that, he replayed it over and over in his mind, calming himself. As his tears slowed, his breathing followed suit until he fell into a peaceful sleep.