35. Unmasking

Date Written: October 29, 2019

Date Posted: November 2 2019

Characters: Veneziano, America

Summary: America tries out a little something on Veneziano. It does not go well. For America.

Notes: The Festival of Venice is world renowned for their elaborate masks and costumes.

America held up the mask up to his face and preened in the mirror. Ooooh, even though he knew that he was wearing the mask, America couldn't help but shudder in revulsion. Wow, this could just scare about anyone! Nodding to himself, America crept out of the restroom and—

"Ciao, America!" Italy hopped from one foot to the other as he tried to bypass the suddenly slack-jawed American. "What are you wearing? You look…" Italy huffed for a second, trying to say something that didn't sound remotely like an insult before shrugging. There were just some things that you don't talk about...even if America looked horrifically like something that Italy had drawn only a few weeks before and had unceremoniously thrown into the trash.

"Y-ou're not…" America took off his mask, almost as if he were at a funeral and he was being very solemn. "You're not scared?"

Italy looked at him oddly.

"Should I be?"

"Yes!" America leaned back against the door to the restroom (Italy balked at that, he really, desperately needed to go!) and quietly slumped a little—but not so much as to wrinkle his suit. Honestly, if the rules of polity weren't in place, Italy would have catapulted over the blond American and have his way with the restroom. Unfortunately, Italy was far too polite to do that, so he just made do with continuously hopping from one foot to the other. "Well, yeah? It's the Halloween season and well—" America put his head into his hands. "England has been acting pissy lately."

Italy refused the urge to bowl over America.

His instincts desperately yelled at him to go forth into the bathroom, but the call of friendship had him turning to the American so that they could talk candidly to each other.

Call him what you will, but Italy was not a coward when it came to coming to an ally's defense.

"Is England mad at you?"

America shrugged. "He's always annoyed at me in general, but this time...this time he's been pissy because of his government wanting to do this or that—I don't know, it's all bogus or whatever. I just wanted to cheer him up."

Italy's eyes were wide as saucers.

"By scaring him?"

Italy's tone, being skeptical, had America looking at him again.

"You really don't think it's scary, do you?"

"Amico, if it doesn't scare me, that doesn't mean it won't scare England." In an offhand tone, Italy said, "I'm much more used to violence and gore than most people would like to admit. Also, I have my own festivals that pretty much use masks all the time, so I'm already desensitized to the concept." Italy thought for a second. "You should come visit the Carnival of Venice sometime."

"You're kidding."

"Remember those movies that we watched?" Italy waggled his brows as America uneasily laughed at those memories. "Besides, you might get England to laugh or something...wouldn't that be a better resolution to your problem?"

America thought for a second. "To be honest, he would rather laugh at me than get mad."

Italy said, "And wouldn't that be all right?" He tapped his feet together, still wanting to go to the bathroom and get his business over and done with. He took America's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Try and go scaring England, yeah? At the very least you'll have tried out how… scary your mask is!"

America smiled and helped Italy up from the floor.

Although he didn't say anything, Italy was thinking to himself that he was finally able to have some peace. Rejoice! For he finally made it inside!

As he situated himself into one of the urinals, he found himself listening hard. And then—

"America, you bellend! What the—"

Italy allowed himself to smile a little at himself.

It appears that America's mask was indeed quite scary to some.