Author's note: Yo!

Where the reviews at, dudes? You lurking? Come out and say hi! :D

Unlike Germany, who chose to lock himself in, instead. Heyo~!

... Too soon? XP

Anyway, hope you like the chapter!

Chapter Nineteen: Remembrance

Italy huffed and puffed, his legs burning from all the running. Why was there always so much running?!

God, he hated running... It was way too much exercise.

He hated running away, too. Not only was it exhausting, but also scary! At least it wasn't scary right now, as he was only training.

Passing the goal point, he stopped, wheezing as he held his knees. Geez Louise, this never got any easier...

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Pausing, he looked up.

Germany was looking down at him with a very menacing glare.

He cowered under the gaze. "Um..." he said.

"Gut vork, Italy..." Germany said in a low, angry growl.

He shrieked and backed away slightly. "Um... grazie?"

Huffing, Germany gave a curt nod, then walked away.

Italy stared after him, confused.

... What?

Heh. That day had only been the start of the weirdness.

... Well, no. The start had been Germany's weird reaction to his present. His head had practically exploded.

After that, though, the weirdness had only continued...

"Alright!" Germany said, looking stern as ever. "Today is grenade training!"

"Okie dokie!" Italy replied, trying to smile.

Honestly, he was rather nervous. One, he didn't like handling grenades at all. He always used them wrong and they'd always end up exploding in his face. Painfully.

Two, Germany looked incredibly scary today. A running theme of the week, apparently.

Germany stepped forward and held out the grenade. Lifting a hand, Italy let him place it on his palm.

The taller man held that pose for a long moment, not letting go of the grenade.

Italy blinked "... Um..."

Germany quickly pulled away. "Vell, gut luck! And don't mess up, vhatever you do!"

"Um, okie dokie!" Italy lifted the grenade higher and held the pin with his other hand. "Well, here I go!"

He popped the pin out of the grenade, wound back his arm and threw.

It was only after he'd done it that he wondered if he'd done it right.

He looked down at his hand. In it was the grenade.

Wait, was that the thing he was supposed to throw? He could never remember. Which bit exploded again?

Suddenly, Germany screamed his name in a very angry tone. He jumped halfway out of his skin, screeching in fear.

"I'm sor-!"

He was interrupted when something hit him with the force of a freight train. Blinding pain shot through him as he hit the concrete on his side, a heavy weight bogging him down.

"Owwww..." he said. Tears sprung to his eyes. "Why are you attacking me no-?!"

There was a loud explosion.

He looked up to see Germany glaring fiercely at him. The man's grip tightened immensely. He cried out in pain and shock.

"Dummkopf!" Germany screamed. "You zrew ze pin again! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Italy screeched, crying harder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! And ow, you're really hurting me!"

Germany slackened his grip. Quickly standing up, he picked Italy up with him. Italy yelped slightly as he was lifted completely off the ground.

Jeez, why was this guy able to lift him as easily as tissue paper? He'd even done that on the day they'd met. Nothing had changed, it seemed.

Germany put him down, still glaring at him.

Italy recoiled. Was he going to punish him for this, like he usually did? Oh no... punishment usually meant either no pasta, running more laps or, even worse, both!

Germany lifted a hand rather menacingly.

Italy yelped again as the hand latched onto his head. Oh, dio, no! Not the head squeeze! It was only marginally less scary and painful than the headlock!

"... Be more careful next time," Germany said. "Remember: zrow ze grenade. Hold ze pin."

"Uhhhh... okay," Italy replied.

Germany let go. "Gut. Now, let's try again."

"... Kay."

Things like that had been happening all week, with Germany being a strange mixture of angry and stern, and... oddly nice? Sometimes flip-flopping between the two, just to be extra jarring...

"Hey, Germany~!" Italy said as he approached.

In a rapid motion, Germany spun around, glaring at him. He jumped in fright.

"... Guten tag," Germany grunted, still scowling.

"Um..."

"... You look nice."

Italy blinked. "... Um... grazie?"

"... No problem."

Germany turned away again.

... Eh?

Thankfully, after the first compliment, all of the ones that had followed had been much calmer. Delivered in a much more matter-of-fact tone. He'd complimented him on his clothes, or hair, or even his aftershave, before getting straight back to what he'd been doing, without batting an eyelid.

... Oh and there had been the presents, too... How could he forget those?

There was a knock at the door.

Jumping up from his chair, Italy skipped over and opened it. "Ciao~!" he said. "Oh, hi, Mr. Mailman!"

"Guten tag," the mailman replied. "Special delivery for Italy Veneziano."

Italy beamed. "That's me!"

The mailman turned around. "Alright, bring zem over!"

"Huh?"

Glancing over, Italy saw man after man pour out of a truck, each one carrying a bouquet of flowers.

He jumped in shock. Why were there so many flowers?! All of different breeds and colours and... were they all for him?!

He watched in disbelief as each bouquet was placed in his arms, one after the other.

"What? What? What?! What's going on?!"

The mailman pulled out a note and read it aloud, while the pile of flowers grew ever higher.

"To Italy, from Germany." He placed the note inside one of the bouquets. "Seems your friend's really fond of you."

"Ap... Apparently!"

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how absurd this was. He was so horribly confused...

At the time, he'd completely run out of space in his spare bedroom for all those flowers. He'd have put them elsewhere, but he hadn't wanted to risk it. Romano had been coming home later that day and, if he'd found out who the flowers had been from, he'd have probably set the room on fire out of spite and disgust.

So, instead, he'd just locked them away, out of sight.

... Back then, he'd continually wondered how a person could possibly send so many horribly mixed signals for an entire week. How they could be so kind and thoughtful, yet so oddly terrifying at the same time.

He'd wondered if Germany had been alright. If he'd been sick. If working too hard all the time had been causing his brain to start melting. Figuratively or literally. Because the man had never liked taking breaks, if he could help it.

... And, of course, there had been the dinner that the man had invited him to.

Ohhhh, the dinner...

Italy was so scared and confused. What the hell was going on?!

Germany had screamed his name in a blind rage and lunged at him, knocking the table sideways. He'd never seen him so angry!

Now his arms were wrapped around him. What was he doing?!

Was he trying to crush him? Squeeze him to death? Was this all because he'd found those secret doodles on the back of the tanks? Maybe it was because of the girls he'd been flirting with earlier!

... But... if he was trying to punish him, why wasn't it hurting? He wasn't feeling any pain.

The hold was oddly gentle. Kind of like a hug, actually.

... Wait.

Was Germany hugging him?

... Germany was totally hugging him, wasn't he?

Why was Germany hugging him?!

... Germany didn't hug. Germany never hugged! He was the hugger! Germany would normally give him an awkward pat on the back and that was it! So why was he hugging him?!

A minute ago, it had looked like he was going to strangle him and now he was hugging him?! What?!

Oh dio and, now that he thought about it, everyone around them had gone quiet. There had been chatter and the clatter of cutlery before, and now there was dead silence.

Italy's panic was skyrocketing. Everything about this day - this week - had been wrong. So very, very wrong. This wasn't the Germany he knew at all. Sure, the guy was a mixture of stern and nice, but not to this extent!

All of the things he'd done and said over the week, both aggressive and non-aggressive... they'd all been directed at him, hadn't they? So... had he caused all of this? Was he the reason his best friend was so... off?

He didn't know! He really didn't know! But he was freaking out right now! His blood pressure was way too high to be healthy and he was probably going to keel over any minute! Especially since the situation looked one way, but then another way and he had no idea which way was the right way!

... There was nothing for it. He had to apologise. Right now.

"Germany, please, I'm sorry!" he screamed, tears falling from his eyes. "Whatever I did, I'm really, really sorry! I didn't-a mean to! It was... it was all a misunderstanding! I take it back! All of it! So please... please stop!" He sobbed slightly. "Please stop..."

He had no idea what he was saying. He really didn't. But he hoped it would help.

He waited for a response.

... He waited and waited.

... But he never got one.

Jeez... talk about a rollercoaster of emotions.

That whole week had been really scary. Italy practically hadn't known up from down the whole time, with the way his best friend had been acting. It had been very topsy-turvy and all kinds of messed up, right from the start.

That day, though, had easily been the scariest.

The following morning, when Germany had recovered enough not to be an exploding mess, they'd talked things out a bit...

"Here's your coffee, Germany~!" Italy said, approaching the table with a steaming hot cup in hand.

"... Danke," Germany replied, taking it from him. He kept his gaze away from Italy's.

"So... how are you feeling?"

"Fine, danke..."

Italy beamed. "Oh, that's a relief! You had-a me really worried yesterday! You know I had to get five security guards, six civilians and a tow truck to get you back here? All with that waiter still shuddering, too!"

"... Is zat so?"

"Si!" Italy paused. "In fact, you haven't been yourself all week. You've been acting so... not-a you."

Germany said nothing in response, silently sipping his coffee.

"... What's wrong?" Italy pressed.

There was a long pause. "... Nozing."

Italy was incredulous. "Nothing?! You can't tell me that-a was nothing! You hugged me in the middle of the restaurant, then blue screened yourself halfway to death!"

There was another long pause.

"... Germany?"

There was yet another pause. "... It vas stress."

Italy blinked. "Stress?"

"Ja. Stress." Germany took another sip, still not looking at him.

Italy blinked. "Oh... that-a was all?"

"Ja." Germany paused. "... It vas... merely a misunderstanding." He looked away. "Vhatever it looked like, zat vasn't it."

"Oh..." Italy smiled. "Well, it looked-a like a lot of things, I won't lie! So, it's stress, huh?"

"... Ja."

"Oh, well, in that-a case, you're clearly working way too hard! So... so I'd suggest no training for a week!"

Finally glancing up at him, Germany frowned. "Vhat?"

"Si! In fact, I insist!"

"... Nein."

Italy pouted. "Aww, come on! I mean, I can't force you, since you probably outrank me and all..." He smiled. "But I am way older than you..." He pointed at him. "So listen to your elders!"

"Hmph." Germany looked away again.

He dropped his arm. "Come on, pleeeease? I don't-a want your brain breaking a second time!"

There was another long pause.

Eventually, Germany heaved a sigh. "... Fine. Just for ze veek, zough."

Italy beamed. "Great! Then I'll tell Japan to handle all the training and junk!"

"Ja, sure..."

"You really look-a like you need it... so get some good rest! No training, no paperwork, no nothing!"

Germany glanced his way briefly for another half-hearted glare.

"... Oh! By the way, those flowers you bought? I put them in a nice vase in the living room! Next to the ones I got you!"

"... Danke."

"And the ring? I can't-a believe you'd impulse buy like that in World War Two! We're strapped for cash as it is!"

"... Ja. Sorry."

"I mean, it's lovely, don't-a get me wrong... but what am I going to do with a ring?" Italy grinned at him. "I don't-a wear rings!"

"... Ja. Sorry."

"It's okay! Grazie for the thought, but maybe you should-a get a refund. We really can't afford to be using up our ration money like that. Especially after that-a mass of flowers you bought a few days ago."

"... Ja. Sorry."

Italy nodded sagely to himself. "A clear sign that you're losing it and need a break. Don't-a worry, I'll get it refunded for you tomorrow! Okay?"

"Ja... Danke..."

"I can't-a refund the flowers, though, which is a shame, but hey." He paused. "... Then again, you said it was custom-made, right? The ring, I mean."

"... Ja."

"Jeez, that means I probably can't-a refund it. Tsk, silly Germany! Spending so much money and for no reason!"

"Ja... Sorry."

"Well, no worries! I'll just take it to a pawn shop or something!" Italy gave a determined smile. "Maybe we can still make a pretty penny off it!"

"Ja... sure... sounds gut." Germany went back to sipping his coffee.

Italy smiled slightly to himself. Heh. That had quite a week, alright. Afterwards, Germany had taken a nice, long rest and been fine again afterwards.

Things had gone back to normal between them, as if the whole thing had never happened! Which he supposed had cut out the awkwardness, but still. It'd been rather nice to get so many presents and compliments. He just wished they hadn't needed to come packaged with all the screaming and glaring.

... His smile fell as the truth hit him all over again. Germany had sealed himself away. Made it so that Italy could never talk to him again.

Crippling loneliness struck him square in the heart like an arrow. He felt his eyes sting with tears.

Goddamn it...

... Maybe he'd take Holy Rome up on his offer, after all. He'd go upstairs, cuddle up in bed with him and maybe even sleep, too.

If Holy Rome was still awake, maybe the man would give him a comfort hug, or something.

He really needed one right now...