That dream, that stupid dream. No matter how he dismissed it, it still ate at Germany's mind. What could Italy have done that he hasn't already? Well...there's a few things. But he'd never do any of them, and he'd most certainly never betray me. He's an idiot, a klutz, and a wimp; but he is no traitor.

"He is no traitor." Germany repeated out-loud, trying to further convince himself.

BANG! Germany jumped, a little surprised to see the Italian had busted in through his door, and sprawled out over his rug, face down.

"Was sie Hell? Italy?" He questioned at the obviously Feliciano form peeling himself off the floor, wheezing and panting from having apparently running from his house to Germany's.

"You...dead...dream...bad..." He said between breaths. Next thing Germany knew Italy had him in a hug so tight it was almost painful, "But you're...okay!"

Me, dead? Was about a dream? I can't think with him crushing me like this!

"Get off!" He demanded. Once Italy had released him, Germany asked a question he hoped would encompass all others, "Was about a bad dream?"

Italy just smiled and answered cheerily, "Ve, nothing! Everything's fine now!"

He's lying. He's stupid, but he's not stupid enough to run a this way for no reason whatsoever.

"Okay, if you say it's fine." Germany looked at Italy questioningly, "Though I don't see why you'd run all the way down here if it was nothing."

"I guess I just really wanted to see you." Italy said, laughing.

Germany shrugged. What else could he really say? Italy had made up his mind not to tell, and if Germany knew one thing about Italy it was that when it comes to dreams once he made up his mind it wouldn't be changed. Germany thought it extremely strange, since Italy could be so easily persuaded when it came to anything else. His dreams really must be horrible if keeping them secret is that important to him. Germany looked at Italy, suddenly feeling pity. Why would you just choose to lock up painful things in your mind? I could help you.

"So you feeling better?" Italy's tone was hopeful, his face prepped to bounce into a smile upon hearing a 'yes.' Germany wished that was what he could say. He wished so badly to be okay, and for Italy to think he was okay, but he couldn't lie when something was so apparently so.

"Nien." He looked out the window, not wanting to see that bubbly face now fallen into a frown, "In fact I feel a little worse."

"Oh...why?"

That dream, that Gott forsaken dream! I can't tell him about it, though. No. He won't tell me about his dream, so I won't tell him about mine. It would only upset him more, anyway.

"Kind of because a bad dream, but it was nothing." Germany said looking back at Italy. He wished he hadn't that instant. Italy's whole face pleaded for everything to be better.

"You sure?" Italy asked, more hurt than convinced.

Stop looking at me like that, I won't tell you!

Germany nodded, "Ja, ja. I'll be okay, just give me a little while."

Italy grinned, "Okay! While I'm over, you want me to cook some dinner?"

I'm not eating pasta again, and I'm not going to clean up after him again either. No way in Hell.

"No, I've already eaten." He lied.

Italy maintained his smile, giggling on his way to the door, "Okay then! See you tomorrow!"

Germany attempted to mimic Italy's smile, but it just ended up a less intense frown, "Ja, see you tomorrow."

Last thing he was when the door shut was Italy's brief wave. Germany sighed deeply and watched between a crack in his curtains as he skipped down the driveway.

He'd never betray me. Stupid dream, stupid me for believe in such a dream, too. I can't believe I had to even think twice about it. Germany smiled, content with being wrong.