XIV

hey, let's finally get back to the story, shall we? I felt eyes boring into my back after a while, and decided to finally get back to it.

Italy arrived home, Romano kissing the floors and immediately denying he had kissed the floors. He wasn't right to, but it did feel great to be home. Italy wandered upstairs, and texted America

'Merica: How's it feel to be home?

ItalianSavior: Great, but Romano is still taking it way too seriously.

'Merica: He kissing the floors again?

ItalianSavior: How did you know?

'Merica: He always does that in NY. How about you?

GrandKaiser: He should know how unhealthy that is. He knows people catch a lot of diseases from the floor, right?

Germany had popped up, in the group chat.

'Merica: I thought you didn't care for him?

GrandKaiser: I don't. I care for Italy's feelings. Whenever anyone, at all, ever, is sick, Italy gets all terrified. He starts making bad decisions. You remember how many times he's flip-flopped during war times?

ItalianSavior: No I don't!

GrandKaiser: Me, bubonic plague. America, 9/11. Britain, bubonic plague and WW1. Me again, WW1. Me again, WW2. America, France, and Britain WW2. Must I continue? Must I mention every single time any of us had a terrorist do something or riots?

ItalianSavior: No..

Italy put down his phone, and decided he should work on caring for himself and his brother. He rushed down stairs, and told Romano to stop licking the floors. Romano stood up, wiping dust on his pants, and promptly told Italy to shut up, before storming off angrily.

Italy checked his phone.

AwesomenessIncarnate: Italy, I'm bored.

ItalianSavior: what can I do about that?

AwesomenessIncarnate: Get me a ticket for a flight to Italy. I wanna go somewhere. Heh, take me down to where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, take, me, hooome!

ItalianSavior: you have money, dont you?

AwesomenessIncarnate: Alright, fine, I'm bringing Hungary. NOW will you pay?

ItalianSavior: That's not what I asked.. But okay.

Italy didn't much care, he could let anyone come here he wanted now. Now that his citizens knew of his existence, he could basically do what he wanted until those guys with guns show up and attack like they did with America.

He walked outside, and took a short stroll down a sidewalk, winding paths he's known forever. He heard a weird accent go "Ohmygod! Heeeyyyyyy!" Before something small and very giddy jumped on him. The wild attacker was none other than a random woman. A New Yorker to be exact.

"Hey, you're Italy right?" He nodded, before she smiled widely. "Hi! I'm Cathy!" She pulled out her phone, snapped a selfie, before Italy pulled away from her. "Hey, I've got to go. I'm very busy." "Alright, alright. Nice meeting you, Italy!" Italy walked on, head redder than one of his famous tomato's.

A nice woman had just thrown herself at him, and he'd dodged the whole thing, claiming of fake business endeavors.

He walked away, to have the exact same thing happen, a second time, different person.

Then again. And again. And again. And again.

Finally, he made it back to the Italy's home, before going upstairs, and re-dressing due to the amount of finger prints and stains and such, and in some cases even lipstick were on his fine blue uniform. Ranging from hot pink all the way to blue.

He sat down, and checked his texts.

GrandKaiser: Italy, people are asking weird questions.. They're talking about national alliances being friendships or even relationships exceeding thus!

ItalianSavior: You mean people think we're in love?!

GrandKaiser: Well.. To be blunt.. Yes.

ItalianSavior: Why is this a problem?

Italy almost FELT Germany blush, even with the many miles between them.

GrandKaiser: Could you just disprove this?

ItalianSavior: I'll see what I can do.

Well, next chapter we see how massively an Italian can f*ck up, shall we?