Germany slipped out the front door and gently slid it shut, waiting for the click of the latch before he turned away from it. Prussia had not returned home. Austria had not left the drawing room. Germany had sat on the floor in a stupor for a while after the fight, and when he regained his strength, he asked Italy to pick him up later. Now that nighttime was upon them, reflecting on the day's events under the star-speckled sky seemed like the best way to process his feelings.

Italy followed Germany's explicit instructions as he approached: turn off the headlights, pause the music, and slowly roll to a stop in front of the house. It reminded Germany of his adolescence and he felt a faint smirk curl at his lips, but with those memories came Austria acting as a pseudo-parent, and the bitterness of the present day took it away as quickly as it had appeared. Germany sighed inadvertently as he opened the car door.

"Vee~, this is like when we were teenagers, Germany," Italy smiled sheepishly as Germany buckled the seatbelt.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"How is your head?"

"Dull pain, but manageable," Germany replied. He pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from his pocket and shook it, the pills clamoring together. "I have these with me in case I need them."

Italy nodded and switched the car into drive. He slowly let his foot off the brake, allowing the car to silently roll forward and past the house. Once past the lot, he flipped the headlights back on and drove normally.

"Thank you for picking me up tonight," Germany said, tucking the bottle back into his pocket, "I needed time away from there."

"I've been really worried about you all day, so I'm happy I can help! Are you sure you can walk? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine."

The story of the explosive afternoon tumbled out of Germany's mouth as if he only had five minutes to tell it. He relayed every excruciating detail, every emotionally-charged glance, every weaponized word. All his life, Prussia and Austria shied away from discussing personal matters. They concealed their deep-rooted emotions and vulnerabilities to the point that Germany realized that open conversation would never be an option. He felt deprived of that basic need. Small family matters and superficial emotions were discussed at times, but the guttural rage and anguish that rose to their tongues today stemmed from years of stifled emotions that were left unaddressed. Feeling like there was no one to talk to, Germany turned to exercise as a coping mechanism. It was only the development of his relationship with Italy that made him realize the value of open communication. He valued finding the heart of the issue, and if he could pinpoint the exact cause of a thought or emotion, he could better deconstruct it. The stonewalling of Prussia and Austria did not allow him to find the heart of the issue. The basic familial information he sought from their blowout fight would have given him everything he'd needed. And he'd been deprived of that, too.

The pair pulled into a parking space and Italy switched the car off. Italy had taken them to the local park. As they stepped out of the car, Germany felt around his pocket in pursuit of a particular item. His shoddy memory served him well tonight; one cigarillo remained in waiting. The last time Spain stopped by their house, he brought Germany a pack. Germany seldom smoked, but on a night like this, he hoped it would ease his anxiety. Italy and Germany began walking down a trail that ran through the park as Germany fumbled for his lighter.

"I don't even know where to begin analyzing this shit show," Germany admitted as he lit the cigarillo. He breathed in and felt the smoke ruminate around his mouth, the warmth already aiding in appeasing his nerves. As he exhaled, he imagined his anguish escaping with it.

"Maybe start with one person at a time? Start with Prussia. How did Prussia make you feel?"

Germany felt like he couldn't possibly summarize his mosaic of emotions. "I tried to tell him about the dream. You know what he did? He laughed. He cracked jokes. He told me I needed to stop digging because I had everything I needed, and God forbid I get upset about anything because 'Haven't I given you enough?' That's what he said, 'Haven't I done enough,' because everything he's done is to 'protect' me."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is he even partially aware as to how often we train? 'Protect me,' he says, as if I don't lead the Axis Powers, as if he doesn't realize my physique alone could overpower him, let alone my military forces. But how would he know? We can never discuss anything because as soon as he's uncomfortable or feels threatened, he backs out. You would think that for being such a loud extrovert, he would know how to use his words to express his thoughts or feelings. He just shuts everyone out. He's a bulldozer of a brother."

He remembered the question that spurred the venting. "I feel neglected," he concluded, "I feel like he keeps me in the dark and I don't understand what I did to contribute to the climate of our relationship."

"And what about Mr. Austria?"

Germany sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. Italy took Germany's free hand and led him towards a bench. Italy's touch felt soft, warm, comforting. With Prussia on his mind, Germany thought back to his jabs at the nature of their relationship. Admittedly, their friendship often blurred traditional lines–Italy showed care and appreciation for others through physical touch, something that Germany seldom did for others. Italy was always the exception; he was the person he could open up to, the person whose touch could heal his spirits, the person he could spend a lifetime with and never get sick of. Their borderline romantic relationship was not lost on the other countries and most were merely counting the minutes for when the pair would come out. There had been a time when the two discussed the possibility of dating, but Italy made it clear that he still needed time to heal from a previous relationship. Italy never spoke of the person or what caused the end of their relationship, but his assertion that he was not ready was accepted by Germany, no questions asked. Maybe someday it would happen, but not yet, and Germany was perfectly content with that.

Italy let go of Germany's hand and they sat on the bench, tilting their heads up to look at the stars. Germany took another drag off the cigarillo perched between his fingers, savoring the smoke in his mouth before exhaling.

"Austria does nothing," he sighed, "he's a passerby in the whole situation. He's all bark with the way he looks at you, yet no bite when you attempt to confront him. He gives you this particular look and you can see his eyes flickering back and forth, like he's reading every inch of your face, but he won't say what he sees in you. I tried to talk to him today and he just broke into tears, he couldn't answer anything I asked…and now that I think about it, Prussia seemed so protective of Austria. He wrapped an arm around him."

Germany chuckled. "They never see eye to eye on anything, but when it comes to shutting me out, they can put all their differences aside and work on a united front. It's apparently all quiet on the western front when it comes to telling me more about our childhood, our relatives, our origins. I have no family history. I have scattered memories from being a teenager and everything before it is a haze. I just wanted answers and they couldn't even give me that. Prussia made me feel like fighting for myself was selfish. Austria made me feel like I wasn't worth fighting for at all."

Italy now placed his hand on Germany's knee. "I hate war, Germany. If I was the leader of the Axis Powers, you know what I would do? I would lead us home. I'm quick to wave the white flag and end the fighting, and I know I've done that a lot, but I always come back to be by your side. I still train with you and I still go into battle with you. You know why?"

Germany turned his head to face Italy. The soft moonlight danced across his eyes, making them twinkle. "Why is that, Italy?"

"Because you're worth fighting for," he smiled.

Germany's face flushed and he grinned instantaneously. The Italian charm always won him over. He put his free hand on Italy's knee and gave it a reassuring nudge before putting his hand in his pocket. Italy withdrew his hand and chuckled. They both turned their heads back up to the sky.

"I'm sorry they made you feel like that," Italy said.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. I just want to understand why this is happening."

"It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong or bad. I know they can be hard to talk to, but I think a good person to start with is Mr. Austria."

"What's your reasoning?"

"Because he carries a lot of sadness in his heart. He cares about you very much. I know he would be sad to know that he hurt your feelings."

"You think so?"

Italy nodded. "Things were shifting and changing all the time. It felt like so many people were always coming and going and he was always under a lot of stress. Sometimes he was really nice to me, but sometimes the stress would take over and he wasn't very nice anymore. It's not his fault, though– he was a kid raising kids, you know? It was really hard on him. I think he carries a lot of sadness in his heart because of it. He barely smiled, either. I could probably count all the times he smiled on one hand. But that changed when you came to live with him."

Germany held his breath. His memory of moving in with Austria felt blurry. It was never discussed. "It did?"

Italy nodded. "It was really hard on him at first. A lot of things changed all at once–Hungary and I had left around the time that you and Prussia came to stay. Mr. Austria wasn't used to things being like that. We relied on him to take care of us, but you and Prussia? You were both pretty independent. I still visited him sometimes, and when I did, I could see a lot of the stress fading away. The sadness inside him was still there, but it looked like it was easier for him to smile. He felt unified with you, and that made him really happy."

Germany didn't say anything. He felt his eyes connecting the stars into their respective constellations.

"It doesn't excuse the ways he hurt you," Italy reiterated, "and you have the right to feel the way you do. But I thought it might help to know that he loves you very much. You brought him happiness when he really needed it. Prussia loves you, too, even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

Germany scoffed.

"You and Prussia have different ideas of what protecting someone is. You protect me by helping me stand up for my independence, making sure I'm happy and safe, providing for me. Prussia protects you by not telling you things that might hurt you, even though the way he's keeping secrets from you is hurting you, whether he knows it or not. Our lives are hard, being what we are. You want to look out for the people you love…again, you have the right to feel the way you do, and I don't want to take that away from you, but that might be how he's thinking about it."

Germany found himself halfway through the cigarillo. He let the flame die down as he contemplated what Italy said. The pair were quiet. After the cigarillo cooled, Germany carefully tucked it back into his pocket. He leaned forward, resting both arms on his knees. He let his eyes pick apart each blade of grass shrouded in darkness.

"Have you ever felt like someone who swore to protect you ended up letting you down?" Germany finally asked, his gaze still focused on the ground.

"I moved around a lot," Italy admitted, "and every person who took me in told me it was for my protection. They said I would be safe with them, that things were better this way. But I was still picked on by countries bigger than me. I was traded between different territories like a baseball card. I never really had the chance to be independent. I was always in someone else's care. I felt like I was protected for the sake of others gaining power, like I wasn't protected, but the idea of having me was."

"I never want you to make you feel like that."

"You don't. You protect me, not the idea of me."

Another pause fell upon them. Germany's head spun with the prospect of new perspectives to consider. "Prussia told me I didn't understand what things were really like because he and Austria have always been there for me," he muttered.

Italy shrugged. "Just because you haven't experienced everything that everyone else has doesn't mean that you don't understand. You live with yourself every day. You're surrounded by other countries every day. I think you understand."

"What haven't I experienced?"

Italy leaned back and pondered for a moment. "Have you ever had to make a hard decision on the spot?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…met a cute lady that you couldn't spend that much time with because you had to get back to working?"

Germany chuckled. "Probably."

"Said goodbye to someone you cared about?"

Germany paused. "No, I haven't. One of the reasons Prussia was angry was because he asserted that I've always had my loved ones in my life. I've never had to lose anyone. I've never had to say goodbye."

Italy fell quiet. "Then I guess there's one thing you haven't had to experience that others have."

Realizing the conversational trap he'd let Italy fall into, Germany didn't speak. He anxiously swept his tongue over his teeth, tasting the slight twinge of tobacco on his breath as he did so. Granted, he knew next to nothing about this aspect of Italy's life, but the last thing he wanted to do was pry. Prussia's bitter words rang in his ears: Did you grill Italy like this, too? Did you force it out of him?

"I'm sorry, Italy."

"I know, Germany. It's alright," he smiled faintly.

The pain began to creep back into Germany's temples. He let his head fall forward and he rubbed his face, hoping that would somehow help him feel better. He sat up and pulled the pill bottle from his pocket, fumbling with the lid as he attempted to pry it open. He poured out what he needed and tossed them back into his mouth. It would have benefitted him to bring water, but he was so eager to leave the house, it slipped his mind.

"Is your headache coming back?"

Germany nodded, forcing the ibuprofen down his throat. "I'm trying to stop it preemptively."

"I should probably start bringing you home, then. I don't want you to see you fall over again."

Both men stood up at the same time and slowly made their way back to the car. They didn't speak much, Germany kicking pebbles down the pavement as Italy kept his eyes on the stars. Germany felt thankful for Italy's fresh insight on the matter. At the core of the matter was Germany's desire for understanding. He wanted to learn more about himself and, ultimately, develop a stronger relationship with Austria and Prussia, one in which he felt like they could openly communicate with one another. The information provided to him altered the way he reflected on the day's events– Austria responded with guilt and grief, his tears speaking to the ways in which their fight wounded his bandaged heart. Germany felt pity for him. He wanted to make things right.

Italy clicked the key fob to unlock the car. Before he could make his way to the driver's side, he grabbed Italy's sleeve. Italy paused and turned to Germany. His eyes continued to sparkle.

"Thank you," Germany said, "for everything. I feel so grateful to have you in my life. I promise that you will never have to say goodbye to me."

Italy's eyes watered instantaneously. "Thank you, Germany."

The headache sliced through Germany's head as if he hadn't just taken medicine to keep it at bay. Italy helped him into the car.