Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and history.
The Past Can Hurt
Italy was not in a good mood today, even if he had a break from the torture Germany called training, he just wanted to sigh out of sadness. He got forced by Romano to clean out his closet, which stocked with relics or antiquities from different periods of time like the Italian Renaissance, the World Wars, or the Italian Wars.
The Italian Wars, Italy thought, remembering that faithful battle between France and the Holy Roman Empire. Italy sighed sadly as he heard the name that he once used to know, once a great power in those days, but now it feels like a nightmare after that promise. He was still young with that squeaky feminine voice of his before puberty stroke him like Switzerland's bullets, being mistaken by everyone except Hungary, that he was female. It was a humorous day when Austria realized he was a boy, and began to buy the right clothes for him after seeing his 'I'm stupid' face.
That memory gave a grin to Italy's face, but still held the sadness of the events after being in Holy Rome's house. It happened so suddenly, Austria says that the Empire of nations will not survive, and one day break from the flaws that the government and themselves made. It was true, the Holy Roman Empire did fall, and it gave a bitter taste in Italy's mouth.
He remembered those words from big brother France, who looked grim as he stared at him with his serious but tortured eyes of his experience throughout his history of death, war, and conflict. He looked bitter as he bit his lip, staring at little Italy as if he didn't want to say a sentence that might be dreadful or regrettable...Italy knew why. He gripped Italy's shoulders as he told him a horrifying sentence that made him shiver from fear and disbelief.
"Italy. Je suis désolé, I had to. Holy Rome, he has fallen."
Italy was heart-broken that his best friend has fallen to the wrath of Napoleon's army, and France had to end him with a blade. Italy didn't blame France for what happened, but when he was little, he felt betrayed by a brother who's related to him, and it felt insulting.
Italy sighed as he took out a jar from a cabinet in his dusty closet, filled with old objects that stored enough dust to choke someone. He analyzed the jar, with its flowery indents that felt smooth but rough from old clay. To be honest, Italy doesn't remember where the jar came from, but it looked beautiful with nostalgia, forcing Italy to try to remember where he got the beautiful jar.
"Oh, I remember," Italy murmured, staring at the jar sadly. "Grandpa Rome gave it to me, when he was becoming a bigger power." Italy spoke the sentences with a longing for the person who raised him to have a colorful history, but also fell with scars and wounds by Germania. It was a sad history, but Italy had to remember that all countries have to go through these emotions throughout the events. Italy placed the jar carefully on a wooden table to remind himself to put the jar in a cabinet in his bedroom.
Italy still searched throughout the cabinets, containers, and items in the open, reminding him of Marco Polo, Leonardo Di Vinci, and Galileo Galilei throughout their time periods, also famous wars that began throughout his years. It gave Italy a smile from nostalgia as he shifted through pictures, drawings, items, etc. These collections of historical items made him yearn for Grandpa Rome, and the Holy Roman Empire; it gave Italy some tears as he saw the old painting Rome made before he died.
Italy felt hopeless, cracking, all those years of loneliness and sadness has finally got to him. He began to shiver as he tried to hold back tears. This effort was in vain as he remembered Rome's last goodbyes, his ragged and intricate scars that decorated his back with red and black, Holy Rome's last goodbye and battle, the bodies that lay in Rome's and Italy's roads in the wars, the Holocaust that brought tears and question his loyalty to Germany, all of his beloveds dying or dissolving, his grandfather's cries of defeat and Holy Rome's sobs and whispers fought against Italy's wishes as he began to let all the loneliness, all the despair, all the torture that he felt as he burst into a hysterical mess of tears and darkness.
He felt all the cries from the ones that Germany's people ridiculed before and after Germany's "Final Solution"; Holy Rome's prayers to stay alive, knowing he can't escape his fate; and all the history that coursed through him that he fought for years and years, caught him in an inescapable trap of loneliness and somber, making his cries echo through the dark cage known as the closet.
He couldn't see straight as he heard a familiar voice that stopped him from his cries to insanity. "F-fratello," Romano whispered in disbelief in the closet door, lights shining into the dark closet since they didn't fix the light bulbs yet in the stuffy room. He saw Italy's tears, and furrowed his eyebrows at his fratello. "Little brother, were you crying?" He asked as Italy attempted to wipe all the salty tears coming out of his eyes, but he still shown the red puffy eyes of crying.
"It's nothing Romano, it's nothing," Italy reassured Romano, but he raised his eyebrows at Italy in an incredulous look.
"Nothing Veneziano! You expect me to believe that nothing is wrong!" Romano shouted at Italy, looking at him with an angry look. Italy knew that Romano cared for him since he only uses his real name if he's serious about something, but his shouts felt mixed in with anger, disbelief, or worry, he doesn't know which emotion surfaced in his big brother's voice. "Who made you cry fratello? I'll tell that bastard to fuck off with the Italian family, since we have Roman and mafia blood in us! That fucking bastard will flee like girly France, and I'll contact the mafia to find him and rip out his–!"
"It's not that Romano! Don't kill big brother France it's not his fault!" Italy blurted out on accident, making Romano angry at the sound of France.
"I knew it! That rose bastard better get ready because I'm going to–!"
"It's not him fratello, it's not big brother France!" Italy intervened from Romano's death threat, who then turned to him. "Oh yeah Veneziano, so why are you crying? It could be that potato bastard he knows how to make the strongest of bastards cry."
"No. It's not Germany, Romano," Italy tugged his sleeve to make him listen. "Fratello, why I was crying is because of this closet."
"Huh?" Romano stared at him, looking back at him and the closet multiple times. "How could a stuffy closet make you cry?"
Italy gave a sad laugh as he looked through the closet that reminded him of the pain of the past. "This closet reminded me about Grandpa Rome, and all of those events we participated or experienced. It reminded me of Grandpa Rome's suffering of being a powerful empire, and the problems that led to Holy Roman Empire's fall. It just hurts me inside," He spoke the last line in a whisper, feeling trapped as he felt pain once again.
"Veneziano," Romano spoke in a whisper filled with understanding and sympathy, his arms twitching a little. "You're not alone Veneziano, he also left me as well. The person that raised me gave me one thing that will remind me about him, and I won't. He gave me the capital Rome, where it all began. It began in Italy, a republic turned into an empire, then Italy became a separate of small countries after Rome fell, and we went through so much just like Rome did. We felt the same experience just like the rest of the countries, hell, even the potato and tomato bastard went through hard times, and countries still hate them today."
"Like you Romano?" Italy asked, wanting to know if Romano's still being a kind friend to Spain, but that's very rare to see.
Romano gave an undecided look like he didn't think about that question before, but the answer was obvious when you saw how the two bonded when Spain took Romano under his care. "I hate him sometimes, but he's the only family other than you that's alive. He raised me up, and fought powerful empires like the rose bastard and the "masked bastard" to make sure I didn't have a rough life when I began as Southern Italy."
Italy smiled at the thought that Romano did care for Spain, he agreed that Spain was related to him, and helped contribute tomatoes to Italy, which became a great time for Southern Italy.
"But remember Veneziano," Romano started with a serious expression that synced with his voice that felt rough and commanding, which reminded him of Germany for some reason. "Throughout my history, I kept ignoring your help and being a coward. It coursed through my blood like the British taking us down like fire versus water, I was cowardly, leaving you with the enemies as you comforted me even if I felt cold to you. I'll never understand how you lived this life through all those traumatizing events, but let me tell you this," Romano's mouth curled upward that shown a warm smile, something that Italy never saw before, and it made Italy smile. Italy knew about how cowardly his brother is, leaving him to face the wrath of enemies in WWII, but Romano was like another human being, he had flaws and wasn't perfect, so he had to suffer with or without him.
"When you comforted me at the Holocaust, showing me the true strength of your mental and physical state, I felt amazed, awed really. I broke down as I couldn't take all the suffering I had to cover with a scowl, and you just looked sad, but you didn't cry. You didn't run away from the scene, you fought it head-on, and I envied your determination for so long, even if you can't show it," Romano explained, making Italy widen his eyes at every statement. He didn't realize how much he was talking about, Romano was telling him his private life that he hid away from him like poison, and told it with a calm tone but filled with hesitation.
"You took care of me like a great brother, and I felt angry for your abilities that wasn't passed down to me from Grandpa Rome. I felt unwanted, you're the star, you're his new descendant of control, and I was left with unfertile soil with a sadness that crept upon me every time you shown your talents. I didn't want to be saved all the time, so I kept hidden inside a shell of hatred and sternness," Romano spoke the last sentence, and sighed at Veneziano, who looked painfully at his brother that he thought was a great brother, and the new information of his brother was alarming.
"Romano, I'm sorry," Italy apologized, making Romano look at him.
"You don't have to say sorry, I just need one request from a brother to feel better of this ongoing life," Romano said simply, which confused Italy. Romano spoke the last words. "The only thing I need, is to comfort the brother that I neglected but felt connected with for a long time."
Italy looked at him with a surprised face, and a few tears actually made it to his eyes. "Okay fratello, okay."
A/N: Woah. Didn't realize the chapter is long. So yes, Romano feels a little OOC, but that's what I think about him. An older brother who experienced too much like his younger brother, but still protects him and loves him even if he doesn't show it. Thank you for reading this chapter, and bye!