Buon San Valentino
ChibItalia and HRE: Chapter Two
I don't own Hetalia (;-;)
Italy was cleaning a window near to the back porch, while admiring the sun that reflected off the previously cleaned windows. Something was defiantly making the world rotate for the dear country. The wind was light, making the bells on the porch sing for the cleaning Italy.
The country finished his cleaning just after four pm, just in time for some free time before dinner. Italy walked back inside, grabbing a canvas, some paint, and other supplies for painting. He walked back outside, heading over to a bushy area surrounding the house. Italy set everything down, and sighed, putting another smile on his face. The country took out a paint brush, and began painting, humming a light, bouncy tune.
A background was being made of greens and yellows. This was followed by the colours of black, more greens, blues, reds, and pale yellows. The painted started to take form, showing two figures of young humans, both smiling under a sun. One wore all black; hat, cape, shirt, and pants, while the other resembled Italy.
After an hour passed, Italy stepped back to admire the work of art. It made the country smile wider, almost outshining the sun. He sat down, soaking in the sun, and almost fell asleep. It seemed he did, anyways. It caught him off guard, but everything was better when you're well rested.
Italy had been laying in the meadow for half an hour, when a figure similar to the other in the painting. He wore only black cape, but was the tiniest bit taller. The boy gasped upon seeing the scene before him. His face went unchanging from his shadow-hidden face, and stood before the painting the sleeping boy had painted. He starred at it,recognizing himself in the painting. The figure in now more modern clothing dashed for the house, leaving the boy in the meadow.
The boy returned with a brush broom, and stood it up against the the beautiful painting. With a whispered good bye, he looked at the sleeping boy, not showing any emotion, and left for the opposite direction of the house.
Italy had woken up, stretching and yawning. The sun had slowly sunken lower into the ground, night approaching. He got up, dusting of the dress he was forced to wear. With a light sigh, the young country walked over to his painting, collecting the canvas and supplies. Before he was finished, he froze; there was a broom that was new to this scene. Italy recognized it, and began to cry.
"W-Who put this h-here?!" the sorrowful country yelled. Was this some kind of joke? … Or was he really back? Italy couldn't decide, yet this day was in his favour, so… he really could be? He pondered on the thought, and walked back to the house, paint and canvas in hand.
Looking at the clock, it was around six thirty pm. Just in time for dinner with his 'family'. Italy walked into the dinning room once again, and found that the food was waiting to be eaten. The one thing that was missing were the adults. It was a special day today; it seemed they might have forgotten…. Hungary and Austria were not in the dinning room, nor in the kitchen, but food was sitting out for Italy.
Shrugging it off, Italy ate his food in silence. Even when he finished, the others didn't come to join him. He waited for another four minutes till there was a knock from around the corner that led to the hallway. Italy got up from his seat, to find no one there.
Sighing, he went back to his seat, and played with his empty dish. Italy felt so alone, so vulnerable. The day started out great, but now it was fading out from its once brilliance. The country kept a smile on his face, though. Italy told himself that things would get better; nothing bad could be going on. … Right?