The room was dull. There had been so much chaos lately that they never noticed how incredibly dull and dreary the room really and truly was. So after the pandemonium finally 'settled down' (for lack of a better term) they had all realized how horrible this room was. Wasn't a hospital supposed to be a healing environment? Yes, the doctors did their jobs well, and so did the nurses and the volunteers…but the healing process was far from over…or so said Italy.

"How will Ludwig even be able to get better in a room with no color?" shrieked the red head loudly. He pointed one of his thin, tan fingers at the wall behind him to show every what he was talking about. Turning his head back to his friends, he looked at them with his wide amber eyes, eye brows raised high on his scrunched up brow, and his lips pressed tightly together, puckering out slightly. The expression on his face caused everyone in the drab room to hold their breath, and then burst out into laughter. England was bending over, holding tight to his stomach, and trying to catch his breath.

"Look, Italy," started England, finally gaining his bearings back. "The room is fine. Germany will be able to feel better just with your-" but a death glare cut him off. A death glare of epic proportions. A death glare made of golden-brown flaming nuclear daggers and bullets laced in arsenic. So England shut up.

"No!" shouted Italy, sitting straight up in his bed, his fists clenched and his knuckles turning white.

"Colors, and flowers, and animals, and other cute things make people feel better! This room…if you can even call a room without color 'a room', will not help Luddy feel better!" Italy let out a loud 'aaaaaAAARGGGGAH!' noise, causing some of the passersby outside the room stop and look inside.

"Alright!" gasped Russia in surprise.

"So what do you think we should do then, aru?" asked China cautiously, making sure he didn't say anything to upset Italy more than England and the room itself already had.

"We make it look good…well no. I don't trust you guys with making something cute and looking good to Ludwig's standards," stated Italy. With a determined tone, he continued.

"So you all will do what I say," Russia smiled and gave a salute, and Japan gave a small chuckle.

"First off…I think that Japan and England are the most responsible, so I leave my credit card to you two. China, here is a piece of paper and a pen, write down the things we need…and Russia…you can hold the things after buying them," he said, pointing to each of them and stating their purpose.

"Romano and Big Brother Toni…you two are going to get the food,"

"What are you going to do, you idiot? You can't just leave everything to us, you bastard!" argued Romano, pointing a finger at his younger sibling.

"Si! That's not very fair Feli!" agreed Spain. England just shook his head.

"You wankers. Italy is bed ridden. He won't be able to leave this room," Italy scoffed at the word. "Let alone leave his bed!" Spain and Romano quickly made their little 'oooh' noises of realization, and looked down at their feet awkwardly.

"So, Italy, what will you be doing?" asked Russia.

"I will be designing the room when you all come back with my complete list. Now China, here's what you need to write down." China lifted his paper and pen up so he could write every word Italy says down.

"Paints. Blue's, red's, green's, yellow's," Italy practically listed every color ever seen by the human eye, half of which the other's didn't even know were colors.

"And some paint brushes of course, I left all of mine at home. Oh and make sure that the paint is oil paints. Don't mess that part up," after about an hour, the Italian had finally finished talking about the paints and painting materials he would need, he continued.

"Flowers. Lots and lots and lots of flowers, because Ludwig actually loves them, believe it or not. So pick up cornflowers, daisies, edelweiss," again, Italy took ages listing all the flowers he wanted to have picked up…half of which they didn't even know were sold in America. And so, Italy began listing things…again.

"Pick up a giant teddy bear…one that is really fluffy and squishy too. And go to the local animal shelter and see if you can have some volunteer dogs come or something, because Germany's favorite animals are dogs, he has three at home," Italy hazarded a glance over at his boyfriend in the bed next to him and a small smile crept across his face, brushing his fingers gently across the calm skin.

"Awkwaaaard," sang Spain quietly into Romano's ear, who then swore and elbowed him in the ribs, then Spain hugged him, and the cycle of their awkward romantic moment continued. Italy blushed and faced his friends again.

"Alright China, let me see the list to make sure you wrote everything down," said Italy, holding out a hand. China walked forwards and handed him the list. Reaching out, the red head grabbed it and gave it a quizzical look.

"What is this?" asked Italy.

"Aiyah? That is the list, aru! What else?"

"This is just a bunch of random pictures…that's what it is! This is serious people!" Italy said, his voice rising in volume and in octaves.

"Shén me?(What?) Oh! Don't be an idiot, aru! That is Chinese writing, characters! I wrote down everything you said. Don't worry, aru!" China said frantically, knowing he had to do his best not to get on the northern half of Italy's bad side.

"….Fine. Alright, I'll believe you. But if you get anything wrong, I will kill you. Maybe not kill you…but still. Don't screw up," threatened Italy.

"Shi, shi! Don't fret!" Italy glared, and then moved on.

"Now fratello, you and big brother Toni are going to have to get some German food….and pasta for me, I'm starving," Italy said, and the rumbling from his stomach agreed.

"So what food do you want him to have? We can't exactly cook in the hospital," explained Romano.

"Si…well get some potato products. Like mashed, baked, etc etc. He likes cakes too…so find some good cake…chocolate ones, because chocolate is his favorite. No beer…because that will just damage his brain," Romano grunted and Spain accepted this food finding challenge.

"Si, Feli. Is that all?" asked Spain.

"Si. We can't give him too much food or he'll get sick," at this, Romano scoffed and rolled his eyes, thinking something along the lines of 'the potato bastard should stay sick forever and ever….and then Spain and I will live happily in a Spanish villa-thing and eat pasta and paella every day and not worry about that stupid Germany raping my brother…' Good thing Italy wasn't very good at reading his brother…let alone people in general.

Italy took a deep breath in, inhaling all the smells and tastes the hospital room had…and despite having been 'living' in that room for several days now, the room's aroma had not improved nor had any of them gotten used to it.

But I digress. Thought Italy. He exhaled slowly and spoke one last time.

"And bring some air-wik or something," Italy pinched his nose and made a face, "this place smells," Russia laughed at the face Italy made; his nose all scrunched up and his lips pouted out, not to mention the way his voice became nasally when he pinched his nose. Everyone soon joined in, including Italy. An unexpected voice joined their laughter…Germany's. Everyone turned to the man sleeping in the bed next to the Italian, and saw the blonde sleeping still, a broad smile spread across his face.

"…hund…" sighed Germany happily. Italy gave a weak chuckle.

"Ve…definitely don't forget the dogs…"

The gang left the room, ready to buy all these things…and happy that they had Italy's credit card.

"Oh…I forgot something!" exclaimed Russia. He turned around and walked back to the room, only a few feet away. He popped his head into the room and said,

"Before I forget Italy…become one?" Italy's reply was him throwing a book at the Russian's face. Russia stood there in shock for a moment…or it might have been anger…or maybe happiness; you can never tell with that man.

"I'll take that as a maybe," he laughed. Exiting the room, he walked back to the rest of the crew and they continued on their 'mission'.

XxXxXxXxX

"So tell me about these people, Mr. Jones."

"Seriously, dude. You know that I know that you know who I am. Just call me my name."

"Alright then, America. Tell me about these people you so despise."

"You want to know about them? Who? All of them? There are too many…I hate everyone…them, these doctors…YOU! I HATE YOU ALL!" Screamed America, standing up from his bed and lunging at the doctor sitting in front of him.

Dodging, he stepped to the side and called for a nurse. One came in with a large needle and rammed it into America's arm. Instantly, the nation calmed down and sat back on his bed.

"Now, Mr. America. Tell me about those 'friends' of yours."

America sat there not moving, but looking at the doctor dead in the eye. He couldn't place it…but there was something incredibly unsettling about this man. He…he wasn't right.

'It's just you being crazy again, America…calm down,' He said to himself. He took a deep breath and began talking.

"Well who do you want to know about? I hate fags, so I hate all those stupid nations that have legalized them to get married to each other…it's fucking disgusting! Netherlands and Spain and even my own brother!...and then there is England and Japan…and even Russia and China! I thought they were my friends…and that they saw things the way I saw them…but they abandoned me too…and then there's Germany…and that fag of his Italy…."

"And tell me about them," the doctor said calmly, scribbling notes down in his note book.

"Them? What else is there to say, aside from their fags who fucking destroyed my meeting…wouldn't let me help them…instead they go crazy and cause chaos and just ruin everything!" by now, America was breathing heavily, his face totally red, and his eyes were filled with rage and insanity.

"No…tell me about them…not what they have done. What are they like…aside from gay," explained the doctor. Instantly, America replied.

"Oh…well I guess that personality wise, their okay…aside from being gay…but before I knew they were gay I liked them fine I guess…Germany was always a good guy to look up to…well…after world war two that is…that guy was crazy then. But now, he's really organized and keeps his country healthy, he's fit, and even though he's rude and a jerk, he's patient when it comes to helping others…which is something that I admire in anyone…be them fags or not," said America.

"You sound like you are quite fond of this man. You used to be friends with him, so what caused you to not like him?"

"Aside from being a homo?" America thought. "Nothing…I mean…I know it sounds bad, but if you knew how bad homosexuals were then you would understand…none of them can be trusted…I have to save everyone from them! It's my job! I'M THE HERO!" America stopped after he realized he was getting louder and his breathing more rapid.

"Sorry…"

"It's alright, America. Now tell me about this 'Italy'," he flipped to the next page of his note book.

"Okay…Italy. Well, I actually really liked him…as a friend that is…no way in hell would I like like him,"

"Well what did you like about him then?" America sat there and thought. And thought…and thought some more. It wasn't that it was difficult to think of an answer, but finding out how to word it was another story. Finally, America's thoughts became un-scrambled and he managed to form his answer.

"Italy was always fun, never a dull time with him. When there was no danger for a hero like me to save people from, he would always do something stupid that I was able to save him from…that is when Germany didn't get to do it first…and his love of pasta matched my love for burgers, so we were able to go on tangents about our favorite foods…and he was always really nice to me, even when everyone called me an idiot or stupid or young…he was usually the only one who would still talk to me and be nice to me….

"I remember, there was this one time when I got so…sad and discouraged during a meeting, everyone was bringing me down. England and everyone hated my idea…I guess it was stupid…but they didn't have to beat me down so much about it…and afterwards they all joined together to go to a bar…and I wasn't allowed to come for some reason…I ended up at the same bar as them though…by accident. Since I wasn't allowed to sit with them, I sat alone in the corner, drinking some Bud…but then Italy showed up all alone. He said 'hi' to his friends, and then walked straight over to me. He said 'sorry that happened to you…I know how it feels to be called stupid and useless…I get told that every day by everyone…It's not nice, is it?'…then I remembered that I was usually one of the people saying that to him…so I said sorry…and then, poof! We became pretty good friends. This was…I think around….20 years ago maybe?" America finished his story about Italy, his lips forming a small smile during his tale, along with a small blush.

"So…do you think it's safe to say that Italy was one of your only good friends at the time?"

"…yes. Yes I do. I always had Mattie…because he was my bro…but it was always so hard to talk to him...'cuz he kept disappearing. And England! Well, England has always been a … 'friend', but he's always been so judgmental of me since I was a kid! Everyone has been…America do this, do that…that's wrong, help us, no help us, join us, do this, of course that was going to happen, democracy won't work, serves you right….always…but when I became friends with Italy…even before we were really good friends, he was always nice to me…sure he told me when I did something stupid…but since he did just as stupid things as I did…he could say when I did something too stupid…ya' know? He's always been someone that reminds me of myself slightly. I mean, not like twins or something…we're hardly alike. But we've been thru similar things with our friends and family that we instantly connected."

"So now that you aren't friends…what are you going to do?"

"…I want to help him…I don't want him to have this disease! I want him to be cured and be my friend again…I know he said that he's been this way for … a loooong time…but I know some where, deep deep down, he hates himself for feeling this way…he's a good catholic, he knows he shouldn't feel this way…so I will find him a cure…I'll find everyone a cure…because that is what a hero does…I know they're not bad people…but if they stay like this, they might just become bad people…and I don't want that to happen to them…to my friends…" by now, America had begun tearing up. He was doing his best to keep all the tears held back, but it was nearly impossible. He had never told these things to people…that he didn't hate them…that he still loved and cared for his friends. But he can't show that on the outside…he can't…because then he's vulnerable.

"…alright…Now…Mr. America. Please tell me what Mr. Italy looks like," asked the doctor.

"Umm…alright…why though?"

"Well you see, sometimes a person's appearance can seem more inviting than others and thus more friendly, etc etc etc…this could explain how you and him became such good friends…" said the doctor. America gave him a look of uncertainty. He had already said how he and Italy became friends…so what did it matter? But the drugs rushing through his body were causing him to not think too far into it.

"Hmm…okay then…well he's short…at least shorter than me. About 'yey high'," America said, holding his hand at the Italian's approximate height.

"He's got red hair…with brown and gold kinda mixed in…but you gotta look at it for a while to see it…but it's there. And he's got light, but tan skin…and these big amber-ish eyes that are so…lucid! He's really skinny, but not to where he's un-healthy. He's like me in that way… we could eat pasta or burgers all day long and never gain a pound! Well…I might gain a few…but then I diet…for him, it just goes straight through him! He's surprisingly strong though…he beat up more than half the middle east and Africa a while ago! Hmmm…what else. Well his eyes are usually closed, he said it's because his eyes freak people out sometimes, because they're so clear and they 'look right through people'…at least that's what they told him…

"And he usually wears really nice clothes, he is Italian after all. I think that at the last meeting, he was wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt, and a black tie. It looked like his old military uniform during the war…but it wasn't. Ummm….Nothing else really I can think of…" said America, huffing from thinking too hard.

"Are you sure…he sounds pretty…interesting…" said the doctor back, his voice slightly off putting for some reason…again, America couldn't pin-point why.

"Yeah…he sure is. You can meet him if you want, doc. He's just up stairs," explained America, tilting his head upwards where Italy was at roughly. At this, the doctor smiled, a creepy eerie smile, his eyes hidden behind his shaggy light brown hair, all you could see were his white teeth shining ominously. America shuddered just looking at him.

"I think I shall meet him then…It was nice talking to you, Mr. Jones…I'll see you again tomorrow," and with that, the doctor got up to leave.

"Just try not to catch his 'gayness' doc," shouted America. And then, the doctor left.

"Oh…no need to worry about that."