Welcome back! This one will be told by Germany's perspective, so don't get too confused!

It had been two days since the day in the meadow, and everyone had gathered for a World Meeting. I had something planned for the meeting but as usual, that blew out of the window from all the bickering. France and England were in the middle of arguing about food, China and America about debt, and South Italy looked like he was about ready to throw a punch across the table at Spain whom kept giving him the googly eyes…

I sighed, glancing around the room for someone who wasn't so into all these arguments. My eyes found Canada, whom was gently mouthing (or were there words coming out?) "Um… Be nice… Please?" And Greece whom was snoring. North Italy was also sitting to my right with a silly grin on his face.

"Ve~ Germany, Germany!" he shouted at me in a singsong voice, "After this let's get pasta, okay?"

Giving another sigh, I looked up at his puppy-dog eyes. "Sure," I said.

Italy gave a hum of content and he kicked his feet like a child, holding that same smile on his lips.

My mind flashed back to the day we were in the daisies. When we were alone. He looked so happy… I know this is weird of me to say, but he looked happier than when he always is when he's jumping around and singing. The smile that graced his face made him look so feminine that I would have mistaken him for a girl if I hadn't known any better.

Which got me thinking… What if Italy was female instead of male? His personality definitely would have made it easy to see. Would I still view him the same, or would I feel differently? How beautiful he looked in his sleep… When he was smiling…

I looked at him now, at his face, his smile. I hadn't noticed it before but something was rather off about it—compared to that one before.

Compared to that one before… Is that all I will see when I look at him now? That smile he had in his dreams? What was in those dreams anyways that made him smile like that..? What is wrong with the real world that keeps that smile from crawling back onto his cheeks?

"Ve… Germany?" it was his voice that knocked me back to reality.

"Hmm? Yeah?" I said almost sleepily.

"The meeting's been over for ten minutes," his soft tone conflicted with his copy-and-paste grin.

My eyes snapped up as I glanced around the room. Indeed, we were alone.

"Ah, sorry. Were you waiting on me?"

"Of course!" Italy said cheerily, "We're going for pasta, remember?"

I let a laugh escape as I nodded, my expression softening.

I lagged behind him as he skipped away, occasionally glancing back at me to insure I was following. All was quiet except for the seemingly-eternal singing from the little Italian. Why was the kid always so happy? Happy… Now the word always triggers that day.

"Italy," I started cautiously.

"Ve~?" he replied and I took it as a "Yes, Germany?"

"Two days ago… When we were in the daisies…" I checked his face for recognition, finding his expression wavered before falling back into the goofy grin. "What happened in your dream? You looked… The happiest I've ever seen you," I chose my words carefully, unsure of even what I was trying to say, "Then you looked so distressed…"

"What?" Italy elongated the vowel sound as he replied giggling, "Me? I don't know what you're talking about!" but even his words were laced with some emotion foreign to me—at least coming from the bottle of joy in front of me.

"You told me you were having a nightmare," I urged, "What happened? Can you tell me?"

Italy's skip slowed a little and his expression fell, but he obviously caught it and returned to normal. Does he try this hard to keep up this happy face? Why does he have to try so hard?

"We're here~!" Italy sang, opening the door to his house.

"We're eating here?" I asked, aware of the fact he was avoiding my question, but not wanting to press him any further.

"Of course!" he said, "Those phony-restaurants can't make pasta like me if they tried!" He then started to get all of the ingredients out, not being too clumsy for a change. "Go ahead and make yourself at home! Sit anywhere!"

I chose a seat on the sofa, just listening to the boy make his beloved pasta. Sometimes I wonder if there's anything he loves more. I noticed everything in the house was really clean despite how messy the Italian shows himself to be. The photos over the tables almost looked photo-shopped. Sure they all had different people, different scenery, but each had him in it with that same happy-go-lucky grin. Now I wondered why I've never noticed it before. It's as if the man had nothing else in that heart of his but joy…

Then I remembered the time in the meadow once again, that face of discomfort that nearly broke my heart. It looked so comfortable on him, yet so uncomfortable to me. And that surprised look when he hadn't expected me to be there… So he makes other emotions by himself and only himself? Why does he do that to himself..?

"All done!" Italy broke my thoughts up again. "Want to serve yourself or want me to bring you a plate?"

"I'll get it," I said as I stood up, walking over to the pot.

"I made a lot so get as much as you want~" he sang as he hopped over to his seat at the dinner table.

I only made a hum in response, getting a bowl of the pasta and taking a chair across from him. He flashed me his famous grin as I sat down. Ever since that day… That day in the meadow… I can no longer look at him the same. I feel like a fool for not realizing all of this sooner. That his smile never falters no matter who calls him a weak, useless country. If that was me I would have punched them in the face… But not Italy… Not Feliciano… He takes it all with a smile… That smile.

"Germany, you aren't eating?" Italy's voice screamed concern, yet his face screamed elation.

"Why do you always smile?" I said without realizing it myself. "No matter what… you always smile. You take all the insults with your lips curled into a grin. You… Never show anger, sadness, fatigue… You never show anything but happiness. Call me out on this, but you've either got to be a robot or pretty damn perfect not to show such undesirable emotions."

And for the first time in my entire life, excluding that meadow, I saw his face fall—that accursed smile fall. His eyes opened, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and shock, his lips parted slightly. He opened his lips to speak, but no sound came out. He looked down at his unfinished pasta and took it up to the sink without a word.

"Italy..?" I asked quietly, but he showed no recognition that I had spoken. He stared into the depths of the sink blankly as if something was going to come out. The water ran on and on. After a few minutes of silence, I just stood myself.

"I'll see myself out," I said as I wandered to the door. I glanced back at Italy by the sink and the door shut with a click. The last image of Italy without that silly smile played over and over in my head as I walked home.

Hehe thank you for reading! I wrote this nearly at 3 AM so I'm like half-asleep XD I hope it's still fine though!