*Please note that I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia*
Shortly after, the funeral came to pass. Romano had just finished donning his best and only suit, and Italy was sitting on the sofa stagnantly, obsessively gnawing on his fingernails.
"Don't do that Italy, you'll hurt yourself," Lovino scolded, tugging at his brother's wrist, which fell limply into his lap. Feliciano continued to stare vacantly into space. "C'mon, Italy, you need to get dressed for the funeral," the elder brother said, pulling his brother to his feet and guiding him to the bathroom. "I had Japan bring this over from your house," he said, tossing a rumpled blue suit into Italy's arms, "and don't come out until you've gotten it on. I'll help with your tie when you're done," Lovino commanded, shutting the door and leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh. Several minutes later, the door opened and Italy stepped out with the suit on. Romano, as promised, helped the brunette with his tie, then led him out the front door to a waiting black limousine.
Italy sat static on the left side, his curl brushing lightly against the window pane. Lovino glanced over concernedly at the surprisingly civil man, taking into consideration his behavior recently. The limo soon arrived at the chapel, and the Italians made their way inside. The pews were full of the other nations, all dressed in somber shades of grey. Japan stood at the front to officiate; and next to him on the altar lay the open casket, a plain, sturdy pine box. Italy swiped at his eyes and turned away to sit in the very back row in one of the many empty spots next to Russia.
"So, Italy, I see you've decided to attend," the platinum blond said. Italy nodded, looking at the flower-littered floor. "I didn't sink you vould, considering how close you two vere," he continued in his thick accent, a cruel grin creeping onto his face, "but vere you really? I mean, every time I saw him vith you, he looked frustrated and angry vith you," Ivan whispered to him as the service began. Italy dug his nails into his palm and ran his hand across his face and through his hair, tears making long tracks down his pale cheeks. "I bet he never even really loved you," the cold-hearted giant murmured to the brunette in a voice laced with undeniable malice.
"No!" Italy screamed, standing suddenly. Everyone in attendance looked back at him. "No...! Germany... Germany did love me!" he yelled at a stunned Russia, fighting back sobs. "How dare you say that!" his voice cracked, "You barely knew him!" Feliciano cried, bringing his arm back and slapping Russia hard across the face. Then he turned to face his dumbfounded audience with tears cascading down his cheeks. "I... I'm so sorry..." Italy said, a twisted smile stealing onto his face as he turned and ran out the door.