There was a loud ringing caught in Italy's ears as he walked in the doors of large building alongside his brother. He was far to shaken and nervous to even think about where they were and that they were being stared at by those on the opposite end of the war. Of course everyone knew why the two were there, out of the corner of his eyes Italy could swear he saw a few surreal signs of celebration. A smile there, a laugh here, and eyes. Eyes everywhere, all gleeful at the surrender of Italy.
Don't think about it, don't look at them. Don't think about anything. Just keep walking.
His curiosity overcame him and just as Romano walked through a set of doors, Italy chanced a look back. He was overtaken by a sea of faces. Smiling, laughing faces. Faces talking to one another, hands pointing, cameras flashing, even a cheer or two escaped some mouths.
"Veneziano!" His brother snapped,.
Italy turned away from the crowd to face Romano, who continued speaking.
"Ignore them. They're assholes."
Assholes? Italy thought that term was a little harsh to use on these people who were happy about a good thing. Obviously not good for Italy or Romano or Japan or Germany...Don't think of Germany! He had to remind himself.
No, this was a good thing to these people. They were one step closer to winning a war, of course they were happy. If It were any of the allies taking this walk of shame Italy would smile and laugh too, and he wouldn't worry about how they felt, how bad it hurt that person. How much they might have given up. So much...
Romano grabbed the smaller Italian by the sleeve and dragged him through the doors into a new room. It was smaller, with less faces, but these faces were much more intimidating. The Allies.
"Dudes, what took you so long? It's half passed surrendering time!" America blurted out, causing Romano to twitch in irritation, obviously suppressing a slew of profanities.
Italy tried making up for his brother's annoyed silence, "We got..." We didn't get anything. I had a panic attack when we got on the plane and they had to delay our flight... "Ve...distracted, I guess."
England rolled his eyes at the two, visibly angering Romano more. "Well, thank you for making me sit in this room with these people for 30 minutes of my life more than necessary. Way to be considerate."
"You know what, you British bastard? Don't you fucking tell me about considerate!" Romano spat, jabbing a finger into the Brits chest to emphasize his point, "Do you know what this put us through?"
By us he means me. Italy thought, sadly, casting his face downward. I'm just a big liability.
"HEY! Don't jab me! Couldn't have been that hard for you to surrender."
It was.
"Angleterre, just stop fighting with 'im so we can get zis over with."
Please.
"It's not my fault they're late and the oldest of the twits wants to pick a fight!"
"DON'T CALL US TWITS, ASSHOLE! I WASN'T PICKING I FIGHT, I WAS DEFENDING OUR POSTION!"
He was defending me.
"I'm just saying that it couldn't have been that hard for you two to surrender, considering how often you do it."
You have no idea.
"You better shut up before I punch the shit out of you!"
"Oh, I'm so scared. Like you'd have the balls."
"Angleterre, would you just shut up already? I don't zink 'e was kidding!"
"SHUT UP, WINE BASTARD! I DON'T NEED YOU TO DEFEND ME!"
"I wasn't defending you, rather I was just trying to inform Britain zat 'e is an idiot zat will get 'imself punched."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING IDIOT, FROG!"
"You, of course."
"Haha! Britain's a total dumb ass!"
"SHUT UP, AMERICA! YOU AND THE FROG CAN KISS MY ASS!"
"Ohonhonhon, gladly."
"IT'S A FIGURE OF SPEECH, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, WANKER!"
Italy just watch numbly as Britain, America, and France bickered. China kept muttering about fighting in Western culture and Russia watched seemingly contentedly with a slightly disturbing smile.
Do they always fight like this?
The older Italy just was the trio argue with clenched fists, positively fuming.
"CAN WE JUST SIGN THE DAMN THING AND GET THIS OVER WITH!"
The fighting came to a halt so abrupt that if Italy had been in a better mood he would have found it comical. They three froze with England still holding France by the collar, mid-throttle, and America's arm around the Brit's neck, holding him in a head lock. After a moment, almost as if on cue, they released each other. Britain smoothed over his jacket while speaking, making no eye contact with anyone, "Yeah, sure."
The two Italys were led to a table with the document resting over it's smooth, polished surface. The allies all took turns signing and briefly reading over a few things first, before handing the pen off to Romano, who signed his name in the neatest writing he could manage. The older Italian set the pen down on the desk with a sharp click and turned expectantly to Italy, everyone else's gaze following suit.
I'm going to be the last to sign, the one to seal the deal. Italy bit his lower lip in distress, drawing a little blood.
Just pick up the pen. Italy reached for the writing utensil with his small hands, now shaking like a leaf in the harshest of breezes, just barely hanging on.
Okay, now sign your name. See, it's that easy! "Okay." Italy said to himself, not purposely aloud, but he had a habit of unintentionally speaking his thoughts often.
'F'
Okay, that's a good start. Italy's hand shook violently as he tried to urge himself to continue.
"What's taking you so long, dude? Are you okay? It looks like you're having a seizure, or that one shaky disease...you know, the one where you shake and then die?"
"What the hell, America? Are you talking about Parkinson's? For the love of God, you're so insensitive sometimes! Do the world a favor and shut your fat face for once!"
"BOTH OF YOU SHUT YOUR FAT FACES AND LET VENEZIANO SIGN THE DAMN THING!"
The room fell reluctantly silent, as it was obvious that both Britain and America had more to add to the subject, but were prevented from doing so. Italy looked over at Romano, thankfully and continued writing.
'e'
Oh God, what am I doing?
'l'
Germany's going to hate me!
"Is he crying?"
"Shush."
'i'
But there's no going back now...
'c'
A tear hit the table.
This is for you and your brother. Do it for Romano if not for anyone else.
'i-a'
Another tear.
Oh God, I can't believe I'm doing this.
'n-o'
No. No no no. More tears, No, why am I doing this.
'V-a-r'
Almost there, it's almost over.
'g-a-s'
With that, on large tear slipped form Italy's eye and hit the document, just below his name very fittingly. He'd put his own pain into signing this.
Oh what have I done? What have I done? Oh no, oh God no! Germany's going to hate me, everyone's going to hate me! And I can't take it back now! Italy's breathing became quick and shallow, he clutched his chest as if he couldn't quite get enough air.
Oh God, oh God! I need to go! I need to get out of here before I throw up or pass out...
Italy looked around hurriedly at everyone who was staring at him, obviously worried. Even Russia looked concerned.
"Do you need some air?" China asked, awkwardly. Everyone kinda felt a little awkward at this point. Especially since, technically, they were all allied now. Neither the former Axis aligned Italians or the current Allies really knew how to treat each other now that they were all technically on the same side.
Italy nodded in response to China's question, he felt like he was going to turn blue from lack of oxygen. The small nation turned around and bolted for the door, collapsing half way there. The last thing he heard was Romano in the background loudly exclaiming, "God dammit, Veneziano! Why do you always have to hyperventilate and pass out all the time?"
Author's note:End dramatic, then comedic, then dramatic again chapter. There should be about two or three chapters of this story left, depending on how accurate my mental counting is today. And once it's over we get to move on to the nice, shiny sequel that will take place in the modern day, and hopefully right all the wrongs in this story. Of course, with a few dramatic curves balls thrown in. (It's 2012, I can't not throw a dramatic apocalyptic plot line in there.) I've got chapters 1-6 of it already written up in my handy dandy notebook, and even though the theme of it is even more depressing that this one, it's actually a lot more light hearted. That's probably thanks to the addition of Prussia. XD
I'm really excited about it so far, though. My writing skills from the first chapter of this to the sixth chapter of that have improved so much it's a little insane. And I have so many plans for it (Plot twists, galore, my friends.) Not to mention it's a lot fluffier than this. The first chapter is pretty angsty, but right around chapter three it becomes fluff-splosion. And, ya'know, Prussia. 'Nuff said. XD
Anyway, I'm done with all my chit chat on the sequel. You'll just have to wait to see if for now, since I'm not going to be giving out much more hints about it than the ones I already have. Until next time, my lovely readers, adieu!
P.S. Please review, nice shiny reviews always motivate me to work faster! And, even though I have the whole rest of the plot line figured out, I do take suggestions. And usually manage to twist them up into the story somehow. :D