A while ago, Feliciano and I's bosses signed the Rome-Berlin axis. It states that we both have similar political and economic goals but it also means that from now on, Feliciano and I will be training together. But to me, training with Feliciano really means sitting in a grassy field somewhere just outside the base together. We talk and Feliciano usually takes a nap, but over all, it's very nice.
Today was no different. Once everyone else had left for training, Feliciano and I left the base, him leading me by the hand as he prattled on and on about breakfast and how he thought the crepes were underdone and how he would have cooked them differently and "Oh Ludwig, I'll have to make them my way for you some time, I know you'd love mine!". The birds were singing, and the sky was blue, and with Italy holding my hand, I felt safe, and wonderful; at home.
Once he found a spot, we sat down together in the field, and there was a slight breeze, so the weather was very comfortable – I can never get over the weather in Italy – and Feliciano had chosen a spot with lots of wild flowers. The sun was bright, but cast an almost golden glow over the whole scene. Meanwhile, Feliciano was busy picking and weaving the flowers he found around us together to make a wreath of some sort, and I was just happy observing. He was so absorbed by his work that I wondered if he even noticed that occasionally I'd reach over to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell to hang in front of his eyes. I watched his nimble fingers braid the flower stems together, and the way his eyebrows came together in frustration when one of them broke or just wasn't cooperating. But he was ever patient and dedicated; his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. The whole scene was reminiscent of something I might have once enjoyed in my childhood; even the scenery seemed to fit in my hazy memory, but it's not too clear.
Occasionally I'd make the obligatory comment about how we should be back training with the others; that we were wasting time, but Italy would just silence me with a kiss and continue on with his wreath, smiling a bit at what I could only assume was a surprised expression on my face.
When he was finished making his wreath, he came over and straddled my lap, reaching up to place the object on my head. He smiled at his work, and then at me, before turning around to sit with his back against my chest.
"Hey Ludwig," Feliciano said, "Do you think there'll be a war?"
I took a while to answer, twirling a lock of Feliciano's hair between my fingers and humming softly I responded, "I think so. My boss is headed that way at least." I knew it wasn't the answer he wanted, and I didn't much like it either, but I couldn't lie to him.
"Oh" he replied getting a bit quieter. "Will I still get to see you?" He asked turning to look at me.
"Yes." It wasn't true. "We'll always be together." Another lie. Feliciano nodded, and I leaned forward to rest our foreheads together. He knew I was lying. But he knew I couldn't say the truth either.
That of course we wouldn't see each other, for months we'll be apart, we aren't allowed to correspond by mail, and our phone calls will be strictly business only, with our bosses right beside us, and it will feel lonely, and like torture, but we've don't it before, oh so many times before, so none of this needed to be said. We've lived for hundreds of years, why can't we be apart for a few months without feeling so much pain?
But like everything else, that doesn't need to be said, it's understood. So we don't talk about it.
Eventually it starts getting dark but we don't care. It's still warm out, and it's nice, with Feliciano laying on top of me, his elbows on either side of my head, he adds more flowers to what he's now dubbed my 'crown' because "Ve~ Ludwig you look like a Prince!" and every once and a while he'll place a few chaste kisses on my lips.
Never do we go any farther, never while we're technically 'on duty'. We're constantly out alone together and no one ever asks any questions because they all know who we are, but the one time we do anything, they will ask and do more, and I don't want Feliciano to deal with that. I have already, and I try to keep as much of it as possible away from Feliciano, but I know I can never keep him completely safe, and I know he's probably dealt with it already but it bothers me to think of anything like that ever touching him. He's so happy and cheerful, and nice to everyone he meets, that the thought of hate ever being directed at him, makes me grit my teeth and feel overwhelmingly protective of my precious Italian.
"Feliciano, we should head back now…" I begin, after he's finally decided that there are enough flowers in my 'crown' and has laid his head down to rest on my chest. Even having said this I make no move to push him off or get up, I simply continue stroking his hair softly and humming little bits of songs I can no longer remember.
"Can't we just" he replies with a sigh, "Stay here forever?"
I sit up now, careful to hold Feliciano on my lap so that he doesn't have to sit on the quickly cooling ground because of all things, he does not need the excuse of "Ve~ Ludwig but I think I caught a cold…" as another way to get out of training. And also because I just really like holding Feliciano close to me.
"You know we can't do that." I tell him and he nods. He understands what I don't need to say. That it's our duty, our job as nations, to train and work hard for our leader and our people. So we head back to base, and our separate bunks, and a war looming over our heads.
